Midnight Frost (14 page)

We’d barely made it outside and down the library steps before Daphne scooted up beside me.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Gwen?” she asked. “We don’t know anything about this girl. She could be a Reaper, just like Vivian was.”

“I don’t think she’s a Reaper,” I said in a low voice.

“Why not?”

I told her what Grandma Frost and Rory had both said to me. Daphne was quiet for a moment, thinking. Sparks of magic dripped from her fingertips, and the winter wind swirled them through the air like shimmering pink snowflakes.

“Just because she’s related to you doesn’t mean you guys are automatically going to be besties,” Daphne pointed out.

“I know. But she knows something about my dad—something important. Grandma Frost said as much, and I want to know what it is. Besides, it beats sitting in the library all day, doesn’t it?”

Daphne shrugged. She couldn’t argue with that.

We followed Rory around the quad. She made a long, slow circuit, taking us past all of the buildings. Through the windows, I could see other students sitting in their classes, their heads bent over their books, or their eyes fixed on the professors lecturing in front of them. They were doing the same things the kids at the North Carolina academy would be doing—the same things
we
should have been doing right now. I was surprised at how homesick the sights made me.

I started to ask Rory if we were going to walk around in circles all day, when a series of bells chimed. A few moments later, students started streaming out of the buildings. A few kids headed down the hill toward their dorms, but the majority made a beeline for the dining hall.

“Come on,” Rory said. “Time for lunch. Oh, joy.”

She led us over to the dining hall. My friends looked at me, but I shrugged. I didn’t know what Rory was up to, but we could at least get something to eat.

We entered the dining hall, but I didn’t get the same sense of déjà vu that I had from the rest of the buildings. I’d expected the area to be filled with round tables covered with white linens, fine china, and gleaming silverware like at home. But instead, the tables were long rectangles made out of the same large logs I’d noticed inside the library. More of the lumber made up the walls, interspersed with those familiar, blackish boulders. Only a few paintings decorated the walls, most of them mountainous landscapes, once again giving everything a rustic Western vibe.

The only thing that was sort of similar to home was the open-air garden in the middle of the enormous room. But instead of grapevines, the garden here featured a variety of evergreen trees that somehow grew in the middle of dense boulder formations. A narrow creek ribboned through the garden, tumbling down a tower of rocks before forming a small pool at the bottom. A variety of stone statues hovered around the edge of the water. Animals, mostly, bears, rabbits, and ducks, although I also spotted an image of Coyote in the mix. A pair of gryphons perched on either side of the top of the waterfall, looking down at the many figures below as though they were protecting the other creatures from harm.

Rory led us over to the far right side of the room, where the lunch line was. We’d come in behind all of the other kids, so we were at the very back. My friends and I grabbed some glass trays and fell in line. We went down the line, and the others filled up their trays with one dish after another, but mine remained empty.

Liver, veal, escargot, some sort of seafood salad with steamed clams. All of it artfully arranged in small white china bowls and garnished with carrots cut into the shapes of sunflowers, green peppers that had been curlicued like ivy vines, and pepper flakes that looked like bits of red snow resting on top of the mounds of steaming food.

I sighed. I’d hoped that the food here would be a little more, well,
normal
, but it was the same fancy stuff they served at home. For some reason, the Mythos kids loved to eat caviar and other froufrou food like that. Finally, I spotted some cheeseburgers, although technically, the sign said they were bison burgers. I didn’t really want to eat bison, but since it was the closest thing to recognizable food on the menu, I grabbed a burger, along with some cheese fries, a buttermilk ranch dipping sauce, a bottle of cranberry juice, and a big piece of dark chocolate fudge for dessert.

Finally, we made it to the end of the line. All of my other friends had already paid and were waiting for Rory and me to do the same. The Spartan girl was in front of me, and she slowed her steps, as though she didn’t actually want to pay for her food, but she eventually made it over to the cash register.

The woman sitting behind the register perked up at the sight of Rory. She wasn’t that much older than us—probably in her mid-twenties—but she was exceptionally pretty, with long, glossy black hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin. She wore a white chef’s uniform, and I wondered if she’d helped cook the food.

