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The Killing Season
The Killing Season
The Killing Season
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The Killing Season

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In the far Alaskan north, there are places the winter sun cannot reach. Places where light won’t shine for months. These are the places we hunt the monsters who feed on fear.

So begins the Killing Season.

For the next sixty-five days, we will face the darkness. Some will hunt the aswangs in the ever night, but I, Ollie Andrews, am here for one purpose: to search for answers to my past.

They told us to fear the arctic tundra and the monsters hiding in the deep, dark shadows. But, locked inside a base known for driving even the best hunters mad, I fear it’s not the outside we should worry about, but the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves.

The real monsters are within.

When a brutal murder brings with it the secrets of Fear University—and the threat of an unknown killer on the loose—we all must fight to stay alive. But with madness and paranoia setting in during a whiteout snowstorm, all we can do is hope we don’t destroy ourselves before the sun finally rises again. Because no matter how hard we fight, reality will always threaten to tear us apart.

And when faced with the most terrible of truths, even the strongest break.

Warning: Recommended for mature readers due to sexual content, violence, and language.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMeg Collett
Release dateMay 13, 2016
ISBN9781311841162

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    The Killing Season - Meg Collett

    O N E

    Sunny

    We flew to Barrow, to the Killing Season, as the sun disappeared for the next two months.

    Flying through the sky in the last ray of light was tradition. Since the first arrival of the original Filipino hunters to Alaska, our hunters had been traveling north to follow the aswangs into their territory, into the arctic tundra, to hunt and kill.

    But if you asked me, it was a really stupid tradition. I mean, I got the point of it—I’m half Filipino after all. We had a duty and responsibility to uphold, and before Fields, I would have thought the tradition cool. I would have felt the same sense of pride. But now I knew tradition killed people.

    Outside my window, a sky of orange and red slashes cut through deep-blue clouds. The mountains stretched white fingers up toward the belly of the bush plane Hatter precariously piloted. I imagined a fleet of university planes sweeping north in this very same sky, colored up like melted crayons on wax paper. Many of the hunters in those planes, and likely on this plane, would die. The nerves in my stomach prevented me from enjoying the view.

    I wasn’t the only one nervous. Tight, combustible energy rippled off the other people on the plane—Luke, Hatter, Ollie, Thad, and a handful of other hunters from the university who’d been sent to help back up the Barrow-based hunters. I imagined everyone else on the plane pictured themselves flying into the monster’s mouth. I know I did. We would land in a place where the ’swangs had the upper hand, where darkness reigned with no escape. Luckily for me, I wasn’t old enough to hunt, but for the other people on the plane, I knew it had to be terrifying to know a creature would be trying to kill you as hard as you were trying to kill it.

    From my experience at Fields, I understood that feeling all too well.

    Feeling suddenly airsick, I cut another sideways glance at Ollie, who sat bundled up in the seat in front of me, her eyes glued to the window. If she noticed me staring through the gap between her seat and the wall of the plane, she didn’t comment.

    Her eyes were sad again.

    They looked that way often since we’d killed the ’swang during Fields. The first actual ’swang I’d ever seen in my life. The first one to feed on my fear too. I bit my lip, thinking of how every wisp of air had smothered and shriveled up inside me.

    I never wanted to be a ’swang’s snack again.

    Like she felt my eyes on her face, Ollie shifted in her seat to look back at me through the narrow gap. Hey, she whispered so the others wouldn’t hear us.

    Hey. I wanted to throw myself forward and wrap my arms around her and her chair and squeeze as hard as I could.

    We hadn’t spoken much since Fields. I respected her silence and tried to understand it. I hadn’t wanted to talk much after Seth—my brother—died in a fight with a ’swang last year. He’d been stationed in the Yukon when it happened. No one in my family had talked much for a while, until, one day, we did again. The silence became something we all understood, and we didn’t speak of it. So I waited for Ollie’s silent time to pass, and when the words were easy for her to say again, I would be here.

    Because I was her best friend and she needed me.

    Sunny, Ollie said hesitantly, her eyes flicking to my window like she was too nervous to meet my eyes, I’m sorry, you know? I really am.

