Frostbite (#4 Destroyers Series) Read online

  The hatred for Shane returned, threatening to spill over again. He was the reason Callie was never going to come back. Now she was only going to have that selfish prick to face at school, always there to remind her that she could probably never have a real boyfriend and that the only close friend she'd ever had was gone forever.

  The ice water shot through her veins, making her start.

  Tell her you'll take care of Shane. I'll help.

  "No," she muttered, regretting it right away.

  A flash of hurt crossed Callie's features. "Sophia?"

  "I wasn't talking about you," she said, waving her hands and shoving Shane from her mind. The coldness faded along with it. The questions would have to wait. "I'm okay with this Tempest thing. Really, I am. I get what you're saying. Look, I have something that I have to tell you, too. It'll be so great to get it off my chest. But first, what's the other thing you guys have to run from?"

  "Other thing?" The hurt disappeared as Callie brushed her pink-striped bangs away from her face.

  "You said the video was only partly why you were leaving." Sophia could barely control the shaking in her limbs.

  Another ominous crack of thunder rolled over the house. As if it were commanding her, Callie leaned over and started to pile clothes into a garbage bag. Shirts. Jeans with pre-made holes in the knees. "You're right. Even without the video, we'd still probably have to go." A shirt slapped against the garbage bag as Callie tossed it in. "There's something out there going after all the Tempests and these people called Outbreakers, too."

  "Because of the video?"

  "No. Something different." The first real traces of horror spread over her friend's face. "Sophia, you have to promise not to tell anyone that I was ever even here."

  A chill that had nothing to do with the presence inside her washed down Sophia's back. If this was true, then Callie had far more to worry about than she did.

  Lightning flashed. The storm was intensifying, and Callie flinched at the thunder that followed.

  Sophia was just about to ask why a human hurricane was scared of thunderstorms when there came a knock on the front door, and Callie let out a little scream.

  Then, something outside crashed with a deafening roar and Callie's dad yelled something across the house.

  Her best friend's face lost all its color as her mouth fell open.

  "She's here."

  Chapter Four

  It seemed to take Leslie a week to pack. It also seemed to take a minute. Time had stopped functioning in her universe.

  Janelle said nothing for several minutes as she helped. Her mother's accusation was still there, lingering in the room, making the air heavy. Leslie wanted to apologize to Janelle about it, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Janelle had killed, even though she had managed to restrain herself on the other side of her transformation. Leslie had pushed that thought aside for the past several months, waving it away whenever it came.

  But she couldn't anymore. One day she might kill, too. Tempests usually only had to transform once in their lives. Outbreakers faced a lifetime of it, according to Paul. It couldn't be predicted. They had no list of names to know who was going to Outbreak next, unlike their cousins.

  When Leslie checked her door to make sure her mom wasn't barging in, Janelle finally spoke.

  "She's afraid of me. She won't come in here." There was no trace of emotion in her voice or in her face, but the gray in her eyes had deepened, as if the ocean water hadn't quite worn off yet. "I don't think she's going to come with us willingly."

  "I don't want to kidnap my own mother." Leslie was glad the subject had changed to something else.

  "I don't, either. This Brett--"

  "Her new boyfriend," Leslie finished for her. "Well, sugar daddy. He's always buying her stuff. I'm sure he might take her in."

  She hoped. Taking her mother back to the campsite, which was full of mostly Tempests and one young volcano goddess, wasn't going to go so well. Also, Paul was there. That alone was a guaranteed recipe for disaster. Her mom wouldn't stay. It would be cruel to lock her in a camper and keep her under guard night and day. Brett was the best bet, then.

  Leslie tossed her notebook into her bag as hard as she could. She imagined the scoreboard from her mother's point of view: Brett, 1. Leslie, 0.

  "Maybe she just needs time to come around," Janelle said. But she couldn't hide the doubt bubbling to the surface.

  "She won't."

