Hard Frost
A Midnight Rising Novel
The Depths of Winter Trilogy
Book 1
THIA MACKIN
AUTHOR’S COPYRIGHT
Hard Frost
Copyright © 2019 Mackin Works, LLC and Thia Mackin
Excerpt from Cold Comfort copyright © 2019 Mackin Works, LLC and Thia Mackin
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Editing by: Meredith Bowery
Cover by: Covers by Julie
Interior Design and Formatting: BB eBooks
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or stored in a database or retrieval system, (other than for review or promotional purposes) without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products possibly referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use and publication of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Trigger Warning: Some scenes in this book contain graphic content. Sexual assault occurs off-the-page to a primary character.
BOOKS BY THIA MACKIN
Midnight Rising Novels
The Depths of Winter Trilogy
Hard Frost (Book 1)
Cold Comfort (Book 2) Coming Soon!
Frost Burn (Book 3) Coming Fall 2020!
Visit my website at www.thiamackin.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I think the first book always has the longest acknowledgements, probably because it takes so many people to directly and indirectly publish a novel.
Starting at the beginning, to the teachers who encouraged me to keep writing and/or taught me valuable lessons that directed me along the path, starting with Ms. Mattingly in 5th grade to Mrs. Edelen in 8th grade to Ms. Johnson in 9th grade… and the indomitable Carter Lasure.
To my Alpha reader and co-creator, Kat Corley, who has patiently waited fourteen years to see this story hit paper. Midnight brainstorming sessions, millions of text messages, and a lot of heartbreak brought this story to life. Her links are in the back to follow her novel’s journey!
To my beta team for their encouraging words, priceless feedback, and going the extra mile: Barb Jack, Lisa Simo-Kinzer, and Jessica Slavik. Because of them, the book is much fuller than it would have otherwise been. (We also had a split-decision vote, which is why the glossary is in the back of the book. All terms are explained as you read, but some people just like more.)
To my editor and friend, Meredith Bowery, who figuratively held my hand while I hyperventilated and prodded me to make a few needed adjustments, and to Christine Sullivan Mulcair for her eagle-eyed proofread.
To Kallypso Masters for keeping me sprinting; she is always taking new authors under her wing and helping them fly. Also, to the beloved and beautiful Annalise Delaney, who stayed up past both our bedtimes to read aloud the naughty scenes and make sure they lived up to her high, romance author expectations.
Finally, I never could have done this without my family and friends. From the RPers of Valihi Weyr who taught me how characters sometimes write their own narrative to people who bought me books for every gift, you all helped me learn valuable lessons in building a universe.
And if I forgot to name you, I’m sorry. I still love you!
~Thia
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Books by Thia Mackin
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Character Name Pronunciation Guide
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Sneak Peek Cold Comfort
Glossary
Let’s get social!
AUTHORS’ NOTE
Dear Readers,
This adventure began fourteen years ago when two nerdy best friends took a writing prompt and began a universe. We—Kat and Thia—were both avid readers of fantasy and urban fantasy. So when someone invited Thia to do text-based roleplay in an urban fantasy world, she wanted to jump in with both feet! Except… the premise wasn’t believable. The creatures were a mishmash from different worlds, and she couldn’t suspend her disbelief to enjoy it.
We had always shared our books and ideas, which was what happened as we sat in Kat’s bedroom after Kat’s graduation party. She agreed. Whoever put it together created it for the “fun” factor, to make it flashy. But… what if paranormals were real? What if something pushed them over the edge until they could no longer stand peaceably in the shadows? How could we make people believe that vampires, shapeshifters, and other paranormals had remained hidden for so long—and were more powerful than we humans could ever imagine?
So we tore it down to this base idea that paranormals were going to take over. We established the What, When, Where, and Why. Then we built the Who and How. All we had left was… well … everything else. But we pored over legends of established creatures, like vampires, and separated “fact” from fiction. It needed to make sense. There needed to be a scientific or logical basis. We want you to believe while you read our stories, enough that you can wander happily lost in the pages.
For about six-months between 2005 and 2006, we invited others to play in our world through text-based roleplay. Unfortunately, though the members were phenomenal and we loved them greatly, it didn’t feel right to have others creating characters in a world we crafted. So we shut down the ProBoards account after a heartbreaking goodbye and went back to our pre-RP basis before we continued layering, growing, and writing. Today, here we are with Thia’s first novel in the Depths of Winter trilogy—the first book of what will hopefully be many to come from each of us.
On May 25, 2005, Midnight Rising was born. However, it grows daily. Now we invite you to visit—and we hope you stay.
Yours truly,
Kat Corley and Thia Mackin
DEDICATION
To those who think they can’t.
You can do anything.
You can make it through this.
You can find yourself again.
You can.
You will.
You got this.
