“I need to stop. Please. Can we just stop for a minute?” Gusts of wind fling Emma’s pleading voice back to me.  She stops in her track and I trudge up beside her.

​

Panting heavily, I bend over next to Emma, my hands on my knees. It would be really great if I could catch my breath. I’d heard about snot-freezing cold somewhere before, but had no concept of what that really meant. Soon after we started walking, I became intimately familiar with the term. Breathing through my nose hurts too much, sending needles stabbing the tender inside of my nostrils. The burn in my thighs is second only to the fire in my lungs from sucking down frigid air through my mouth.

​

Kate backtracks and lays one hand on each of our backs. They’re panting as hard as I am, which is of little consolation as I continue to strain for air.

​

Our heads together, I at least don’t have to yell. “It’s bound to be light soon and then we have to stop, okay? But until then we’ve gotta keep moving. Put as much distance between us and that plane as possible.”

​

Emma nods. I find Janelle’s eyes piercing the darkness. Good. She didn’t leave us. I retie the hood flap higher and tighter around my face and we set off again. The wind seems to come at us from every direction, moaning through the trees and sending their branches creaking and groaning against one another. And the snow just keeps coming down. Emma, first in line behind the vampire, has to slow Janelle down several times because the snowfall is so heavy it covers our tracks in seconds. Great for hiding our trail from possible pursuers, but sucky for keeping track of one another. I have to stay within a couple of steps of Kate. But I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my streaming eyes open. The little bit of my face exposed is caked in ice and long ago went numb. I wish my side did, but it aches with every breath in and out. My feet feel leaden and numb, like solid blocks of ice. I tune out all the aches, pains and worries in favor of focusing on dragging one heavy foot after the other.

​

Before I realize it I begin to be able to make out details of the trees around us, can glimpse Janelle plowing tirelessly ahead of Emma. When Janelle stops, it doesn’t register and I plow into the back of Kate, nearly knocking her down. Thankfully, she keeps us on our feet. I’m convinced that if I were to fall down, I’d never get myself back up.

 

Janelle motions for us to stay where we are and darts off to the right. The three of us huddle together, waiting, trying to protect ourselves from the wind. The longer we stand still, any warmth my muscles earned walking begins to cool into stiffness. I’m not the only one that starts bouncing, so I guess they feel the same. Finally, Janelle returns.

 

“There’s a cave just big enough for us to hunker down and spend the day in. Follow me.” Before any of us can reply, she starts off. I’m not the only one struggling to put one foot in front of the other, but I won’t quit now. The promise of getting out of this storm reinvigorates me. Out of the arctic wind. Stopping. Sitting down. Maybe even getting warm.

 

I don’t know how Janelle found the cave. I see nothing hinting at one where she drops to her knees and starts digging with her hands at the base of a rocky ledge. She moves snow like a snowblower, and we all have to take several steps away to avoid getting buried. Finally she stands and motions us forward. Emma goes first, holding her right arm against her body and ducking low. I’m too drained and numb to care about what might be waiting for us inside, so I stumble in through the small opening after her. Kate follows me, then Janelle joins us. Once inside, she works to move snow again, this time hiding the entrance. She keeps the snow thin over a small area, about 6 inches in diameter, for daylight to come in.

 

Closing off the entrance also serves to cut us off from the storm. For a few minutes only groaning and gasps can be heard as we all try to get comfortable, huddling as close to one another as we can be. Finally out of the constantly roaring wind, my ears ring. As much as I want, need, to sit down, stiff joints and muscles protest every inch of movement.

 

Inside the cave is blessedly quiet and free of snow. We huddle against the rock on one side, as far from the opening as we dare. Janelle squats across from us staring at the cave floor. The thin stream of early morning light doesn’t show how much deeper into the mountain the cavity goes. Beyond us darkness yawns, but we haven’t noticed an echo so it must narrow quite a bit or curve away. Occasionally I catch a whiff of a foul greasy scent wafting on air currents inside the cave, but I have no idea what it’s from and as long as nothing comes to investigate us, I couldn’t care. I’m certainly not going exploring back there. That way lay dragons dontcha know.

 

The muted light is at least sufficient for us to see one another. If my friends are any reflection, I’m looking pretty damn bad. I certainly feel rough. Aches and pains make themselves known with increasing fervor the longer I sit here slumped against the stone wall and my best friend. But Emma’s eyes show the pain she’s in, and Kate looks shell-shocked. Janelle? Damn. She’s staring at Emma with hungry eyes.

