Killer Frost

Chapter 8

Despite my unease, the night passed by in a quiet fashion. Metis gave Logan, Sergei, and everyone else who’d been more seriously injured in the Reaper attack a clean bill of health and let everyone leave the infirmary bright and early the next morning. After weapons training in the gym, Logan and I wound up in the dining hall to eat a quick breakfast before trudging to our morning classes.

Like everything else at Mythos, the dining hall was way more upscale than what you’d find at a regular high school. White linens and fine china covered the tables, instead of plastic trays and sporks, while paintings of mythological feasts decorated the walls, and suits of armor stood guard in the corners. But the dining hall’s most interesting feature was the open-air indoor garden that lay in the center of the room, complete with statues perched among the almond, orange, and olive trees planted in the black soil and the curling tendrils of the grapevines that wound around, through, and over everything. Since this was where all of the students chowed down, the statues were mostly of food and harvest gods, like Dionysus and Demeter, instead of the fierce mythological creatures that adorned the outsides of the buildings. But once again this morning, the statues had strangely neutral expressions on their stone faces, instead of cocking their heads to the side and leaning forward, as though they were listening to all of the student gossip, the way they usually did.

“Still worried about the candle?” Logan asked, cutting into my thoughts.

I dragged my gaze away from the statues. Last night, I had filled Logan in on Sol’s candle and his dad’s plans to leave it on display as bait for the Reapers. “Why do you think that?”

He gestured with his fork at my plate. “Because you’ve barely touched your peach waffles.”

“Are they peach?” I groused. “I couldn’t really tell with all of the whipped cream flowers on top of them.” That was the other way in which the dining hall had little resemblance to a regular cafeteria—the food was far fancier than the usual boxes of cereal and bottles of milk you’d find at breakfast time at any normal school. Instead, the Mythos chefs were standing behind a series of cooking stations along one of the walls, whipping up made-to-order, gourmet waffles, omelets, and other delicacies that featured everything from creamy feta cheese to buttery lobster to crispy pancetta. I wasn’t particularly hungry this morning, so I’d grabbed the first thing I’d come to on the breakfast line that looked like regular food—peach Belgian waffles. Although the chefs had still managed to add their own froufrou twist to the waffles by decorating the tops of them with mounds of whipped cream swirled into the shape of fancy flowers and curlicued leaves, all dusted with bits of orange, lemon, and lime zest. In fact, there were so many flowers and leaves on the top of the waffles that I almost thought I was eating a frosted birthday cake, minus the candles.

Thinking about birthday cake and candles made me focus on Sol’s candle, sitting in the library, waiting for some Reaper to come along and steal it right out from under our noses—

“My dad knows what he’s doing,” Logan said, interrupting my thoughts again. “He won’t let the Reapers get the candle.”

“I know he’ll do his best,” I replied. “And so will all of the other Protectorate guards. But Vivian and Agrona take scheming to a whole new level of evil. They always have a plan within a plan within a plan. You should know that better than anyone.”

Logan grimaced, then reached up and rubbed his throat with his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said, regretting my snarky words. “I

didn’t mean to remind you—”

“That I tried to kill you?” he said. “It’s okay, Gwen. Trust me. I don’t need you to remind me of that. It’s not like it’s something I could forget—ever.”

Oh no. He only called me Gwen when he was being dead serious—or when I’d struck a nerve. Logan’s attack was like an invisible live wire sparking in the space between us, one that brought sharp, stinging jolts of pain and misery whenever we got too close to it. That distant, haunted look filled his icy eyes again, the one that had been there on and off ever since Agrona had snapped that gold collar full of Apate jewels around his neck at the Aoide Auditorium. The one that always seemed to come back just when I thought it was finally gone for good. The one that always seemed to come between us no matter how much we tried to pretend that everything was fine.

I let out a breath, leaned over, and gripped his hand. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just worried right now about everything. Vivian, Agrona, the Reapers, the candle, Loki. It’s like your dad said. Everything seems to be coming to a turning point. But I don’t know what that turning point is or if things will even go the way we want them to.”

Logan looked at me, his gaze sharpening. “I know there’s a lot going on, but are you sure that nothing else is bothering you? You’ve been really distracted these last few days. Ever since we came back from Colorado, actually.”

