Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500
From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com>
Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 55

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and
explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or
are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now.

HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All
Rights are reserved.

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I had begun to come to in the later hours of the night. Suspended in
animation by the cruel beauty of sleep paralysis, I took note of my
surroundings, enough to realize that I'd been placed in bed. Stripped of my
clothing, save the boxers about my waist, I'd been bundled as if expecting
a storm—which, I idealized, could not have been more perfect.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold and I was thrust deep into sleep.

The second time I woke, I was not chained by my own inhibitions.

Barreling out of bed with the effort of the recently-awoken, I tore through
the flat with just enough caution to ensure that I wouldn't run into things
before unlocking the door and storming into the hall. By this time, the
clarity was beginning to come back—the visitors, the wait, Guy's
reappearance, our conversation—and with it raged the fire that quickly
consumed my being. I could care less whether or not I was in my boxers. At
that moment, I only had one thing on my mind.

"Elliot!" I called, the rough timbre of my voice echoing throughout the
house. "Elliot! Elliot! Where the fuck are you?"

 My heavy footfalls upon the stairs summoned the presence of one of the
help, who blankly stared at me with wide eyes before I pushed him out of
the way.

"ELLIOT!" I screamed, tearing through the living quarters and toward the
opposite wing. "You better get out here right now before I—"

"What the hell is going on?" a familiar voice barked.

I spun, enraged, toward the living room—where, atop the spread of
couches, sat none other than Elliot Winters, a book poised in his robed lap
and a pair of glasses perched atop his nose.

"You know what's going on, you bastard," I growled.

"There's no need for such language," he said, placing the book aside. "I
imagine he already explained it to you, though knowing my son it might not
have been the most perfect terms. He sacrificed himself in order to offer
you asylum. I don't understand why you're so angry. What better gift could
he have given?"

"Why didn't you throw me out? I'm the one who killed her!"

"Because you would've been eaten by the wolves."

The tone in his voice couldn't have been influenced by what he was. That
was absolutely impossible. Not once throughout my time with Guy or any of
these Kaldr had there been mention of such abilities. At that moment,
though, it seemed to be just the case—that his eyes, so rigid and
painfully-blue, could draw beads along my neck, his lips the frozen maw
that could snare me whole. Any anger I'd had at that moment was diminished
in but a second—snuffed like a candle whose flame had been bright and
strong.

"Do you honestly believe I didn't think the whole thing through?" Elliot
asked, snapping me free of my trance. "Do you truly believe that I am so
stupid, Jason, that I didn't think every option through? I'm more than
aware of the predicament you suffer. Your faces have been on every single
major news station since you left. You're wanted murderers—serial
killers if you consider the number dead. The fact that you're still here is
still a blessing, but I am well aware that you pose a far greater threat in
the real world than you do here."

"What're you talking about?"

"Don't you get it? You take one step off this property and the Howlers will
have you faster than you could possibly imagine. But they won't keep you
for themselves. Oh, no. They plan on doing something much worse." Elliot
stood. He crossed the living room to stand before me, his impressive height
even more intimidating up close. "Do you have any idea why I let Guy go and
not you?"

"Why?"

"Because if he gets caught, he at least has options. His lineage provides
him that. You, on the other hand..." Elliot smiled and shook his
head. "You'd be the death of the Kaldr."

"You're lying."

"No. I'm not. The Howlers' primary objective has always been to eliminate
us. With a human scapegoat, they'd be able to turn you into the authorities
without question. And you—with nothing more than the fantasy of
werewolves and mountain men you'd be forced to present—would bring the
entire state of Texas down on us. It doesn't matter whether or not they
believe it's real. They'll come, regardless."

"You could move," I said. "You've done it before."

"But in the presence of the public? I'm not an idiot, and I am most
definitely not a fool. Announcing our presence with such an act would only
expose ourselves to the entire world. The Howlers have already been
stacking the odds against us, trying to drive us from enacted safe zones
and into the wild. All those livestock killings, so close to this
ranch... on private and state property? If it isn't them, it's the
others. One hint of what we are and we are either the next medical marvel
or the greatest biological weapon. We'd be done—finished, kaput,
especially if your stupidity and my son's passions resulted in the Wendigo
uprising. Do you hear me?"

I didn't say a word.

Elliot leaned forward until our faces were no more than an inch apart. "Now
do you realize why it was perfectly reasonable to keep you here, Jason? Guy
spared you in letting you keep your memories. He could've wiped you
clean. Instead, he chose to let you remember... all with the hopes of one
day coming back to you."

Drawing back, Elliot glared at me with his piercing blue eyes, waiting for
a response.

When I gave none, he brushed past me and started for the hallway leading to
the stairwell, but stopped before he could clear the threshold.

"Jason," he said, his voice no less firm than it had been the moment
before. "I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully: If you
ever wish to see Guy again, do not leave the ranch. Believe me when I say
there are far worse fates than that."
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If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the
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