Whiteout: Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter, #5

Aurora Sky Vampire Hunter: Whiteout

copyright © 2015, 2023 Nikki Jefford

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

Please do not copy, upload, or distribute in any fashion without permission from the author.

Cover design by Najla Qamber

Interior format and design by Nada Qamber

www.NikkiJefford.com

For every reader who needs an escape.

When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in.

—Haruki Murakami

1

No Man’s Land

Birch trees bent under the weight of icy limbs, a masquerade in white bark that cloaked the ashen sky. The land had turned pale—from the snow underfoot to the frost clinging to the branches overhead. Ice crystals seemed to surround my very soul, encasing my heart in a bitterly cold grip of Siberian proportions.

Whoever said it was all about the journey and not the destination obviously had never lived life on the lam.

The longer Dante and I trekked, the more it appeared the forlorn road bisecting the forest had no end. The inch of snow on the ground was undisturbed, indicating no one had been in or out in the past few days if not weeks.

Unlike the previous locations we’d scouted, Dante knew about this one from a prior mission.

Are you sure this is the right place? I asked for the umpteenth time.

I never forget a kill site, Dante said, jaw set.

All traces of humor had disappeared from my former partner since abandoning civilization. Learning that the agency he worked for was corrupt, that he was the very thing he’d hunted in the past, had a certain dampening effect.

But the crowning jewel had been when I told Dante my heart belonged to Fane.

Talk about twisting the knife.

We walked on opposite sides of the road in tandem. It prevented either of us from having to look at the other.

Despite my best efforts to keep a safe, steady pace, the tip of my boot caught on a rock. I let out a muffled cry of alarm, arms flying out to steady myself. The snag was minor; I barely stumbled. I wished I hadn’t cried out but was too startled to shut my mouth in time.

Dante continued forward without so much as a sideways glance in my direction. A second later he was whistling a merry tune.

My fingers balled into fists inside my knit mittens.

I’m fine, by the way, I ground out between chattering teeth.

Again, I should have held my tongue, but cold and fatigue made me crabby, and damn it, when a person cried out, anyone within hearing distance should ask whether she was all right, not start whistling!

The whistling didn’t stop until Dante reached the end of his tune. His broad shoulders turned toward me.

You wanted space; I’m giving you space.

Space, not the cold shoulder, I said under my breath.

I stepped over a misplaced branch, watching the ground carefully. I didn’t want Dante to feel obligated to ask after me if I happened to yelp again.

Dante looked over. We’re in this together, he said in a reassuring voice.

Together and separate—just so long as we weren’t sharing a sleeping bag.

He’d acted surprisingly calm since stocking up on supplies in Wasilla, treating our exodus into the interior as though it were any old mission. Operation Stay Alive.

We’d stayed at the last cabin for two nights before Dante said it was time to press on. Now we were outside of Cantwell on the outskirts of Denali National Park. After Jared escaped into the woods by Winner Creek, I had wanted to head east toward Canada, but Dante insisted we go north into familiar territory.

We continued forward, following the road through the woods.

A small clearing opened to Dante’s right. An old yellow-tinted fridge stood upright, the main door open wide, the inside shot out. The side of the fridge was covered with rusted holes, and empty shell casings littered the ground all around the doomed appliance.

Welcome to the beautiful Alaskan wilderness.

The road angled toward the mountains, moving us away from the shot-up fridge.

The air was stagnant. One big cold spot.

I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around my body—I needed them for balance over the inhospitable road. We might have to snowshoe into the next place. Wherever—and whenever—that might be.

The dusting of fresh snow seemed to silence the world. With the solid gray sky overhead, I felt like I was in a padded cell rather than free in the wild.

I cast a forlorn look over the landscape. Who knew the color white could look so gray.

Dante turned to me, an odd grin forming on his lips. The sky is gray.