 

“Janelle.” Not even a blink. I try again, stronger. “Janelle.” That did it. She slides those red hungry eyes to me. Okay. I have to handle this carefully. “Janelle, reach into your pocket and get a bag of blood.”

 

It takes effort but she pulls out a stiff bag, nearly ripping the pocket off in the process. It’s a solid red block of ice. She scowls at it, then scowls at me.

 

Of course it’s frozen solid. I should have expected that. Then inspiration strikes. I lean forward to see around Emma.

“Kate!”

​

Kate looks at me. She blinks a few times. “Sorry. What?”

 

I grin at her, almost giddy with my thoughts. “I just realized, we’re all sitting around here freezing and Janelle’s bags of blood are frozen. Why don’t you make us a fire? Just long enough for us to warm up a little?”

 

Kate’s face falls and with it so does my anticipation of getting warm. “I wish I could, Libby, but I can’t. Believe me, I’ve been trying. But remember I was afraid I’d set fire to something on the plane? Well, Emma suggested I manifest a huge flame to buy me some time. So while you were on the phone with Jo and overseeing everything getting loaded onto the plane and all, I burned so much off that I won’t be able to manifest again for at least another day.”

 

“Crap,” I say. Emma chokes on a sob.

 

Kate nods at both of us. “Yeah. Exactly. I’m really sorry.”

 

“Stop. Come on. How could you have known? We’ll just have to make do until then.” I turn back to Janelle. She’s glaring at me as if this whole thing is my fault. That’s enough of that. “Suck on it like a popsicle, Janelle. Crush it up and treat it like an Icee. I don’t care what you do to get that bag of blood in you, just stop looking at us like we’re dinner, you hear me? Because we aren’t. None of us are. And if you were in your right mind, you would know that.” My anger surprises me, but I’m not sorry. Things are bad enough without Janelle going all vampy on us.

 

Snarling, Janelle holds the bag in the palm of her hand and squeezes it. She succeeds in breaking up the block of blood, but the bag doesn’t survive and chips of it scatter over the cold ground. Growling at me, as if I tore the bag, she scrambles over the ground picking up the pieces, shoveling them in her mouth as she goes. By the time Janelle finishes gathering it all and consumes them, her face smooths out and she stops vocalizing. She settles back against the wall and licks her fingers. Lick, lick. “Sorry.” Lick, lick.

 

“No problem, Janelle.” Yeah, right. I know I should be scared of her, but I’m too tired and cold to be anything but annoyed. At least one of us is good to go now. “Okay ladies. We each need to eat something. Remember we don’t know how long we need this food to last, so no matter how hungry we are, we have to eat just one thing. And we can suck on snow for liquid. We can’t afford to get dehydrated.”

 

Only the sound of crinkling paper interrupts the silence as we eat our small meal. The energy bar is difficult going thanks to it being hard as a rock. I hold each bite in my mouth until it thaws and softens enough to be able to chew it. I’m surprised how much warmer it is in here, insulated by the snow covering the door, blocking the blizzard. Still, my cheeks and nose hurt from prolonged exposure. I look down at the empty package with a twinge. I can’t believe I’m finished already. My stomach growls in complaint. The bar barely took the edge off.

 

Janelle walks to the cave entrance. For a moment she stares up through the thin layer of snow she used to close off the top of the entrance. Then she turns to us. “I’ll keep watch. Y’all need to sleep while you can.”

 

I nod at her in thanks, but she turned back to the entrance. That’s just as well. I’m too tired to talk anyway. Kate’s eyes are already closed. So I lean back and turn to Emma. My best friend meets my gaze. We’ve known each other for so long, we don’t need words. I read her pain, her fear, her exhaustion. And I know she reads mine. When I finally let my eyes close, I could weep it feels so good. I let my mind wander where it will. I’m not surprised when all I end up thinking of is Jo. Gods, I miss her so much my chest aches. I’m so worried about her. Where are you? Are you okay? I want so much to see you, again. I’d give anything. Jo, oh, Jo. I love you so much, Jo. Jo. Jo.

 

Somehow I know the stone under my feet isn’t what I was just sleeping on. It feels...different. Colder. More frightening. I can only make out about a foot in any direction beyond where I’m standing. Anything past that point is shrouded in heavy fog. I look for Kate and Emma, but all I can see is thick gray nothing. I whisper, “Hello?” and hold my breath while I stare blindly around me, willing the fog to dissipate. Willing my eyes to make out something. Anything. Willing my friends to answer. Nothing. My voice shakes though I raise my voice only a fraction. “Emma? Kate?” Still no answer. I’m almost relieved. The hair is standing up all over my body. Something is definitely wrong. Maybe I’m dreaming? Gods, I hope I’m dreaming. Either way, I’m certainly not going to figure anything out just standing here. I take a hesitant step forward and the area cleared of fog shifts with me. I huff. Okay. That’s too weird to be real. I must be dreaming.

