Frost Burned

one half hour apart from a number I didn’t know. I didn’t bother to read the text messages, just dialed the strange number. Tad answered.
    “So,” he said grumpily without waiting for me to say anything. “I take it you’re dead? Because, otherwise, there is no excuse for guilting me into sitting outside in winter watching the most boring family on earth for more than a whole day. They started sending out the kids with cocoa yesterday about two in the afternoon. Dinner was homemade burritos with Spanish rice and refried beans—and almost good enough to forgive you for making me think you might be dead.”
    “How did they know you were there?” I asked.
    “I knocked on the door to use the bathroom. Figured it was safer than leaving them to be slaughtered by enemy government agents while I went out to find the nearest gas station.” There was a pause. “You all right?”
    “No,” I told him honestly, closing my eyes. “Not at all. Adam’s still gone. They had a few men here at Kyle’s—”
    “That’s Warren’s boyfriend, right?”
    “Right. Anyway Ben, I, and Stefan—mostly Stefan—got Kyle out of their clutches but spent the day at the police department answering questions.”
    “Good for Stefan.”
    I rubbed my eyes and thought. “I think the best thing to do might be to grab Gabriel and Jesse and bring them back here. There are police keeping an eye out on Kyle’s house, and Adam’s team is running security.” I looked at Asil, and asked—“Are you planning on staying here with us?”
    He nodded. “Until Adam is found, yes.”
    “Okay, did you hear that, Tad? I have one of Bran’s wolves here to help out, too.”
    “I don’t have a car,” Tad told me. “I hiked over. You’ll have to come get them yourself.”
    “No worries. I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes.” I opened my mouth to ask if he would consider helping us further but closed it again because he’d been standing guard all day.
    “If Kyle has an extra bed in his mansion,” Tad said, “I’ll catch a few winks of sleep there, and I’ll help you until this is finished.” He paused, too. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk. Life hasn’t been a bed of roses lately, but I don’t have to take it out on you.”
    “Sure you do,” I told him. “Who else would listen to it? I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
    I clicked the phone off.
    “I’ll come with you,” Asil said. “They know where you are—which makes you the shiniest target.”
    “Fine,” I said. “If we leave Ben here, there will be room in Marsilia’s car.”
    Asil looked at me. “Your vampire friend is Marsilia? Mistress of the Tri-Cities’ seethe?”
    I snorted. “Don’t be silly. Marsilia hates me and would love to see me rot in Hell. I stole her car so that the bad guys couldn’t find me—and because I wrecked my car. Ben’s already bled all over her Mercedes, though, so a few more miles on the odometer won’t make her any madder.” I caught sight of Ben. He was watching me intently and told me as clearly as he could without words that he didn’t intend to be left behind.
    “You need to change back,” I told him. “You’ve been shot and dragged all over the place, and you’ve been wolf for nearly two days. Time to change back and rest up. All I’m doing is picking up Jesse and Gabriel and coming back here. Bran sent Asil over to be useful, so he will be and, unless I’m much mistaken, we’ll also have an escort of Adam’s finest trained professionals to make sure I make it back safely.”
    “I’ll keep her safe,” Asil told Ben solemnly.
    “Besides,” I said, “I’d like to leave Kyle with some real backup in case something happens.”
    It was the truth—and that one worked. Ben liked Kyle—and Ben didn’t like very many people.

6
A DAM
    Fear was a familiar friend. Adam sometimes thought that he’d been afraid since he’d stepped on the bus that took him to basic training all those years ago. And the older he got, the more he had to fear. Right now, he was afraid for Mercy, who didn’t have the sense to be afraid for herself.
    When he’d been a boy, he’d thought that if you were just strong enough, tough enough there wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of—except for God, of course. His parents had been small farmers, patriots, and devout Baptist God-fearing Christians and raised him to be the same. But their best efforts had met the world, and, mostly, the world had won.
    He’d left the farm first,