“Hi, Rory,” the woman said. “How’s school going today?”

“Hey, Aunt Rachel,” Rory muttered. “Everything’s fine.”

Aunt Rachel? This must be the aunt whom Grandma Frost had told me about—the one Rory lived with. Her mother’s sister. The only family she had left. Well, besides me.

Rachel’s eyes flicked to me, and she noticed how close I was standing to her niece. Her face brightened a little more. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Hi there,” I said in a cheery voice, just to needle Rory. “I’m Gwen.”

Rory shot me another dirty look, but Rachel didn’t notice it. Instead, she reached over and took my hand in hers.

Her feelings and emotions hit me a moment later.

Normally, I was careful about touching people, since my psychometry kicked in the second my hand brushed across someone else’s, but Rachel caught me off guard with her impromptu, enthusiastic handshake. I thought about pulling back but decided not to. I had a lot of questions and not a lot of time to get answers to them since we’d be leaving in the morning to trek to the ruins. I wanted to know more about Rory, and flashing on Rachel was one way to find out. Besides, worst-case scenario, it would tell me whether or not they were Reapers and how much I could trust them.

Rachel’s feelings blazed into my mind. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by images of her. Laughing, talking, smiling, growing up over the years, even learning how to fight as a Spartan. But the deeper I sank into her memories, the more I noticed another person in them—an older girl who resembled her. That must be her sister—Rory’s mom. All three of them looked just alike. I could also feel all of Rachel’s love for her older sister—and how much she looked up to her.

But there was a darkness in the other girl—a darkness that Rachel worried about more and more as the years passed. A darkness that only intensified when she met a boy her own age, and the two of them had Rory. At first, Rachel thought that Rory would be enough to pull her sister out of the darkness—but she wasn’t. The images grew more and more disjointed after that, turning into a wall of solid red in Rachel’s mind—a wall of blood.

Her sister’s blood.

In front of me, I was dimly aware of Rachel looking at Rory. Suddenly, the memories and feelings changed, and I saw Rory growing up over the years—and all the love that Rachel had for her niece.

But the main thing I felt was how tired Rachel was—and how very sad. She was trying to do the best she could with Rory, but she was constantly worrying that she wasn’t doing a good enough job, that her love wasn’t enough for Rory, that it wasn’t enough to help ease the pain of losing her parents.

Rory’s parents were dead? When? How?

Before I could look for the answer, Rachel pulled her hand away from mine, and the memories and feelings vanished. I blinked, trying to get my bearings and sort through all of the images and emotions I’d seen and felt at the same time.

I must have had a strange look on my face, because Rachel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. But I gave her a bright smile, paid for my food, and walked over to the table where my friends were sitting. Footsteps smacked on the floor, and Rory hurried up beside me.

“What was that about?” she hissed. “What did you do to my aunt?”

“Nothing,” I said. “She didn’t feel a thing.”

I didn’t add that I’d felt everything Rachel was experiencing at the moment, especially her last, strongest emotion—her surprise and happiness that Rory seemed to have a new friend. I wondered what she would think when she realized who I was—and that Rory and I weren’t exactly friends.

Rory gave me another suspicious look, but she sat down at the table with us. Nobody said anything, and we all dug into our food.

The bison cheeseburger was surprisingly good. Really, I couldn’t even tell it wasn’t regular old beef. The meat had a bit of a spicy red pepper seasoning, and the heat pleasantly warmed my mouth. The lettuce and other vegetables had a nice, fresh crunch to them, while the thick layer of mayonnaise on the grilled bun provided a bit of a cool contrast. The fries were hot and crispy, with just the right amount of bacon and melted cheese on them, and the ranch dipping sauce was the perfect blend of creamy tartness. The only thing that was disappointing was the fudge, which was satisfying, but not nearly as rich and sinfully decadent as what Grandma Frost made.

I was so busy stuffing my face that I didn’t notice the dirty looks coming our way—at least not immediately.