I squinted, unsure what had gotten him excited all of a sudden until he busted into California Dreamin’ from the Mamas & the Papas, voice carrying across the skeletal trees as he sang about going for a walk on a winter’s day.

This was no casual winter walk. We were on the run from a government agency with unlimited resources and a strict policy against deserters.

Before I could stop my brain, it chorused back the lyrics Dante sang.

Dante, I said sternly.

What?

I shook my head. What happened to stealth?

There’s no one but us out here for miles, Dante said, sweeping an arm in front of the snow-covered road. We’re in no man’s land. Ground zero. Lost to the world.

A lonely ache pulled at my chest. We really were off the reservation. Giselle didn’t even trust burner phones, which meant we were cut off from the world. Cut off from Fane.

I blinked rapidly as tears swarmed my eyes and froze over my lashes.

I tried to block Fane from my mind. At least during the day. Just thinking his name was enough to trigger physical pain, like stepping into a steel trap that cut through flesh and bone. Once it got hold, it was nearly impossible to shake off.

There was nothing and no one to comfort me. I only hoped I hadn’t put Dante through similar heartache. The feelings he projected were ones of bitter disappointment. Blame.

He didn’t love me as I loved Fane.

I swallowed down the woolly-mammoth-sized lump in my throat. Survival took precedence over broken hearts and hurt feelings.

I stopped and sniffed the air. Do you smell that?

Wood smoke. It stirred inside me feelings of campfires, comfort…and impending doom.

Dante came to a stop beside me, lifting his nose. Perhaps it’s coming from a neighboring cabin, he said.

I thought you said this area was secluded.

It is, Dante replied as he stripped off his gloves and reached into his holster for the revolver he’d picked up at the Wasilla Wal-Mart. Good ol’ Alaska—where guns and ammo could be purchased with less grief than a pack of cigarettes.

I pulled off my mittens and stuffed them inside my coat pockets before retrieving Jared’s pistol from the holster around my waist. Giselle had bought the waistband holster for me, along with real bullets, not the blanks Jared had loaded inside the gun.

Dante and I continued forward, guns in hand, silent as the frozen land around us. The smell of fire increased as we neared, smoke appearing above the tree line.

Dante inclined his head to the side. I followed him stealthily into the woods. We crept up to a small log cabin. Smoke heaved from a rooftop chimney. Two four-wheelers were parked out front with oversized camouflage duffel bags strapped to the back.

Dante crouched on the ground, eyes on the cabin. I squatted beside him.

I thought you said this place would be deserted? I whispered.

He scratched the stubble that had grown over his chin. Yeah, well, I didn’t think these suckers would be dumb enough to come back.

Speaking of dumb ideas, maybe it would have been best to turn around and locate more hospitable lodging. I whispered this thought to Dante, who answered in his everyday speaking voice.

Not a chance. We’ve tracked down a couple of bloodsucking killers. Two of them managed to escape the last time I was here. I won’t let them get away again.

I licked my chapped lips, which was a mistake. They stung and cracked the moment they dried.

Since leaving Girdwood, there were two items Dante had failed to grasp or was blindly ignoring. 1) we, too, fell under the category of bloodsuckers. 2) we weren’t on a mission; we were on the run.

One look at Dante’s clenched jaw was enough to tell me we were going in. Stubborn ass. His way or the highway. One of the many reasons I knew my place was with the level-headed, actually listened, and gave a crap about me Fane Donado.

I exhaled. What’s the plan? Want me to knock on the door and say I’m lost? My blood might still have some toxin in it, though I had passed the supposed month-long expiration date.

Dante sniffed. Even those dummies aren’t that dumb—I already pulled something similar on them.

It was my turn to snort. Did they take a bite out of you?

The two that did aren’t around any longer. Unfortunately, their friends fled. I tried tracking them through the woods, but they had a head start. I even came back a couple times, but there were never any signs that they’d returned. Until now. Dante’s teeth gleamed white when he grinned.

