Authors: Jennifer Estep

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #Survival Stories, #Paranormal, #General

Kiss of Frost (29 page)

BOOK: Kiss of Frost

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“Overseeing the exhibit, of course. Most of the artifacts on display are on loan from the Library of Antiquities.”

Nickamedes was the head honcho at the Library of Antiquities, which was located on the Mythos Academy campus a few miles away in Cypress Mountain, North Carolina. In addition to books, the massive library was famous for its priceless collection of artifacts. Hundreds and hundreds of glass cases filled the library’s seven floors, containing items that had once belonged to everyone from various gods and goddesses to their Champions to the Reapers they had battled.

I supposed it made sense that the Crius Coliseum had borrowed some artifacts from the library—that was probably the reason the Mythos students had been assigned to come here in the first place. So they’d be forced to look at and study the items they walked past and ignored on a daily basis at the library.

Nickamedes stared at me, not looking a bit happier to see me than I was to have run into him. The librarian and I didn’t get along, and I generally thought of him as a giant pain in the ass. I worked several hours a week at the Library of Antiquities as sort of an after-school job, which meant that I reported directly to the librarian. Mostly, I shelved books, dusted the artifact cases, and helped other kids find reference materials, so they could do their homework assignments. Nothing too hard or strenuous.

But back in the fall, an evil Valkyrie named Jasmine Ashton had tried to sacrifice her best friend to Loki and kill me one night in the library. Since I’d been fighting for my life, I hadn’t been too concerned about all the stuff I’d damaged along the way—but Nickamedes had. I’d thought Nickamedes was going to strangle me right there on the spot when he’d seen just how badly Jasmine and I had trashed the first floor of the library during our fight. Needless to say, I wasn’t one of the librarian’s favorite people. The feeling was definitely mutual.

His mouth twisted. “I see that you and your friends waited until the last possible second to come and complete your myth-history assignment, along with a great many of your classmates.”

Morgan McDougall, Samson Sorensen, Savannah Warren, Talia Pizarro. I’d spotted several kids I knew roaming through the coliseum. All seventeen, like me, Daphne, and Carson, and all second-year students at Mythos, trying to cram in a visit to the museum before winter classes started in the morning.

“I’ve been busy,” I muttered.

Nickamedes let out a disbelieving huff. “Right.”

Anger filled me. I had been busy.
Very
busy, as a matter of fact. Not too long ago, I’d learned that the Reapers were searching for the Helheim Dagger, one of the Thirteen Artifacts that had been used during the final battle of the Chaos War. The Thirteen Artifacts had a lot of power, since they’d all seen action during the climactic fight. But what made the dagger so important—what truly scared me—was the fact that it could be used to free Loki from the prison realm he was trapped in.

I was determined to find the dagger before the Reapers did, so during the holidays I’d read everything I could get my hands on about the weapon. Who might have made it, how it might have been used during the Chaos War, even what powers it might have. But all the books and articles I’d read didn’t tell me what I really wanted to know: where my mom, Grace Frost, had hidden the dagger before she’d been murdered—or how I was supposed to find it before the Reapers did.

Of course, I couldn’t tell Nickamedes all that. He wouldn’t believe that I’d been doing something useful, something important, during the holiday break. No doubt Nickamedes thought I’d just been sitting on my ass reading comic books and eating cookies like I did so many nights when I was working in the Library of Antiquities. Yeah, yeah, so maybe I wasn’t all that dedicated when it came to my job. Sue me for wanting to goof off and have a little fun before I had to face down another crazy Reaper who thought I was more powerful and important than I really was.

Still, despite the librarian’s frosty attitude, I couldn’t help glancing around the room, hoping that I’d see a guy my age with him—a guy with the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen and a sexy, teasing grin to match.

“Is Logan here with you?” I couldn’t keep the hope out of my voice.

Logan Quinn was Nickamedes’s nephew and the Spartan guy who I had a major, major crush on. Okay, okay, so maybe “crush” wasn’t a strong enough word to describe my feelings for Logan, but it was what I was going with at the moment.

Nickamedes had just opened his mouth when a voice interrupted him.

“Right here, Gypsy girl.” A low, rumbling voice sent chills down my spine.

My heart pounding, I slowly turned around. Logan Quinn stood behind me.

Thick, wavy, ink black hair; intense ice blue eyes; a confident smile. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at Logan, and my heart sped up, beating with such force that I was sure he could hear it.

Logan wore jeans and a dark blue sweater topped by a black leather jacket. The clothes were designer of course, since the Spartan was just as rich as all the other academy kids were. But even if he’d been dressed in rags, I still would have noticed the lean strength of his body and his broad, muscled shoulders. Yeah, Logan totally rocked the bad boy look, and he had the man-whore reputation to match. One of the rumors that kept going around the academy was that Logan signed the mattress of every girl he slept with, just so he could keep track of them all.

I’d never quite figured out if the rumors were true or not, but they didn’t matter to me, because Logan was just a really, really great guy. Strong, smart, funny, caring. Then, of course, there was the whole saving-my-life-multiple-times thing. Kind of hard not to like a guy when he kept you from getting killed by Reapers and eaten by Nemean prowlers.