    She brushed her fingertips against the bandaged claw marks adorning the side of her face. I knew the fresh scars bothered her. I wanted to tell her she was still pretty, still the fiercest girl I knew, but I settled for reaching forward and pulling her hand from her scars. I gave it a soft squeeze. You don’t need to apologize. You can tell me when you’re ready.

    Her fingers tangled through mine, her skin ice cold. We’ll talk at the base, okay? Tomorrow.

    Tomorrow. I released her hand and sat back, relieved the sadness in her eyes had lessened slightly. She nodded and turned back around in her seat. The tiny conversation—the most words we’d exchanged since Fields—made me feel infinitely better. I took a deep breath and relaxed back into my own seat.

    I glanced up at Hatter, his snapback hat sitting backward on his head, large purple sunglasses askew on his face, and a huge pair of headphones covering his ears with a microphone positioned in front of his mouth. Luke sat beside him, barking out a nearly continuous string of curses and clenching his seat in an effort to keep Hatter’s flying in check. Like the way he flew, Hatter was erratic, dangerous, and wonderfully terrifying. My stomach dipped at the thought of something happening to him or Ollie. For the countless time during our flight, I said a quick prayer that we would all make it out of this Killing Season safe.

    I wasn’t stupid. Dean hadn’t sent Ollie and me north to help the hunters. We were here for other reasons, deadlier reasons that only Ollie knew about. As I watched, she touched her face again, huddled deep into her puffy jacket, eyes unblinking as she stared out her window. Apparently our conversation hadn’t comforted her as much as it had comforted me.

    I imagined how different my life would have been if I’d never met Ollie. I would be home safe with my family for winter break. Tucked away from the dangers of the Killing Season. But that wasn’t what I wanted. If Ollie was here, then I wanted to be here too. I had to keep her safe.

    The orange glow across her face shuttered and darkened, and I looked out my window. The sun slipped into the horizon’s hungry maw, taking all the light, warmth, and safety with it. Darkness quickly ate the few remaining colors in the sky until we were enveloped, flying into the unknown with no light to guide us.

    We were alone now. And suddenly, as I sat on the plane that dipped and shuddered in the turbulence, I felt like this winter, it would be Ollie and me against the world.

    Ollie Andrews had changed everything the day she arrived at Fear University. And now, as we flew to the Killing Season, I knew nothing would ever be the same again. Even now, she was changing things.

    T W O

    Ollie

    Luke had warned me about the Barrow base. He’d said there were no windows and only one way in and out. During the polar night, without the sun’s light, a madness would set in. Paranoia. Fear. He said people commonly heard or saw things that weren’t there. He made me promise to keep my grip on sanity, to come to him if I started unraveling.

    I promised. But I lied.

    My unraveling had already begun.

    Loose threads like Max Taber and Dean Bogrov. Hex and my disease. Killian and Luke Aultstriver. Fear and pain. Aswang and human. Daughter of a monster. Lost girl. Dead girl. All of it tangled together no matter how hard I tried to sort them out.

    I pulled on those threads as we rode to the base in a massive all-terrain vehicle with thick, churning tires that crunched over the semi-frozen gravel roads. A wet snow fell on the windshield, thick and unwieldy against the windshield wipers. The headlights cut a narrow path through the heavy darkness and allowed me to see nothing but dirty snow and mud.

    The irony of Luke and his hunters going north to kill aswangs made me want to laugh. I wanted to raise my hand and say, You can start right here! My jaw ached from holding back the truth: I was part ’swang. In a car packed with innocent people born into a war they didn’t choose and fighting against monsters who used their fear against them, I was the greatest impostor. My blood contained dirty things. Tainted. Stained. Less-than. I wanted to cringe away so no one touched my foul skin, but I couldn’t. Or else they would know.

    Sunny sat beside me, her hand occasionally grabbing mine whenever we hit a particularly nasty rut in the road. Behind me, Thaddeus Booker and the other hunters sat, talking quietly amongst themselves. On my other side, Hatter listened to the music whispering out from his headphones. I didn’t miss the sideways glances Sunny kept sending his way, and I’m sure she noticed how I kept staring up at Luke, who sat in the passenger seat helping the driver navigate through the night’s snow. We hadn’t spoken about anything other than Barrow and surviving the Killing Season because we both knew we were keeping secrets from each other. It was a deal breaker for both of us, which really sucked, because the sex had been so great.

