In Farrow, our crew dismounts the charter plane, loading onto two choppers. Only thirty minutes pass when Jabir once again shows me the last updated coordinates. Studying the longitude numbers along my map, it appears that Tesni ran into trouble approximately fifteen miles from the Slokvo Strait. The portal.
I find a spot on the map where the fast ice meets floating ice, the safest option to make a landing. We adjust our coordinates and prepare to dismount within the hour. But soon, a coppery scent catches my nose from the air. When the chopper’s light beam hits the exact spot, my bones freeze over.
Bodies. Ice and tattered tents splattered in blood.
Damn it.Are we too late?
I elbow Jabir, directing him to follow my line of sight. Face paling, he swears.
“Captain,” I rumble. “Ready for landing.”
The pilot hesitates. “I’m afraid we can’t. The fast ice in this zone can’t support our weight. We’ll have to find somewhere closer to the glacier formations.”
Two minutes later, our choppers touchdown in total darkness. Jabir and the secondary pilot bundle up and ready the snowmobiles with machine guns, loaded heavily with 38-millimeter silver bullets. Qinnu shifts into wolf form, blazing ahead. Keeping a close eye on his six, Jabir and I slip on our leather gloves and load our weapons. Without my sling, my collarbone throbs when I raise my weapon and rest it in the cradle of my underarm.
My eyes and ears narrow in as we slip into the frigid void. No lights, no sounds, save for the whistling wind and the pounding paws on the ice sheets.
Within minutes, we reach the site of the camp in ruins. Disemboweled bodies litter the ice, spilled intestines crystallized by frost. One by one, Jabir and I check their faces, though based on how blue and bloody they are, it’s nearly impossible to identify who lays before us. Though one thing is for certain: not one of these carcasses has the ink of Bleeding Sun.
I radio the secondary pilot. Just as his muffled response comes through, an urgent howl pierces the silence. Qinnu jerks his head, summoning us to follow. Together, the snowmobile crew pursues, ice gradually thinning beneath our wheels. We stop at the edge, five feet from where ice meets the ocean. There stands the missing Sentinel along with a pair of shivering cadets. The rest huddle together a hundred yards out, floating on a slab of glacier.
Tesni runs towards me, throwing her arms around my waist. Her face is blotchy as she pulls away. “There was a storm. Three days ago. We were ambushed.”
I take in the rest of her, noting that a pint’s worth of blood coats Tesni’s pants. “They found you? The vampires?”
She coughs, almost stumbling. “Lycans.”
One of the cadets, a tawny young wolf clinging to an iceberg, finally passes out from cold, slipping into the water. Tripp throws out an arm, almost losing balance himself. Sensing the distress, Qinnu darts off, plunging into the water. He paddles frantically, gunning to reach her before she drowns.
“Where did they come from?”
Tesni extends her arm, pointing southwest. Towards Markkus’s land. “Maybe a mile or so that way? It was nearly impossible to tell during the whiteout. Storm split us up during the attack. If anyone retreated, I wouldn’t know.”
At her flank, a cadet’s throat bobs. “There must’ve been ten of them. They were expecting us.”
Out in the water, Qinnu paddles over to the sheet where the others are stranded. Less than a mile beyond them is a floating structure of ice. What’s left of the icy temple that conceals the only known portal to the gates of Somnium.
My eyes dart to Tesni. “You’re telling me there wasn’t a single vampire out here?”
“Affirmative.”
By now, Qinnu has reached the unconscious warrior, using his jaws to guide her forward and heave her back onto the ice sheet. In wolf form, Tripp stands by, instantly curling his yellow frame around the female to warm her.
I pull out my radio and give the pilot the coordinates of the isolated sheet where the others have taken shelter. Just as Qinnu props himself up on the edge, something large and silver surfaces. The animal latches onto his ankle, pulling him under.
I swear at the sight of its fanlike tail. “Seals?”
Tesni nods, shivering. “Hooded males. We intruded on their mating season.”
Jabir groans. “This ought to be good.”
I raise my rifle to my injured shoulder, cocking it.
Tesni spots the bandages peeking out from my heavy parka. “What the hell happened to you?”
Qinnu pops his head up, gasping for air. Amber eyes lock onto my weapon, flashing with panic at the realization that I’m holding my fire.
She’s the fucking apocalypse. We’d be better off killing her.
