Frostbitten: The Complete Series (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAUSE FOR ALARM

Connor returned to the kitchen where his mother was finishing up her lackluster dinner. He had a frantic look on his face as he was becoming increasingly stressed out. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kane’s shifty demeanour and the series of murders that were happening through town.

“Is everything okay, sweetie?” Charlotte asked.

“Huh?” Connor said. “Oh—Yeah.”

“Are you going to eat?”

“I might just run out here for a bit. I won’t be gone long.”

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Yeah, mom. Really—it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Okay. Don’t be home too late.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Connor said as he ran over to the entryway.

“Connor!” Charlotte called out.

“Yeah?”

“Could you just help me to bed before you go?”

Connor returned to the kitchen. “Right—Sorry mom.” He helped his mom up from the kitchen table and began to lead her down the hall towards Charlotte’s bedroom. “I’ll clean the kitchen mess up when I get home.”

“Don’t forget to eat—please.”

“I won’t.”

Connor helped his mother down onto her bed. He pulled the blanket over her body and turned out her light.

“I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too.”

Connor rushed out of the house to the only lead that he had left. With his boots barely on his feet, and his coat barely on his body, Connor made his way towards Brittany’s house.

It was quickly approaching midnight, and the freezing air was sharp, piercing Connor’s thick coat. The snow was coming down heavily, rapidly piling up on the streets and rooftops of Snowbrooke. The thick blowing snowflakes obscured Connor’s vision, making it increasingly difficult to manoeuvre the outdoors.

Connor stumbled up Brittany’s front steps, and knocked on the door. He waited. If you stood for too long out in those frigid temperatures, your joints would freeze. Every resident of Snowbrooke knew that all too well.

The door creaked open and Brittany poked her face out. Her hair was wet, and she had no makeup on her face, as if she’d just come out of the shower.

“Connor?” she asked.

“Hey—Can I come in?” Connor asked.

Brittany looked back into her house, and then back at Connor. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Brittany looked back into her house again, obscuring whatever was inside from Connor with the door.

“Um—Just a second,” she said, closing the door on Connor.

Connor waited outside in the freezing cold while Brittany did whatever it was she was doing inside. Connor could feel the glacial air penetrating his skin and chilling his bones. After a minute, the door opened again.

“Come in,” Brittany said.”

Connor walked into the room and Brittany closed the door behind him. Brittany was standing in nothing but a white bath towel, which was wrapped around her dark-skinned chest. The towel wasn’t very large, just barely covering her crotch.

The room was strangely empty and unfinished. The studded walls had no drywall on them, and the floor was made up of plywood sheets. There were garbage bags taped over the windows, and there was a large duvet on the floor, covering something.

“We’re in the middle of a renovation…” Brittany said.

“Are your parents home?”

“My parents—Uh—no, they’re away—away for the winter. They go away every winter,” Brittany lied.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Connor asked.

“No—I’m actually glad you came over. I wanted to talk to you.”

“You did?” Connor asked.

“Yeah—I saw you talking to Andrew today at school, and I wanted you to know that Andrew doesn’t know the whole story.” Brittany had assumed that Andrew was telling Connor about the previous night, with Thomas. She didn’t know that they had actually been discussing Hanna.

Connor smiled. “I didn’t think so—It sounded too unbelievable.”

“Andrew wasn’t there—you know?” Brittany said. “But I promise you he’s wrong.”

“Good—I’m glad to hear it.”

Brittany bit her lip, containing her mistaken joy. “You’re an understanding guy—I like that about you,” she said.

“Sometimes you have to be, you know? There’s usually a good explanation behind everything.”

Brittany was still hopelessly infatuated with Connor. As usual, when Brittany fell, she fell hard.

“Is that why you came over?” she asked.

“No—I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour.”

“Sure—anything,” Brittany said as she looked into her crush’s bright blue eyes.

“Do you have Hanna’s phone number?” Connor asked.

Brittany’s heart dropped into her stomach as all of her hopeless job dissipated from her body.

“H—Hanna’s phone number?” she asked.

“Yeah—I kind of need to talk to her tonight. It’s important.”

“It is?” Brittany asked. At this point, she’d zoned out of the conversation. In her head, the phrase, “You’re such an idiot,” repeated over and over again. Her heart was becoming worn out from being tugged, pulled and dropped repeatedly.

“Well—do you have it?” Connor asked.

“H—Have what?”

“The number. Hanna’s phone number.”

“Oh—I—um—no, I don’t think so,” Brittany said.

“Are you sure? You don’t have it in an old school directory or something?”

“Uh—No. My family never keeps any of that stuff,” Brittany said.

“Do you know where she lives?”

As a matter of fact, Brittany did know where Hanna lived. Most of the people of Snowbrooke knew where her house was, as it became somewhat of a landmark after the apparent homicide of Hanna’s father.

It wasn’t long after the story hit the news, and Hanna was sent off to a foster home, that kids started to make up legends about the house—calling it haunted and possessed.

It quickly became a weekend tradition—Kids would dare one another to go into the house. The goal was to make it up to the attic, where the spirit of Hanna’s father supposedly resided. No one ever made it past the bedroom, where police found the body of one man, and the blood of two others—Hanna’s father included. Most of the kids couldn’t make it through the front door, never mind up the stairs, and down the hall. No one ever made it up to the attic.

Supposedly, if you went in unwelcome, strange voices would start to speak to you. Some children ran out, claiming the feeling of cold hands aggressively grabbing their body. Others said that The Executioner sat there waiting, humming a haunting tune over the sound of electrical buzzing—the buzzing of The Chair.

