Frozen Fire
Chapter Six: Ice and Stone
xXx
When Sam opened her eyes, she winced.
Bright.
Everything was so bright.
Too bright. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
It was common knowledge that the compound's lighting was utterly dismal, even in the Fenton's lab where the reserve of energy was prioritized, so Sam was certain she wasn't in the lab, or that hodgepodge mess they called an infirmary. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time that she'd awoken to such brightness.
Her temples throbbed as she blinked against the light, her blurred vision slowly focusing on the strangest light fixture she had ever seen. Her fingers trembled, twining into the silky fabric that swathed her body in a cocoon of warmth. A sphere of blueish-white undulated from within a ring of what looked like polished silver. She stared at it, noticing the arm that fancily twisted away from the ring in an ornate pattern and anchored itself into a wall of . . . stone?
Sam's eyes widened as her senses returned and she sat up in a rush, bursting from the warmth of her bed and into the cold hard air that was her reality. She trembled, both from the newfound frigidness of the room and the fear that rumbled from her chest.
Easy, Sam, she thought. After she forced herself to take a steadying breath, she cupped her hand to her aching forehead in a weak attempt to shield her eyes from the brunt of the glaring sphere of light and continued to survey the remaining oddities of the room she'd awoken in.
What appeared to be ice caressed a room of stone, crystalline and beautiful. The room—no, the cave?—was complemented by a delicate pale-blue and periwinkle masonry, with smooth, polished stones that gleamed like jewels from within the breaks of ice. Another glow, less intense than the fixture above her bed, emanated from the center of the room, wrapped within winding columns of ice that spiraled from the ground and onto the ceiling. Sam stared at the column, entranced by the way the light cascaded along bits of crystal stalactites, and the small, shimmery rainbows that danced merrily about the room as a result.
Sam's brows knitted as she noticed something else strange about the frozen cave-like room. Giant, bizarrely shaped computers and other pieces of technology stood proudly against the furthest wall in a juxtaposition of the cave's natural features, right next to a cylindrical glass chamber filled to the brim with an unidentifiable cyan liquid. The computers themselves were of a metal Sam had never seen before, their screens dark and mirrorlike, though a soft glow still seemed to emit from them somehow.
"Where am I?" she wondered aloud. She was surprised at how raspy her voice sounded, as if it had been some time since she'd used it last.
Shivering, she looked down at herself and was alarmed to notice that her FENTONWORKS armor had been removed, leaving her exposed in the thin and now tattered bodysuit she wore underneath. What she guessed to be bandages and gauze were wrapped around her injured arm and both of her hands, though Sam was perplexed by the strange material. As the hazy cloud of incomprehension continued to lift, she could feel more of the pseudo-gauze that crossed over her left shoulder and tightly enveloped her ribcage in a stiff brace. She began to finger the material, perturbed by the oddity of it. It was nothing like she had ever felt before.
"The hell?" she said. "What is this stuff?"
Otherworldly, her mind seemed to whisper in response. Her heart began to race.
Fragments of images flashed into her mind as she began to remember her last waking memories, bits and pieces flitting in along the edges of the puzzle.
In her mind's eye she sees the infamous Phantom and feels terror, its haunting green eyes burning like molten steel as it glares and sneers at her. She feels the way its icy grip holds her in a vice of unhuman strength while she fights desperately. She is surprised when it releases her, surprised when it speaks to her. She is surprised when it forces her aside and engages in battle with another ghost.
The pain in her shoulder and the rest of her body is debilitating, but she watches in a daze as Phantom and the ghost dog fight each other brutally. She is barely conscious, barely aware of herself as she meets amber eyes now, and for some reason she can't find it within herself to shoot it. She knows she's about to die, so she gives in, hoping that her next world is a better one. She becomes numb and her vison quickly fades to black.
The rumble of fear in Sam's chest became a dull roar as realization and horror settled in. Her fingers gripped the soft material of her bed so tight that her knuckles turned bone-white. That was when she realized her bed wasn't a bed at all, but a protrusion of ice that rose from the ground like a cradle, white fur and soft cream-colored woven wool blankets nestled neatly within.
She clambered hastily from the ice cradle, hissing as her bare feet met the frozen ground of the cave. A shockwave of pain echoed along her bones as old, mostly healed injuries cried out in protest from the sudden movement. Sam gritted her teeth, her chest heaving as she braced herself against the icy structure that had been her bed.
Trembling from nerves, she gingerly tested the bend of her arm that, as she'd known last, had been shattered from wrist to elbow. Her heart hammered harder as her arm heeded her command with only the slightest of aches in response. Her fingers again fumbled for the gauze, dipping beneath to feel the skin of what should have been a ruined shoulder. She gasped as she felt only the slightest puckering of scar tissue instead.
Just how long had she been here in this strange, frozen room?
