I didn’t know why Grandma was keeping secrets from me, but she loved me and I loved her. It had always just been me, my mom, and Grandma Frost. My dad had died before I could even start to remember him, and we didn’t have any other family that I knew of. With my mom gone, Grandma was all that I had. I didn’t want to fight with Grandma—ever. Especially not over something as stupid as Mythos Academy.
“Anyway, I don’t think you should be worried,” I said, changing the subject and trying to reassure her at the same time. “Professor Metis and the others increased the magical security on campus. Besides, whoever killed Jasmine is probably long gone, despite what I think. Nobody else has gotten hurt, as far as I know, and nothing else has been stolen from the library.”
I didn’t mention what had happened outside the library last night. It wasn’t like the falling statue had been directed at me or anything. Even if maybe I couldn’t say the same thing about the Nemean prowler. But it was dead, vanished in a puff of smoke, and I wasn’t, and that was all that really mattered.
Grandma Frost looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she shook her head and the moment passed. “I’m sure you’re right, pumpkin.”
“And they put more security on the dorms, too,” I said, still hoping to ease her mind. “Which is where I’ll be spending the night.”
“You’re not going to the dance then? It sounded like a big deal in the newsletter.”
I shrugged. “It’s just the homecoming dance. They’re going to crown a king and queen in every class, and there’ll be music and dancing and stuff. Just like at my old school.”
I didn’t say anything about the ritual that I’d heard the other kids talk about, the harvest blessing or whatever it really was.
“So why aren’t you going?” Grandma asked. “You used to love getting dressed up for things like that before—”
She cut off her words, but we both knew what she’d been about to say. Before your mom died.
I shrugged again. “For one thing, I don’t have a date. No one invited me. I don’t want to go by myself and look like a total loser.”
“Why not?” Grandma Frost asked. “You do lots of things by yourself. You always have.”
“Yeah, but nothing like this,” I said. “Nothing—”
This time, I bit off my words, but I didn’t fool Grandma. She knew exactly what I’d been about to say.
“Nothing fun,” she finished in a quiet voice.
Grandma Frost looked at me, her violet eyes soft and sad in her face. “It’s okay for you to have fun again, Gwen. Your mom wouldn’t want you to sit at home every night crying over her. She’d want you to go to the dance and have a good time, even if you didn’t have a date. She’d want you to have as much fun as you could, as often as you could. Before—”
She cut off her words, and for a moment her whole body tensed. Her rings scraped together as her hands tightened into fists, and the coins on the edges of her scarves jangled together in harsh discord. Then, Grandma Frost realized that I was staring at her, and she forced herself to relax. Her hands unclenched, and the coins took on a sweeter, tinkling note.
“Before, well, before you’re all grown up,” she finished. “That’s what your mom would have wanted. For you to go to the dance and have a wonderful time.”
I knew that she would. Grace Frost would have wanted me to do exactly that. I bit my lip and looked away from Grandma’s knowing gaze.
“It just doesn’t feel ... right,” I said. “That I’m alive, and she’s not. That she’ll never do anything fun again. That I’ll never see her smile or hear her laugh again.”
Grandma reached over and took my hand. I felt the soft warmth of her love envelop me, the way that it always did. But this time, I felt her sadness, too, an ache so sharp and deep and fierce that it seemed like a sword slicing my heart in two. Sometimes, I forgot that Grandma had lost someone, too. My mom’s death had hurt her just as much as it had me.
“I know it doesn’t feel right, pumpkin. But your mom’s death wasn’t your fault. Life has gone on, whether you’ve wanted it to or not. I think that it’s about time that you actually started enjoying it again, don’t you? Even if it’s just a little bit?”
I sighed, all the energy draining out of my body. “I guess. But it’s just so hard, you know? I’ve been so ... angry, and going to Mythos ... I just don’t fit in there. I don’t know why I can’t just switch back to my old school. I’m just not special like the other kids are.”
