Just a heads-up. I get brutal this chapter. Very brutal. Bloody brutal. Don't-read-if-you're-hemophobic brutal. (Which for some reason, spell-check/auto correct keeps wanting to change to "homophobic." It means something completely different, Microsoft! Or Firefox, for that matter....)

Now that that warning is out of the way....

Let's see: I don't own the Secret Saturdays. I don't own Doyle, Drew or their parents. I don't own the Siberian Ice Spear (the weapon introduced last chapter). I don't own the organization Solés belongs to.
I do own Solés (though once again, I wish I didn't), the spotted cat (which is a Tibetan Snow Lion, by the way, even though Doyle keeps calling it a 'pard), and...the various unnamed individuals who work for or with Solés.

This story is not meant to be Alternate Universe, though I'll leave the assessment of my success up to readers.
This story will proceed in an episodic fashion.
Etc.

Avalanche!

"Anna!" Jonathon had returned in time to see his wife die.

"Right on schedule," Solés muttered, and smiled.

Whatever Solés had known about the family, she had not seen fit to warn her people. The man holding the spear could not have anticipated Jonathon's inhuman speed, and didn't even have a chance to cry out before his neck was broken.

Jonathon snarled at Solés, and even she recoiled from his anger. But he turned instead to the man that held Doyle captive. That one was a little better prepared, and held the child up as a shield. Jonathon shrank away, unable to strike without harming his son.

Doyle did not make it easy for his captor. He screamed and squirmed and kicked and bit, and by purest luck, he struck the man right where it hurt the most. The man dropped him, and in that instant, Jonathon lunged in and sliced the man's throat from ear to ear, heedless of the blood spilling onto his son.

Doyle ran to his mother. He didn't understand why she was just laying there. Daddy could make her all better, but they needed to run away from the bad mans first. He frantically tried to wake her up. "Momma? Momma, please, get up." He didn't understand why he couldn't feel anything from her; no magic, no spirit....

Someone else made a grab for Doyle. Jonathon yanked the man away and started pounding his head into the ground. Even when the man stopped moving under him, Jonathon did not stop. He did not stop until....

"Daddy!" Doyle started crying.

Jonathon released the corpse and reached for his son. Doyle didn't even flinch. That fact should have horrified Jonathon, but he was too busy worrying about his son's physical safety to wonder about his emotional state.

"Daddy, momma's hurted! She won't get up!" Doyle sobbed into Jonathon's arms, heedless of the blood. "I can't—I can't feel her spirit. The bad mans hurted her, Daddy!"

"I know, I know," Jonathon whispered. He watched the other people warily, but they seemed a little too nervous. The woman Solés was having a hard time convincing them to take advantage. "I know; I'm sorry, eyas, I tried to get here as fast as I could. I'm sorry."

"Daddy?" Doyle squirmed around to look up at him. The tears flowed too quickly to freeze. He had to sniff a few times before he could talk again. "Daddy...where's...where's Drew? She's not hurted, is she, Daddy? Like momma?"

Jonathon had been hoping he wouldn't ask that. He sighed and shook his head. "She's...being taken care of." Not exactly a lie, but not quite the truth, either. Could Doyle tell the difference? "Don't worry, Doyle, I'll take you to see her." Jonathon jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps. Apparently Solés had made enough threats; Jonathon and Doyle were surrounded. "Right after I finish these mahrime," he snarled and rose to his feet.

The fight seemed strangely one-sided. Though the enemy was intent on bringing Jonathon down, none of them seemed willing to actually hurt him or Doyle. That was surely an advantage; certainly Jonathon had no qualms about hurting them. But as long as he had Doyle to protect, he had to be cautious. Too cautious to use that advantage. He could not clear enough space to run.

And they had a few dozen live bodies to throw at his one.

For the second time today, and the third time in his life, he felt a dread that chilled him more than the weather could ever manage.

Solés sneered at him from behind the group.

He was not going to be able to protect his son.

One of the men in the back dropped with a shout. Jonathon blinked in surprise. Then another one dropped. And another. Something moved through the group, coming straight at Jonathon and Doyle. The men ran to avoid whatever was killing them.