Sam's mind reeled. She began backtracking further and further into her memories while she waited for the pain in her body to settle, and recalled what she could of that night before she'd encountered Phantom. She remembered Valerie Gray, screaming her name with an outstretched hand as she dove recklessly through a writhing horde of ghosts, reaching for Sam but missing . . .
What had happened to Valerie, and everyone else? After the ghosts seized Sam, the fleeting image of her troop was of their backs as they fired and screamed, disappearing into the bloody and ectoplasmic swell of chaos? Were they even still alive?
Sam shook her head and bit her lip, hard. Don't think like that, she told herself. Of course they're still alive.
Shivering again, Sam cursed quietly and yanked one of the blankets from the cradle, wrapping its bulk around her shoulders and cocooning herself within its warmth. It sliced through the cave's frigidness like a hot knife through butter, though did nothing for her feet. Her toes were numb as she steeled herself and crept towards an archway of stone that she could see exited into a cavernous hallway. She checked for her weapons—or anything she could remotely use as a weapon—but saw nothing, much to her dismay.
"Hopefully whoever saved me is friendly," she muttered under her breath, pulling her woolen cloak tighter under her chin. "Otherwise, I'm screwed."
The cave seemed to yawn as she exited through the arch and into a wide chamber. While the ice and the stone were similar to the space she'd awoken in, she was surprised to see torchlight flickering from shiny silver sconces that lined the walls, the flamelight harsh against the ice and cool toned masonry. She could tell the chamber was a winding one as it snaked beyond a bend, shadows dancing along the stones from the torches.
Sam frowned as she considered which direction to take. Left, or right? Both directions curved away into the unknown. She held her breath and strained her ears for any sounds but heard nothing but the rapid beating of her own heart.
Left, it is, she decided.
Wincing at her cold feet, Sam shuffled as quietly as she could through the chamber, her ears pricked for the slightest of sounds, her eyes burning as she frantically looked for any signs of movement. She flinched when her blanket snagged on a rocky outcrop and made a rustling sound that seemed much louder than it should have been. She froze in horror and waited for her hammering heart to settle before she freed herself from the wall and continued.
Look at me, she thought gloomily to herself, scared of a fucking blanket of all things. Tucker would have a field day. But then a grim and hollow feeling seeped into her chest at the thought of her best friend. Where was he now? Did he even know that she was still alive?
Sam shook the thoughts out of her head. She would worry about Tucker later. She had to figure out her own shit first. And find some goddamn shoes.
As she walked, she noted that her room had not been the only one to occupy this mysterious chamber. She passed several other stone and ice archways, though saw nothing when she peered curiously inside due to the lack of light and decided it would be best to leave them be, at least for the time being.
She'd just gotten to the crest of the bend when she heard it.
Footsteps.
The sound of something dragging against a stone floor.
Voices.
Sam stifled a gasp with her hand, her eyes instantly watering as she choked on air and pressed her back against the wall. She slowly began to retreat, walking backwards around the bend as the voices approached.
" . . . What do you mean you brought a human here, Frostbreath?" a voice demanded, resounding unearthly. "It could spell for us our imminent death! Are you mad?"
Another voice chuckled. "Oh, come now, Icefang. Let us not be melodramatic," it responded. "She was injured. I couldn't just leave her to her death."
The angry voice again. "Why not? Had it not been injured it would have destroyed you without an ounce of hesitation. And now you bring it here to kill all of us? That thing is a monster!"
"Perhaps we can learn from her!"
"Humans are nothing but primitive beasts, that is all there is to learn!"
"She could be The One."
"Nonsense. The Time Gaurdian is a fool."
There was a moment of shuffling—something sharp scraping against the floor—and a new, deeper, voice bellowed, "Enough! There are more pressing matters at hand other than the fate of the human girl. I will see to her, but for now I want nothing more to do with the subject. Understood?"
"Yes, Frostbite," the angry voice—Icefang—agreed.
The consenting murmurs were accentuated by irritated growls. The rest of their conversation, however, was drowned out by the impossible racing of Sam's heart. She was horrified, having reached the conclusion that her rescuers—no, her captors—were not human.
She needed to run. Needed to get away. Now, before they found her.
Sam attempted to turn and flee, but what she had not considered was the mass of her heavyweight blanket. Its pleasant warmth was now an oppressive bulk that twisted around her legs and sent her stumbling. She fell to the floor with a yelp.
Terrified, she scrambled out of the fabric desperately, just as one of the voices exclaimed, "IT'S AWAKE."
She barely had time to get to her feet before the scraping sounds—claws, she realized—were upon her and something large and furry seized her by the throat and lifted her into the air. She flailed uselessly, just as her eyes met the yellowed glare of a monster.
"See!" The beast roared, its large white fangs glinting in the light. "It came to kill us!"
