Kiss of Frost (4 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Estep

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

BOOK: Kiss of Frost
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Instead, I’d immediately flashed on the hairbrush and had learned a sick, sick secret—that the girl’s stepdad was sexually abusing her. The memories, images, and feelings had been so horrible that I’d had a total freak-out with my magic. I’d screamed and screamed and screamed before blacking out and later waking up in the hospital. I’d told my mom about what I’d seen, since she was a police detective. My mom had called me from the police station that night to say she’d arrested the girl’s stepdad.
That had been the last time I’d ever spoken to her.
Mom’s car had been T-boned by a drunk driver on her way home. Supposedly, she’d died instantly, and she’d been messed up so badly from the accident that the casket had been closed at her funeral. Hence, all my heart-shattering, soul-twisting guilt. I couldn’t help but think that if I hadn’t picked up that hairbrush, then my mom wouldn’t have been out so late—and she would have never been killed.
I missed my mom like crazy, and I knew Grandma Frost did too, since it had always been just the three of us. That’s why I risked the wrath of the professors and the other Powers That Were at Mythos to sneak off campus to come see her and that’s why Grandma let me. Because we both wanted to spend as much time with each other as we could, just in case one of us was ever taken away as suddenly and cruelly as my mom had been—
Ding !
The timer sounded, interrupting my dark, guilty thoughts and saving me from answering her question. Grandma got up and slid the cookies out of the oven. The smells of melted sugar, sweet strawberries, and dark chocolate blasted into the kitchen, making everything feel warm, safe, and cozy. I didn’t even wait for the cookies to cool before I snatched two off the baking sheet, broke them apart, and stuffed the pieces into my mouth. Yum. So good.
“Now you be sure and give some of these to Daphne,” Grandma reminded me in a gentle voice, filling up my usual tin with the cookies. “I know she’ll want some, too.”
“Okay.” That’s what I said, but since I was still chewing, it sounded more like “Mmm-kay.”
By the time Grandma had finished packing up the cookies, it was after five, which meant that I needed to leave so I could ride the bus back up to the academy. Nickamedes would be on my ass if I was even a minute late for my shift. In addition to going to classes and weapons training, I also had to work several hours a week at the Library of Antiquities as sort of an after-school job. Fun, fun.
I slid the container of cookies into my messenger bag, on top of the stack of comic books I was currently reading, then slung the strap over my head and across my chest.
“Love you, Grandma.” I leaned down and kissed her wrinkled cheek.
“I love you too, pumpkin,” she said, patting my hand one final time. “You be careful. It’s a wicked old world out there.”
I paused, wondering if Grandma Frost was having another one of her psychic flashes, if she was trying to warn me about something, but her violet eyes were calm, clear, and focused. Then again, I didn’t really need Grandma to warn me. Thanks to my time at Mythos, I knew exactly what kind of scary things were out there—things like Reapers of Chaos, Nemean prowlers, and most especially, Loki.
“I will,” I promised her. “I’ll be careful.”
 
With a third, still-warm cookie in my hand, I left Grandma Frost’s house. The sun had given up trying to break through the clouds, and it had gotten even darker and colder while I’d been inside. I shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth and stuck my hands deep into my jacket pockets, wishing I’d thought to wear gloves today. Of course, I supposed I could have worn gloves around the clock, to cut down on the flashes I got off other people and objects. But I already felt like enough of a freak as it was. Wearing elbow-length gloves all the time would
so
not help my social status at Mythos.
I walked to the end of the block, looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and stepped out into the street heading for the bus stop on the opposite side.
I didn’t even see the car until it was right on top of me.
It was a big, black, expensive SUV with a shiny silver grille—and it was racing right toward me.
I froze in the middle of the street, not quite believing what I was seeing, not quite believing that the driver hadn’t spotted me, that he wasn’t going to blow the horn and slam on his brakes at any moment. Where had he come from? The street had been completely empty a second ago.
The SUV kept coming and coming, and the wheels kept churning and churning, gulping down all the pavement that separated us. The tinted windshield loomed up in my vision until it was all that I could see—a hungry black maw that was going to swallow me up whole, and then spit out my bloody, broken bones.
It seemed like forever, but after a second, my brain kicked in, screaming
Move! Move! Move!
I didn’t have an Amazon’s lightning-quick speed, but I managed to throw myself forward, my body slamming against a rusty pickup truck parked on the opposite side of the street.
The SUV roared past me, so close I felt the rush of air from its passing brush the back of my jacket. The vehicle zoomed down the street, zipped around the corner at the end of the block, and disappeared from view. The driver never slowed down—not even for a second.
With my mouth open, heart hammering, arms trembling, and legs shaking, I stared down the empty street and wondered whether or not the whole thing had been an accident—or something far more sinister.
Chapter 4
Heart still racing, I staggered onto the sidewalk and huddled against the steps of the home at the end of the block. I thought about sprinting back to my Grandma Frost’s house and telling her what had happened, but there was nothing she could do. The SUV was probably long gone, and I hadn’t gotten a look at the license plate.