    Thinking about how he’d reacted after it, how we’d yelled at each other, I flinched.

    Are you okay? Sunny asked immediately, concern etched deeply in the smooth golden skin between her brows. Hatter glanced over at us just as Luke’s attention went to the rearview mirror.

    I’m fine. I met Luke’s eyes for a split second before looking away.

    How are your ribs?

    Almost two-and-a-half weeks had passed since Fields, but my injuries from the ’swang battle were bad enough that I was still healing, though I’d ditched the bandages around my ribs days ago. Fine.

    Your collarbone?

    I’d refused to wear the sling for my shoulder faster than the bandages for my ribs. That’s fine, too.

    What about your face?

    Frustrated with her questions, I shot a glare at Sunny, but my expression instantly softened when I saw her grinning back at me. She was just trying to make me smile. It worked. My lips pulled into a lopsided grin, making the bandages covering my new blackening claw marks pull along my cheek, jaw, and neck.

    Back when I was just a runaway, flitting from one city to another, my prettiness had been a hindrance because it garnered me too much unwanted attention. My face presented endless issues back then. But after a few more ’swang fights, being pretty wouldn’t be much of a concern anymore.

    My attention slipped back to Luke, who was still staring at me in the mirror. He said, We’re here.

    Sunny shivered against me, and Hatter lifted his arm along the back of the seat, his coat skimming against my hair, and put his hand on the back of Sunny’s neck. He gave her a little reassuring squeeze before moving away as Luke and the driver opened their doors. I felt the heat from Sunny’s blush as Hatter got out of the vehicle. Do you need me to open the door or can you manage? I asked, elbowing her ribs like everything was normal between us.

    Um, sure thing. I mean, I can. I am. She fumbled with the handle and practically fell out of the car. When I joined her outside, she pushed up her glasses and we looked around.

    The Barrow base. The front lines of our secret war. Luke’s childhood home.

    The place looked seriously fucked. I instantly hated it.

    The building could only be called a concrete fortress. It rose four stories into the swirling snow. Additions jutted out here and there, new added on to old as more room was needed. Instead of landscaping, spikes jabbed out from the ground around the base to keep the ’swangs from digging down into earth. Bright floodlights beamed down from every corner of the roof. More heavy iron spikes and razor wire guarded the roof. Between the blinding spotlights, I caught sight of guards circling up top, their forms disappearing behind large gunners. There were no windows and the only door into the base was a solid corroded plate of steel.

    A jagged set of claw marks streaked down the center of the steel, from top to bottom, like a warning.

    Countless more claw marks were scratched into the concrete as far as I could see. Some went as high as the second story, where ’swangs must have leaped up during an attack. Here and there, rusty patches marred the beige concrete walls. Blood.

    How quaint, I said under my breath. Luke shot me glare, which I happily returned.

    We’re seriously staying here during break? Sunny asked in a quaking voice. Her eyes lingered on the massive machine parked close to the front door. A snowcat. But it looked like a monster with steel teeth and claws.

    Just then, the front door began to rumble and move, sliding to the side and allowing only the slightest room for us to enter.

    Welcome to my home. The click of guns aiming down at us punctuated Luke’s words. If ’swangs rushed the door from the shadows, we were all going down.

    Ha. Ha, I said under my breath. Unwilling to spend another moment exposed outside, the others walked on ahead of me. I took a few more deep gulps of fresh air before I had to follow them inside.

    I slid through the narrow gap of the front door, which instantly started rumbling shut behind me. Our group stood in a sterile, narrow security room with another door in front of us similar to the one at our backs. In the tiny room’s corners, cameras swiveled and whirred, registering our faces and making my skin crawl. We hung our winter jackets, gloves, and scarves on the metal prongs lining the concrete walls. Only when the front door closed fully did the second one unlock. Luke shouldered it open and we stepped into the real Barrow base.

    I blinked in surprise.