Character Name Pronunciation Guide in IPA format
Aix Harica /eɪks herikə/ female; demon breed unknown
Alala Veracruz /əleɪlʌ vɛrakrus/ female; Tuveri
Alena Katarr /əlinə kætɑr/ female; vampire
Alika Sirach /əlikə siɹak/ female; Tuatha de Danaan; nickname Li
Alyson Asez /alisɤn əsæ/ female; human
Amrysyn Asez /ɛmɹis�
�n əsæ/ female; cursed human
Arianrhod NicNhraig /arˈjanr̥ɔd nik n̥raig/ female; Tuatha de Danaan; nickname Ari
Asher Sirach /æʃər siɹak/ male; Tuatha de Danaan; Terran alias Ash Talsin
Belisario Veracruz /vɛlɪsɑrɪo vɛrakrus/ male; Tuveri
Bretinoc Eshrai /brɛtɪnɑk ɛʃreɪ/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Caitlyn Kinan /keɪtlɪn kɪnɑn/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Derek Dukon /dɛrɪk dukɑn/ male; Tulevi
Eliecha Bhinj /iliɛkʌ bɪnʤ/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Eliza Sinton /ilaɪzʌ sɪntʌn/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Elizar Stone /ɛləzɑr stoʊn/ male; demon breed unknown
Eveline Eshrai /ɛvəlaɪn ɛʃreɪ/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Faela Sirach /feɪlɑ siɹak/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Fhin Kinan /fɪn kɪnɑn/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Fwen Panthrus /fwɛn pænθrʌs/ male; shapeshifter
Jarrett Atkoy /ʤɛrət ætkɔɪ/ male; human
Jeremy Sinton /ʤɛrəmi sɪntʌn/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Jorvan Abshoc /ʤɔrvæn æbʃɑk/ male; demon breed unknown
Karyn Sirach /kærən siɹak/ female; Tuatha de Danaan; Terran alias Karen Simmons
Keawyn Asez /kiæwɪn əsæ/ female; Tuatha de Danaan / human
Kismet Sirach /kɪmɛt siɹak/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Kitry Abinaleh /kɪtri æbɪnɑleɪ/ female; demon breed unknown
Leara Sinton /liɑrə sɪntʌn/ female; Tuatha de Danaan
Mycal Sirach /maɪk(ə)l siɹak/ male; Tuatha de Danaan; Terran alias Senator Michael Simmons
Rankar Donovan Sirach /ɹankɑɹ donovan siɹak/ male; Tuatha de Danaan; Terran alias Randall Simmons
Rendle Cavallo /rɛndʌl kævɑloʊ/ male; Tulevi
Sarki Ellayne Kinan /sɑrki ɪˈleɪn kɪnɑn/ female; Tuatha de Danaan; Terran alias Sara Nichols
Second Kyerzan /sɛkənd kjɪrzɛn/ male; demon breed unknown
Second Pwein /sɛkənd pwin/ male; demon breed unknown
Tier Sheldon /tir ʃɛldən/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Tiernia Sirach /tirnjə siɹak/ female; Tuatha de Danaan; nickname Nia
Treyv Osman /tɹeɪv ɑzman/ male; shapeshifter
Triswon Kowi Bhinj /triwɑn kowi bɪnʤ/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Willow Pliea /wɪloʊ plieɪ/ female; demon breed unknown
Xander Sirach /zændər siɹak/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Yeali Eshrai /jili ɛʃreɪ/ male; Tuatha de Danaan
Zeer Rezqwa /zir rɛzkwɑ/ male; demon breed unknown
Chapter 1
The boom of thunder trailed closely after a bolt of lightning lit up the gloomy midday sky, warning of a rare Spring storm. Overhead, the clouds were ebon-gray cotton threatening every creature beneath them with precipitation. Fortunately, the scents of the stable overrode the smell of distant rain permeating the air. May in California rarely brought this weather, and I didn’t regret that I would be leaving this Plane soon, after I collected my partner.
Inside the stabling area, the odor of manure mingled with the more pleasant aroma of horseflesh, leather, and hay. The horses barely shifted when I entered, used to the comings and goings. A couple stuck their heads out to investigate in case someone had brought treats. Only one neighed a greeting, and the sound lured me down the line of stalls past numerous Thoroughbreds to the grade horse in question.
He was the perfect male equine specimen. The muscles rippled beneath his pale, golden coat as he shifted in place, and the look in his warm brown eyes left no doubt that he knew his own beauty. “My handsome creature,” I murmured fondly, running my fingers through the short, coarse hairs beneath his forelock. “I didn’t forget about you. I just had a little healing to do.” Comfortingly, he laid his head on the top of my shoulder. “Did you miss me?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
The answer came from behind me. “Of course he missed you, Kinan.”
Without turning, I recognized the baritone that always held equal parts amusement at the antics of people and awe at the beauty to be found upon the Terra Plane. Apparently, the proprietor of the establishment had appeared to discover the identity of the interloper to his stables. As inevitable as the Tuatha de Danaan’s arrival might have been, I wished the fae had waited another fifteen minutes for me to finish greeting my mount.
