Frost Fire

Prologue

                                                                                             Frost Fire 

                                                                                             Prologue 

 Drake swore he could smell blood. He sniffed the air, and there it was: A warm copper scent drifting along with the wind. He gave a humorless laugh, because Dad had once told him insanity smelled like blood. And maybe he was insane to be going along with the orders he’d received. Or maybe that blood scent was just ingrained in his nose from all the times he’d been punched there.

A vague memory prodded at the edge of his mind, beckoned by the scent. The girl. He winced, but those words ran through his head anyway:

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Okay?”

How many times had he said that to the girl? It felt like he’d whispered that promise thousands of times, never daring to raise his voice above a murmur. Because she looked so fragile, so scared. And if he spoke normally? That’d probably hurt her, like everything seemed to hurt her.

Maybe it would have been good if he’d just allowed her to die back then. Just have gotten it over with. Because here he was, nine years and two months later. Nine years of taking a deep breath every morning, knowing she was safe. But, this morning, that breath catching in his throat. Because Dad announced he wanted the girl dead, once and for all.

And he wanted Drake to kill her.

He shook his head, and the trees he sprinted past whipped side-to-side. He straightened out and forced his attention forward, forced it to focus on the rough forest path beneath his feet. It was difficult, with his pounding heart heightening his senses. Making him notice every blade of grass turned deep emerald in the night. Every glossy pine needle casting off the reflection of the moon. It was almost pretty.

Almost. The sound of his wings ruined the scene. As he ran, the metal blades of his feathers jarred together like clinking chainmail. A reminder of the blood that was about to spill.

He didn’t have any choice but to kill the girl, not with Mom’s life hanging in the balance. Dad had said it was easy. Just say “yes, sir, I’ll kill the girl”, and Mom would be fine. But grinding out those words had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Drake leaped over a log in his path, gasping in a breath when he landed. Couldn’t the Manor have tighter borders, a closer point for Asa to drop him off? But, no. Maybe it was good that he had to run five miles to get to the Manor, because then he’d be tired when he got there. Less stealthy. And maybe he’d get caught by the Sentinel Warriors headquartered there, and he wouldn’t have a chance to hurt the girl. Maybe.

His boot struck sharp rocks, too fine and regular to be anything from the forest. Gravel. He quickly braked into a jog, then came to a stop. Looking down, he saw gravel had been scattered into the forest from a driveway a few yards ahead. He should have seen the break in the trees and should have noticed the driveway before he felt the gravel. He chewed at his lip. If he was that lost in thought for the rest of the night, he’d be dead before he could blink.

With a shaky breath, Drake stepped out onto the driveway. He hugged the edge of the trees, pressing his wings against an ancient pine. He didn’t care about the rough bark digging into his neck, or the smell of pine needles clogging his nose. At least the pine needles got rid of the blood scent.

Drake looked up the driveway for the Manor. He knew what he was looking for: a huge mansion. Couldn’t be too hard to scope out, right? He squinted into the darkness, rubbing his temples with the heel of his palm. Wrong. A gathering of pine trees sat at the end of the driveway, forming a circle around what he guessed to be the mansion. Through their branches, he was able to barely make out the rough pattern of bricks. And a lot of them. He followed the bricks up toward the sky, trying to guess how many stories tall the mansions stood. Three, four?