  Her chest constricted with all the emotion that had been bubbling up inside her since she'd woken up in the camper early this morning, staring at the ceiling and clinging to the tiny hope that her mother would understand and sweep her into her arms. It had been wrong to do so. Completely wrong. Still, Leslie couldn't help but reach into her pocket and wrap her hand around the TracPhone that Janelle had bought for her a couple of days ago.

  "I'll leave her my number in case."

  Leslie crept out into the kitchen, glad that her mother was somewhere in her room, setting the answering machine to receive calls from Brett. She must be making enough noise for her mom to hear, but she seemed to have changed her mind about making her stay. The machine emitted a series of loud beeps as Leslie scribbled out her name and her new number. She left it on the table, one corner under the bottle of margarita mix. Her mother wouldn't miss it there.

  * * * * *

  Leslie's mother was packing. Janelle could tell from the zipping sounds in her bedroom as she and Leslie lugged bags of clothes through the living room and out to the rental car. She wanted to stay for longer, to try to convince Leslie's mom to come along with them. But right now, Charlotte coming along would only make things worse for Leslie.

  Janelle knew because Leslie refused to say anything in her mother's direction as she dragged two garbage bags through the threshold and down the sidewalk.

  So Janelle did, instead. "Charlotte. We're going. What are your plans?"

  "It's not your business what my plans are," she said, answering her question. The fear was still obviously there, masked with snippiness.

  Janelle wanted to slap Leslie's mom. Drag her out and make her apologize to her daughter. But it wouldn't do any good. The apology wouldn't be sincere, which would only hurt Leslie more. The sooner they left and got back to the campsite, the better. Well, for Leslie. Paul would be there for her, at least.

  But not for her. When they got back, she would need to witness their one defense plan against Andrina, the one she'd been dreading for the past few days. Her head started to pound with stress as she thought about it. If it didn't work, she wasn't sure what they were all going to do except continue to run across the country until Andrina managed to catch them all.

  If the plan did work, she wasn't sure what she was going to do, either. Why had her father volunteered out of everyone?

  Janelle checked the sky again as she left Charlotte behind, making sure that it wasn't clouding up. It wasn't. According to the news, most of the nasty weather was concentrated on the East Coast right now, with record rain in the Carolinas. If Andrina was anywhere, it would be there. She hoped that the Allister family could finish moving soon. Janelle had gotten what was left of the Elder Council to buy them a new house in Georgia. There was little doubt that Andrina would go after them. The poor girl who'd wound up on the Internet showing off her Tempest powers was sure to be a target.

  Leslie was already waiting in the back of the rental car, half-buried in her own luggage. In her emotional state, she hadn't even bothered to put the stuff in the popped-open trunk. She was also silent as Janelle squeezed in beside her and nodded to Mel.

  "Your mother's leaving," she told Leslie. "She wouldn't tell me where, but maybe that's a good thing. The less we know, the better, right?"

  Leslie nodded. She stared straight ahead as if she was refusing to look back at the house she was leaving forever.

  Her best friend, the chattiest girl in the history of the world, said nothing for the rest of the trip.

  * * *
* *

  The twenty-minute ride from Flint seemed like only five. Janelle clawed at her pant legs as Mel pulled past the gates of Holiday Fields, their home for the past two days.

  The campsite, mostly filled with seniors who had the time to enjoy it, was well out in the country, with only some swamplands and small forests surrounding the golf course and the tennis court. It was the second campsite her band of three dozen Tempests had settled in during the past week. Her father had suggested this place. He used to work with someone who spent a lot of time here, back before the move to Florida and her exit from any semblance of a normal life.

  Mel slowly drove around a golf cart wheeling its way past vacation trailers and towards the artificial lake. Towards the back of the campsite, several new RVs had taken up residence, and there was a small crowd waiting around the one in the very back: the one she, her father, and Leslie now shared.

  Her headache returned with a vengeance. "I don't want my dad to do this," she muttered, realizing that she sounded much younger than she intended. Twelve, maybe. She was glad no one standing out there could hear her. Now wasn’t the time to show weakness. Leslie and Mel were one thing. The Elder Council members and the Tempests who were mostly older than her weren't.

