There's Ice in His Veins (A Jack Frost Fanfic)

Prologue

"You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars." -Gary Allen

***

"Ice is cold, but murder is colder."

With those words my eyes shoot open. Ice sticks to my lashes and my eyebrows, and I panic. "Where am I? What happened? Where's my sister? My parents? Anybody?"

Around me there is nothing but snow tainted pine trees. The last thing I remember, I was helping my sister off the ice because it was cracking. She made it, but I didn't. I had fallen through into the icy abyss with the moon as my only light.

The moon...

Deliriously, I climb one of the trees, ignoring the sap and sticks getting stuck in my hands and bare feet. I climb all the way to the top and once I'm there, everything is clear.

The moon is fully exposed, no part of it blocked by clouds at all. All I do is stare at it, and I know exactly what I'm supposed to do.

I close my eyes and lean back to let myself fall out of the tall tree. I am not afraid; la Luna is my guide. I feel like I'm free and as I fall the wind catches me, brisk and nipping, but I don't mind. Something forms in my hand, and through my closed eyelids I can see it by the brightness of the moon. It's a staff of wood, curved at the top for exactly the purposes I was made to possess.

I jolt back into reality before I hit the ground and fly, fly towards the thing that gave me another chance.

I fly for a long time. In circles, up as high as I can, as low as I can, until I decide it's time to go home. My family is probably worried sick.

I fly of course, and I'm there in record time, walking straight in the door and ready to pronounce the good news.

My parents are seated at the table.

"Mom! Dad! I'm alive and fine! In fact, I'm more than fine, I'm-" I stop as I realize they're not listening to me. "Mom?" I wave my staff in front of her. She doesn't even blink, nor does my dad. I try and tap the top of her head and gasp. My hand goes right through her. "Can you see me?" I ask desperately. No reply. I reach for her hand and it's like touching a ghost, the only thing is that I'm the ghost, not her.

It is the same situation with my father. He does not see me, feel me, or hear me.

"This can't be right." I sprint out into the night to consult the moon and she looks down at me with a sad, blank face. "No, this is not happening!"

I tell myself this all the way to a remote village a few miles from my own. Anger is slowly building up in me, I can feel it.

I touch down right in the center, on top of the gargoyle fountain, and yell at the top of my lungs. No night strollers flinch or even turn in my direction to scold me for being rowdy.

I jump down and run right at a man, going straight through him and crashing painfully into the stone wall behind. So apparently, I'm not a ghost.

"Sir! Can you see me?" I ask a nearby craftsman. He goes back into his shop.

"Ma'am?" She talks, and I suddenly have hope until I realize she is only talking to herself, mumbling about her kids' dirty socks and holey shoes.

Desperate and confused, I look to the sky, but my guide has nothing to offer.

Frantic, I run to the end of the street and collide with a man, sending us both down. I hold my head as I stand. "Sir? I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's quite alright, son." He's a thin man, and not very tall, with wisps of thinning blond hair askew from the fall. His light, shiny eyes seem to stare right through mine.

I start to walk away but freeze and turn. "Can you see me?"

"Of course," he replies, brushing dust off his apron and picking up his dropped maps. "Why wouldn't I?"

"No one else seems to be able to." I glance around and everyone else is greeting the man as they walk by singularly, but no one acknowledges me.

"That's strange," he says. "Perhaps it's your white hair or your attire? It is strange for this part of the village to see such difference."

I start to ignore the man. He's getting on my nerves all the sudden, and I want to leave, but he keeps talking.

"It's rare to see such a get up in this part of town. We're just conservative is all. I'm sure the townspeople don't mean to be rude; in fact, gah!" I feel a certain shift in my body as if everything is off balance, and I grab the man by the throat, pushing him against the wall and digging my short nails into his now visible veins. He thrashes and kicks at me, but it is a futile attempt. I squeeze harder and harder until his face is plum purple, and I don't stop until the pulse I feel in his neck has halted.

I drop the man and watch him fall, stalking away satisfied with what I'd done. Suddenly, the feeling is back, the off balance, and I feel sick. I rush into the woods nearby and run until the dizziness is too much. I fall to my knees in the snow. I feel my insides churn and contract, swell and shrink. My eyes burn as do my gums and the moon disintegrates before my eyes, leaving me with nothing but my own light, which has faded to black.