I was finishing the last bite of my fudge when a surge of emotion washed over me—anger. Hot, burning, sizzling anger. At first, I thought it was directed at me, that there was some Reaper in here, so I turned around in my seat, trying to see who was glaring at me and why. I spotted a group of guys staring at our table. It took me another minute to realize they were actually glaring at Rory—and they weren’t the only ones.

We were sitting at a table at the back of the dining hall, but everyone who walked by shot Rory a dirty look. I heard the mutters too.

“Reaper girl . . .”

“Can’t believe she came back for another semester . . .”

“Why doesn’t she just drop out . . .”

Rory also heard the angry whispers. Her shoulders tensed up, her knuckles went white around her fork, and her gaze flicked back and forth, as though she expected one of the other kids to attack her at any time.

Once again, I had a strange, sick sense of déjà vu. The whole thing reminded me of how the kids at Mythos had treated me a few weeks ago, when I’d been falsely accused of being a Reaper, when Vivian had blamed me for all the evil things she’d done—including killing some of our classmates.

Finally, the stares and mutters weren’t enough, and a couple of guys approached our table.

“Well, well, well, look who’s actually eating in the dining hall for a change,” one of the guys sneered.

“Well, well, well,” Rory sniped back. “Look who’s still failing English lit—and every other class. That would be you, Duke.”

Duke’s face turned a mottled red with anger. He was a tall guy with a thick, beefy build, the sort who would have played linebacker at my old public high school. He wasn’t carrying a weapon, but I got the vibe that he was a Viking from the way he kept cracking his knuckles, as though he was looking forward to driving them through Rory’s face. Vikings were strong and had a rep for using their fists to solve problems instead of weapons.

“Yeah, well,” he snarled. “I might not be as smart as you, but at least my parents aren’t Reapers. At least they didn’t go on a killing spree in the library. You can’t say the same about yours, though, can you?”

I froze. So did all of my friends. We glanced at each other, then at Rory. Her parents had been Reapers? They’d killed people? On campus?

Well, that would explain why the other students treated Rory like she was no better than the dirt under their boots.

Rory’s face was completely blank and closed off as she pushed her chair back and faced Duke. “I’ve told you before not to talk about my parents.”

Duke’s hands curled into fists. “I’ll talk about them however I want to. And you too, you Reaper bitch.”

Reaper bitch
.

Those were the same words that had been spray-painted on my dorm room door and walls more than once. They made me see red now, just like they had then. Because I’d learned something when I’d touched Rachel—that she and Rory weren’t Reapers any more than I was.

“Hey,” I said, pushing my chair back and getting to my feet, as well. “Leave her alone. She wasn’t doing anything to you.”

Duke looked at me, and he sneered again. “Who’s your friend, Rory? I haven’t seen her or any of these other losers around before.”

“This is Gwen,” Rory said in a loud voice, making sure all the kids at the nearby tables heard her. “My cousin. Her dad was a Forseti. My dad’s brother, as a matter of fact.”

Hatred flashed in Duke’s dark eyes. “Oh,” he sneered. “Another Forseti. So your dad was a Reaper too, huh?”

For a moment, the air left my lungs, my vision went dark, and white spots swam before my eyes. The world seemed to grind to a screeching halt before abruptly sputtering back into gear.

My dad had been—he’d been—my dad had been a
Reaper
?

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. It just—it just could not
be
.

Rory looked at me, a mixture of anger and pity in her eyes, and I knew it was true. Every awful word that Duke had said was true. Her parents had been Reapers—and so had my dad.

How long had he been a Reaper? Had he killed people? Had my mom known? Had Grandma Frost known? All of these questions slammed into my mind one after another, the force of them making me wobble on my feet.

“What’s the matter?” Duke taunted. “Don’t like hearing the truth about your horrible family?”

He stepped toward me, but Rory moved in front of me, blocking him. She lifted her chin and glared at him. Duke sneered at her, and his hand curled into a fist again, as though he was thinking about hitting her.

Another chair scraped back from the table, and Alexei moved in front of both of us.

“That’s enough,” he said in a chillingly quiet voice. “Walk away.”

“Yeah, dude,” Oliver said, moving to stand beside Alexei. “Get lost. Now.”