Sam's lungs burned. She struggled for air and clawed weakly at the beast's hand as it shook her violently. Pain seared within old injuries and ignited them with a fire that blazed throughout her entire body, the beast's sharp claws digging into the soft skin of her exposed neck. She tried to fight, but it was futile—she was completely at this monster's mercy.
Suddenly, another snarling beast appeared in her peripheral. This one was massive. It seized her assailant by the furred scruff of its neck and flung it roughly into the wall. Then a third beast, whom she vaguely recognized for some reason, grappled with her offender in a display of sharp teeth and low rumbling growls until the angry beast submitted, bowing its head, but not without a hateful glance in her direction.
Winded from her fall after the beast dropped her, Sam lay prone on the icy floor of the chamber, gasping as air returned to her lungs. Her hand was at her neck where she felt small droplets of blood beading along her clavicle from where her assailant's claws had pierced her skin when it shook her. She trembled as she lay there, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She figured it wouldn't be long before the monsters were fighting for the last bits of sinewy meat that they scraped from her bones.
The massive of the three beasts stood with its back to her. Its fur was white, a shared attribute amongst the three of them, with one of its arms encased in crystal ice. She was surprised when she realized she could see right through it and to the pearly white of its bones, and stared, unable to look away, even as the deepness of its voice filled the chamber. "I will say this once, Icefang," the beast—Frostbite, Sam realized upon hearing its voice—said in a tone that was low and threatening. "In fact, let me make something clear to you all right now. Nobody touches the human girl. Nobody."
The angry one—Icefang—growled and bared its sharp teeth. "We should kill it now!"
"And where would that get us, Icefang?" Frostbite challenged. "This human is defenseless without the weapons we seized upon her arrival."
Sam's mind was reeling, and her head throbbed. She couldn't bring herself to look up from the freezing floor. She was surprised, however, when one of the clawed hands appeared before her face, as if beckoning her to take it. She flinched away, her eyes meeting the amber-eyed stare of the beast she vaguely recognized from a hazy cloud of delirium.
Her body is numb yet burns. Her arm shakes as her finger slowly depresses the trigger of her weapon. But she doesn't fire. She chooses not to.
Sam blinked when she realized the beast eyed her, not with bloodlust, but with worry. "Are you okay, human girl?"
Sam stared at it—him? She stared at all of them. At the curved horns of ice that twisted from their heads, at the rows of teeth that gleamed from long, wolflike muzzles. She noted their clothing, which appeared to be blue silk, though Frostbite's attire was much more regal, as a sash and belt of jewels twinkled from him in the torchlight. She noted that Icefang was the only one amongst the three of them to not have an ice encrusted arm. They were all gargantuan beings, though Frostbite was by far the tallest, his crystalline horns almost scraping against stalactites. They all had long, muscular tails, which Sam realized must've been the dragging sound she'd heard earlier.
She stared at the hand, at its blackened claws, and shivered.
The beast, Frostbreath, must've sensed her unease, because he retracted his hand and knelt to her level instead. Sam looked up and was surprised to see worry glittering in his eyes. She flinched when he reached for her again, but instead of seizing her by the throat, he pulled the woolen blanket tight around her shoulders. "I wanted to thank you, human girl," he said. "For your mercy. I can't say that others of your kind would have done the same."
Sam's brows furrowed. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? She shakily returned to her feet and backed away from the three of them.
"Why . . .?" she croaked.
"Why what, human girl?" Frostbreath asked.
"Why . . . am I here?" Her voice was raw as she spoke. "Why am I . . . alive?"
"Frostbreath," Frostbite said in a commanding tone, "please escort Icefang to the dining hall. Tell the others that I will be along shortly, as will our guest." He must've noticed the panic in Sam's eyes, because he added, "If she agrees, that is."
"Yes, brother," Frostbreath said, returning to his feet. He gestured down the corridor, indicating for Icefang to proceed first.
Icefang eyed Sam with hate gleaming from his red eyes, but obeyed nonetheless, muttering under his breath.
Once they'd disappeared beyond a bend and into the shadowed depths of . . . wherever the hell this place was, did Frostbite finally look down upon her. "I am truly repentant, human, for the lack of decency expressed by my kin. It was not my intent to see you harmed." The ghost's head bowed. "It will not happen again, I assure you."
Sam didn't respond. Didn't know how to respond. She was confused, and cold, and terrified, and in pain, and a conglomeration of so many other things that she simply stared at the beast in return. She wondered then if any of this was even real.
Suddenly, something dark and terrible occurred to her, and she couldn't help but ask the question as it arose within her. "Am I . . . dead?"
Frostbite smiled softly. "No, human girl. You are very much alive."
Sam released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She steadied herself with a hand pressed to the icy wall of the chamber, relief pulling the tension from her shoulders until they slumped and nearly caused her blanket to tumble to the floor.
"I am sure you have questions."