Logan’s eyes dropped to my throat and the necklace I wore there—the one he’d given me before school had let out for Christmas. Six silver strands wrapped around my throat, creating the necklace, while the diamond-tipped points joined together to form a simple yet elegant snowflake in the center of the strands. The beautiful necklace looked like something a goddess would wear. I thought it was far too pretty and delicate for me, but I loved it just the same.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” the Spartan said in a low voice.

“Every day since you gave it to me,” I said. “I hardly ever take it off.”

Logan smiled at me, and it was like the sun had come out from behind a sky full of storm clouds. For a moment everything was just—perfect.

Then Nickamedes cleared his throat, popping the bubble of happiness that I’d been about to float away on. A sour expression twisted the librarian’s face as he looked back and forth between Logan and me.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, the museum’s closing in a few minutes, and I need to make sure that the staff is ready to start packing up the items for transport back to the academy in the morning.”

Nickamedes pivoted on his wingtips and strode out of the weapons room without another word. I sighed. Yeah, I’d destroyed thousands of books during my struggle with Jasmine in the Library of Antiquities, but I always felt there was another reason Nickamedes hated me. He’d pretty much disliked me on sight, and I had no idea why.

I put the librarian and his bad attitude out of mind and focused on Logan. He’d texted me a few times over the holiday break, but I’d still missed him like crazy—especially since I had no idea what was going on between us. Logan had recently broken up with his girlfriend, Savannah Warren, but he hadn’t exactly declared his love for me in the meantime—or even asked me out on a real date. Instead, we’d been in this weird holding pattern for weeks now—one that I was determined to end.

I drew in a breath, ready to ask Logan how his winter break had been and what was going to happen between us now. “Logan, I—”

Shouts and screams ripped through the air, drowning out my words.

I froze, wondering if I’d only imagined the harsh, jarring sounds. Why would someone be shouting in the museum? A second later, more screams sliced through the air, followed by several loud crashes and the heavy
thump-thump-thump
of footsteps.

Logan and I looked at each other, then bolted for the door. Daphne and Carson had also heard the screams, and they raced along right behind us.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Daphne hissed.

She managed to grab my arm and the back of Logan’s leather jacket just as the Spartan was about to sprint out of the room. With her great Valkyrie strength, she was easily able to yank both of us back and give me whiplash.

“You don’t know what’s going on—or who might be out there,” Daphne warned.

Logan glared at her, but after a moment, he reluctantly nodded. I did the same, and Daphne loosened her grip on us. Together in a tight knot, the four of us crept up to the doorway and peeked through to the other side.

The Crius Coliseum was shaped like a giant wheel, with one main space in the middle and the various hallways and rooms branching off that area like spokes. The doorway we stood in opened up into the center section of the museum. When Daphne, Carson, and I had walked through a few minutes ago, folks had been milling around the exhibits, looking at the artifacts and browsing through the expensive replica weapons, armor, and jewelry in the museum’s gift shop. Besides the staff, most of the other people in the museum had been second-year Mythos students, trying to get their homework assignment done before classes started tomorrow, just like the three of us.

Not anymore.

Now, figures wearing long, black, hooded robes stormed through the coliseum—and they all carried sharp, curved swords. The figures swarmed over everyone in their path, their blades slashing through the air and then into the students who’d been staring at the exhibits just a few seconds before. More screams and shouts tore through the air, echoing as loud as gunshots inside the museum, as people realized what was happening.

But it was already too late.

“Reapers,” Daphne whispered, voicing my own horrific thought.

The Reapers of Chaos ran their swords through everyone they could get their hands on, then shoved the dead and dying to the floor. The museum staff, adults, kids. It didn’t matter to the Reapers who they killed. Wax figures, statues, display cases, and more crashed to the floor, splintering into thousands of pieces. Blood spattered everywhere, a cascade of scarlet teardrops sliding down the white marble walls.

A sick, sick feeling filled my stomach at the bloody chaos in front of me. I’d heard about Reapers, about how vicious they were, about how they lived to kill warriors—about how they lived to kill
us
. I’d faced down two Reapers myself, but I’d never seen anything like this.

Some of the Mythos students tried to fight back, using their fists or whatever they could get their hands on. But it didn’t work, and one by one, the Reapers swarmed over the kids. Samson Sorensen, a guy I knew, fell to the floor, screaming and clutching his stomach, blood spurting out from between his fingers. A few Mythos students tried to run, but the Reapers just grabbed them from behind, rammed their swords into the kids’ backs, and then tossed them aside like trash.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another student, Morgan McDougall, duck down and squeeze in between a tall, wide pedestal and the wall. Green sparks of magic shot out of Morgan’s fingertips like lightning, a clear sign of her surprise and panic, and she curled her hands into tight fists and tucked them under her armpits to try to smother the colorful flashes. Morgan knew as well as I did that if the Reapers saw the sparks, they’d find and finish her off. The pretty Valkyrie spotted me watching her and stared back at me, her hazel eyes full of fear.

“Stay there! Hide! Don’t try to run!” I shouted, although I didn’t think Morgan could hear me above the screams and alarms that had started blaring.

In less than a minute, it was over. The Reapers regrouped in the middle of the museum, talking to each other, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the moans, groans, and whimpers of the dying kids on the bloody floor.

“Reapers,” Daphne whispered again, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing any more than I could.

It was almost like they’d heard the Valkyrie’s low murmur because several of the black-robed figures turned and headed in our direction.

K TEEN BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

K Teen is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-7430-4

First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: December 2011