Cold Days

"I'm a little hungry," I said, and smiled. "Here. Don't need it." I tossed the knife to him, point first.

He caught it deftly by the handle. I saw the minor shifts in shadow on his neck as his shoulders tensed up. "Remember. You've got iron."

I didn't sneer at him, because what would be the point? But I did roll the nail back and forth between my fingers, and heard it scraping on ice.

I looked down and found that ice had condensed out of the water in the air and formed over my fingertips. I put the nail between my teeth so that I could hold up my fingers. As I watched, icicles began to form, guided by raw instinct, stretching out from my fingertips. I flexed my fingers a few times, and saw the edges form, the ice hard and razor sharp. Nice.

I debated. Armor, too? Too heavy. This needed to happen fast. Besides, I wouldn't want the armor to be in the way for what would come after. That was going to be the good part.

"Time to play," I said around the nail. I took four steps, building up to a run, and leapt into the air toward Maeve. Fifty feet. No problem. It was glorious, the freedom, the certainty, and I could not imagine what had made me so squeamish about embracing Winter in the first place.

Bad things kept happening to me. It was high f**king time I started happening to them.

Maeve must have sensed something at the last instant, despite her focus on Demonreach. I was a fraction of a second away before she moved with the serpentine quickness of the Sidhe, throwing herself to one side. My claws missed her throat by inches. They did slice off one of her dreadlocks, and it whirled through the air as I hit the ground, legs absorbing the shock as my feet dug into the muddy ground near the lighthouse.

There was an instant of complete shock from Maeve's coterie, and I used it to slice at the Redcap's eyes just as Fix landed on the rawhead's shoulders and overbore the creature, sending it toppling forward to the ground.

I felt my claws hit. The Redcap screamed and reeled away from most of the blow, darting back, brushing past one of the Sidhe from the Botanic Gardens, behind him. The Sidhe had a blank, confused look on his face as he tried to fight his way out of the concentration of supporting Maeve in her suddenly interrupted spell. No time to think. Claws of bloody ice flashed at him, and I opened his throat to the windpipe. He went down with a choked scream, and I stepped on his chest to fling myself at the two behind him, one a twisted figure inside a droopy grey cloak and hood, the other a lean, gangling thing with the head of a boar, covered in tattoos and bone beads.

I stomped a foot down onto the cloak, slammed my clawed hand into the body behind it, and ripped out something ropy and hot and slippery. The boar-headed thing tore at my body with its tusks, and I felt bright, distant pain on my ribs. I drove a foot up between its legs in a kick that lifted it six inches off the ground, and took off an ear and half its face with my claws.

I sensed Fix at my back and heard him grunt, "Down!"

I dropped to my knees and bounced back up again. In the time I was down, his sword flicked out over my head, drove into the chest of the boar thing, and whistled out again, taking heart's blood with it.

Then there was a roar, a sound that came from something truly enormous, and someone slammed a tree trunk into my lower back. It took me off my feet and sent silver pain through my body. I landed in a roll and came up to mostly steady feet, one hand supporting some of my weight, the other up in a defensive posture.

It was the rawhead.

Rawheads are parasites, creatures that assemble bodies for themselves out of the bone and blood of freshly dead beings. They were more common when every farm and village did some slaughtering each day, back before grocery stores and fast food. As I noted before, this one was enormous, bigger than a couple of large steers, twelve feet tall and weighing at least a ton. The cloak had been torn from it, and now it looked like a bizarre sculpture of bones of various creatures, drenched in fresh blood. It had the skull of something big, maybe a hippo or a rhino, and luminous lights danced in the empty eye sockets. It drew in a huge, wheezing breath and roared again.

Fix was picking himself up off the ground, bounding up as if he hadn't been hurt at all-but the Redcap and four other Sidhe were stalking toward him with weapons drawn. Fix faced them squarely, blade in hand, a small smile on his plain face.

"My, my, my," Maeve said. She stepped around the leg of the rawhead into sight, giving me a frankly appraising stare. "Who would have thought you would dirty up so well, wizard? I mean, the claws, the blood, the eyes." She shivered. "It gets to me. I've always had a thing for bad boys."

I smiled around the nail. "Funny. Because I've got something for you, too."

"Yeah?" she asked, and licked her lips. "You finally gonna nail me, big guy? You've been so coy."

"I'm done teasing," I said.

Maeve slipped both hands behind her back, arching her body, thrusting her chest toward me. It wasn't a particularly impressive chest, but it was well formed, and pale, and lovely, and hidden beneath entirely too much bikini for my taste. A snarl bubbled up out of my throat.

"That's right," Maeve said, her wide eyes unblinking. "I know what you're feeling. The need to fight. To kill. To take. To f**k." She took a pair of slow steps toward me, making her hips shift back and forth. "This is right. It's exactly what you should be feeling."

I flexed the fingers of my free hand and prepared to strike. She just had to come a little closer.

"Can you imagine this all the time, wizard?" Maeve purred. Steel began to ring out, back where Fix was. But I ignored it. Two more steps. "Can you imagine feeling this strong all the time? Can you imagine being so hungry?" She took another step, and another deep breath. "And feeding that hunger. Sating it. Quenching it in flesh and screams."

She slid her left hand out from behind her back and ran her palm slowly over her stomach and side. "This flesh. I would not give it to you. I would fight, dare you to do your worst. You could unleash your every aching need. And that would just be the beginning."

I was breathing hard now, though I hadn't been a moment before. My eyes had locked onto the interplay of muscle and skin over her vulnerable belly. The claws would tear through her guts so easily there. Or I could use my teeth. Or just my tongue.

"Sex and violence," Maeve purred. She had taken a couple more steps toward me, but I wasn't sure when. Or why it mattered. "Hunger and need. Take me, here, on this ground. Don't give me pleasure, wizard. Just take. Let it out, the beast inside you. I wish you to. I dare you to." Her fingers popped the snap on the little shorts. "Stop denying yourself. Stop thinking. This feels right."