"That's a bit of an understatement," Sam muttered before she could stop herself, then bit her cheek at her own sarcasm. She hadn't actually meant to say that aloud. With gritted teeth, she looked at the giant beast at her side for his reaction, worried that one wrong word would sever whatever tentative truce they had blooming between them and cause him to go berserk and finally kill her.
She was surprised to see its muzzle spread into a wide, toothy grin, instead, as if she'd merely amused him with her outburst. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Frostbite chuckled a little—actually fucking chuckled. "Come, we will speak once we return to the medical sector. You are yet to be fully healed from your injuries." Another wide smile. "Not to mention, it is peculiar that our leading healer has yet to notice your absence in his care."
Sam's brows furrowed at that. She resisted the urge to recoil as the beast approached her and laid a gentle, clawed hand on her shoulder and began guiding her towards the direction she'd initially come from. She calculated the odds of running, but quickly dismissed the idea, because she was certain she'd be unable to escape, given the immense strength Icefang had demonstrated when he'd grabbed her.
Play along, she told herself. Keep it talking and figure out how to escape later. You're not dead yet. Figure out why.
They'd just rounded the icy bend towards the room she'd initially awoken in when they happened upon another of the white-furred beasts. It froze when it noticed them, its eyes landing on Sam first, then widening on Frostbite.
"I—Frostbite—my liege, I noticed the human was missing—I am sorry, I didn't know she was with you, I—"
"Peace, Sleetjaw," Frostbite said with a nod. "I was merely getting acquainted with our guest, though I am, too, surprised to see her awake so suddenly."
Sleetjaw's widened eyes flicked between Sam and Frostbite again, but then settled on Sam with its—his—brows furrowing as he studied her. "She metabolized the sedative I gave her much sooner than I anticipated. How intriguing."
Sam's heart lurched at the word sedative, just as Frostbite said, "Quite understandable, my friend. It is not everyday that we are given opportunities to treat humans, after all."
"How are you feeling?" Sleetjaw asked her. "You were in quite a state when Frostbreath first brought you here."
"Uh . . .," Sam said dumbly, taken aback by Sleetjaw's intensity, like she was some medical anomaly that needed to be solved.
"Let us return to the medical sector, first, Sleetjaw," Frostbite said. "The human girl tires and I am sure her feet are cold."
Sam was surprised at Frostbite's tone. It was almost . . . fatherly. She was mildly disconcerted, to say the least.
"Yes, Your Eminence," Sleetjaw said with a slight bow to Frostbite.
They returned to the room she'd recognized. Sleetjaw gestured to the ice cradle. "Please, human girl, take a seat so I may assess you."
Sam bristled, but she did as she was told. She sat upon the strange protrusion of ice, pulling her knees up under her chin. Her toes were painfully numb, and she sighed in relief once she nestled them within the furs. Her blanket remained a cloak of warmth around her shoulders.
Sleetjaw's eyes roamed her bandages. "Are you well?"
Sam chewed on her words before she answered. Careful, she had to be careful. Play their game, and stay alive. "Achy," she admitted honestly. Her eyes drifted to her arm as she flexed her fingers. "How long . . . have I been here?"
"Approximately three day cycles," Sleetjaw said.
Sam started at that, her violet eyes wide. "Impossible."
Sleetjaw raised a brow.
She waved her bandaged arm. "I don't think I could have healed this much in three days."
"Ah, yes," Sleetjaw said, as if something trivial had dawned on him. "You were gravely injured when you arrived. Multiple fractures, a punctured lung, deep lacerations and hemorrhaging in your shoulder, so I do apologize for the delay. Human physiology is a bit new to me, I'm afraid, even considering the similarities your kin shares with the yetikind, especially the frost ch—"
Frostbite cleared his throat then. "Sleetjaw, I believe that when the human girl refers to the speed in which you have healed her, she simply means that it was much faster than she is used to."
Sleetjaw's brows rose in surprise. "Of—of course." He bowed his head to her. "I mean no offense. I had forgotten that human technology is still in its primitive state."
Sam gaped at them. She didn't even know where to begin unraveling everything she'd just heard. The throbbing in her temples increased and she resisted the urge to rub them. "I don't understand any of this," she mumbled.
"Do your injures still bother you, human girl? Do you require more time in the bacta tank?"
"The what?"
Sleetjaw gestured to the tank of shimmering liquid behind him. He must've noted the horror on her face because he quickly said, "It is nothing monstrous. Just an accelerant to aid in your rapid healing. You see, it induces the body into a catatonic—"
Again, Frosbite cleared his throat. "Perhaps, it would be best to not overwhelm the human, Sleetjaw."
"Yes, I agree," Sleetjaw said with a nervous grin. "Stories for another time, then, when you have fully healed." He gestured to where her arms were in her blanket-cloak. "May I assess your healing?"
Sam bit her lip. No, she absolutely did not want this giant beast touching her, especially when she was in such a vulnerable state. But she also knew that her options were incredibly limited at the moment. Best not to offend her hosts, she decided. She hoped she didn't appear as shaky as she felt when she let the blanket slip from her shoulders and expose the bandages to the frigid air.
