Page 18 of Jack Frost
His face lights up like winter sunshine. "Short versions are my favorite kind of version."
The way his grin makes my stomach flip over is completely unacceptable. My life is too full of changes and new things already—I do not have time for a guy. Especially not this particular guy, with his invisibility and spiraling and ice powers. There's nothing I want less than a magical boyfriend—not that he wants to be my boyfriend—oh god, I shouldn't have let him stay for dinner. I shouldn't have let him cook for me. Savagely I carve out another bite of eggs and cheese. "You have until I finish my omelet. Then you leave."
His smile crumples at the edges, but he nods. "As I told you, the Horae were created by the gods to maintain the balance of the seasons and the climate. The gods couldn't be bothered to keep everything running—too busy starting wars and spawning illegitimate half-human children. The Horae were essentially the maintenance workers for the planet, and they did their job reasonably well, even after the decline of the gods began. But with the Industrial Revolution, the increased use of coal, and the explosion of the world's population, pollution and waste and general filth became more of a problem. The Horae grew weary of trying to keep the world functional for swarms of dirty humans who didn't seem to give a damn. Yet still they kept performing their duties, even as many of them lost their inner spirit, their energy, and faded into wraiths and wisps.
"The one who recruited and trained me was called Kheima, the last remaining goddess of cold and of winter. She had always been the most powerful of the frost Horae—their leader—and she survived longer than the rest of them. But despite Kheima's strength, she was slowly dissolving too, losing form and force. That's why she chose me. I was a sculptor and painter, afflicted with tuberculosis, and she offered me a chance to survive. She promised me eternal life, immunity from illness, centuries of leisure time to practice my art." Jack's jaw tensed. "Of course, she was lying. She turned me into an eternal warrior for the planet, one with little time for anything else. I've managed to create a few things over the years, but any time for art comes at the expense of my regeneration days. Sure, I can make ice sculptures in minutes, but I like to use other media too, and really do it right. But lately I've had even less time away from the fight."
"And who are you fighting, exactly?"
"Two hundred years ago, right before I was recruited, three of the Horae were living in Japan, on Sakurajima."
"Wait, that's an active supervolcano."
"Exactly. These Horae were linked to summer, fire, and heat, so they drew energy from the volcano, since it is a direct channel to the molten core of the earth. They grew very powerful, but they disagreed about how they should use their power. They turned volatile, angry, using their heat energy to battle each other. They caused eruptions and fires in various parts of the world. That's why Kheima recruited me, because she couldn't handle them alone. She needed someone else to help her hold them in check, before they scorched the entire globe.
"After I was transformed and trained, Kheima began to fade faster. She was tired, and she had lost her will to keep struggling, especially when humans did not seem to care what they did to the world and its resources. When she dissipated into a frost wraith, I was left alone, to hold back the fiery tide all by myself."
"That's not fair."
"No, it isn't. But Kheima was too old and weary to care how I felt about it." Jack sighs heavily.
For a moment I consider squeezing his hand, or his shoulder, but I don't. I fold my hands in my lap and wait for him to continue.
"With Kheima gone, one of the three fire Horae decided it was time to make her move against the others. Her name was Auxesia, goddess of increase. She imprisoned the other two, Damia and Pherusa, inside separate volcanoes, while she herself moved to Mount Etna. Until a few decades ago, she kept Damia and Pherusa alive. Each time they regained enough energy to be a threat to her, Auxesia would drain them nearly dry. In the process, with all those repeated influxes of stolen energy, she has become the most powerful Horae to ever exist in the world. Twenty years ago she drained both her sisters for the last time, until they disintegrated into fire wisps. And ever since then, I've been struggling to hold her back. The bushfires in Australia, the forest fires in California and the mid-Western United States—the changes in weather that have produced so many tornadoes and hurricanes—she's partly responsible for it all."
"But some of those events were our fault," I say, frowning. "Human greed and consumption, failure to take global warming seriously. A lack of funds for forest management."
"Much of it is a human problem, yes. In fact, Auxesia is only on this rampage because she believes humans unworthy of the world. She wants to burn it all to the ground and start over, with a new chain of evolution that will yield a completely different species of higher life form."
"But that's ridiculous. And impossible."
"Not to her." Jack downs most of his ice water in a few gulps. There's a weary slouch to his shoulders that I recognize—I too have been worn down low before, depressed at the lack of impact from my best efforts. But in his case, the stakes are far higher than anything I've ever faced.
He unfolds his long frame from the floor, rising to his full height and looking down at me. "You've indulged me long enough. I'll go."
A burst of snowflakes flutters around him, but I scramble to my feet. "Wait!"
The cold wind slackens, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.
"You look like you could use a drink. I have a bottle of wine somewhere in one of these boxes—a gift from a friend before I moved to Asheville. We could hunt it down and open it."
I regret the words almost instantly. What am I doing, offering wine to this guy? He's going to think I'm hinting at a hookup.
My tension eases when Jack shakes his head. "I don't usually drink. Alcohol has a very strange effect on me."
"What kind of effect?"
"I become an uncontrollable showoff. Trust me, unless you want your building transformed into an ice palace, and a series of snow sculptures parading along the street outside, you should not encourage me to drink."
The last thing I want is magical mayhem that people can trace back to me. "Okay, then. Well—goodbye, and thank you for dinner." Inwardly I curse myself for the prim, awkward delivery of those words.
Jack doesn't seem to notice anything stiff in my attitude. His blue eyes soften, his lashes sinking lower. He comes a step closer, and then another. There's something sensual about the angles of his body as he approaches me, a feral carnality in the loose parting of his lips. He's so close I can smell his sweet, cool breath.
"Bye," I whisper, and I step back into my bedroom and slam the door in his face.
I press my back to the door, my heart kicking wild against my ribs. Was it my imagination, or was he about to kiss me?
The next morning I'm up early—thanks, jet lag—unpacking more boxes. Jack's ice knife dissipated after he left last night, but I have my kitchen knives available now, so I use those to slit the tape.