Daphne and Carson got to their feet, as well, and Duke realized he was outnumbered. Still, he glared at Rory like he’d love nothing more than to wade through my friends to get to her—and me too.

“Whatever,” he finally muttered. “She’s not worth it anyway. None of the Forsetis are.”

He stalked over to his friends, and they all sat down at their table and put their heads together. From the laughter, curses, and jeers, I knew they were talking about us—about my
dad
.

Suddenly, the dining hall seemed hot, small, and stuffy. I couldn’t breathe, and what air I did manage to draw in came right back out in a series of choked gasps. I reached down, fumbled for my messenger bag, and straightened up.

“Gwen?” Daphne asked, her black eyes full of concern.

I shook my head. “I just—I need to be alone for a few minutes. Okay?”

Alexei started to come with me, whether I wanted him to or not, but Oliver put a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay,” Oliver said. “Let her go.”

I hurried out of the dining hall without another word.

I wound up in the Library of Antiquities, just like I usually did back home whenever something was on my mind. Some new torture the Reapers had put me through, some horrible new secret I’d learned, some new way my heart had been broken once more.

I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going, so I was halfway down the main aisle before I spotted Ajax and Covington standing behind the checkout counter, talking. I didn’t want them to see me and wave me over, so I slipped into the stacks and headed up to the second level to Nike’s statue. I threw my messenger bag down and curled up in a ball on the floor at her feet.

Vic was sticking out of the top of the bag, and he opened his purplish eye and regarded me with a serious, pitying expression.

“I take it you heard all that in the dining hall?” I asked.

“I did. I’m sorry, Gwen.”

“Did you know? About my dad?”

Vic winced, telling me what I already suspected. He’d known this whole time that my dad had been a Reaper, and he’d never said a word to me—not one
word
. I wondered what else he knew that I didn’t, how many other secrets he’d been keeping to himself.

He opened his mouth. “But it’s not as bad as you think—”

“Shut up, Vic,” I muttered. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Vic stared at me a moment longer, then slowly closed his eye.

I didn’t bother raising my head and speaking to Nike. She wouldn’t answer me. Not now, not here. Besides, I didn’t want to talk about things. Not yet. Just when I thought I knew all there was to know about my family, something else like this popped up. I wondered how many more secrets I could take before I started screaming and never stopped—

A shoe scuffed on the floor behind me.

My head snapped around, and I stretched my hand out toward Vic, ready to draw the sword and defend myself against the Reaper that was no doubt sneaking up on me.

Even as I reached for the sword, I cursed myself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Gwen!
Ajax had told us to stick together, but I’d rushed off in a snit like a complete idiot, just like I always did, and some Reaper had seen this as an opportunity to try to kill me, probably the mysterious figure I’d noticed in the stacks earlier . . .

I blinked and stopped my hasty scramble, my arm stretched out in midair—because the balcony was empty. My gaze zoomed left and right, and up and down, but the scene didn’t change, and no Reapers erupted out of the shadows. I slowly lowered my hand. I kept looking around, peering at all of the logs, rocks, and statues, but no one was there. Still, I felt someone was watching me—a real, live someone and not just all the statues that had their heads turned in my direction.

I scooted around so that my back was pressed up against Nike’s feet and made sure Vic was within easy reach, just in case any Reapers appeared. Then, I went back to my brooding.

I hadn’t been sitting by the statue long, maybe five minutes, when boots scuffed on the floor again. I tensed, but this person wasn’t trying to hide her approach. She rounded the corner and stepped into view. She hesitated a moment before squaring her shoulders, walking over, and plopping down beside me.

“I thought I might find you here,” Rory said.

“Yay for you, Nancy Drew,” I muttered.

“Your goddess, huh?” she said, twisting her neck so she could look up at the statue.

“Yeah.”

We didn’t speak for a few moments. Right now, I
never
wanted to speak to her again. But once more, the questions bubbled up in my mind, and I couldn’t keep myself from wanting to know the answers, from wanting to know every last part and ugly truth of this deep, dark, dirty family secret that had been shoved out into the light for everyone to see—including me.