"Healing you was not the easiest of tasks," Sleetjaw told her as he gently began removing her bandages. If he noticed her flinch at his touch, he didn't mention it. His claws were somehow soft as he deftly worked, exposing her fragile, healing skin to the air. Sam could feel the aches return to the areas that he unwrapped, throbbing in unison with the beat of her heart. He sighed, as if in sadness, when he reached her shoulder. "This will scar, I'm afraid. The damage was too severe."
"Why even bother with this?" Sam asked him. "What's the point in keeping me alive?" She trembled a little, and she realized she was fearful of their answer. But she had to know.
Frostbite was the one to answer. "My brother, Frostbreath, decided to bring you here," he began. "From what he says, you spared his life when any other human would have destroyed him." His intense gaze was unceasing as he began to approach her. "He sensed in you something most uncommon." He was at her side now, his enormous frame casting a long shadow over her, eclipsing the light. Sam was surprised to see his muzzle curve into what appeared to be a sly smile. His eyes had a mischievous glint when he added, "And most intriguing."
Sam's heart leapt, and for once it wasn't fear. "I wanted to destroy him." Why was she telling him this? She didn't know. Perhaps she, too, yearned to understand her own reasons.
"But you didn't. Why?"
Sam shrugged. She was beginning to wonder if this was all a dream, because her current situation was riddled with impossibilities. She shouldn't be sitting here, injured, surrounded by powerful ghosts, weaponless, and be able to maintain an amicable conversation as she stared into the blazing red eyes of an alpha. From what Maddie had told her, alpha ghosts were incapable of reason, and known for their extreme aggression. They were the dominant ghost within their hoard, maintaining stringent control over the other, lesser spirits. Very few humans unfortunate enough to encounter one returned, and never did they return unscathed. Vlad Masters had been proof of that.
Everything she had ever known about ghosts had been proven wrong within the past ten minutes. It just wasn't possible. She should be dead, her flesh stripped away, and her soul eaten. There was no way she should be alive right now, and it was this thought that unnerved her more than anything. Killing her, she could understand. But keeping her alive . . .? She shuddered at the implications.
She took a moment to still her nerves. Then, she asked, "What are you going to do with me?"
The beast sighed, which caused bluish ringlets of icy air to dance along his muzzle. "We will first continue to monitor your healing. And then, if you are willing, we intend to learn from you."
Her eyes narrowed in mistrust. She got the impression that there was more than what he was telling her. "Learn from me?"
"You are very different from the humans we have encountered in the past."
Sam frowned, annoyed by the ambiguity of his response. "I'm not sure there's really anything to learn about me. Unless you plan on dissecting me," she deadpanned.
Frostbite let out a roar of laughter that caused both her and Sleetjaw to jump. "I assure you our intentions are not so invasive." The great beast smiled again, moving his icy arm in a way that caused it to shimmer incandescently in the light. "It is my belief that a mutual understanding between us may be . . . advantageous."
Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "Advantageous?"
But Frostbite merely grinned. "All in due time, my dear human girl. You have much to learn. There will be a feast tonight, and now that you are awake it will be held in your honor, though I will not force you to attend. If you do not decide to join, an assortment will be brought to you here so you may dine alone." Frostbite's grin widened, revealing a row of sharp, shiny teeth. "I do hope you attend. My son will be around shortly to collect your answer." And then he was gone.
Sam stared at the stone archway where Frostbite had last been. "Who even is he?" she wondered aloud, not expecting an answer.
Sleetjaw shrugged as he began rewrapping her arm and shoulder. "He is Frostbite, our king."
Sam blanched. "King?"
"Did he not introduce himself?"
"Not really, no," Sam muttered.
Sleetjaw snorted. "I cannot say I am surprised. Our king has always been rather enigmatic. But he is a good and fair ruler of the Far Frozen."
"Far Frozen?"
Sleetjaw coughed awkwardly. "Ah, I see you have yet to be told. I had assumed . . ." The beast shook his head, as if resigned. "No matter. He must have his reasons."
Sam stared at the furred beast, her mouth opening to retort, when a strange, ominous feeling settled upon the room and into her very core. The hair on her arms stood on end, and her heart began to race of its own accord. Something wrong and something terrible seeped into soul, left terror frothing in its wake.
And then there, behind Sleetjaw, Sam watched the Phantom enter the room through the stone archway.
She gasped, skuttling back into the furs of her bed, her eyes quickly darting around the room for a weapon but finding nothing.
She looked to Sleetjaw, expecting to see the same dread reflected in the beast's eyes, but was surprised to see nothing but recognition and—to her horror—admiration alight on the beast's features.
