"He's not gonna make it," Kimiko declared.
Jack saw the opposite ledge approaching. He felt himself start to fall much too short. At this height and speed, dropping into the gorge was almost guaranteed to be lethal.
"Awwwww, hell," Jack whimpered, dropping below the lip of the chasm.
"Wudai Star Wind!"
Hurricane force winds suddenly surrounded Jack, lifting him back up out of the gorge and dumping him unceremoniously on the snow on the other side.
Raimundo hovered in the air above the now completely destroyed ski jump, his elemental aura obscuring his features.
Dojo dipped back down to the mountain and returned bearing the other three monks and Little Chase.
Jack picked himself up off of the ground and gingerly got back to his skis, which had somehow remained unbroken.
"You owe me, Spicer!" Rai cried, settling onto Dojo's back with his friends.
The monks couldn't see Jack's fingers from that distance but, judging by the gesture he aimed at Raimundo, it was probably just as well.
"Daddy! Let me down, I want my daddy!" Little Chase cried, starting to kick and squirm.
Jack sidestepped gingerly to the edge of the gorge and peered in. Urgh. That was a long was down without your helipack.
"Jack! Jack!"
Spicer looked up and waved at the approaching monks. At first he thought they were waving back, but then he noticed the frantic way there were gesturing. Jack got a sudden feeling of 'behind you'.
Therefore, he wasn't totally surprised when Wuya's hands hit his shoulder blades, pitching him down into the chasm.
In fact, he had the wherewithal to twist and grab as he teetered on the brink, dragging the witch into the gorge with him.
The next few minutes were a confused jumble of snow, air, witch, fight and falling.
The pair bounced down the wall of the chasm, punching and clawing at each other when they had the energy, and merely clinging to each other when they didn't. Sometimes Wuya had the upper hand, throttling the young albino man she grappled with, then the pair would glance off of an ice-covered boulder and the resulting force would spin Jack around on top.
When Spicer and Wuya finally landed with a soft 'wump!' in the fresh snow padding the bottom of the gorge, the force of the impact drove them five feet into the snow pack.
Jack landed spread eagle on his back, Wuya sprawled atop and slightly across the albino's body.
For a moment they were too stunned to do anything but lay there and pant.
Wuya flexed the fingers of one hand gingerly, to make sure she still could. With the snow pressed against her face, she couldn't even see her fingers. That was why it was a bit of a shock to feel warm strands of silk brush her digits.
The Heylin witch twisted her wrist towards the warmth. Her fingertips encountered a different expanse of warmth, satiny soft this time. Wuya closed her eyes again and stroked that satin warmth, letting her memory and knowledge of the human body tell her what it was.
The column of a man's throat.
The long tendons stretching from the corner of the jaw to the base of the throat. The light bump of the Adam's apple. The strong line of the jawbone, lightly dusted with beard stubble.
The Adam's apple heaved under Wuya's fingers.
"Wh-what do ya say we call it a tie?" Jack rasped.
The witch's eyes popped open again. It wasn't Jack's statement that startled her, but the way that young, lithe and above all, male body heaved and shifted beneath her as Spicer started to test himself for injuries.
"'Cause, seriously, I think I'm done for the day," Jack continued, oblivious to the witch's confusion. "And if you're after Chase, like, don't bother. I'm going to keep him the way he is."
Deep vibration as Jack's voice reverberated through Wuya's body. The muscles in his torso bunching and twisting as he shifted uncomfortably. The witch suddenly became unbearably warm, even half-buried in the snow.
With a grunt, Wuya sat up, straddling Jack's hips. The tech wizard was pulling his arms free of the snow. He gave her a hopeful smile.
"What do you say, Wuya? Call it a day? For old times sake?"
Jack blinked up at what was his essentially his first evil teacher. Wuya gave him the strangest look. And then, for old times' sake, apparently, she kissed him.
Like, kissed him.
Jack felt a serious urge to gag crawling up the back of his throat at the feel of the Heylin witch's tongue in his mouth.
Not that he hated girls or anything, but . . . This was Wuya! Gross! Gross!
The albino youth let out a strangled, choking gasp as the witch drew away.
"When did you grow up, Jack?" The dark skinned woman purred, stroking one sharp nailed finger down Jack's cheek. "When did you grow up to be so sexy? I know how we can work things out."
Wuya leaned back down for another kiss.
Jack freed one hand from the snow and slapped Wuya hard across the cheek.
"Don't touch me!" The albino wailed.
The Heylin witch went over backwards in the snow as Jack scrambled desperately out from underneath her.
"Ohshitohshitohshitohshit . . . ." he muttered, clawing his way through the hard packed snow.
Spicer made it to the surface of the snow and started trying to run, his broken skis acting as pseudo snowshoes.
"Thorn of Thunderbolt!"
A blast of magical lightning tore across the snow, blasting Jack a full twenty feet before sending him crashing back to the snow. Somehow, he managed to stay conscious for a minute. Just long enough for Wuya to plop herself onto his stomach and grin into his dimming red eyes.
