Killer Frost

Chapter 17

I left my messenger bag in the backseat and slid Sol’s candle into my jeans pocket. Then, I got out of the SUV and started walking into the neighborhood. Oliver cranked the engine again, and he and Daphne drove away, leaving me alone. I pulled out my phone and sent out a quick text message, telling the other person I’d contacted my suspicions about the Garm gate. My phone beeped a few seconds later.

Garm gate. Woods. Got it. We’ll be there.

And that was all the message said. That was all it really needed to say. I just hoped I was right about Vivian and the Reapers—or else I’d be dead, along with Grandma Frost.

The smooth, wide street was deserted, and everything was oddly quiet. I didn’t see any TVs flickering through the windows, no cars pulling down the driveways, no one putting envelopes in a mailbox, nothing to indicate that anyone lived in this neighborhood at all. In fact, several of the homes had FOR SALE signs planted in their front yards. I wondered if that was why the Reapers had chosen this area for their hideout—because it seemed to be so empty. I shivered and walked on.

It took me about half an hour to find the right house, which, of course, was the one at the very back of the subdivision, set off from all the other houses, with a twelve-foot-high stone wall and an iron gate that was eerily similar to the one at the academy. I looked up, but no sphinxes perched on the wall on either side of the gate. That was probably for the best. No doubt the statues would have looked like they wanted to tear me to pieces, since this was a Reaper hideout.

A black security camera was mounted over the gate. It must have been motion-activated because it swiveled around and focused on me when I approached it. I waited, but the gates didn’t open, so I went over and punched a button on the metal intercom that was embedded in the stone wall. A bit of static crackled back to me in response; then the line started humming faintly, as though it were a phone and someone on the other end was waiting for me to speak.

“Open sesame,” I joked.

Silence. Apparently, the Reapers weren’t in a joking mood. Neither was I, really.

I sighed. “I have the candle.”

The gates started swinging open even before I finished speaking. I looked at the long, steep driveway that led up to the house. I had no choice but to walk up it. Not if I wanted to save Grandma Frost.

“Well, here we are,” Vic murmured.

I glanced down. The sword hadn’t said anything on the ride over here, but now, his purple eye was wide open, and he was staring straight ahead, his metal face set into hard, determined lines.

“Thank you for being here with me for this.”

Vic rolled his eye up so that he was looking at me.

“No thanks necessary. It’s what I do, Gwen. This isn’t the first time I’ve ever gone into a Reaper stronghold.”

I nodded. After that, there was nothing left to say, so I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and started walking.

The driveway dipped down before arching up a long, steep hill, with the house sitting at the very top. The structure was made out of light gray stone and looked more like a sprawling mansion than something you would find in a subdivision, even one as ritzy as this. I half-expected it to be covered with creepy statues, like the buildings at the academy, but only elegant balconies and tall glass windows fronted the mansion. Of course it wouldn’t have any statues on it. The Reapers probably wanted to blend in with the rest of the neighborhood as best they could, not stand out by having some dark, Gothic mansion. At least, that’s what I assumed. Maybe that’s why all of those paintings, statues, and carvings of the Black rocs had been on the inside of the house, since the Reapers couldn’t put them on the outside.

I glanced left and right as I walked up the driveway, but I didn’t see any Reapers patrolling the grounds or peering out at me from the trees in the woods that flanked the edges of the enormous yard. They must all be waiting inside for me.

Yippee-skippee.

The thought made my throat tighten with panic, but I swallowed down my fear. Nothing mattered except rescuing Grandma Frost—and hoping that the laurel leaves would kill or at least injure Loki. Or, really, do anything but make him stronger.

It seemed to take forever, but all too soon, I reached the front door of the house. I trudged up the steps and stared at the brass knocker, which was shaped like a snarling gargoyle. I squared my shoulders again, grabbed the knocker, and let it fall back down against the wooden door.

Thump.

I waited, but I didn’t hear anyone moving inside the house, and I didn’t see anyone pushing the curtains aside to peek out the windows at me. Was anyone even here? Or was this another one of Vivian’s games? Or worse, a wild goose chase—

The door was abruptly jerked open, and I had to bite back my shriek of surprise.

But the person on the other side was all too familiar. Auburn hair, pretty features, golden eyes. She was even dressed like I was, in jeans, boots, and a gray sweater. Her gold Janus ring flashed on her finger, and I stared at the two faces. I wondered what the god would think of me using his key to steal Sol’s candle. After a moment, I shook off my thoughts and raised my gaze to the girl standing in front of me.

“Hello, Gwen,” Vivian drawled. “So glad you could make it.”

The Reaper girl and I stared at each other for several seconds. So did Lucretia and Vic, since both swords were sheathed in their scabbards and belted around our respective waists. The swords didn’t say anything, and neither did Vivian or I. The time for talking, threats, and insults was long past.

“This way,” Vivian said.

She stepped aside. I swallowed again and entered the mansion. Vivian closed the door and then moved back in front of me.

“I really hope I don’t have to remind you not to do anything stupid or your grandma dies,” Vivian said in a pleasant voice.

I glared at her.

She let out a pleased laugh. “Oh Gwen. It’s going to be so much fun finally watching you die.”

She turned and walked away, and I had no choice but to follow her.