 

I need to get some bearings of where I am and decide to try to find a wall. I lift my arms and begin walking, one slow step at a time. The rock under my feet is uneven and I stumble once or twice, flailing my arms to keep my balance. I get a sudden idea of what I must look like staggering around with my arms outstretched and I have to stifle the bubble of hysteria that looms. Zombie Libby. I squeeze my lips together to keep the laugh in. I’m so tired, I’m punchy. Great.

 

I crouch, trying to make out what has caused dark patches on the floor, but in the dim light, I can’t make out any color, can’t figure out what it is. And there doesn’t seem to be a pattern to it that I can see. It almost looks like water has run in rivulets and made small pools in rock crevices. I touch it with a gloved finger and look at the tip. Nothing. Whatever it is has dried. Did someone spill paint? Who would be painting in a cave? I take a few more steps avoiding the dark spots the best I can. It gets harder to get around them as they grow larger the further I go. I stop again, and fruitlessly look around at the foggy walls enclosing me. Shrugging, I start moving again. If someone else was here I’d never know unless I heard them breathing or something. I freeze in mid-step as on the tails of that thought, the first sound comes to my ears. I hold my breath listening to the wet, raspy, trying to place it. There’s a rhythm to it. The hair stands up on the back of my neck. Breaths. Something, or someone, is breathing. Painfully. I look down at the dark pool stretching out in front of my feet, suspicion taking hold. I take in a tentative breath, and for the first time the coppery-tainted air hits my consciousness. I know that smell. That’s not paint on the floor.

 

Either memory or reality brings the astringent smell of old urine on my next inhale. In one more breath I’m back there, in that cell, waiting for Jo’s father to finish me off. Not real. Not real. That’s in the past! He’s dead and I’m alive. NOT REAL! Before I can stop it a whimper escapes, and the pain-filled breathing I’d been monitoring hitches. My eyes snap open.

 

Where the heck am I? Whose blood is that? My pulse speeds. I have to know who that is, but every fiber of my being screams at me to wake up and not see. I turn in a slow circle, searching the source of the sound. As often happens in fog, the sound seems to come from everywhere and no where at once. I stand still, closing my eyes and focusing everything on pinpointing the noise. I hold my breath, turn my head from side to side. Finally, I think I have it and open my eyes. And as I strain to look in the that direction, afraid to see, but knowing somehow that I must, the wall of fog parts.

 

I’d know that body anywhere. I’ve spent many hours cherishing it, but not nearly enough. I rush forward and collapse onto my knees beside Jo, terror seizing my heart in a vice. Is she alive? Please be alive. Two red spots glow in the darkness as she opens her eyes. She’s alive! But she’s so badly injured. She makes a croaking sound and I bite my lip. “Jo?”

 

Jo’s perfect, handsome face is mottled with bruises, swollen and misshapen, as if some bones are broken. Some of the bruises look old. She should have healed them long before they got to this stage. Why hasn’t she healed? I suck through my teeth, empathizing with the intense pain she must be feeling.

 

My nose and cheekbones were broken when the vampire who kidnapped me, Jo’s father, punched me. The pain was so bad I had trouble concentrating on much else and my eyes streamed constantly. Looking at Jo’s ruined face, I know what I experienced is nothing to what she’s going through.

 

Instinctively I reach for her, but drop my hand. Even if I could touch her, I have no idea where I’d be able to touch her without hurting her. She’s covered in blood and bruises.

 

Jo slowly looks around. Her eyes pass by me. “Chérie? C’est toi?”

 

With Louis’ help, I’ve been practicing French. But I haven’t gotten far. However, this I can understand. “Yes, Jo. It’s me! C’est moi! I’m here! Je suis ici!”

 

“Où êtes-vous, Chérie? Je ne peux pas voir.”

 

I struggle to understand. Où, that’s where. Vous is the formal you or y’all. Piecing a couple of other words together I get the gist. She can’t see me. That’s why her red eyes keep searching around me but not settling on me.

 

“I’m right here, Jo. Je suis ici. In front of you.”

 

She raises her head and for a moment, her nostrils flare. She licks her lips and her fangs lengthen. The handsome woman who’s been courting me is gone, replaced by the vampire half she’s been trying to keep from me. I search her crimson orbs for my Jo. She stretches out her hand. Her fingers are misshapen, twisted and bent in odd ways. Oh, gods how she must hurt.