“You’re at that academy for a reason,” Grandma Frost replied, an ominous note creeping back into her voice. “You’ll find your own place there sooner or later. As for your mom, she’s gone, but she wouldn’t want you to mope around. She’d want you to get out and live and do everything that teenagers are supposed to do.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Like come home drunk and high on pot after I have unprotected sex with my boyfriend behind the bleachers at the homecoming dance?”
Grandma’s eyes narrowed, but she still grinned at me. “Well, everything except that. But you know what I mean. Now, I want you to go to that dance and have fun. Or at least promise me that you’ll think about it.”
I couldn’t say no to her, but I also couldn’t let go of my guilt, hurt, and anger long enough to say yes either. “Okay. I’ll think about going. But no promises.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear, pumpkin.”
Grandma kissed me on the forehead, then got up and started putting the rest of the cooling cookies into a tin so I could take them back to the academy with me.
I just sat there at the table, thinking about everything that Grandma had said and wondering if maybe it was time to get on with my life—and have a little fun.
Whether I really felt like it or not.
Chapter 16
Once Grandma Frost packed up the cookies, I slipped the tin into my messenger bag, got on the bus, and rode back up to Mythos Academy.
The quad was almost deserted by this point, as most of the students had retreated to their dorm rooms to get ready for the homecoming dance. Normally, I would have enjoyed the silence and watching the squirrels hop from branch to branch in the trees that towered over the lush lawn. But it was like the whole academy had suddenly turned into a ghost town. It was too empty, too quiet, especially for a school where one of the students had been murdered a few days ago. Once again, I felt like all the eyes on all the statues on all the buildings were looking down at me, watching my every move. I shivered, stuck my hands into my gray hoodie pockets, and hurried on.
The Library of Antiquities wasn’t any better. Not a single student sat at the tables in the main space in front of the checkout counter. No professors either. Nobody was even manning the snack cart this afternoon, and most of the lights had already been turned off in the maze of glass offices in the center of the library.
I couldn’t help but look to my left at the spot where the Bowl of Tears had been—and where Jasmine had been murdered. There was nothing left to see, of course, just like there hadn’t been the last time that I’d been in here the day after her death. The blood, body, and Bowl of Tears were all long gone. Still, it felt like there was a watchful silence in the spot, like there was some kind of invisible force sitting there just waiting for something to happen.
Like, say, maybe a Gypsy girl to walk by so the big, bad monster could leap up out of the floor or wherever it was hiding and grab her. I shivered again. Okay, so maybe all that was just my overactive imagination at work, but right now just looking at the place where Jasmine had been killed seriously creeped me out.
My violet eyes flicked back to the dark offices. Maybe if Nickamedes wasn’t here, I could just leave and forget about working my shift—
Something moved off to the right, heading quickly in my direction. I stifled a scream and turned ...
To see Nickamedes come striding out of the stacks, several large, heavy books in his hands.
I leaned against the nearest table and sighed, my h
and going up to my heart, as if I could somehow slow it back down to its normal speed just by touching my chest. Nickamedes’s black brows drew together, pinching the rest of his face.
“Is something wrong, Gwendolyn?” Nickamedes said in his arch tone, putting the books down onto another table. “You’re looking a little pale, even for you.”
He was one to talk. Nickamedes had skin so white that he could have passed for a vampire, if they actually existed. Maybe they did. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
Nickamedes’s blue eyes checked the clock mounted behind the counter. I sighed. I knew what was coming.
“You’re ten minutes late,” the librarian sniffed. “Again.”
My previous unease vanished, replaced, as always, by annoyance. How could anyone be that prissy all the time?
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad,” I muttered. “It’s not like there’s anyone in here besides the two of us.”
Nickamedes’s gaze sharpened. “What was that, Gwendolyn?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Well then,” Nickamedes replied. “I think it’s time that you get to work. I’ve got several dozen books that need shelving before we close for the night.”
He pointed over to the checkout counter, where three metal carts crammed with books sat. I just sighed again. So much for leaving early.