So what? We go in guns blazing? I asked. Won’t that attract even more unwanted attention? What if a neighbor hears?

You saw the fridge. Gunshots in these parts are as common as birdsong—more common, in fact. Dante stood. Follow my lead.

He moved through the woods quickly. I jumped up and followed. His master plan, it turned out, was to walk right up to the front door and throw it open.

A cry of alarm reached my eardrums before I’d cleared the threshold and joined Dante inside the cabin.

Two male vamps in their late twenties stood on either side of a wood stove. One wore a red-and-black flannel shirt, the other had on a faded camouflage sweatshirt. On the floor in front of the stove sat a cast-iron kettle and two empty enamel mugs. What was this? Teatime in the country?

Dante’s back arched. He stretched the way one might after coming in from the cold to settle in for the night.

How nice of you to get the fire going for us, Dante said.

Peter, one of the vamps cried in accusation.

Ah, yes, Dante’s suave alias at work once more. Peter Pan. Well, I wasn’t playing Wendy ever again. I was my own woman—one with a gun.

I lifted my pistol and aimed it at the vamp in camo.

He sneered. Whatcha plan on doing with that?

Whatcha think? I said.

Dante approached the vamp in plaid, gun at his side. Told you I’d be back.

The vamp in plaid glanced at his companion, who missed the look as his depraved eyes latched onto me. There was no mistaking his expression. He considered me weak and wanted nothing more than to do bodily harm.

Dante stopped several feet from his prey.

The four of us faced each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. My heartbeat was oddly stable. I’d felt calmer in these kinds of situations since learning I was a vampire. That, and none of this had quite registered yet. One moment Dante was missing, the next we were joined at the hip, back in action under our own free will.

If running for my life could be called free will.

The air stilled. Even the fire inside the wood stove was silent.

A sudden streak of plaid leapt at Dante before he could fire off a shot.

I’d been ready for an attack, which made it all the more aggravating the split-second distraction was enough for Camo Vamp to come at me and knock the pistol out of my hand. At least I had time to deflect his fist by ducking as my gun hit the floor. I was in the perfect position to elbow him in the gut, followed by a knee to the groin. The bloodsucking redneck went from clutching one to the other.

A shot blasted through the cabin. I instinctively crouched, my ears ringing. My steady heart raced with the roar that ripped through the room.

I looked over quickly. Dante stood, gun in hand, the plaid vampire motionless on the ground.

I bent over to retrieve my gun. Before I had a chance to stand up, Dante took aim at Camo Vamp. A second bang cracked inside the cabin. Camo Vamp went from doubled over to dead in an instant.

Dante lifted the barrel of the gun to his lips and blew, grinning wide as he holstered his weapon.

Hope you don’t mind, he said, nodding to the dead vamp at my feet.

By all means, if you have a clean shot, take it, I said, failing to mask my irritation.

It wasn’t as if I wanted to smoke a vampire. Being stuck with Dante and Giselle day in and day out was fraying my nerves. We were always together. Always on the move. Constantly looking over our shoulders. Turned out freedom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Rather than respond to my comment, Dante pulled a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket and radioed Giselle.

Mission complete. Site secure. Over.

Copy that, Giselle transmitted in monotone. Giselle out.

I turned my back to Dante so he wouldn’t see my scowl. Our lives were turning into a Sylvester Stallone movie.

Man, did I miss Fane.

But until I could get in touch with him, I was stuck with Rambo and the Vulcan.

Mind giving me a hand? he asked.

When I spun around, Dante had his winter gloves back on. He crouched by the plaid vamp, pulling his limp arms over his head.

I holstered my gun and bent beside the guy’s legs. Disposal would have been so much easier if dead vampires turned to dust the way they did for Buffy. Luckily the vamp was lanky and not too heavy. Blood stained his plaid shirt.