    I’d fallen down a rabbit hole and stepped into the interior of a gothic mansion. The walls were paneled in rich cherry and adorned with hundreds of antique light fixtures with slender Edison bulbs blazing inside like tiny fireflies. My attention swept to the back of the entry where a sprawling, curved staircase led up to the second floor, and a huge series of stained-glass windows covered the entire back wall of the base, the design mimicking an abstract sunrise. They weren’t real windows, but the artificial light behind them looked realistic enough to bring life to the vivid array of colors splashing down the stairs and across the floor in a kaleidoscope of pigmented reflections.

    Luke and the other hunters’ boots clicked over the parquet wooden floors fashioned together with slivers of light and dark wood resembling fangs snapping up from the floor. A massive table sat in the middle of the main entry with a huge arrangement of fresh purple and blue flowers, their tall, strange blooms spilling over the vase like a wave. They gave off a strange, musky scent that made me slightly dizzy. I reached forward to touch one, but Luke appeared beside me and yanked my hand back.

    They’re poisonous to the touch, he said before I complained. He quickly dropped my hand once he’d pulled me back a safe distance, but my stomach still flipped from the familiarity of him, the thought of where his hands had once been on me.

    Gritting my teeth, I focused back on the bright blooms and wondered how they managed to grow such delicate, beautiful things up here. What are they?

    Wolf’s bane. We grow it in a greenhouse to use on the bullets and blades. Cuts down on ammo costs.

    Yeah, Hatter said from the other side of the flower arrangement. He made a gun out of his fingers, including the one reduced to a small nub from a ’swang bite, and pointed it at me. "Takes two shots instead of five to bring down a ’swang. Pop. Pop. Just like that." He blew imaginary smoke from the tip of his finger.

    Thanks, Hatter. I focused back on Luke. Why have such dangerous flowers right out in the open?

    His brows rose. Have you met my father?

    His sarcasm was more than I’d received since Fields, and I was surprised at how relieved I felt to know he’d still joke with me. Before I came up with something snappy to make him smile that little hint of a grin that could look more like a scowl if you didn’t know him, he moved away, putting distance between us.

    Luke Aultstriver, don’t you dare track snow through this house.

    My gaze darted toward the stairs, where a feminine, soft voice had issued the order. Not that it sounded like an order in that breathless, high-pitched tone, but Luke froze nonetheless.

    A wisp of a woman hurried down the stairs, clutching the banister as she went to keep from falling, a gray silk dress flowing around her legs. Her hair was so blonde it looked silver around her pale, slender face, where the only color came from her stark honey-colored eyes.

    Luke’s lips hooked up in a warm, easy smile that made me hate this woman slightly. It’s nice to see you too, Mother.

    I nearly choked. This was Luke’s mom?

    How have you been, dear? Her smile trembled, and Luke reached out a hand to steady her slight wobble. If I’d thought the wolf’s bane too delicate and pretty to grow up here—greenhouse or not—then Mrs. Aultstriver certainly was.

    I’m good, Mom. What about you? You haven’t been calling much lately.

    His mom reached up and patted his cheek. Oh, you know me. I lose track of the days.

    Her response made Luke frown, but from the bend in the stairs, Killian Aultstriver, lord of the manor in title and shitty attitude, appeared. He wore his permanent scowl, but it deepened when he saw his son and wife embracing. His expression turned positively stormy when his eyes swept over our small group and recognized me standing by the door. We’d met once before at Fear University, and it was safe to say we wouldn’t be besties anytime soon. Or ever. I smiled widely at him.

    Nice to see you too, asshole.

    I was so busy staring down Killian I didn’t notice Luke’s mother had come over to me. She took my hand, her silver face filling my vision, and said, You must be Ollie. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Abigail, Luke’s mother.

    Up close, I cataloged the details her previous distance hadn’t allowed me. Her eyes were bloodshot and weak, pupils dilated. Her skin stretched sallow across sharp bones that might have looked regal if she were thirty pounds heavier. When she exhaled, the reek of alcohol, which explained her teetering wobble, almost made me stumble backward.

    I saw none of Luke in the jagged, sinking edges of her features.

    Yes, ma’am, I said. I’m Ollie Andrews. It’s nice to meet you.