Vivian wound her way through the first floor of the mansion, which featured lots of spacious rooms with high, vaulted ceilings. I looked around at all of the opulent furnishings that filled the house. In some ways, it was like being at the Crius Coliseum or some other mythological museum. Jewelry, weapons, armor, and more lined the walls or were displayed under glass cases, while crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceilings, bathing everything in soft white light. I wondered what all of the artifacts did, but, of course, Vivian didn’t tell me, and it wasn’t like I had time to stop and actually look closely at anything.

I was too busy staring at all of the Reapers.

As we moved deeper into the mansion, I saw more and more Reapers. They lounged on couches and chairs or hunched over tables, their heads close together as they talked softly to each other. They all snapped to attention as Vivian and I passed them, then got to their feet and trailed after us, each one wearing a black robe, although they’d left their rubber Loki masks off today. I supposed they didn’t think I’d be able to identify any of them later.

They were probably right about that. If I lived through the next hour, it would be a wonder.

Vivian strode up several sets of steps, then threw open a pair of double doors, leading me into a large, familiar room.

“I thought you might like to see this again,” she purred. “For old times’ sake.”

Dark wooden furniture, antique sofas, crystal vases full of black and bloodred roses. It was the same opulent living room I’d woken up in the night she’d kidnapped me after I’d found the Helheim Dagger. The one with all of the creepy Black roc paintings, statues, and carvings decorating everything from the walls to the tables to the sofa legs. The room looked the same as I remembered, right down to the chair in front of the desk, the spot where I’d woken up and realized that Vivian was Loki’s Champion and that she was working with Preston Ashton.

Only this time, another figure was sitting in that same chair, flanked by two Reapers.

“Grandma!” I said, running past Vivian and over to her.

Grandma got up out of the chair, and I threw myself into her arms.

“I’m okay, pumpkin,” she whispered into my ear, even as she smoothed down my hair. “I’m okay.”

Tears scalded my eyes, but I forced myself to blink them back. Now was not the time to show any sort of weakness, not in front of the Reapers. I drew away from her and gave her a critical once-over. An ugly, purple, fist-shaped bruise marred her right cheek, and more cuts and bruises dotted her hands and arms, probably from where she’d struggled against the Reapers in the park. But overall, she looked okay.

“Touching,” Vivian said. “Really. But let’s get on with things.”

She snapped her fingers at the Reapers who’d entered the room behind us. “Bring them.”

The Reapers already had their long, curved swords out, ready to use them, but Grandma and I didn’t give them any trouble as they marched us over to the far side of the room, out the balcony doors I remembered, and down a set of stone steps. After that, we left the backyard of the mansion behind and trooped out into the woods beyond.

Daphne was right. It looked different in the day than it had that terrible night when I’d realized how thoroughly Vivian had tricked me. The woods were only woods now, filled with trees and leaves and rocks and snow, and not crawling with creepy, eerie shadows the way they had been back then. Of course, the Reapers and their swords surrounding me and Grandma Frost on all sides weren’t really an improvement, but at least I could tell where we were going now—and we were headed straight toward the Garm gate, just as I’d suspected.

Still, as we moved deeper and deeper into the woods, my gaze flicked up to the trees that towered above our heads, but I didn’t see any Black rocs roosting in the tops of the sturdier oaks and maples, peering down at me as though I was a worm they wanted to gobble up.

“What happened to all your rocs?” I asked. “You seemed to have a ton of them on the road the other day, but I haven’t seen a single one since I’ve been here. So disappointing.”

I made my voice sound as innocent as possible, although my question was anything but. I had a very specific reason for asking about the Black rocs, and where they might be lurking, and the answer might determine whether or not Grandma Frost and I made it out of here alive. Still, I made myself look totally bored, as though I didn’t really care one way or the other about the answer and was simply mocking the Reapers for kicks.

Vivian shot me a dirty look. “We’re still rounding them up, thanks to you.”

Which was exactly what I wanted to hear.

I grinned. “Aw, so sorry to make more evil work for you to do, Viv.”

Her golden eyes narrowed, and her hand dropped to her sword, as if she’d like to pull Lucretia and attack me right now. Yeah. I knew the feeling.

But Vivian controlled herself, and so did I, and we kept walking.

It didn’t take us long to reach our destination. We left the path behind, stepped into a large clearing in the middle of the woods, and there it was.

The Garm gate.

Once, it had been a smooth, circular, unbroken slab of black marble that had been set into the middle of the forest floor. A hand holding a balanced set of scales had been carved into the very center of the stone.

But that was then, and this was now.

The black marble was cracked, jagged, and split two ways from where Loki had used the Helheim Dagger to escape the prison that the other gods had placed him in so long ago. I rubbed my chest, which was suddenly aching, thinking of the scars there, the ones that were shaped like a weird X that slashed over my heart, the same X shape that had ruined the marble before me. The stone couldn’t recover from Loki tearing through it any more than I could forget about my scars and how

I’d gotten them from Preston and Logan.

My gaze drifted over to a particular patch of stone, one close to the center of the jagged tears. My heart twisted as the memories washed over me. Nott had been killed right there, when Vivian had stabbed her in the side. I’d cradled the Fenrir wolf’s head in my hands and stared into her eyes as she’d slowly died. It had been one of the worst moments of my life.

And this was shaping up to be another one.

Because a familiar figure was standing in the exact spot where Nott had died. His back was to us, but I would have recognized him anywhere. He slowly turned at the sound of our footsteps echoing across the stone and faced us head-on.

Loki.