Phantom loomed in the entryway with its green eyes narrowed on her. Its—his—hood was lowered now, the long black and white furred cloak sweeping the ground as he walked toward them. Sam noted the black, silken tunic and the sturdy pants he wore, as well as the leather belt that was bejeweled with what appeared to be tiny sapphires and emeralds.
Sleetjaw bowed his head at Phantom. "Great one," he acknowledged, "I was just finishing up."
Phantom nodded at him. "Take your leave, Sleetjaw. I'll see you at dinner."
"As you wish," Sleetjaw said. He turned to depart, but not before administering a final gentle pat on Sam's arm. "I hope to see you at dinner, human girl." And then he was gone, disappearing beyond the threshold.
If I even live that long, Sam thought darkly.
The silence between them was tense as Phantom slowly circled her with his hands behind his back. His acid green eyes assessed her critically, though his expression remained neutral, even as he passed through the bouncing shimmery rainbows that shone from the crystal stalactites. Sam stifled the shudder that threatened to run through her when she realized that he seemed like a cat circling before it pounced on a meek—and in her case, human—mouse. She watched him the entire time, her own arms crossed over her chest. It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from bolting, though her fingers twitched for the weapon that was lost to her. It was an effort to remind herself that she was kept alive for a reason, and it wouldn't make sense for Phantom to end her now.
"You look . . . better," Phantom said at last.
"No thanks to you," Sam grumbled at him, then winced at her own abrasiveness. Take it easy, Manson, she told herself. Information first, remember? Sam swallowed the lump in her throat, and said, "Why did you bring me here? And where is here?"
Phantom approached her, a single gloved finger raised. "One, I didn't bring you here, Frostbreath did." Two fingers now. "And two, you are in the Far Frozen."
"Where the hell even is the Far Frozen?" Sam asked.
"It is part of the Infinite Realms."
"The what?"
Phantom rolled his eyes. "Let's just say you're not in the human realm anymore."
Sam's heart dropped into her stomach. She felt suddenly hollow as something terrible began to dawn on her—something she hadn't yet considered. "I'm in the Ghost Zone?"
Now it was Phantom's turn to appear confused. "The what?"
"The Ghost Zone. Where you live?"
Phantom's eyes were half-lidded. He stared at her, unamused. "You certainly have a lot to learn."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" she snapped. And then she felt herself deflate, the anger seeming to melt away. "I just want to go home."
The hardness in Phantom's eyes softened. He looked away from her. "I'm afraid that isn't possible."
"Why?"
"Because there are no natural portals to take you there. Not for a while, at least."
"I don't know what that means," Sam snapped. "Nothing is making any sense."
"I am sorry, human," Phantom said, much to her shock. "I would take you back if I could, but I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Can't."
"Why would you even want to?" She splayed her arms wide, causing her blanket to slip from her shoulders. "You should be trying to kill me. I should be dead right now."
Phantom nodded slowly, as if in agreement with her. "Should be, but I won't. And you should be, but you aren't."
Sam's temples were thundering now. She finally let herself rub them, her mouth twisted into a grimace. "This is all some dream, isn't it? This isn't real. None of this is real. You're a fucking ghost."
Phantom watched her, his hands behind his back again. He kept his distance from her, as if to appear as nonthreatening as possible, but Sam could still feel the danger emanating from him, as if his presence was poison to the air. She could feel it in the very marrow of her bones, the desire to escape, to get away, and it took every bit of her training and willpower to remain cemented to her seat. She wondered then, why she had not felt the same presence from Frostbite and the other beasts from earlier? They were ghosts too, were they not?
A searing green gaze settled on her bandaged shoulder and Sam was shocked to see regret in Phantom's expression. "I'm sorry that I was unable to stop what happened to you. Sleetjaw said that the injury was . . ." He grimaced. "Extensive."
Sam touched her shoulder idly, fidgeting with the bandages. She tried not to think about the teeth that had shredded her flesh only days before. "Was it a territory dispute?"
Phantom blinked. "What?"
"Between you and the other ghost?"
"Ah." His eyes flicked away from hers. "Yes and no. Cujo is a friend, it's just . . . complicated."
She tried to stop it; she really did. Tried not to give in to her temper. But it was as if every ounce of her self-preservation had melted away, creating space for the deep, ugly rage that bubbled in its place. Play the game and stay alive, be damned. The revulsion in her voice was unbidden when she said, "Were those other ghosts your friends too?"
Phantom frowned at her. "They were not."
"Your kind—you fucking ghosts have ruined everything." Her voice cracked. She was shaking now, but not from the cold. She shoved her blanket aside and jumped from the bed, storming towards him. "I don't even know if my friends are alive, and you say it's just complicated." She jabbed a finger in his face. "Well screw you. Screw all of you."
Phantom's expression was impassive, but his eyes blazed. He didn't back away from her. "We saved your life."
She laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah, thanks for that. Just in time for that room of monsters to rip me apart for dinner, right? Or do they just want to make me their pet? Give me treats and teach me tricks?"