The bus made my decision for me. Just as I’d taken a few tentative steps back to Grandma’s house, the vehicle pulled up to the curb and the door opened. I bit my lip. As much as I wanted to run back to the safety of Grandma Frost’s house, I didn’t want to be late for my shift at the library either. Nickamedes already watched me like a hawk. I didn’t want him to know the real reason I was late all the time. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see my grandma whenever I wanted to.
So I sighed and trudged onto the bus. I peered out the window the whole ride back up to Cypress Mountain, but I didn’t see the black SUV that had almost mowed me down. No, that’s not quite right. I saw lots of black cars—I just couldn’t tell if the person who’d nearly plowed into me was driving any of them.
But what worried me most was the fact that I couldn’t figure out whether or not it had been an accident.
The bus finally reached the top of Cypress Mountain and rumbled to a stop across from Mythos Academy. I got off, sprinted across the street, and slipped through the academy’s iron gates, which were still closed and locked. For once, I was glad the sphinxes were there, perched on top of the wall and glaring down at me. Sure, the statues made me uneasy, but they were also supposed to keep the academy safe from Reapers. The sphinxes would keep whomever was after me from following me onto campus. At least, I hoped they would. But even that hope was better than nothing.
I stood there inside the gate, breathing hard and staring out at the street, wondering if I’d see a black SUV roll by. But the only vehicle in sight was the bus, which slowly lumbered away from the curb to start its trip back down to the city.
Maybe it had just been a careless driver after all. I hoped so—oh, how I hoped so.
“Come on, Gwen,” I whispered to myself. “Get a grip.”
It might have just been my imagination, but it seemed like the dull, brown, dried-up leaves in the trees above my head whispered back, even though I knew it was just the winter wind whipping through the branches.
Right?
Still nervous, I stuck my hands into my jacket pockets and hurried past the dorms and up the hill. If Mythos Academy had a black, beating heart, it would be the upper quad. Five main buildings ringed the area—English-history, math-science, the dining hall, the gym, and the library—all sitting at the edges of the quad, like the five points of a star.
Normally, in between and after the day’s classes, students gathered on the quad to gossip, text on their cell phones, and see who was hooking up with whom. Not now, though. Since it was so cold, everyone was inside already, studying in the library, hanging out in their dorm rooms, or eating dinner in the dining hall. Usually, the emptiness of the quad wouldn’t have bothered me, but tonight, it did.
The sun had already vanished for the day, letting the night’s shadows ooze over everything, like black pools of blood. The trees on the quad were bare, except for a few stubborn leaves that rattled together like bones every time the wind touched them, and the swaying tangles of branches reminded me of skeletons strung together. Maybe I was still a little shaken up from almost getting run over. That had to be the reason I was thinking about things like blood, bones, and skeletons.
I shivered, tucked my head down into the collar of my jacket, and walked on.
The Library of Antiquities was the largest structure at the academy and took up a good chunk of the upper part of the quad, serving as the top point in the star of buildings. The library simply had the most of everything—the most floors, the most balconies, the most towers, the most parapets. All put together, the building reminded me of a sinister castle.
But the thing that creeped me out the most were the statues.
They could be found on all of the buildings at Mythos, but there were more of them on, around, and in the Library of Antiquities than on the rest of campus put together. Gryphons, gargoyles, Gorgons, dragons, a Minotaur, and other mythological creatures that I didn’t even know the names for. The statues covered the library from the bottom balcony, which wrapped all the way around the building, to the top of the roof, with its towers and their swordlike points. And they weren’t just simple stone figures. No, the statues all looked, well,
violent,
with big eyes, bigger teeth, and razor-sharp claws.
Maybe it was my Gypsy gift, but I always felt like the statues were watching me and tracking my steps with their open, angry eyes, just like the sphinxes at the front gate. That if I so much as brushed them with my fingertips, the cold monsters would somehow spring to life, leap out of their stone shells, and rip me to pieces.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
I pulled my gaze away from the two gryphons positioned on either side of the gray stone steps and hurried into the building, through a short hallway, and past the open double doors that led into the library itself. Instead of walking down the wide, main aisle toward the study tables and offices, I turned and headed for a quiet area in the back.
My spot, as I’d come to think of it, wasn’t much to look at. Just another patch of floor in between the tall bookshelves that filled the library’s many levels. Once, there had been a glass case here, one of hundreds that were scattered throughout the library and full of artifacts—weapons, jewelry, clothing, armor, and more—that had been used or worn over the years by various mythological gods, goddesses, heroes, villains, and monsters. Now, the case was gone, smashed to bits in my fight with Jasmine Ashton, although Vic, the sword who’d been inside it, was safe in my dorm room.
But the empty spot where the case had been wasn’t the only thing of interest. I tilted my head, looking up at the person I’d come back here to see: Nike, the Greek goddess of victory.