For the next hour I pushed the heavy, squeaky carts back and forth through the library, putting all the books back into their proper places in the stacks. And, of course, every single cart had a loose wheel that pulled either this way or that, which meant that I had to wrestle with them every time I tried to move the carts down the aisles.
Eventually, my path took me past The Case, as I had come to think of it—the one with the strange sword inside it. I should have just shoved my squeaky cart right on past it, but I found myself stopping to stare down at the weapon again.
It looked the same as always—a long blade made out of silver metal. Maybe it was just me and all the weirdness that had been going on the past few days, but the man’s face seemed even more pronounced in the hilt than ever before, as if he was an actual person who just happened to be resting his cheek against the metal. I half-expected the eye on the hilt to pop open and glare at me again. I held my breath, but that didn’t happen.
Still, for some reason, the sword made me think about all the myths that my mom had read to me when I was a kid. She’d never told me any fairy tales, just myths, which I’d always thought was kind of weird. Maybe my mom had known something that I hadn’t—like the fact that I’d wind up at Mythos someday—but she’d always insisted on reading myths to me. The stories where the hero always knew the answer to a tricky riddle or figured out how to vanquish the big, bad unbeatable monster. Like all it would take would be the right person touching the sword in front of me and Stuff Would Happen, just like it always did in the myths.
I was suddenly aware of this weird charge in the air, like static electricity slowly building and building around me. My palms itched, and I had a sudden urge to open The Case and pick up the sword. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I actually knew how to use the weapon or anything. Not like Logan Quinn. Still, something made me want to pick it up. It was almost like I needed to pick it up. Mesmerized, my fingers stretched out toward The Case—
“Gwendolyn!” Nickamedes’s voice boomed through the library, echoing up to the ceiling and back down again. “You’ve got five minutes to finish shelving those books. Hurry up!”
Startled, I snapped out of my trance, dropped my hand, and backed away from The Case. What had I been thinking? I didn’t know whose sword that was or what kind of psycho-killer vibes might be attached to it. The last thing I needed to do tonight was touch something and have another screaming fit, thanks to my psychometry. Geez, Gwen. Pull yourself together.
“Gwendolyn!” Nickamedes shouted again.
I rolled my eyes, walked back over to the cart, and steered it farther down the aisle. Still, for some reason, I turned around and gave the sword one more longing glance before I rounded the corner and it disappeared from sight.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself standing outside Valhalla Hall, staring up at the gray stone building and the ivy that wrapped around it from top to bottom. Only this time, instead of sneaking in to steal Jasmine’s laptop, I was actually here as an invited guest. Weird, how things could change in the space of a few days.
A Valkyrie I recognized as a third-year student was on her way out, so I was able to step inside without having to hit the intercom button by the front door and ask Daphne to buzz me in.
I walked into the same living room that I’d been in before, the one with all the recliners, couches, and TVs. It was after six now, and some of the other girls had already come down to the common room to wait for their dates, since the dance started at seven. They all perched carefully on the edges of their chairs, careful not to wrinkle their dresses, as they eyed each other and gossiped.
Everyone had seriously glammed up for the occasion, with long, slinky, glittery dresses that I could tell were wicked expensive and jewelry that sparkled too much not to be real. No rhinestones here at Mythos, that was for sure. Everyone’s hair was also done just so, their makeup was picture-perfect, and their shoes, purses, and cell phones had all been color-coordinated to go with their gowns. It was all very matchy-matchy.
I stared out at the sea of diamonds, sequins, and glossy pouty lips. I hadn’t thought the homecoming dance would be this formal. This was like all the proms at my old school rolled into one—times ten. It was just ... dazzling. It took me a few seconds to quit blinking and staring at all the shiny objects.
A few of the girls looked at me, but once they saw that I wasn’t dressed up for the dance and thus they couldn’t critique who and what I was wearing, they turned back to their friends. I put my head down, hurried through the room, and headed up the steps.