"That wasn't nice Jack. As punishment, I think I'm going to have to take your clothes off. . ."
That was the last thing Jack knew for a long time.
The monks had their own small irritations.
"Wahaaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaa! I want my Daaaaaaaddeeeeeeeeee!" Little Chase screamed.
Fat baby tears rolled down the shrunken warlord's chubby cheeks. The Xiaolin dragons stared at the child as if expecting him to lunge for their throats.
"Geez!" Kimiko cried, clamping her hands over her ears. "Somebody shut it up!"
"Just ignore him, the little ones do it for attention," Rai said, tuning out the cries with the practiced ease of an older sibling.
"Now, that ain't very kind. There, there, li'l fella, don't cry," Clay said, rubbing Little Chase's back.
"Yes, it is okay, we will find your father," Omi agreed. "Jack Spicer is very resourceful; he will be just fine, you will see."
Little Chase's tears started to slow.
"R-really?"
"Yeah, if Jack Spicer died easily, we would have killed him a long time ago," Raimundo said.
Gold eyes went wide and round.
The resulting shriek made even Dojo cringed as he snaked through the sky.
"Man, I thought dragon hatchlings could scream," he muttered.
"Look!" Omi cried, pointing. Everyone but Little Chase looked down.
There was a great disturbance in the snow, great clawing swaths that spoke of a great struggle.
"Oh man. It looks like this is where they landed," Kimiko said, leaning over Dojo's side.
"There are Wuya's tracks!" Omi said. "Who else would go barefoot in snow?"
"And . . . .what's this?" Dojo reached down and picked something out of the snow.
It was Jack Spicer's shredded snowsuit.
"Wakey, wakey, Jack," Wuya purred, prodding the limp youth.
'Cold,' Was the first thought that came to Jack's addled brain. 'Cold, cold, cold, cold.'
The young man tried to hunch over into a protective huddle to retain his body heat, but something held his arms spread-eagled.
Forcing his eyes open, Jack took stock of the situation.
Then he said a very, very bad word.
Wuya had managed to locate a cabin up in the mountains. It had the look of an empty space; as if the owners weren't around for the season. Jack wondered if the heat was even turned on. He would have liked to have gone to check, but seeing as how he was tied to the privacy fence, it would have to wait for later.
Jack tugged experimentally against the clothesline wrapped tightly around his wrists.
"Oh God," Jack whimpered, his breath forming clouds in the chill air.
He was naked from the waist up; his snowsuit was gone and there were huge rents in the fabric of his jeans, as if Wuya had tried to cut his pants off, but had gotten bored. He still wore his ski boots with the broken fragments of skis still attached.
Wuya was standing a few feet away, an evil smirk on her face.
"Awake now, are we?" She asked sweetly. "I told you I'd get your clothes off, Jack."
"Still didn't get into my pants," Jack tried to joke.
"Well, I thought they might be helpful for what I had in mind," Wuya said.
The witch stroked her cheek. There was a red mark where Jack had slapped her.
"You've learned to play rough, Jack. Was it because of Chase needing you? Did you learn to be a man by caring for that evil child? Interesting concept."
"Ch-Chase isn't a threat to you now!" Jack cried. "Just leave him alone; he doesn't even know who you are now."
"No, no he isn't, is he? A threat, I mean. I keep very close tabs on those who are a threat to me and Chase has dropped off that list. However, someone else took his place." Wuya leaned in close and pushed the up the right sleeve of her dress up, revealing the vivid scar. "Someone very surprising. Can you guess who?"
"I - I don't want to be a threat to you, Wuya," Jack stammered. "I really don't. I just want to protect Chase. I want to keep him."
"Awww; I never would have taken you for the fatherly type, Jack. But you see; this leaves me in a quandary. I have a reputation to uphold, after all," Wuya fingered her scar. "If word got around that I let the pathetic Jack Spicer wound me and didn't make him pay for it, no one would respect me anymore. Even if you aren't as pathetic as you once were. In fact," Wuya stroked a dark skinned finger down Jack's chest. "Given your sudden . . . .ferocity, I'm all for exploring what other mad passions were hiding inside that milk-white skin."
Jack started to shake from the cold.
"Oh, what's the matter, Jack? Are you cold?" Wuya asked.
"Of course I'm cold, you stupid bitch!" Jack snapped, trying to wriggle away from the witch's stroking fingers.
"No. Right now you are merely chilly. I'm here to make sure you die from the cold, you finicky little princess!" Wuya held up the instrument of Jack's demise.
A garden hose.
"Oh god . . .no, Wuya, whatever you want, I'll do it! You want me to fuck you, I'll . . . Well, I'll try to keep it up."
Apparently the Heylin witch took offense to the insinuation that Jack would have to try to be aroused for her, for she pointed the hose at Jack and squeezed the handle.