“He also agrees with me that you look much better than the last time you came to visit.”
I snorted, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from the palomino coat of the steed in question. The last time I had visited, I had been bleeding from a couple knife wounds to the stomach; his observation was not much of a compliment. “Romtal will agree with anyone who offers him a few extra snacks, which—judging by his belly—he has had in abundance.”
Finally, I turned to face my fellow Tuatha de. Bretinoc Eshrai’s signature enjoyment of life showed upon his face in the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, the sun-darkened skin of his forehead and cheeks, and the glow radiating from his pores. From appearance alone, no one would believe he was older than thirty, though he’d lived at least two centuries. However, the power radiating from him—something most paranormals could sense—gave him away.
“Bret, glad to see you. I’m here for Romtal, and I also need one of your horses as a second for an interplanar job.”
He grinned, apparently amused by something I said. “You are not glad to see me, Angry One. You have never in my acquaintance particularly cared one way or another about anyone or anything except that creature.”
I followed the nod of his head back to Romtal, a bastard mixed breed of unknown origin. When I was sixteen, I had bought him from Bret. The Deylura yearling had already acclimated to life as a warhorse, and the older man had sworn that a horse was a better companion than any dog. The palomino and I had taken to one another instantly. For the most part, Romtal was the only creature I trusted to not betray me.
“I’m not angry,” I argued.
He raised an eyebrow in response to my growled complaint, the frustrating bastard. Then with an otherworldly bow, he motioned me to precede him into the office. As a twenty-three-year-old Tuatha de Danaan, I had learned that the majority of our world considered me a mere pup. However, I never felt like a child until one of the older ones tried to make me feel every century that separated us. I had a sneaking suspicion that he did it just to get on my nerves. Some days he did a lot of things to annoy me. Would today be that kind of visit?
The chairs in the office were comfortable, as evidenced by the fact that a family of mice had chewed the corner of one to steal the soft padding for their own home. Something much larger had raked its claws down the wooden panels of the wall, and the sheepdog snoring loudly in the corner was definitely not a suspect. “So how long will you be on the road this trip? Obviously, you will be off-Terra a while if you need a second mount. Last time it was—what?—eight months?” Bret asked, rifling through the file cabinet that contained the contracts for his loaner mounts.
I relaxed my jaw, quashing my hatred of answering personal questions. While his question was probing, he would get the information off the leasing papers anyway. “My commission is for twenty-four months Terran time. Whatever supplies I can’t purchase on the Planes we are crossing, I will come here to buy. Similarly, if I judge the caravan’s hostler to be incompetent and I can’t personally doctor the horses, I’ll bring them here. Obviously, I’ll pay for damages. However, if I’m in a hurry, I’ll need a clause in the contract allowing me an immediate, replacement mount.”
His absent nod reassured me as he thumbed through file folders. Another thirty seconds passed before he pulled a paper-clipped stack of papers free. Instead of handing them to me, though, he sat down on the corner of his desk. My breath held for a second, but I exhaled through it.
“What I’m about to say is likely going to provoke you, as you like your secrets. I want you to remember how well Eveline and I have treated you over the years, though. I have never inquired
into more than the basic legalities of your missions, and my wife has tended to your wounds more than once.”
My eyes narrowed as I waited for his next words. Bret might refer to me as the Angry One, but I had never given him reason to presume I had a hand in illegal maneuvers since Uncle Dukon introduced him to me nearly nine years ago. Even after my adoptive uncle had died when I was eighteen, I turned down any job he wouldn’t have accepted himself. The details were always added to the contracts, so Bret knew that. Most suspicious, though, was the care he took with his words; he always tried to provoke me.
“After your last visit, I had you investigated.” He raised his hands, as though that could forestall my fury. “By a very close-mouthed group of interplanar investigators, obviously.”
My insides twisted at the betrayal of my confidence, and a voice in my mind mocked me for trusting anyone, even to such a small extent. Employing a great deal of restraint, I nodded with a semblance of calm. “I see. I hope you do not object when I decide that I don’t need that contract after all.” I tensed to stand, but his words made me hesitate.
“If you’ll stop acting like a child, Kinan, I’ll tell you what he reported. Even if you still want to cancel our agreement, you will at least know what information is out there about you.”
Teeth clenched, I remained seated. When he didn’t start speaking immediately, I inclined my head as an indication that my patience was limited.
“One Sarki Kinan,” he nodded toward me, “was raised by her biological, Tuatha de Danaan parents Army Company Commander Captain Fhin Kinan—Gift of Weather-working—and Caitlyn Kinan—Gift of Prophecy—until they were killed in Germany during the Turkish riots of 1993. Their daughter appears to have inherited her mother’s Gift.”
My short fingernails dug into my palm, and I fought hard to keep a stoic expression on my face. If Bretinoc noticed the battle, he gave no sign.