Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

“Tell me how you came to be here.”

Now that I finally had the chance to tell my side of things, I paused. Doubts from before crept into my head. What if telling him the scope of the rebel coldblood camp made him focus on attacking it, instead of saving Navan?

“Today, human,” Sylvan barked.

One glance at his intelligent coral eyes made up my mind for me. Lying or leaving things out now was too dangerous to risk it. I’d finally gotten what I’d desperately wanted, back there in the snow—contact with the Fed.

So I told him everything. From flying in the Fed-equipped ship, to picking up the sneaky shifter, to discovering the coldblood camp. At the last, Sylvan’s deep-set eyes bugged out.

“You say there were how many of these rebel coldbloods and shifters?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “The shifter had said there were a few hundred shifters there when Navan asked him, but I don’t know if he was telling the truth. Combined with the coldbloods, to me it looked like a few thousand… maybe even more.”

He bowed his head, as if considering what I’d said, then shook it fiercely.

“No, no,” he said. “Impossible. A camp of that scope passing under our notice? Impossible! When we sent you on that mission, our intel indicated the base likely numbered from a few individuals to fifty, tops.”

“They had an invisibility shield,” I reminded him.

But now his thin lips were set in a firm line.

“Impossible, human. For something like that to slip by our notice, that would mean one of our own was betraying us, changing the data in certain reports. What you’re suggesting is a traitor inside our very own ranks.” His voice lowered. “It’s out of the question.”

“I know what I saw,” I replied in a steady voice, not lowering my gaze.

Sylvan paused, scratching at one of his ash-brown sideburns, and I could have sworn there was a flicker of genuine worry in his eyes. “And what is your story for how you came to be a mile or so away from this camp, practically frozen to death?”

“How did you pick me up, anyway?” I countered, wanting answers to some of my own questions first.

I noticed suddenly that I was wearing a plain black robe. My broken suit had been taken from me, although I supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, given that the suit was theirs in the first place. Maybe that suit had helped them find me, somehow, even though it was dysfunctional. They’d said it was expensive, so I guessed it was possible they had installed some tracking tech inside it for security.

“Answer the question, human,” he said coolly.

“I tried to rescue my… friend, Navan. The coldblood who was sent with me on the mission,” I said. “The rebels captured him, and even with my invisibility suit, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him.”

My voice hitched at the last part. The guilt over what had happened washed over me, making my gut churn. I’d gotten out. Navan hadn’t, in spite of what I’d promised him.

“And then?” Sylvan prodded.

“I was going to call for your help on the ship, but it was infested with shifters. They attacked me, and I barely escaped. I was exhausted with nowhere to go, so I tried to make it to the nearest village, but I collapsed on the way. The last thing I remember is losing consciousness, before waking up to… this.”

Sylvan’s vibrant eyes narrowed as I spoke, his mind seemingly scanning and dissecting every word I said.

“And that is all?” he said after a minute.

“That’s everything I know.”

“I see,” he said, rising from his chair.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

He paused, his bushy brows rising. “That remains to be seen.”

“Can I at least contact my friends?” In particular, I needed to speak to Bashrik. When he didn’t respond, I added, “It’s not like I can tell them where I am—I have no idea.”

At this, a smile played on his angular features. “True. You do not.”

He strode out without another word.

I watched the door close behind him with a sinking heart.

How long was I going to be kept in here? What if they didn’t believe me? And what would they do with the information I’d given them? Navan was still out there, and based on the vibe I’d gotten from Sylvan, the likelihood of a rescue mission seemed slim. Why would they care to rescue Navan, anyway? That would be a tricky, risky, and time-consuming endeavor. If they were going to act based on what I’d told them, I feared they’d just move in to attack the entire base, and who knew what would happen to Navan then.

I had to find another way to infiltrate the rebel base, but to do that, this time I desperately needed backup. Angie and Lauren’s cellphones wouldn’t be working out in the country, and I hadn’t the faintest clue how Bashrik’s comm device worked, but I did have one other way to contact them.

A few minutes later, the door opened to reveal a different lycan. This one was thinner and bonier than Sylvan, while his eyes were a lime green.

“I’ve been sent in with this,” his husky-yet-melodious voice said. He lifted a device that looked like a phone.

“Is that…”

He nodded solemnly. “An iPhone X.”

As I gaped at him, he swiped a gray curl off his face.

“What?” he asked drily.

“Just… I don’t know,” I said. “I figured that you lycans would have different technology, something more advanced.”

“This is the newest model available, I’ll have you know,” he said huffily. “Human technology will suffice for your needs. You do know how to use one of these, don’t you?”

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching for the sleek black phone. Once my fingers closed around it, however, he didn’t release his vice-like grip. His lime eyes found mine.

“I’m supposed to inform you that you’re to indicate that you are safe, but nothing more. Nothing about the Fed—no funny business. I will be here to ensure that.”

I was waiting for the “or else” part of his statement, but he seemed content that his warning would be enough.

“Okay,” I promised. “Nothing about the Fed.”

I didn’t mention that I was going to try to see if I could swing a visit with them… and ask permission from the Fed later. Something told me that admitting that in advance would not go over well.

He released the phone, but seconds later, his hand had grasped mine. He took a long sniff, and then his nose crinkled.

“Hm,” he said, releasing me.

“Uh, can I call now?” I asked.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Riley.”

He took another sniff, and then, before I could respond, said, “And they say you and your coldblood comrade discovered a base of thousands of coldbloods and shifters, who’ve been living in Siberia right under our noses?”

“Yes. Although your friend doesn’t seem to believe me.”

Another closed-eyed sniff.