I thought of all the things I hadn’t told him, all the secrets I’d been keeping from him, all the pressure I felt to find some way to save us all from the unending horror that was Loki.

I let go of his hand, not wanting to accidentally let him feel any of my turbulent emotions since my skin had been touching his. “Nothing’s wrong.” I tried to smile. “At least, nothing more so than usual.”

Perhaps the biggest secret I was keeping was the fact that I hadn’t told Logan that I was the one who was supposed to kill Loki. I’d especially kept quiet about that because I knew exactly what he would say. That it was impossible. That no one could do it. That it was a suicide mission. But even worse was my fear that Logan might try to do the job for me, in order to try to protect me. Because that was one fight I knew he wouldn’t win, much less survive.

I didn’t think I would survive it, either, but I was determined not to take the Spartan or any of my other friends down with me.

“Everything will work out,” Logan insisted, still trying to reassure me. “You’ll see.”

I wished I could have shared in his confidence, but I didn’t—I just didn’t. I’d already lost too many battles to Vivian and Agrona to think that they wouldn’t win this one too. But I knew Logan and his dad were trying to work things out, trying to fix their relationship, so I kept my mouth shut. Arguing with him and undermining his new fragile trust in Linus wouldn’t solve anything, and it certainly wouldn’t stop the Reapers from striking.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, forcing myself to smile at him.

Logan grinned back at me. “Of course, I’m right. I’m

always right.”

I rolled my eyes, leaned over, and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “And now you sound like Vic.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Vic piped up from his spot in the chair I’d propped him up in. “I am much more confident than the Spartan is.” He sniffed. “And with good reason.”

Logan and I both laughed, and the tension between us eased.

We ate our food in silence for the next several minutes. Despite all of the whipped cream, I had to admit that the peach Belgian waffles were surprisingly good. The batter was light and airy, with thick chunks of fresh, ripe peaches sprinkled throughout it, and the peach syrup drizzled over everything added even more sweetness to the dish. I’d also gotten a stack of bacon, which was perfectly crispy, while the hash browns were oozing with sharp cheddar cheese, just the way I liked them. I washed everything down with a glass of fresh-squeezed apple juice, enjoying the cool fruity concoction.

I had finished eating and had pushed my plate away when Logan reached over and grabbed my hand again, threading his fingers through mine. A soft, lighthearted sensation surged through me at the contact, and I sighed, enjoying this rare moment of peaceful happiness.

“So,” he said. “Do you think we can talk about the

Valentine’s Day dance now?” “What’s there to talk about?”

“What time you want me to pick you up, what color dress you’re wearing so I can get the right kind of corsage, where you want to go to make out after the dance is over with.” Logan gave me a wink. “You know. All the usual stuff.”

I laughed. “You must be feeling pretty confident to say something like that.”

His grin widened. “Always.”

I arched my eyebrow, then leaned forward and crooked my finger at him. Logan leaned in as well, as though we were conspiring about something terribly important.

“Well,” I said in a husky voice, staring into his blue, blue eyes. “The answers to your questions are seven o’clock, silver, and anywhere you want to take me. How do you like that?”

Logan’s grin widened. “I like those answers just fine.” He kissed me, his lips just barely brushing mine, although the soft, feathery touch still sent a wave of heat scorching through my veins. With everything that had been going on, we hadn’t had a lot of time to focus on us, and I knew Logan was trying to take my mind off things by asking me about the dance, by trying to pretend, at least for a few minutes, that we were a normal couple, eagerly planning our big night out. But instead, he only made me think about how far I’d come from that naïve, clueless girl who’d fallen in love with him at the homecoming dance last year—and how far I still had to go before things were settled.

One way or the other.

Logan drew back, grinned again, and opened his mouth, like he was going to tease me some more, but I didn’t give him the chance. I leaned in and kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck and desperately trying to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind that whispered that if the Reapers had their way, the dance would never take place.

And I probably would be dead soon, regardless of anything else that happened in the meantime.

Logan and I finished breakfast, and I schlepped to my first class, trailed as usual by Alexei. To my surprise, the rest of the day passed by in a completely normal and utterly boring fashion. Morning classes. Lunch with Daphne, Carson, Oliver, and Alexei in the dining hall. More classes in the afternoon. And then, finally, it was time for me to go visit Grandma Frost, as I’d promised her I would.

