1

PROLOGUE

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. White-barked birch and budding spruce whipped in the wild wind, groaned under the onslaught of frigid rain. Willows rustled in protest as massive trunks popped and groaned. Some fell under the force of the brewing storm. It was winter’s last gasp for control before relinquishing its seasonal reign.

Nothing living moved.

A violent flash of lightning split the night, illuminating a clearing on the side of one of the forested hills. In that instant of light, two men appeared.

Thunder boomed.

The tallest, a blond warrior with brilliant green eyes, lifted his face to the wind. His nostrils flared as he tested the currents. Finding only the scent of wood pitch and damp earth, he relaxed.

“So this is where we came from,” said his bemused companion, a warrior as dark as he was light. “Earth…” He frowned as he took in the naked birch limbs and dead tundra. “No wonder we left. Barren sort of place, isn’t it?”

Fallon laughed. “Their winter ends, Mathin. They have snow and seasons, remember? And not all of us chose to leave.” He studied his companion’s appearance. Mathin had taken well enough to the comfortable denim pants and soft cotton shirts of the locals, but was visibly uncomfortable in the leather jacket that protected him from the dripping spruce boughs. Such heavy clothing was never needed on their world, but it was better than being wet.

Fallon looked down and grinned. His companion had chosen to wear his own boots instead of the hiking boots he’d been offered. No doubt he had a knife sheathed in each one. At least they wouldn’t be flying on this journey. He’d be a nightmare to get past airport security.

The guns holstered on each of their thighs would be no problem. Many of the locals wore them as protection against wolves and bears, at least in the untamed areas, but the dagger sheathed at Mathin’s waist made him frown. His companion already knew the risks of the blade falling into the hands of others, yet he’d chosen to bring it.

No doubt because any thief intent on taking it would be cut to shreds for his effort. Mathin the Mad was no one to toy with.

“The house is some miles from here. Are you ready to run?” Fallon asked, already looking in the direction of the trail that led to the highway.

Mathin grinned, eager to explore this new world, and changed, taking on the shape of the Haunt.

With one last glance at the empty countryside, Fallon joined him in the shift that made their race so feared by man, and so much stronger.

Together they began the long run.

CHAPTER 1

“Yes, Grandma, I know.”

Andrea sighed and rolled her eyes at her friend Zoë, who sat at her battered folding table, picking the almonds out of the chipped dish of nuts. “Knock it off,” she hissed, holding the phone away from her ear. “No, Grandma, not you! I was talking to Zoë.”

Zoë smirked and made a show of hunting for the next one, knowing full well she was safe from retaliation. Andrea was busy piping the meringue mushrooms for her half-assembled Yule log.

Sometimes Andrea wondered if the only reason Zoë hung out with her was for the edibles. It certainly wasn’t for the décor, she thought, grimacing at the rusty folding chair on which Zoë sat. At least it was better than the rickety three-legged stool that was the one-room apartment’s other seat. Other than a neat pile of blankets in the corner and the cardboard boxes housing her possessions, the room was still bare.

And why wouldn’t it be? After all, she’d just moved in last week. Between work and culinary school, she’d barely had a moment to breathe, let alone unpack. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could afford much more than the essentials on her waitress’s salary. Even garage sale bargains were out of reach until she had the time to hunt for them.

This was the last semester of school. In two days she could take her finals and finally earn her accreditation as a chef. She couldn’t wait.

“Um, hmm.” she mumbled into the receiver sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder, realizing she’d missed half the conversation. It came as no surprise, since half of her grandmother’s dialogue consisted of local gossip, which Andrea detested, and personal advice, little of which applied to Andrea’s life. Still, she loved her grandmother, and she did try to respect her feelings.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. When shall I expect you?”

“What?” The receiver slipped, caught in the crook of her elbow. She grabbed it and held it firmly to her ear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Zoë wandered over to the microscopic counter, her gaze sly as she eyed the leftover chocolate gauche. Her fingers twitched.

Andrea snatched the wooden spoon out the bowl and whacked the back of her hand.

Zoë pouted and licked the creamy chocolate off her dark skin. The pout turned into a cross-eyed look of ecstasy.

Andrea giggled. Then she heard her grandmother say, “Oh, thank you, dear! It means so much to me to know you’ll come visit. And do bring Zoë. She sounds like such a nice girl.”

“B-but Grandma!” Andrea stuttered, stunned. “You live in Alaska!” Surely she hadn’t agreed to go visit there.

“Don’t they still have igloos?” Zoë asked.

Andrea glanced at her only to discover the brat had stolen the gauche while she’d been distracted. Brows lifted in challenge, Zoë dipped the spoon in the bowl and brazenly licked it.

Andrea’s mouth opened in outrage, but Grandma Matilda cut her off. “I’ll pay for your e-tickets right away. I’ve got the Internet, you know.”

Flustered by her Grandmother’s logic and the rapidly disappearing chocolate, Andrea sputtered, “I can’t take your money, Grandma! Besides, I have to find a better job, and there’s tons of stuff to do…”