Page 23 of Winter Reckoning
The horned man kept walking, almost ignoring me as he focused on Nick.
I launched spears of ice. He batted them aside without looking. I expected as much. My powers weren’t just generating ice. Reaching out, I could feel the surrounding snow. With a flex of the hands, the snow rose up, constructs that looked like white powdered versions of myself. They lunged and attacked from three angles. With a spin, his cane struck one, vaporizing it. The others grabbed him, clawing at his robes. With the back of his hand, he smacked one, causing it to explode. Growling, he kicked the last, leaving piles of snow.
"You can't win this," he said, almost bored. “He's already fading. I’m just here to collect his essence.”
I glanced back. Nick had his hand pressed to his chest. His edges blurred slightly. It had spread throughout his entire body. My belief wasn’t enough to sustain him.
"Danny." Nick's voice came quiet. "You need to?—"
"I'm not leaving."
The horned man laughed. "Adorable. The human thinks he can save the legend." He raised his cane. Energy gathered at the tip, black and crackling. “Tell me, Frost. Is he worth sacrificing yourself?”
“Yes,” I growled. Not because it was the mission. Nick mattered to more than just me. There was an entire world that needed him. I would gladly put my life on the line for him.
The horned man paused. The energy at his cane tip flickered.
"He's Santa Claus," I barked. It sounded foolish, but that didn’t stop me. “It’s not his time.”
I said it as much for the horned man as I did for Nick.
The sun had reached us. The ground brightened, but it didn’t remove the chill. It had been years since I celebrated Christmas. I hoped the kids had been awake for hours, tearing through paper as they — it finally dawned on me. The shed. Charlene. That was the operations she had been working away at while I watched over the cabin.
The horned man snarled. "You think naming him changes anything?"
Yes. It did.
I channeled everything I had into the ice. Not just power. Belief. Memory. The six-year-old who mailed the deputy badge had wanted nothing more than to carry on the legacy of his father. He wouldn’t have let himself become a memory. He’d have kept fighting, making the world a better place. I had followed in his footsteps for a reason, and somewhere along the way, I had forgotten my purpose.
“I believe,” I growled.
In Nick.
In myself.
Snow swirled through the park as if a small hurricane had appeared. My powers flared, the snow tightening against my skin until I rose off the ground. A second later, the ice had turned into body armor. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I wouldn’t become a distant memory. Vanguard would remember Daniel Frost.
“Cute,” the horned man chuckled.
On the side of the park, I spotted children tugging on the arms of exhausted parents. Coming to the park on Christmas morning posed risks. I should have dragged the horned man away from crowded areas to prevent collateral damage. For my plan to work, it’d take more than one family. I needed families to come out in droves.
I stomped forward as ice formed into a sword in my hand. “Cute, this.” I swung overhead. He blocked with his cane. The ice tried to shatter, but I forced it to maintain its shape. With my powers in overdrive, the cracks reformed. “Neat trick, huh?”
His smile faltered. Good.
I pulled back, taking another swing. The horned man moved quickly, blocking each blow. He expected my sword to break, but my powers didn’t let up. I thrusted, trying to drive it into his chest. He knocked it wide before his palm slammed into my chest. I slid backward, my ribcage reminding me I wasn’t invulnerable.
I spotted more families at the edge of the park. Cameras were out, recording the event. I’m sure they registered the fight with the HeroApp™. I didn’t want backup, I needed witnesses.
“You can’t win,” he hissed.
Bells from a nearby church chimed, marking 8:00am. Normally, I’d still be in bed, sleeping on the abundance of spiked eggnog on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, the children of Vanguard forced their parents out. Some had ice skates hanging from the shoulders, while others had plastic snow sleds. Even the shopkeeper had opened the shutters on the hot chocolate stand.
Over my shoulder, I glanced at a nearly vanished Nick.
“New hero,” I shouted. “Use the HeroApp™.” I pointed at Nick, bellowing, “New hero!”
I groaned as the horned man’s heel slammed into my back. The armor failed, all but falling off. Sliding along the ground, I could only hope my gamble paid off. If I knew anything aboutVanguard, its people loved cataloguing its heroes. A new hero? They’d be fast to learn his origin story.