When I’d first come to Mythos, I’d snuck off campus to go see my grandma a few times every week before coming back to work my shifts at the Library of Antiquities, even though students weren’t supposed to leave campus during the week. But Linus Quinn and the rest of the Powers That Were at the academy had eventually realized they couldn’t stop me from going to visit my grandma; nobody batted an eye at my off-campus trips anymore.

But today, instead of riding the public bus down the mountain to the nearby town of Asheville where my grandma lived, I was in the back of another black SUV owned by the Protectorate. Alexei sat beside me in the back seat, while Sergei was driving. Nyx was nestled on the floorboard at my feet, napping, and I had Vic laid out flat across my lap, while I stared out the windows, waiting for Vivian and a group of Reapers to appear at any second and attack us.

“Relax, Gwen,” Alexei said. “Nothing’s going to happen today.”

I looked at him. “Really? Because that’s exactly what Linus said to me yesterday, right before the Reapers ambushed the Protectorate convoy. Funny, how you’ve forgotten about that already, especially since you were in the van that they smashed up.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alexei said. “But you’re overlooking the obvious.”

“Really? What’s that?”

He shrugged. “We don’t have anything the Reapers want this time.”

I wanted to point out that that wasn’t true—not by a long shot. The Reapers had already tried to get their hands on Vic, as well as the Swords of Ruslan, which were sticking up out of the black backpack at Alexei’s feet. Besides, even without our artifacts, Vivian would have been perfectly happy to kill me, and I felt the exact same way about her. But I kept my mouth shut. I knew Alexei and the rest of my friends were trying to go about their days and lives as though everything was normal, the way they always did, as though we weren’t in danger of being attacked and slaughtered at any second. So I decided to stay quiet and let him keep the illusion— even if I knew exactly what a thin, pitiful smokescreen it really was.

“My boy’s right,” Sergei chimed in, his hazel eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “At the very least, the Reapers will need some time to lick their wounds. Linus and Inari are down in the academy prison right now, questioning the ones we captured yesterday after the attack. After that, the Reapers will be shipped to a more secure facility.”

I wished I had their confidence, but I didn’t—I just didn’t. I didn’t see the future like Grandma Frost did, but I couldn’t help feeling that time was running out to find a way to kill Loki. The silver laurel bracelet, Sol’s candle, all the other artifacts that Logan and the Protectorate had recovered from the ski lodge up in New York. There were too many powerful things floating around out there, and too much of a sense of the centuries-long conflict between the Reapers and the Protectorate finally building to its ultimate conclusion for me to relax. Not now.

Not until Loki was dead—or I was.

Still, I made myself smile at both the father and son, hiding my turbulent thoughts from them as best as I could. “You’re probably right.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way down the mountain. Grandma Frost lived in a three-story, lavender-painted home near downtown Asheville, among other similar houses that had been cut up into apartments. Sergei pulled up to the curb and parked in front of the house. Aiko was sitting on the porch reading a comic book, her gray Protectorate robe draped around her slender body like a winter cloak to help ward off the chill of the day. Two more Protectorate guards stood down the street at the bus stop, wearing gray leather jackets instead of their usual robes. I supposed they were trying to blend in and look casual, although they weren’t succeeding, since they still looked exactly like the tough warriors they were.

Sergei’s phone chirped, and he picked it up from the console and stared at the message on the screen. “Linus needs me at the academy. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you two here for a little while.”

“We can always take the bus back,” I said. “You don’t need to drive all the way back down here just to pick us up. Even I don’t think that the Reapers would be bold enough to highjack a bus full of regular mortals who don’t know anything about the mythological world.” Sergei shook his head. “You’re probably right, but it’s better not to take the chance, Gwen. If I haven’t returned by the time you want to leave, tell Aiko or one of the other guards, and they’ll drive you and Alexei back

to the academy. Okay?”

I wanted to point out that riding the bus would have been far more anonymous than cruising around in an SUV right out of some spy movie, but I kept my thoughts to myself. “Yeah. Okay.”

I woke Nyx up from her nap, and we got out of the car, along with Alexei, waved good-bye to Sergei, and trooped up the gray steps to the house. A bronze plaque beside the front door read Psychic Readings Here since Grandma Frost used her Gypsy gift to tell people’s fortunes and make a little extra cash. Alexei stayed on the porch to talk to Aiko, but I opened the door and went inside the house.

