Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

“Interesting,” he muttered to himself, then directed a wry smile my way. “Not all of us lycans are ‘friends’, by the way. We are duty-bound to each other and to our cause, yes, but nothing more.” He stepped back and gestured at me with his arm. “Now you may call. You have ten minutes.”

It felt odd dialing the Churnleys’ landline number in such weird circumstances. I hoped I remembered the right digits, even though I’d memorized them before leaving home. Part of me was afraid that no one would pick up at all, especially since the old machine ran on solar power or something, and I’d never heard it ring once while I was there. What time was it back in Texas, anyway?

On the eighth ring, just as I’d started to lose hope, Mrs. Churnley’s cautious voice came through the line. “Hello?”

A strangled cry came out of my lips. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed human contact up until now.

“Who is this? Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying,” she snapped.

“Wait, Mrs. Churnley—it’s Riley!” I said. “Sorry. Could you put Angie or Lauren on the line?”

“Oh, Riley, dear! So nice to hear from you.” Mrs. Churnley’s tone warmed instantly. “I hope that new boyfriend of yours is treating you right.”

My chest ached at the thought of Navan being tortured and beaten, trapped inside the rebel camp. “He always puts me first,” I said, then, with a glance at my lycan companion, added hurriedly, “I really need to speak to my friends.”

“All right, dear. I think Angie’s upstairs.”

Each moment that passed felt like an eternity. My ten minutes were ticking away.

A gasp erupted on the other end of the line, then came a shaky voice: “Riley, is that really you?”

“Angie! Oh man, does it feel good to hear your voice!” I said, sighing with relief and leaning back in my chair. The lycan looked less than impressed and was tapping his finger on his wrist. I kept talking. “So much has happened, but I don’t have much time. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay, but… Navan’s not.”

A stony voice called out in the background. “What is she saying, Angie? Why didn’t they call with Navan’s comm?”

The pit in my stomach grew three sizes.

“Put my brother on the line,” Bashrik said, his voice now a dismal croak. I wasn’t even sure what he was doing hanging around at the Churnleys’—I’d expected one of my friends to have to rush and fetch him.

“Bashrik, I—” I said.

“He’s dead, isn’t he!” he burst out.

“No, I—”

“I told him not to go. I told him it was a suicide mission,” he continued. “I should’ve gone there myself to stop him!”

“BASHRIK, HE’S BEEN CAPTURED BY REBEL COLDBLOODS!” I cut in. “But he’s alive.” For now, I mentally added.

There was a long pause, in which my heart slowly broke. “Oh,” a small voice finally spoke from the other end of the line, and I could hardly recognize it as Bashrik’s. “Wh-What happened? H-How did you get out? How… How could you leave him?”

The last question broke me completely. “I-I tried my best to save him, Bashrik,” I said quietly, my chest aching, tears rising to my eyes, “but there were too many coldbloods and shifters. They’ve been keeping a hidden base.”

“What? There were coldbloods and shifters working together? H-How many?”

I put my elbows on the table, and my head in my hands. This was playing out just as horribly as my conversation with Commander Sylvan had.

I swallowed hard. “Bashrik, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But I don’t have time to go into those details now. Can you please just—”

“No,” he cut in, the strength suddenly returning to his voice, though it was still hoarse—and I could tell that his shock was giving way to panic. “I’m coming over there myself! And this time I won’t take no for an answer! Where are you?”

I breathed out and glanced at the lycan, who was shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.

“How can you not know? No matter. Wherever you are, I’m coming there! Both Ronad and I have healed decently enough. Ronad knows the ins and outs of coldblood technology—and our devices’ tracking capabilities are far superior to anything you can imagine on Earth.”

I cast a nervous glance to the lycan, whose teeth were bared.

“No, no need,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “I can meet you near where they captured Navan. The coldblood base is in remote Siberia, but we could meet at the nearest village.”

Silence.

“Bashrik?”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“If you’re really determined to save Navan, then all of us can meet there.”

I determinedly kept my gaze off the lycan, who, out of the corner of my eye, I could see was shaking his head back and forth in a furious “no”.

“Hm…” Bashrik said.

“The name of the village is Borscht,” I said quickly.

As I hung up, I could hear Bashrik’s voice go frantic. “I meant what I said about tracking—”

The lycan snatched the phone out of my hand. “That wasn’t—in any way, shape or form—what we discussed.”

“Sorry,” I said. “But you heard him—he was going to track the call anyway. The coldbloods do have really advanced technology.”

The lycan grimaced, then handed the phone back to me. “Whatever the case, you’ll have to call your friends back and tell them that unfortunately you made a mistake and you won’t be meeting them at all.”

I shook my head. “If I don’t meet them in Siberia, they’re going to track the call and find me anyway. Do you really want to gamble with those odds?”

The lycan’s face spread into a series of stoic lines. “Killing some interfering coldbloods won’t be the worst thing I’ve done.”

I snatched the phone back. “Oh yeah? What about innocent humans? Because my friends haven’t done anything to hurt anybody.”

His face remained unmoved. “Any human who works with a coldblood can’t be innocent,” he maintained with a decided shake of his head.

“Then why didn’t you rip the phone away and tell Bashrik to go to hell?”

The lycan didn’t respond, only frowned deeper.

“Because you know I’m right,” I said, realizing it as soon as I said it.

At that, his green eyes flashed, and he grabbed the phone again. “Regardless of what I know, the idea of you going to Siberia to meet your friends is, well, impossible,” he said. “You’re a prisoner under suspicion, not a tourist free to come and go. It’s out of the question.”

“Maybe the commander wouldn’t authorize it,” I agreed.

The lycan frowned. “What are you saying?”

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure why I’d responded that way. I guessed I was just trying anything at this point to get a positive response out of the odd lycan, and my reverse psychology seemed to have given him pause.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But at least… please just think about it overnight. I’d be extremely grateful if you could convince your higher-ups to let me have this meeting with my friends.”

At this, he looked at me curiously. “All right,” he said finally, with a slow nod of his head. “I’ll take you to your room then.”

“I have a room?” I asked, surprised.

Rising, he chuckled. “We may be harsh here, and you may be our prisoner, but that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t provide you with the basic necessities of life.”