The stories were the epitome of childhood fantasies.

When Hanna turned eighteen, she moved out from her foster home, and back into the house. The house had been in the family for years, and the mortgage was long paid off. Most kids stopped sneaking into the house, but they would still stare up at the attic window in wonder—strangely fascinated by the biggest mystery the town of Snowbrooke had ever seen.

“Brittany?” Connor prodded.

“Huh?” Brittany said.

“Do you know where Hanna lives?”

Brittany wrapped her arm around her chest, covering her cleavage as a sense of insecurity washed over her. She looked down at her feet.

“Well...” she thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THERE IS NO PERFECT WORLD

For once in Hanna’s life, she felt comfortable. For once in Hanna’s life, she was happy.

As the hand of Connor gently caressed the back of her head, she softly sighed and melted backwards, into his body.

With Connor, Hanna was safe—a feeling that had become so foreign to her

Behind her, Connor sat against the wall, on her mattress. As her body relaxed and softened into him, she could feel his hard muscles against her soft skin. Every time Connor pulled his hand back to stroke Hanna’s soft hair again, she could feel his ripped arm flex against her neck. She was in a momentary state of heaven—an isolated realm of pure bliss.

As her body softened, she began to give up control of herself to some other ethereal entity—lust. With her eyes closed, her head slowly fell back and her neck turned. She could feel Connor’s fingertips brush across her forehead, pushing away a fallen strand of hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” his deep voice said softly into her ear. She could feel the tip of his nose glide along the edge of her earlobe.

As Hanna’s eyes slowly opened, Connor moved in for the kiss. His light stubble tickled her chin. Their lips pressed together firmly, with a sudden eruption of warm passion. Hanna couldn’t resist the urge to nibble on Connor’s bottom lip, ever so slightly. Her sudden bout of playful energy elicited laughter from the two lovers as they fell comfortably backwards onto the soft mattress.

A seemingly impossibly breeze of warm, almost tropic air flowed through the house. The house was alive that night—breathing, singing, and swaying as if to the most beautiful music. That night, the house did not seem cold; the house did not seem empty, or lonely.

Connor wrapped one of his strong thick arms around his petite lover and he pulled her in close. Against her skin she could feel every single hard ripple and divot of Connor’s perfected body. She could feel every muscle flex and contract as he stroked her back up and down. The two continued to kiss passionately.

The strong, insatiable lust jolted Hanna yet again, taking control of her body. With her hand, she reached down and gently slipped her fingers under the loosely fitted shirt on Connor’s body. She reached up, along his rippling abs, towards his solid, toned chest. She grasped firmly against his hard muscle as she let out a soft whimper of pleasure.

For that perfect moment, that chest was hers…

The stroking hand of Connor began to travel south, down Hanna’s back. Carefully, she slipped underneath the waistband of Hanna’s pants and grasped firmly onto her tight butt. He squeezed as a warm energy vibrated down his spine.

Hanna moaned sharply, digging her nails gently into Connor’s chest. The mild pain only intensified the insatiable lust between the two lovers. Connor held the girl tighter, and Hanna snuggled her body in as close as she possibly could.

Her heart was beating faster and faster. Her breathing was becoming deeper and warmer; passionate energy was lifting her up, making her lighter and lighter. Nothing could tear them apart.

Hanna’s eyes closed as she could feel her pants slip down her legs, along with her panties. She took another long, elated, and warm breath of air, deep into her lungs.

“Are you ready?” Connor asked gently into her ear.

Hanna simply smiled and nodded, too lost in her spiralling lust to form a sentence.

Then, as Connor pushed in, Hanna’s fangs pushed out. Her eyes became a dark red colour and the world around her began to glow. She could see the thick veins pumping blood through Connor’s body. She could smell his beautifully sweet blood wafting through her nostrils. She wanted it badly. She wanted it so badly.

She moaned sharply as Connor pushed in hard—her fingers gripping tightly into his thick arms.

All of Connor’s muscles became tense as he pushed forward with all of his unbridled intensity. Every swift thrust sent Hanna deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of elation. Every swift thrust made her uncontrollably thirstier.

Connor’s pace picked up. Hanna was swirling around in an elated haze. Her sensibilities were quickly fleeing her mind.

Da-Dum! Da-Dum! Da-Dum!

The artery on Connor’s throat was begging to be drained. His sweet, athletic blood would taste so perfect—so irresistible. Hanna placed her hands onto Connor’s sides and began to pull him down towards her. His neck slowly became closer and closer.

Just one little taste…

Da-Dum! Da-Dum! Da-Dum!

Hanna ran the tip of her tongue along the skin on Connor’s neck. She couldn’t resist any longer.

Creak!

The entry door downstairs opened, pulling Hanna back to reality—out of her dream. She sat up swiftly in her bed, fangs still out and eyes still red from her passionate sex-dream.

A cold breeze swept through the cold house, sending a shiver down Hanna’s spine. Another long, deep groan was audible as someone stepped into Hanna’s house.

She could see the intruder—She could see Kane, through the walls as his blood pumped through his veins. In his hands was a crossbow, loaded with a set of sharpened wooden stakes.

Hanna had to think fast. There was no back door to the house. Besides the front door, there was only one other opening to the outside—the attic window.

If Kane saw her in her current state—in her thirsty state—he would kill her without question. She had to act fast—very fast.

Without another moment of hesitation, Hanna quickly made her way out of her bedroom, and towards the attic.

She had to get away from Kane.

She had to feed.