  Leslie spoke her first words since leaving her house. "I'm sorry."

  Mel stopped and turned the ignition off. She couldn't procrastinate any more.

  Thankfully, it was Gary who came and opened the door for her. Even his black bangs couldn't hide the nerves in his hazel eyes. They were there for her sake. "Thomas Curt and his sister showed up about an hour ago. We've been waiting for you," he said, taking her hand in his.

  Janelle stood, resisting the urge to leap up and throw herself into Gary's arms. She could tell out of the corner of her vision that Paul was embracing Leslie. Leslie, thankfully, didn't have to worry about looking strong in front of all these people.

  She did. And she hated it. The noose of the remaining Elder Council members seemed to tighten as Eric, the oldest, nodded his readiness to begin.

  Gary held her hand tight as she forced her legs to carry her towards the camper, to where her father was waiting. Janelle was never more thankful for his presence. He was the only thing keeping her grounded right now.

  Eric opened the door of the camper for her. She resisted a glare at him. He'd been working for Andrina just a week ago. Now he'd come back to their side after she'd gone all storm goddess and decided to rip every Tempest and Outbreaker in the world out of their human forms forever. No one wanted to be on Andrina's side right now. Her version of keeping Tempests and Outbreakers safe from the rest of the world didn't sit well with anyone.

  Inside the camper, her father sat on his bunk, forcing a smile at her. Behind his glasses, stress lines had formed. Janelle could appreciate all of a sudden just how much he'd done for her. Now she was about to lose him, at least the way he was now. She squeezed Gary's hand tighter, and he returned it.

  Beside her father stood Thomas Curt, Mobley's former mayor, and a woman that was definitely his sister. They both had the same stocky build and sandy hair. Janelle hated Thomas Curt's presence here. She checked to make sure Leslie and Paul hadn't come into the camper. They hadn't. That was good. It was partly because of him that Leslie had been forced to let Paul turn her. Just the thought of them knowing that he'd personally brought his sister here made her ill.

  But this was an emergency. There were only two sides now: Andrina, and those who weren't Andrina.

  And there was only one possible way to stop a goddess.

  With another like her.

  "Hi, honey," her father said. He smiled again.

  "Hi." She wouldn't cry. It's not like he's going to die, she thought.

  But would he be the same after this?

  “I can't give you my breath,” Thomas Curt explained to her father. He refused to look at Janelle as he spoke. “Outbreakers have to wait several months before they can do it again. My powers are drained after...after giving my breath to Andrina.” He spoke with hurt and regret, and Janelle could hear the sincerity in his words. He was the reason Andrina had become a goddess. A Tempest had taken Outbreaker breath, merging both sets of powers into a terrible result. And then she'd betrayed him. “But my sister has never turned anyone. She's volunteered.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the female Thomas Curt said, shaking her father's hand. “And you, Tempest High Leader.” She shook Janelle's hand, and Janelle couldn't resist squeezing it a little too hard. “I'm Angie.”

  Janelle nodded. Words had left her. Gary pulled her closer.

  Her father would be a storm god after this. He would have to fight Andrina and would never be able to tolerate direct sunlight again. She'd only be able to see him while it was storming, if she was lucky. If he didn't get consumed with power like her biological mother had. If he didn't forget that she was a person and not a pawn in this game. Who knew what becoming a deity did to you?

  With a crinkle of bed sheets, her father lay down on his bunk and nodded.

  “No,” Janelle cried, rushing forward and letting the professional mask fall away. “Dad, don't do this. Let someone else take care of it.”

  He sprang up, wrapping her in a hug. “I need to,” he insisted. “It's my responsibility. Not yours. You have enough on your plate. You didn't choose your biological mother. I did.”

  “Because your mother pushed you into marrying her!”

  He was silent as he released her from his hug. “I did love her once.”

