Dance with the Devil(9)

Well, so was Zarek.

Mike blew his breath into his gloved hands. "Hope it's all you remembered it as."

It was. Nothing here ever changed.

Zarek flinched at the brightness of the snow even in the darkness of predawn. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes to protect them and climbed out. He grabbed his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, then waded through the crunching snow toward the climate-controlled shed where he'd left his custom-built Ski-Doo MX Z Rev the week before.

Oh, yeah, now this was the subfreezing temperature he remembered, the arctic air that bit so fiercely, every piece of his exposed skin burned. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering-something that wasn't pleasant when a man had long, sharp fangs in place of teeth.

Welcome home...

Mike was heading back for the cockpit when Zarek turned around to face him.

"Hey, Mike," he called, his voice ringing out through the cold stillness.

Mike paused.

"Rumpelstiltskin," he said before he tossed a live grenade underneath the helicopter.

Mike let out a fetid curse as he loped through the snow as fast as he could, trying to reach shelter.

For the first time in a long while, Zarek smiled at the sight of the irate Squire and the sound of the snow crunching under Mike's harried feet.

The helicopter exploded the same instant Zarek reached his snowmachine. He slung one long, leather-encased leg over the black seat and looked back as pieces of the twenty-three-million-dollar Sikorsky helicopter rained fiery metal over the snow.

Ahh, fireworks. How he loved them. The sight was almost as beautiful as the aurora borealis.

Mike was still cursing and jumping up and down like a small angry child as he watched his custom-built baby go up in flames.

Zarek started his engine and rode over to Mike, but not before he dropped another grenade to detonate the shed, thus preventing the Squire from using it.

As the snowmachine vibrated in idle beneath him, he pulled his scarf down enough so that Mike could understand him when he spoke. "Town is four miles that way," he said, pointing toward the south. He tossed Mike a small tube of Vaseline. "Keep your lips covered so they don't bleed."

"I should have killed you," Mike snarled.

"Yeah, you should have." Zarek covered his face, and revved his engine. "By the way, if you happen upon wolves in the woods, remember, they really are wolves and not Were-Hunters on the prowl. They also travel in packs so if you hear one, there's more behind him. My best advice for that is to climb a tree and hope they get bored before a bear comes along and decides to climb up after you."

Zarek spun his machine around and headed toward the northeast where his cabin waited in the middle of three hundred acres of forest.

He should probably feel guilty over what he'd done to Mike, but he didn't. The Squire had just learned a valuable lesson. Next time Artemis or Dionysus made him an offer, he'd take it.

Zarek rotated his wrist, giving the snowmachine more power as it bucked over the rough, snowy trail. He still had a long way to go to get home and his time was running out.

Daybreak was coming.

Damn. He should have ridden his Mach Z in. It was sleeker and faster than the MX Z Rev that he was on now, but not nearly as much fun.

Zarek was cold, hungry, and tired, and in a weird way all he wanted to do was get back to things that were familiar.

If the other Squires wanted to hunt him down, so be it. At least this way he was forewarned.

And as the helicopter and shed had shown, forearmed.

If they wanted to take him on, then he wished them luck. They were going to need it and a whole lot of reinforcements.

Looking forward to the challenge, he flew his snowmachine over the frozen terrain.

It was just before sunrise when he reached his isolated cabin. More snow had fallen while he was away, blocking his door. He pulled the snowmachine into the small shed that was attached to his cabin and covered it with a tarp. As he started to plug in his warmer for the engine, he realized there was no power in the outlet for either the MX or the Mach that was parked beside it.