My stomach gurgled. It couldn’t be stopped. Dead vampire blood was hardly my first choice, but the sight of it triggered an insatiable craving. I hadn’t had much of an appetite since the onset of our misadventure, but I’d never had a hearty appetite to begin with. At the moment my stomach said otherwise.

We could live on food or blood or both, so long as our bodies had nourishment in at least one of those forms. Blood had not been available until now, and I was practically salivating at the thought of a taste.

Dante didn’t seem interested and apparently thought better of keeping the goons around long enough to give Giselle a choice.

I followed Dante’s lead to the front door, outside, and around back. Despite walking backward, Dante moved at a brisk pace over the dry snow, fallen trees, and patches of vegetation until we were a good twenty-five feet away from the cabin.

This should work, he said.

We dropped the body on the ground and headed back to dispose of the second one. Camo Vamp joined his buddy in the woods behind the cabin.

Dante placed his hands on his hips. Maybe some wild animals will come around and make a meal out of them. Would serve the suckers right. Dante didn’t look at me when he spoke. He glanced at the bodies laid side by side, dropped his arms, and headed for the cabin.

I jogged to catch up.

How long are we staying at this place? I asked.

Not long.

How long is not long?

Maybe two or three nights, he said.

And then what?

We move on.

We can’t run forever.

Dante swung around, eyes zeroing in on mine. I’m not running. I’m keeping us safe until we figure out a way to report Agent Melcher.

And who exactly would we report him to?

Sergeant Holmes. Dante looked past me as though addressing an apparition among the birch trees. He lifted his boot and shook the snow off, only to set it back down in the crystallized powder.

I rocked in place to keep warm. Care to elaborate?

Holmes was my drill sergeant at boot camp. Good guy. No way he knows about activities on base. Holmes will straighten things out.

My heart gave a flutter of hope. If there really was someone who could hold Melcher and Jared accountable, we could go home. Mom and Gran could come out of hiding. I could request the release of Joss and redeem myself with Fane.

How do we contact him? I asked eagerly.

Vapor expelled from Dante’s lips as he heaved a sigh. No idea. I don’t know where the training grounds are located, and it wasn’t like I can look the phone number up.

Melcher would have it, I said, perking up. If we got in touch with Noel, we could have her look into it.

We cannot, under any circumstance, contact Harper, Dante said, shutting me down. They’ll be watching her constantly.

My heart dropped.

He folded his arms and stared down the road. The sun had dropped below the mountains, leaving behind a far-reaching shadow that covered the cabin and surrounding woods.

A truck rumbled in the distance, making slow progress along the winter road.

The truck appeared around the next corner and continued cautiously over the final stretch of road.

Tommy sat up front beside Giselle. The moment he spotted Dante and me, he placed his front paws on the dashboard and touched his nose to the glass.

The truck stopped in front of us. Dante reached the passenger door as Giselle turned off the ignition.

Hey, boy. You miss me? Dante scratched the golden retriever behind his ears. Go on and mark your territory. The place is ours now.

Giselle slid out of the truck, pulling a duffel bag after her. Her eyes flicked from the two four-wheelers to Dante.

Did you run into trouble? she asked.

Nah, he said, batting the air with his gloved hand. Lucked out, in fact. Ran into a couple buddies of mine from the old days. Mission accomplished.

Giselle stared at Dante blankly before heading inside the cabin.

Dante stayed outside, eyes on Tommy as the golden retriever roamed the property, exploring. Despite turning into a human popsicle stick the longer my body stood still, I lingered behind in the cold with Dante.

Some benefactor Giselle had turned out to be, more like a tagalong. Dante and I were the ones securing lodgings.

Does Melcher know about this place? I asked.

Negative, Dante said, keeping his attention on the surrounding copse. He searched the area with his eyes as Tommy explored with his nose. That’s the beauty of being a hunter. In the field it’s cut and dry. You only answer to yourself. Dante smiled slightly. Melcher was only interested in the end result, not the details.