    Andrews? Abigail cocked her head in thought, a confused smile tugging on her lips.

    That’s right, Mom. She’s a civilian. Luke came over then and put his arm around her frail shoulders, tucking her into his side, just as Killian approached.

    "Was a civilian," I corrected.

    Ollie Andrews, Abigail repeated, drawing out the syllables like she was testing their sound in the air.

    Once one, always one, Killian drawled. Welcome to my home, Ollie.

    I pasted on a syrupy smile and said, I’m so thrilled to be here, Killian.

    It’s time for dinner, Abigail. He took his wife’s thin arm in his iron grip and tugged.

    I’ve got her. Luke kept his hold on his mother’s shoulders. She giggled, eyes wide as she stared at me, tracing the lines of my face.

    No need, son. The other hunters will be coming along any moment. Stay and introduce everyone.

    Killian gave one final tug, and Abigail tumbled into his arms. Luke had to let her go or else break her in half. With Abigail in tow, Killian marched toward a room through a wide archway at the other end of the entry. Dinner in five, he called over his shoulder.

    Is she okay? I whispered to Luke, who had also watched his mother leave.

    I’ve never seen her this skinny before. He shoved his hands through his hair. Does he even make her eat?

    I—

    The prodigal son returns.

    Luke gritted his teeth at the voice bouncing across the entry, but he’d smoothed the flash of irritation by the time we’d turned around to see who’d spoken.

    A trio of hunters breezed in through a door at the side of the entry, heavy boots thudding over the floor, chains and leather whistling with each stride. As they approached, their strong scent, like licorice with a sharp metallic bite that might have been blood, blasted up my nose and made my eyes water. Graphic red tattoos and black scars covered nearly every visible inch of their skin, merging together into a blur. Sunny took a careful step closer to me.

    Nice to see you too, Sin, Luke greeted the hunter who’d spoken with a coldness to rival Barrow’s current temperature before he turned to Sunny and me. This is Absinthe Hussar, the lead hunter here at Barrow base. We just call him Sin.

    Good to meet ya, the guy in the middle, the tallest and rangiest, said. He jerked his chin up in greeting, his nose piercing catching the light. Wild black and red tattoos laced up his neck in swooping dots and curves that ended in the solid silhouette of a snarling ’swang along the right half of his face. Its teeth moved as he smiled at me, making the ’swang look like it was biting down on his face. His eyes slowly traveled down my body and back up, leering at every inch of me.

    Finished? I snapped off the word like I wanted to snap his kneecaps.

    She’s a live one, eh?

    Yes, I am breathing. Thank you. I crossed my arms and glared. Sin just laughed.

    Sin takes some getting used to, Luke explained, though he shot Sin a long, hard stare. This is his brother, Haze Hussar. He’s second in command to Sin.

    The guy to Sin’s right inclined his head by way of greeting. He stood shorter than his brother, but while Sin’s body consisted of more corded, sinewy muscle, Haze was just a solid block of hulking steel. He had tattoos like his brother, but a massive black cluster of scars covering his mouth dominated his face, mangling his lips and chin into one jumbled disaster.

    Don’t be offended if he doesn’t speak a lot, Sin said, grinning at me, cause, ya know, he can’t. ’Swang fucked him up real good. But Haze got his payback.

    How? I asked, looking back at Haze, who met my gaze with quiet, unflinching dark eyes.

    He pointed over my shoulder, back to the steel door behind me. I turned around, following the line of his finger. Sunny gasped at the sight.

    A ’swang’s head perched on the wall above the door. Its inky black fur and glassy eyes were perfectly preserved and so life-like I fell speechless beneath its delicately curving ears and snarling expression. Bright-red velvet ribbon stitched its mouth closed. From its mounted neck hung a sign.

    Every dog has its day.

    My throat constricted with disgust. Hanging a head on the wall, like a trophy, made me sick. Does it switch to its day-form when there’s enough sunlight?

    Sin slapped Haze on the shoulder. Naw, he drawled. We had its brain removed. Be pretty low-class to have a head on the wall that looked like a human. Am I right?

    "I guess you need a stuffed teddy bear to remind you

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