 

“Chérie. Je suis affamé. J’ai besoin de sang. Sang. Sang. S’il vous plait. Sang. Aidez-moi. S’il vous plait. J’ai besoin.”

 

She sounds so lost. So weak. I recognize “please” and “help me” and I don’t care about anything else. I yank off my gloves and reach for her. “I’m here, Jo. Ici. I’m right here. Tell me. Dit moi. How can I help? What can I do?”

 

Jo moans. “J’ai besoin, Chérie. Sang.” She sniffs the air. “Je ne peux pas voir.”

 

She can’t, she can’t voir...voir. To see? She can’t see? “Jo, can you see me? I’m right here.” My hand shaking, I stretch out a finger and lightly touch just below her fractured cheekbone.

​

She moves with lightning speed and her fangs are buried in my wrist before I can register what happened. Between one breath and the next. She curls her broken body around my arm and sucks. It takes a minute more for the sensation to hit. When it does, I wish it hadn’t.

 

The romance books have it horribly wrong. It doesn’t feel good. At all. It certainly wouldn’t make me orgasm. It. Hurts. A lot. I start rocking, fighting myself. I really, really want her to stop but I also know how desperately she needs the blood. Still, if I thought I could yank my arm away without her ripping my wrist wide open I would. I would, I would, I would.

 

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I’m getting dizzy and my lips feel buzzy. “Jo. Please. Please stop. Jo stop. It hurts. Please,” and just as quickly as she struck, she releases me and flops back to the floor.

 

“Jo?”

 

“Fuyez pour votre vie! Dépêchez-vous, vous devez partir!” The words tumble from Jo’s bloody lips in a cascade of urgency but I don’t understand any of it.

 

I cradle my arm, not understanding why it isn’t covered in blood. I don’t even see holes. Still, it throbs with phantom pain.

 

“Jo, I, I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying.” I taste salt and realize I’m crying. I brush at the tears. “Jo, I don’t know what to do,” I sob. “Where are we? What happened to you? How did I get here? What’s going on?”

Instead of answering me, her head jerks to the side. Her tone now frantic, she whispers, “Quitter ce lieu! Maintenant! Courez!”

 

Her spiked fear permeates me, but I don’t want to leave her. “Tell me what to do, Jo! Please, please, Jo,” I sob, straining to see what drew her attention, but that fog is moving in again and it’s starting to enshroud her. “I don’t know what to do,” I whimper. I try to shuffle closer to her, but she’s disappeared into the fog. I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes. I try to keep my teeth from chattering. Instead of blood, it feels like ice running through my veins now. I’m exhausted, scared, and so confused. “Please, Jo. Please…”

 

I wake in a cold sweat, blinking at the narrow shaft of waning light streaming from the top of the cave entrance. After straining to see anything through the heavy fog, now every detail of this cave stands in sharp focus. I gain my feet awkwardly. Every stiff muscle screams at the movement and my side protests vociferously. But I quickly compartmentalize it, thanks to years of living with chronic pain. My wrist aches and I study it a minute before it hits me I don’t have my gloves on. That must be why it hurts. I quickly yank them on and turn in a circle, searching the stone floor for blood, but suddenly I don’t remember why I would do so.

 

Emma lays a hand on my shoulder and I blink at her. I realize she’s been trying to get my attention. “What’s wrong, Libby?”

 

“I—” I stare at her, confused. What was I looking for? I strain to remember, but only cobwebs of memory float by. I have a strong sense of fear, pain, of deep concern for someone...but the only image I retain is dark and shadowy and I can’t make out or recall who it could be. Libby’s face reflects her worry and I decide not to even try to explain it to her. “I’m just, you know, looking around.” Not a lie.

 

“You’re pale.” Emma reaches out with her good arm and puts her big gloved hand on my shoulder. “Bad dream?”

I just nod at my intuitive friend, not trusting my voice. Nightmare, more like. So bad it left me with a sense of dread. And urgency. To get help. To save someone. Jo? Was it about her? Gah. I wish I could remember.

 

“Since y’all are up,” Janelle says, breaking through my thoughts, “might as well eat something. We’ll need to get out of here as soon as it’s dark.”

 

“What’s the rush? Can’t we take a little time to loosen up our muscles? To stretch?” Kate asks.

 

As anxious and ravenous as I am, I agree with Kate. When Janelle reminds us why, however, I’m almost sorry Kate asked.

 

“Every second we sit here, the enemy has a chance to catch up to us. We move. Besides, I’ve inhaled about all the eau of Ursus I can stand.”