“Pumpkin?” Grandma called out. “Back here in the kitchen.”

I grinned. Thanks to her ability to see the future, Grandma always seemed to know when I was coming over. Nyx let out a happy growl and strained on the end of her leash, ready to run forward, since she loved Grandma as much as I did. I walked through the living room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen, which was my favorite room in the house with its white-tile floor and sky-blue walls.

Grandma Frost was dressed in her usual Gypsy gear— a purple silk shirt, black pants, and black shoes with toes that curled up slightly. Rings studded with various gemstones glinted on her fingers, while a green scarf was knotted loosely around her throat, the silver coinfringed ends trailing down her chest.

She stood in front of the stove, clutching a couple of gray oven mitts. A timer tick-tick-ticked on one side of the counter, next to a jar shaped like a giant chocolate chip cookie.

I drew in a deep breath, enjoying the scents of butter, sugar, and melted chocolate that filled the air, along with a hint of spicy cinnamon and sweet vanilla swirled together. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“What smells so good?”

“Cookies,” she replied, her face crinkling into a smile. “Chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, and sugar cookies. I thought that you and Alexei might like a snack, and I made enough for you to take some back to Daphne too.”

Daphne loved Grandma’s sweet treats as much as I did, and I always had to fight her off for the last cookie. Logan too. But I didn’t mind sharing with them. Too much.

The timer dinged, and Grandma Frost pulled the trays of cookies out of the oven. A blast of heat filled the kitchen, adding to the cozy atmosphere. We sat at the table, eating cookies and drinking glasses of cold milk, while Nyx plopped down on her tummy and gave us sad, mournful looks, wanting us to share our food with her.

Despite everything that was going on, I felt myself slowly relaxing. I hadn’t been over to Grandma’s much lately, not with all the problems of the past few weeks, and it felt good to sit here and share this quiet time with her.

Even if I knew it wouldn’t last—and that Vivian and Agrona were probably plotting some way to steal the candle right now.

The thought soured my good mood. I finished the rest of my chocolate chip cookie, but I had a hard time choking down the sudden, hard lump in my throat that fear and worry left behind.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Grandma asked, picking up on my unease.

There was no use trying to hide anything from her, so I drew in a breath and told her everything that had happened since the Reaper attack yesterday, including the fact that Linus had put the candle on view for everyone at the academy to see—Reapers included.

When I finished, I let out another tense breath. “I

don’t know. I . . . have a bad feeling about things. I think putting the candle on display is a big mistake. I feel like it’s just asking for trouble. At least, more trouble than we already have with the Reapers.”

Grandma reached over and put her hand on top of mine. As always, I felt that wave of warm, familiar, comforting love surge off her and wash over into me.

“It’ll be all right, pumpkin,” she murmured. “You’ll see. Everything will work out okay in the end.”

Her violet eyes grew glassy, and I felt that old, knowing, watchful force stir in the air around her. Grandma was having one of her visions, so I kept quiet and held her hand. After a few seconds, the blank look disappeared from her face, and she smiled at me again, although her features seemed dimmer and sadder than before.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She patted my hand. “I’ll be fine, pumpkin. Perfectly fine.”

The door at the front of the house creaked open, and Alexei walked into the kitchen. Grandma got to her feet to get him some milk and cookies, so I didn’t get a chance to ask her about what she might have seen. She probably wouldn’t tell me anyway, since it was hard for her to have crystal-clear visions about friends and family.

Grandma Frost also got out some chicken that she’d cooked special for Nyx. The wolf pup perked up as soon as she took the food out of the refrigerator, and Nyx started dancing around her feet in anticipation.

Grandma laughed. “Patience, little wolf. I’ll feed you soon enough.”

Nyx plopped down on the tile, threw back her head, and let out a squeaky howl, encouraging Grandma to hurry up already. We all laughed, except Vic, who was well into his latest nap.

Alexei started joking with Grandma, and I let their cheery conversation wash over me. Everything was fine— everything was great—and I knew I should be making the most of this happy moment while I could. But as I sat there in Grandma Frost’s kitchen, surrounded by my friends, I couldn’t help but think that this was the calm before the storm.