At this temperature, the cold water delivered not the sensation of cold, but flat out pain. Jack screamed hoarsely as his naked body was soaked with water. The hanging shreds of his jeans soaked and clung to his legs, leeching even more body heat away.
The albino genius's screams echoed through the pine trees, gradually dwindling until Jack was whimpering and gasping, any words he tried to choke out undecipherable through his violently chattering teeth.
"Now that's cold," Wuya said.
The witch watched Jack shake and twist for a few minutes, then walked around and leaned against the fence next to him casually, as if they were two friends hanging out.
"Now don't think that this is easy for me. I mean, we've been through a lot together, flesh and ghost. I suppose you were the closest thing I ever had to a son. Well, that half-djinn monstrosity I aborted back in the eighth century was the closest thing I had to a son, but you get my drift."
Jack choked out a few proto-sounds that might have been words. His body was seized with violent muscular contractions as it fought against the ropes that held it upright.
"So maybe not my son. Maybe the annoying friend of my son that grew up to be surprisingly hot. But you weren't interested in me. Come on now, Jack; you can tell me. You like men, don't you?"
"Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-y-ya," Jack spluttered hoarsely.
"What is it, Jack? Did you want to tell me something?" The witch asked leaning down so that he face was near the albino youth's.
Jack tore one ski boot free from the snow and drove it into Wuya's stomach. One ski boot still sporting the jagged, broken fiberglass end of a ski.
"F-f-f-f-uck y-y-you," He growled, glaring into the startled witch's eyes.
Wuya fell back with a scream, blood fountaining from the wound. Jack barely spared her a glance, but brought his other boot, also sporting a jagged ski fragment up and around to slam into the privacy fence just below his tied up wrist.
The sharp edge cut through the clothesline, even if a stabbing pain in Jack's haunch warned him that he had pulled a muscle and, as he tore his arm free, he saw that he had cut his wrist a little bit as well. It would be nice to think it would matter someday.
Ignoring the witch bleeding and crying in the snow, Jack kicked up with the bloodstained ski and cut through the second clothesline.
This little plan of escape had exhausted what little reason he had left; all other logic cells had shut down from the cold.
Now the 'lizard brain' took over; the instinctive reasoning inherent to all animals, the force that urged wild creatures to survive above all else. That force said:
'Too cold. Get warm.'
Jack looked around and saw the cabin. Cabins were warm. The albino genius staggered through the snow and practically crawled the last few feet to the front door, ice cracking off of his jeans.
Locked.
Had he been in shape to think about things, he would have cast around for a piece of metal, perhaps a hidden key somewhere.
'Get inside now or you're going to die,' The lizard brain said.
Jack drove his elbow through one of the decorative glass windows on either side of the door, then reached through and unlocked the door. Later, he'd be amazed at how easily the glass broke under his blow. Now he staggered inside, feeling his extremities starting to go numb.
The temperature was set low; just high enough to keep the water pipes from freezing. The maybe 50 degrees was warmer than outside, but still ensured Jack would succumb to hypothermia before too long.
'Water pipes,' The lizard brain said. 'Showers are hot.'
The tech wizard stumbled through the house until he located a bathroom. Hoping like hell the owners hadn't turned off the hot water heater in their absence, Jack turned on the hot water full blast. After maybe thirty seconds of cold, steam started to fill the air.
Jack Spicer let out a strangled cry of relief and fell forward into the spray.
Out in the yard, Wuya forced herself to apply pressure over the wound in her stomach. Glaring up at the cabin, the Heylin witch fumed. Jack had wounded her again; while he was bound and freezing, no less! The white-skinned bastard!
Wuya forced herself to stand.
This wouldn't stand! She'd kill him! For certain this time!
After one step, the red-haired witch hesitated.
Jack was inside the house now; he would be warming up, regaining his strength, arming himself. He wasn't wounded. And he was starting to develop a talent for lashing out from a position of weakness.
Wuya shuffled back another step.
Perhaps she should wait. Yes, wait and recuperate before attacking the youth again.
Revenge was a dish best served cold.
"Longi Kite!"
"Jesus," Clay muttered, looking at the snow around the cabin. There were signs of a struggle; footprints, body prints, blood stains in the snow.
"Where's my daddy?" Little Chase asked from his place in Clay's arms.
"Oh, I don't think he got far," The Dragon of Earth muttered.
Omi was wading through the snow towards the cabin.
"There is a trail of blood drops leading towards the house! Perhaps this is the path Jack Spicer took!"
"Yeah, look; the window's broken!" Rai observed, running towards the cabin.
All of the monks headed up to the cabin, Clay reaching down and pulling the struggling Dragon of Water from the drifts as he passed.
Once inside, the sound of water running led them straight to the prone form of Jack Spicer, his blue-white skin starting to turn red where the hot water sluiced over it.
"Jesus," Clay muttered again.
"We need to get him back to the Temple. Like, now," Raimundo declared.