The already frozen temperature of the room seemed to plumet further as something she'd said finally triggered his anger. "That's enough," he said darkly, leaning closer to her until a mere breath divided them. "Say want you want about me, but you do not get to bring them into this. They have been nothing but kind to you."
Her heart lurched to her throat at his closeness. She resisted the urge to recoil and hissed, "Was it kind when one of them had me by the fucking throat earlier?"
"What in the Ancients are you talking about?"
"Icefang," she said simply.
Eyes widening, Phantom looked at her aghast. "You met Icefang?"
She glared at him. "The big one—Frostbite? He had to pull that asshole off me." She wrenched the neckline of her jumpsuit low enough so he could see the punctures Icefang's claws had left on her throat.
Phantom winced at the sight and stepped away from her, relenting. "I hadn't realized . . . Icefang isn't fond of humans."
"Really? I didn't notice," she replied sarcastically. "He didn't stop until Frostbite said that I'm off limits."
The shadowy anger that had consumed the room only moments before had all but dissipated. Phantom sighed. "Well, if it's any consolation, it won't happen again. Icefang won't disobey my father's command. You really are safe here, I'm sorry that—"
"What did you just say?" Sam squeaked, cutting him off. "Your father?"
Phantom stared at her, perplexed.
Sam backed away to her ice bed and leaned there, needing the support while her world seemed to collapse around her. Frostbite's earlier remark about having his son collect her had been so offhanded that she hadn't thought to question it at the time. But now? She found herself reassessing the ghost before her as her mind whirled.
Since when did ghosts have children? She'd never heard of such a thing before. She studied Phantom again, noting his silky white hair, the green eyes, ethereal glow, and a build that was muscular, sure, but a hell of a lot more human than the other ghosts she'd met earlier. And sure, he was tall, towering over her slightness, but he wasn't gargantuan like Frostbite—who was also his father, apparently.
The ghosts she'd met before could sometimes speak, though they were never eloquent. A lot of them were wispy and amorphous, barely able to hold a corporeal form. Even some of the more powerful ones were less . . . she struggled to think of a word. Detailed? But Phantom, and the others, were seemingly sentient. The Fentons had always described ghosts as impulsive creatures that operated only through primitive, baseline instincts. But here she was alive because a ghost decided to save her goddamn life.
Sam raked a hand through her hair. She realized she was shivering, now that the brunt of her temper had ebbed away and hadn't bothered to leave even an ember behind to keep her warm. She cursed herself for jumping when Phantom approached her again.
He noticed and abruptly stopped in his advance, opting to leave the distance between them. Then he stared at her, and Sam was floored as she realized that in that moment that he probably felt as awkward as she did.
"I, uh," he started to say, then shook his head. "Listen, I'm sorry, this conversation hasn't exactly gone how I thought it would." He rubbed the back of his neck, and Sam was shocked by how human the mannerism was. Then he reached for a leather satchel Sam hadn't realized had been draped across his shoulder. "When my father sent me to collect you, he also sent me with these." He extended the satchel out to her.
Sam stared at it but didn't budge. "What is it?"
"Clothing," Phantom said. "You're shivering."
She crossed her arms. "I'm fine."
"Just take it. You'll literally freeze to death if you don't." He frowned at her. "All that work to keep you alive? What a waste. Sleetjaw would be devastated. Frostbreath, too, actually."
When she still made no move to take the satchel from him, Phantom sighed exaggeratedly and then tossed it at her so Sam had no choice but to catch it or let it hit her. Despite the lightness of the throw, it still managed to knock the wind out of her.
She glared at him. "Asshole."
Phantom returned the glare, unamused. "You should get dressed."
"And you should fuck off," she snapped.
He sighed again. "Does your temper have an off button?"
"I don't know, does your existence have a delete button?" She thought about throwing the satchel back at him now that she had something to throw but decided not to. Instead, she tossed it onto the cradle-bed-thing behind her and resumed glaring at him, arms crossed in defiance.
Phantom pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. "Alright, human. Here's the deal. I'm going to leave and give you time to dress. I'll be waiting in the hall for when you're ready."
She arched a brow in challenge. "And if I don't decide to debase myself by joining you?"
He shrugged. "Then I'll make sure to have someone send some food to you. Whether you believe me or not, you are not a prisoner here, merely a victim of circumstance."
She scoffed, and glared at him pointedly until he left the room. Once he was gone, she released a breath of relief when the ominous presence that had thickened the air in his company disappeared as well. The presence of a ghost—especially one as powerful as Phantom—was nearly stifling, and her nerves were undoubtedly rattled beyond repair, but at least she could finally breathe again.