“You could have just told me,” I finally said, my voice cracking a little on the words.

She grimaced. “I know. I’m sorry about that. It’s just . . . it hurts, you know? It hurts so
much
.”

I did know, but it still took me a moment to gather the courage to ask my questions. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really. One day, I’m just a girl, going through my first semester at Mythos Academy, dealing with classes and professors and stuff. The next day, my parents are dead. Then, it comes out that my parents were Reapers, had always been Reapers, and that they were trying to steal a bunch of artifacts from the library when Covington caught them. But instead of surrendering, they tried to fight their way free and killed some kids before Covington managed to take them out.”

So that was why she didn’t like the librarian—he’d killed her parents. Yeah, they’d been Reapers, but he was still responsible for their deaths.

Rory sucked in a breath and finished her story. “And if all that’s not bad enough, I also find out that my parents had been secret Reaper assassins for years. The rest . . . well, you saw the rest in the dining hall.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s awful.”

She shrugged again, trying to pretend she didn’t care, trying to pretend it didn’t matter, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. “The funny thing is that my parents were always talking about how important it was for me to learn how to fight. To be a good Spartan so I could protect other people from Reapers. And then, they turn out to be Reapers themselves. And not just any Reapers—but some of the worst of the worst.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. I didn’t know what else to say. No words would make it better. Not for her—and not for me either.

Rory let out a bitter laugh. “And you know what the really twisted thing is? I still love them. They were my parents, and they were Reapers, but I still love them anyway. I still wish they were here with me instead of being dead. What kind of person does that make
me
?”

“Just a girl,” I said. “Just a girl.”

Rory picked at a loose thread on her jeans. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. If I hadn’t thought she would run away, I would have put my hand on hers and used my psychometry to show her that she wasn’t the only one who’d been betrayed, fooled, and hurt by the Reapers.

“And my dad?” I finally asked. “What do you know about him?”

She hesitated. “Not much. Just what my dad, Tyson, told me about him. Apparently, they had some kind of big fight when they were younger, and your dad took off. My dad never heard from him again, but he always seemed sad that he had lost his brother.”

I was guessing there was a lot more to the story than what she knew. I’d have to ask Grandma Frost.

“My dad . . . a Reaper.” The words tasted cold and bitter in my mouth. “It doesn’t seem possible. It doesn’t seem
real
.”

Rory laughed again, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Tell me about it.”

“But your aunt seems nice. She’s not a Reaper. And neither are you.”

Rory kept tugging at that loose thread on her jeans. “Yeah, Rachel’s great. She didn’t know about them being Reapers either, so she was just as clueless as I was. But word got out about them trying to steal the artifacts and killing those other students.”

“And now all the other kids take it out on you—they hate you for it.”

She shrugged. “I can handle it. I’m a Spartan.”

Her words made me smile. “I know a Spartan guy who would say the exact same thing if he were here. His name is Logan.”

Rory eyed me. “And why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he part of your adoring entourage?”

“It’s complicated.”

She snorted. “Isn’t it always?”

“You have no idea.”

We didn’t speak for a few moments. Finally, Rory turned to me again.

“So what’s your story? The real story? Because I gotta say, I’ve heard some strange stuff about you.”

I let out the same sort of harsh laugh that she had earlier. “Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it. One day, I’m just a girl going to public school who has no idea the mythological world even exists. Then, I have a freak-out with my magic, my mom gets murdered, and I get shipped off to Mythos Academy. I find out that I’m descended from a long line of Nike’s Champions and that I’m pretty much supposed to save the world from Loki. Only, I end up freeing Loki instead against my will, and now, I’ve got to figure out some way to stop him. Oh yeah, and the Reapers tried to put Loki’s soul into my boyfriend’s body, which made my boyfriend go all crazy, stab me in the chest, and almost kill me. Now, my boyfriend’s gone, but I still have nightmares about him trying to murder me.”

Rory let out a low whistle. “And I thought my life sucked.”

“Sucks isn’t a strong enough word,” I said. “Not by a long shot.”