I sucked in a shuddering breath. Dante heard it and turned to me, head tilting, smile still on his lips.

Relax. It took the US over ten years to track down Osama bin Laden, and he was the most wanted man on the planet. As long as we keep on the move and lay low, Melcher has about as much chance of finding us as a snowflake in hell.

My eyes drifted down to the single gray snowflake stitched into the cream yarn of each pilfered mitten. I’d found them at the last place, not having any gear of my own to ward off the magnifying cold.

Being compared to bin Laden was a stretch, but somehow the analogy comforted me. Dante had a point though. If the most hated man on Earth could hole up and hide for a decade, we certainly could. Never mind that the evil man had eventually met his demise. But we weren’t the bad guys in this scenario. Melcher was our Osama, and we knew exactly where he was—not that it was any help at the moment.

We’ll get him, Sky, Dante said. We’ll get them all. He whistled. Come on, boy. Inside.

I followed Dante and Tommy. The space within the log walls was dim. The room wasn’t all that warm. Dante must have thought the same thing. His feet creaked over the floorboards as he went to the stove, twisting the handle and opening the small furnace door.

He muttered under his breath before grabbing a log from an iron rack beside the stove. A second and third log quickly followed before he shut the door.

I walked into the single corner room to see what the sleeping arrangements looked like. Two bunk beds. The two bottom bunks were unmade, a dirty quilt balled up on one and pushed aside on the other. Giselle had purchased three new sleeping bags at an outdoor supply shop, for which I was grateful. Curling up inside my own cozy sleeping bag proved to be the one small comfort at the end of each day.

One of us would have to take a top bunk. I stepped inside the room to take a closer look. As I approached the bunks, a third quilt caught my eye on one of the top bunks.

Hey, I called.

What? Dante asked.

He shuffled around the main room. When it was clear he wasn’t coming, I hollered, I think there’s a third vamp shacking up here.

That got Dante’s attention. His footsteps clomped over the floorboards as he joined me inside the bedroom.

What did you find?

I nodded at the top bunk. Extra blanket and pillow, looks recently slept in.

Dante stepped onto the bed underneath and pulled back the blanket. He felt around before stepping down to the floor.

Giselle loomed in the doorframe. Where did the third one go? she asked.

Dante smirked. Maybe baby bear’s gone out for more porridge.

My shoulders tensed. Which means he could be coming back.

Then let him come back. We’ll be waiting.

2

The One Who Got Away

Dante strode out of the bunkroom. I backed out and joined him beside the stove, my body shivering. Giselle opened a cupboard, looked inside, closed it, then moved on to the next one.

I’ll stay up and keep watch tonight, she stated.

Don’t worry, Dante said. Tommy’s got his ears open. He’ll take a bite out of any vamp who walks through that door.

Tommy lifted his head and wagged his tail after hearing his name.

Or we could find a new place to crash, I said. One where a hostile vampire won’t walk in and surprise us.

Dante frowned. The sun’s going down. Besides, we still have a duty to take down hostiles, no matter our current status. Tommy will let us know if anyone approaches.

Tommy’s tail swung around some more.

If only I could be as assured by Dante’s voice. I turned to the stove and held my hands half a foot from the radiating heat. Warmth filled my palms. Dante saw me and did the same.

Giselle replaced the lid on a jar she’d been inspecting and shot a look our way. We don’t need a fire, she said. The cold can’t kill us.

Dante rolled his eyes. Says the Ice Queen.

Giselle pursed her lips. A second later she struck a match and lit a kerosene lamp. The flame produced a circle of light on the ceiling, though it appeared less visible through the glass casing blackened with soot.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The cast-iron tea kettle on the floor caught my eye. A cup of hot tea would warm my insides nicely. The water might not be all that hot anymore, but it should at least be warm from sitting in front of the stove. I pulled the lid up and quickly set it back down. Saliva gathered inside my mouth.

Blood, I announced.

"At least there’s food in