"'Pard!" Doyle shouted and waved. A spotted cat with a turquoise mane emerged from the crowd and tore into another man who'd thought to sneak up behind Jonathon. Its feet never once touched the ground.

Jonathon gave the animal a brief nod, then turned his attention back to the crowd.

The cat tore into the crowd again. It moved swiftly and silently; the men couldn't tell where it was except when it struck, and they scrambled to keep away.

Jonathon took down anyone unlucky enough to get past the creature's jaws. He and Doyle managed, a few steps at a time, to force their way past the crowd and to freedom.

Something sharp pierced Jonathon in the back.

"Daddy!" Doyle shrieked.

Jonathon dropped to his knees. His blood turned to ice. The cold reached into his brain; his consciousness began to fade.

The ice reached his heart....

"Daddy, get up! Please, daddy, we gotta go! We gotta get away from the bad mans. Please, daddy, please!" Doyle looked up at the woman Solés. She yanked the point of the spear from Jonathon's back. "You hurted them! Why'd you hurt my momma and daddy?"

Solés didn't care that he was crying. His tears seemed to irritate her. Her face twisted into a snarl that terrified Doyle as no predator could ever do. "You little brat, will you just shut up?" She reached over and slapped Doyle across the face.

His mouth dropped open. Nobody, nobody had ever hit him before, not on purpose. He was too stunned to even cry. He didn't know how to react.

Solés straightened up. "Would someone please take care of this brat? He's giving me...a..." She looked around, and the blood drained from her face. "...headache?" Nobody else was left standing.

The cat growled behind her, and she cringed and spun to face it. Almost nobody else was left standing.

The cat dropped the bloody corpse and spit out the shredded remains of the man's throat. The creature advanced on the remaining agent.

Solés actually trembled with fear.

The cat lunged for Solés. She stabbed out with the spear, but the cat knocked it out of her hands. Solés managed to grab her gun in the same instant that the cat drove her to the ground.

She fired off several shots.

The cat tore at the gun.

She squeezed the trigger one last time.

Someone shrieked in pain.

And the cat's weight suddenly vanished. Solés rolled over onto her stomach. She gasped for air and started coughing up blood.

She heard the cat growl again, and she looked up to see it over the boy's huddled form. It sniffed at his arm where the last bullet had struck. Damn! My superiors won't thank me for that. Solés tried to struggle to her feet, to get her quarry, to do the job....

The cat snarled at her once last time, grabbed the boy up in its jaws, and disappeared into the blizzard.

Solés rolled over onto her back and dug out her radio; she'd lost too much blood, but she had to report this failure.

"Yes...sir. I'm at...Bl...Blackwell's camp. I need a...I'm going to...need a clean-up crew." She managed to give the coordinates in between fits of coughing. "The...the parents...the parents...are...are dead, sir. .... Yes, sir, both...both of them, sir. .... No, sir. No. The kids...got away. .... I understand, sir."

What's done is done. I've failed my task, but I've delivered my report. Duty done, she dropped the radio and closed her eyes.

Thus ends the Avalanche story-arc. So far all I've done was hint at the conspiracy to come.
In the next chapter, we travel to another part of the globe. We'll learn just who these conspirators are, we'll see what other victims get dragged into their plans....
And we'll see just how far these people are willing to go for their...research.

I'm a little weird about the ending of this chapter. See, I knew what I wanted to have happen, but it took me the longest time to figure out how I wanted to say it. I'm not exactly sure I've gotten it right; more to the point, I'm not sure if I'd gotten the scene explaining how Doyle got away quite matching the one in my head.
I like that bit about how Solés realized that she was the only one of her group left...and her finally showing signs of fear. After...I'm not so sure about.

Anybody else notice that Solés really doesn't seem to like kids? I'd played with the idea of claiming that she's Francis' mom (we've yet to find out who is in the show)...but I'm not sure that would work, considering her attitude. Maybe he's a test tube baby?
Eh, I'll figure it out later. Or I just won't care.
(Update: This remark was originally posted in what is now chapter 3, and was previously chapter 8 before the arcs were swapped. It was posted well before the episode "Unblinking Eye," as was some related dialogue in a later chapter. Now think about Francis' reveal in that episode. "I knew it" moment or coincidence? You decide.)