Killer Frost

Chapter 29

It was—Loki was—horrible.

Absolutely, completely, utterly horrible.

His soul slammed into my body like a bolt of lightning, frying me from the inside out. I could hear him laughing in my head, and my vision immediately went Reaper red. The only thing that wasn’t that awful color was Vic’s lone, purplish eye. Everything else just looked . . . bloody.

All the while, I was dimly aware that I was screaming—screaming and screaming as Loki infected every single part of me. I thought I’d known what Logan had gone through when it had happened to him, but seeing his memories hadn’t prepared me for the intense, unending pain and the sheer, utter agony. But I concentrated on the cold, hard feel of Vic in my hand, and I let Loki do his worst to me.

“Yes,” I heard the god murmur in my mind, or perhaps I was the one who was saying the words out loud. I couldn’t quite tell. “Oh yes. This Gypsy girl’s body will do quite nicely.”

I screamed again as he dived even deeper inside me, burrowing down farther and farther, drilling into every single part of my mind, my body, my heart and soul, until I could almost see the bright purple spark at the center of my being start to take on an ugly red tint. I was aware of Loki’s hand falling away from my throat, and his body dropping to the floor, since it was nothing but an empty shell, now that he was inside me.

“Gwen! Gwen!” I thought I heard Logan screaming my name, but his voice sounded dim and distant, as though both of us were underwater.

Eventually, the pain died down to a more manageable level, although I could still feel Loki inside my body, rifling through my insides like they were index cards, and murmuring to himself, or perhaps both of us, as he took stock of me.

“Yes, yes, young and strong,” he purred. “Oh, the things I’ll be able to do in your body, Gypsy. Nike will rue the day she ever dared to stand against me. It will be such a pleasure using you against her.”

I let him rant. It was all I could do to keep breathing—in and out, in and out—and not lose myself completely in the foul god’s rotten core. Even so, I could feel it eating away at me like acid. Slowly, I managed to turn around and realized that the fight had stopped and everyone—Reaper and Protectorate alike—was staring at me with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“Gypsy girl?” Logan whispered in a horrified voice, slowly creeping toward me.

I could see a burning reflection in his blue gaze, and I realized that my eyes must be red—as Reaper red as his had been that day at the auditorium when Agrona had tried to put Loki’s soul into his body.

I tried to smile at Logan, tried to let him know that everything was going to be okay, this was all part of my plan, that it had to be this way, but it hurt too much, so I quickly gave up. Besides, I knew what I had to do now, and time was running out. Another minute, and Loki would have complete control of me. There would be no coming back from any of it.

Not for me—not for anyone.

Of course, I didn’t plan on coming back anyway, but if I was going to die, then I was determined to take Loki with me.

Everything felt odd and clumsy and large and heavy, as if my hands suddenly weren’t big enough for my body. But then again, it wasn’t really my body anymore— it was his.

So it took a lot of concentration and a couple of tries to bring up Vic and turn the sword around. I cut my right palm on his sharp blade, but it was a small, dull ache compared to the rest of the pain burning through my body.

I raised Vic up. His eye was still the same purple as before, and I focused on that soft twilight shade, letting it center me for what I had to do next.

“I’ll miss you, Vic,” I whispered, although it wasn’t my voice coming out of my mouth anymore. “I love you.” A single tear streaked down Vic’s hilt. “I love you

too, Gwen.”

I pointed the sword’s tip inward at my chest. In front of me, I saw Logan’s eyes bulge as he figured out what I was going to do. He ran toward me, trying to stop me, but he was going to be too late.

But he wasn’t the only one who finally realized what I was planning. Loki stopped his soft murmuring, and his burning red eyes popped up into my mind, blotting out everything else, and peering at me as if I was doing a most curious and worrisome thing.

“What—what are you doing?” Loki’s voice flooded my mind again, rising to a sharp screech on the very last word. “You—you can’t do this. Stop! I command you! Stop!”

I let out a long, loud, crazy laugh that echoed from one side of the library to the other and rose all the way up to the domed ceiling before it abruptly bounced back down again. I positioned Vic so that his tip rested against my heart. His point pricked my skin, drawing a bit of blood, and I focused on that small flash of pain. Suddenly, I could feel claws scraping down my insides and seizing onto the tendons and muscles in my arms, tearing, ripping, and trying to get me to drop the sword. But I tightened my grip and held on.

“You will stop this madness at once!” Loki hissed again. “I demand that you stop right now!”

I laughed again.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “That’s where you’ve always been wrong. This whole time. All these centuries. You can’t stop me. You can’t stop me from doing one single thing, especially not this.”

“And why is that?” he hissed.

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me. “Free will.” Then, I rammed Vic’s point into my heart as hard as I

could.

There was a bright, blinding flash of pain. Then . . . nothing.