After she'd given herself a moment to recompose, Sam's eyes narrowed on the satchel. She reached inside and pulled out a bundle of fur and fabric that she then straightened on her bed. It was a whitish jacket, long at the sides, so when she pulled it over her head it fell just below her knees but fit her arms well. While the outer shell was comprised of fur, the lining was of the same woven heavyweight material of her blanket, perfectly containing her body heat and warming her up considerably. Upon further inspection of the bag's contents, she found a pair of woven leggings and a set of fur-lined moccasins.
"Thank fucking god," Sam breathed as she hastily pulled the moccasins onto her frozen feet. She sighed in relief as the warmth enveloped her numbed toes. With the adrenaline coursing through her veins at Phantom's presence, she hadn't realized just how cold she'd truly been.
It was after she'd dressed, however, that Sam realized the dilemma she now faced.
To dine with ghosts, or not to dine with ghosts, that was her problem. She chewed on her lip as she pondered the pros and cons of ditching them.
On the one hand, she was starving. And her stomach rumbled then, as if in affirmation.
But on the other hand, she would be in a room full of ghosts, her sworn enemies. Beasts that had slaughtered thousands upon thousands of humankind and sent her world to the brink of its demise.
She should reject the offer. Use the time instead to plan her escape.
But then, something else flickered into existence and was in the forefront of her mind before she could snuff it out.
Curiosity.
In the span of her last waking hour, everything she had ever known about ghosts and been obliterated, fragmented shrapnel of truth and reality left spiraling in a vortex of mystery and shadow. She realized then how little she truly knew about the ghosts that plagued her world.
"Maybe we're wrong about a lot of things." Paulina's voice was a faint echo in her mind.
Sam groaned when she realized her decision had been made.
She stalked to the stone archway, tried not to visibly shudder at the proximity of Phantom and his doomy aura. He was leaning lazily against the icy wall of the chamber just outside of her room and had been staring absently down the tunneled path. He glanced at her in mild surprise at her purposeful approach. His acid eyes roamed her from head to toe as he appraised her in her bulky outfit.
"I see the clothing fits," he said.
"Should I be worried that you guys even have clothing that fits me in the first place?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
"My father commissioned the local seamstress with a rush order so you would have something warm to dress into when you woke," he said.
Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. She resisted the urge to question him more on the topic, opting instead to file it away for a later time. In its place, she asked the question that had been pressing on her since she'd first seen him. "Was Amity your territory?"
Phantom's gaze hardened, green eyes boring into her own. He watched her carefully when he said, "Yes."
"Were you the reason for the lack of ghosts in the city?" When he didn't immediately answer, she snapped, "Oh come on, we went from ecto-invasion to a literal ghost town in a matter of weeks."
"Yes," he said, finally. "I kept them away."
"Why?"
He didn't respond, opting to watch her warily instead.
Sam frowned at him. "You disguised your ectosignature." It wasn't a question.
"I did."
"How?"
Silence.
Sam sighed, frustrated. "What happened to Amity being part of your territory? Why did you leave?"
"Things changed," he replied evasively, and then pushed off the wall and stepped towards her. In his closeness, Sam found she had to crane her neck to keep from severing eye contact. "Look, human, I don't know about you, but I would like to eat in this century." He gestured down the frozen corridor. "Shall we?"
Sam snorted. "I'm sure whatever it is that ghosts eat isn't exactly on my list of edible foods." Then her brow knitted in confusion. "Since when do ghosts eat in the first place?" She was reflecting upon Maddie's lectures from the Compound, about the physiological eccentrics coupled with anatomical impossibilities. Ghosts didn't—couldn't—eat, as they were not comprised of the essential organs and intestinal tract to do so.
"Your lack of knowledge is truly astounding," Phantom muttered. "I'm honestly impressed at this point, really." Then he frowned at her, as if something suddenly occurred to him. "There is one thing you should know about the Yeti."
"The Yeti?" Sam asked in surprise.
Phantom nodded. "The big furry beings that healed you, remember? There's no way you missed them."
Sam sulked and crossed her arms, stepping away from him. "You don't need to be an ass."
"Then don't be dense," Phantom snapped. "But listen, whatever you do, don't call them ghosts."
"What, why?" Sam asked, perplexed.
"Just don't," he reiterated.
"Ooookay," she drawled, glaring at him.
Phantom returned her glare. The firelight flickered from the silver sconces, casting shadows about his face in a way that amplified the glow of his eyes. It took everything within her to keep from looking away as the sight truly unnerved the hell out of her. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
"I do have one other question," she said finally.
"Of course you do."
She didn't know why she needed to make the joke. Perhaps she simply needed a way to ease the edged silence between them, to permeate the layers upon layers of tension they'd somehow created in the span of a few muttered sentences.
Scowling at him, Sam fingered the furred collar of her coat, and, arching a brow, she said, "Does this come in black?"
A/N: This chapter turned out different than I anticipated, haha. Hope y'all like it! Be sure to leave a review if you get the time. It would be much appreciated.
*Sleetjaw belongs to CaptainOzone.