  Her father wasn't going to back down. He was accepting all fault in this. It wasn't fair. There was no way he could've known what Andrina would become all those years ago.

  Janelle backed away, sucking down tears.

  Thomas Curt nodded, stiffening. This was an awkward situation for him. Janelle hoped this was hurting him as much as it was her.

  Angie stepped forward, and her father settled on his back.

  Janelle backed into Gary, who took her shoulder. He said nothing. Gary wasn't the sugar-coating type. Nothing he could say here would help her feel better.

  The Outbreaker leaned over her father, prepared to give her breath.

  Leaned down.

  A flash of grayish-blue light filled the room like a camera flash, throwing her back.

  Janelle jumped out of Gary's grasp. Angie hit the counter with enough force to shake the camper. She screamed and let out a torrent of curses, curling down to cradle her thigh. Janelle's father blinked in shock as he sat up.

  Angie hadn't given her his breath. Something had stopped her.

  Then a voice filled the room, a horribly familiar one that reverberated from everywhere at once and inside her head at the same time.

  “No you don't, Lucas.”

  And it was gone as fast as it had come, leaving the camper silent and dead.

  It was seconds before Janelle could move. She glanced around the camper, making sure that Andrina hadn't made an appearance. She hadn't. Somehow, her voice and her reach had projected across hundreds of miles to where they were standing.

  “I...I can't give him my breath,” Angie managed, rubbing her back and standing up fully from the counter. “Something pushed me back. It was her, wasn't it?” The Outbreaker couldn't stop glancing around the camper and out the tiny windows, her brown and black eyes wide with horror.

  A heavy weight settled on top of Janelle's shoulders. It felt like Mount Everest pressing down on top of her more with each second.

  “It was,” she said, collecting herself. She should feel relieved that her father wasn't going to leave her yet. But she didn't. This had a new implication. “Andrina's done something. It looks like she's made it so that nobody else can become like her.” She didn't want to finish the thought, but she had to. “I'm the only one she wants. She only wants me to join her and become a goddess.”

  * * * * *

  Janelle couldn't quite relax in the late afternoon sun as she sat on the folding lawn chair, hand in hand with Gary and
next to the fire. On the other side of the rippling air, Paul and Leslie had scooted their chairs close enough together to touch. Paul had his arm around Leslie, and it seemed she'd relaxed some and opened up. However, she kept checking her TracPhone for a message from her mother, and the disappointment on her face each time she did was obvious.

  She, on the other hand, couldn't quite hide the growing tension inside. It turned into a monster, slowly eating at the inside of her stomach and pounding at the sides of her temples, making a headache rear up. It would be aspirin time soon.

  "It's okay," Gary said. He kissed her on the side of her forehead, and it helped the headache to ease a bit. "Your dad's not going anywhere. I tried to talk him out of that plan, by the way."

  "I know you did. Thank you." So had she. Janelle watched the fire flicker up and down for a long time. "There's only one person Andrina's going to allow to turn," she managed at last.

  Only silence greeted her from across the fire. Gary hugged her tighter. Footsteps approached as Kenna took a seat in the spare lawn chair, a lot closer to the fire than the rest of them. It reflected off her eyes, making them look like portals to a fiery pit. It wasn't too far off the mark.

  "Why hasn't anyone asked me to help?" she asked, leaning closer to the fire. "I'm not exactly powerless, you know."

  Janelle felt a ripple of guilt wash through her. Kenna was a volcano goddess, matured only a few months ago in Hawaii, but like Andrina, she had a major weakness: water. Even touching it would paralyze her. Andrina had way too much of the stuff at her disposal. Pitting Kenna against her might be disastrous. "Kenna, I don't think it's a good idea. I'm sorry I haven't asked you about that. Really, I am. But we all need you here--"

  "--In case of an emergency," Kenna finished. The fire seemed to burn with more intensity in her eyes, even though the real one was growing a bit lower. "I might be the only person here who even stands a chance at fighting Andrina."