Well, it wasn’t really
her
, of course—just a thirty-foot-tall statue carved out of white marble. Statues of all the gods and goddesses from all the cultures of the world ringed the second-floor balcony. They were separated from each other by slender, fluted columns and stared down at the first floor of the library and all the students studying below. Every god and goddess you could think of was here. Norse ones, like Sol, Thor, and Freya. Greek ones, like Ares, Zeus, and Apollo. Egyptian ones, like Anubis, Ra, and Bastet. And tons more gods and goddesses who I’d never heard of before I’d come to Mythos.
The only one who wasn’t represented in the circular pantheon was Loki, the Norse trickster and chaos god, and there was an empty spot where his statue would have been. Loki had done a lot of bad, bad stuff back in the day, like getting another god killed, trying to take over the world, and blah, blah, blah. They didn’t build statues of you when you were the equivalent of a comic-book supervillain.
I’d met Nike a few weeks back, during the whole Jasmine situation. The goddess had appeared to me in the library and asked me to be her Champion, to be her hero here in the mortal realm, to help her fight Reapers of Chaos and other assorted bad guys.
The statue looked the same as Nike had the night she’d shown herself to me—hair falling past her shoulders; a long, flowing gown covering her strong, slender body; a crown of laurels resting on top of her head; feathery wings attached to her back. The goddess was the embodiment of victory, and she was cold, hard, fierce, and beautiful, all at the same time.
“Hi, Nike,” I said in a low voice. “Hope you’re having a good day up there on Mount Olympus or wherever you are. You know, eating lots of ambrosia, playing harps—things like that. Whatever goddesses do to have fun.”
The statue didn’t do or say anything, and I didn’t really expect it to. Still, every time I came into the library, I stopped a moment to speak to the goddess. I didn’t know if she actually heard me or not, but it made me feel a little better. Like maybe Nike was up there watching over me. Like maybe I was really worthy of the magic and trust she’d given to me.
Like maybe I really could do some good as her Champion.
I turned and headed for the center of the library. A long checkout counter split the main floor into two and separated one side of the enormous domed room from the other. A series of glassed-in offices lied behind the counter, while the open floor in front of it featured long tables for students to sit and study at. There was also a freestanding cart that sold coffee drinks, fruit smoothies, and sugary snacks. I breathed in, enjoying the warm, rich smell of the coffee mixing with the dry, slightly musty odor of the books.
The curved ceiling of the library arched high overhead, and it always seemed to me like the building was much taller than its seven floors, like the library just kept going up and up and up until it touched the clouds. Other students claimed there were amazing frescoes painted on the ceiling, ones that depicted various mythological battles and gleamed with gold, silver, and jewels, but I’d never been up to the top floor to look for myself. From down here, all I could see were shadows.
I’d barely put my messenger bag in a slot underneath the checkout counter when a door opened in the office complex behind me, and Nickamedes appeared.
“You’re late, Gwendolyn,” Nickamedes snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “As usual.”
Nickamedes was the head honcho at the Library of Antiquities. If you were just looking at him, you’d think that he was cute, handsome even, with his black hair and blue eyes. For a fortysomething-year-old guy, anyway. But then he opened his mouth, and you realized just how uptight, prissy, and snobby he really was. The library was Nickamedes’s whole world, and he loved everything in here with an intense, devoted, detailed obsession. Well, everything but the students. Nickamedes didn’t really like anyone touching his precious books and artifacts, not even for class assignments.
But the librarian was sort of stuck with me. Back when I’d first started going to the academy, Professor Metis had thought that working in the library would help me meet other kids and make friends. Not so much. Basically, I was Nickamedes’s free slave labor—and there was nothing he enjoyed more than bossing me around.
Nickamedes had never really liked me and my smart mouth, but he’d come to actively hate me a few weeks ago. Jasmine Ashton had tried to kill me in the library, and, well, we’d torn up a lot of stuff during our struggle. Nickamedes despised anything that damaged his precious books. Seriously, the dude wouldn’t even crack one of their spines. I’d done far worse than that. I’d pretty much trashed the entire first floor. In fact, I was still shelving books from where I’d shoved a case of them onto Jasmine to try to keep her from running me through with her sword.
“Well, Gwendolyn?” Nickamedes barked, tapping one of his long, pale fingers against his opposite elbow. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t exactly tell the librarian that I’d snuck off campus to go see my Grandma Frost, since that was against one of the Big Rules. But maybe I could sweeten up his sour mood. I rustled around in my bag, drew out the metal tin of cookies, popped off the top, and held it out to him. Surely the smell of chocolate would bring a smile to even his sharp, angular face.
“Cookie?” I asked in a hopeful voice.
Nickamedes’s expression just darkened. “You brought unauthorized food into the library, Gwendolyn?”
I sighed, knowing that I was going to get the mother of all lectures now.
Ah, well,
I thought, biting into a cookie while Nickamedes glared at me. It had been worth a shot.

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