And almost ran right into Morgan McDougall.
The Valkyrie was coming down the stairs just as I was going up. Morgan looked gorgeous and totally slutty at the same time. Her skintight gown matched the deep black of her hair, while smoky shadow rimmed her hazel eyes. Her lips were a crimson heart in her pretty face. The front of her dress had some sort of wire in it that pushed her boobs up to impressive heights, while the slit in the leg almost went all the way up to the promised land. I’m sure Samson Sorensen would approve of it—and so would every other guy at the dance.
Two other girls—Morgan’s usual entourage—surrounded her, looking just as glitzy as she did, although not quite as slutty. The three of them had stopped a couple of steps up from the bottom, and their conversation drifted down to me.
“Of course I’m going to be the homecoming queen of the second-year class,” Morgan said in a loud, proud voice. “Professor Metis told me as much during myth-history when she said that the other profs had decided to crown an alternate winner instead of Jasmine. They didn’t want to bring everyone down by mentioning her tonight. And, of course, Samson’s going to be homecoming king. It’s only fitting, since he’s my date. Tonight is going to be perfect and just the way it was always meant to be.”
The two Valkyries nodded their heads, agreeing with everything she said. Even though Jasmine, their previous fearless leader, had only been dead a few days.
Morgan tossed her hair back over her shoulder, struck a model pose, and then slinked down the last few steps, ready to go claim her homecoming crown, her new boyfriend, and her rightful place as the new queen of Mythos Academy. The Valkyrie walked past me like she didn’t even notice me standing on the first step. Maybe she didn’t. I imagined it was hard for Morgan to see anything but her own perfection.
“Aren’t you even sorry that she’s dead?” I called out.
I’d never spoken to Morgan before, and I certainly had no real reason to talk to her now. But the image of Jasmine lying on the library floor, sprawled across the sticky puddles of her own blood, flashed
through my mind, and the words came out before I could stop them.
Morgan turned around to stare at me, along with her two Valkyrie followers. “Are you talking to me?”
“Of course I’m talking to you, Morgan. You were Jasmine’s best friend. Aren’t you sorry that she’s dead? Even just a little bit?”
Morgan frowned at me, her red lips turning down into a perfect pout. “Well, of course I’m sorry. I mean, she was my best friend and all, and I’d known her for, like, ever. But just because she’s dead doesn’t mean that we all have to act like we are, too. If you had known Jasmine, you’d realize that’s what she would have wanted. She would have wanted us to pull together, to go to the dance and have fun without her.”
It sounded like some little speech that Morgan had rehearsed in front of the mirror while she was putting on her lipstick. Some pat little answer that she could just pull out and use like an emotional stun gun if anyone else asked her the same question that I had. Of course, it was also more or less the same thing that my Grandma Frost had told me, but at least I knew she meant it. Morgan? Probably not.
I rolled my eyes. I was willing to bet that I knew Jasmine a lot better than Morgan ever had. Morgan hadn’t even realized that Jasmine knew that she was sleeping with Samson behind Jasmine’s back. But I did, thanks to the flashes that I’d gotten off the picture that I’d dug out of Jasmine’s trash. With best friends like Morgan, who needed enemies?
But I didn’t say anything. There was no use trying to tell Morgan any of that. Girls like her never listened to freaks like me.
Morgan gave me a haughty, superior look, as though she’d just won some kind of war of words with her quick answer. Then, she turned and strutted out of the dorm on her black stilettos, with her two new BFFs trailing along behind her.
I shook my head and went up the stairs to the second floor, where Daphne’s room was. I knocked once on the door, and, a moment later, the Valkyrie threw it open.
Daphne had already put on her dress—a pink princess ball gown with tiny spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a poofy skirt dusted with glittering pink sequins. She’d twisted her blond hair up into a sleek bun on top of her head, and her pink lip gloss matched her dress perfectly. The Valkyrie looked like she’d just stepped out of a Disney movie. I half expected singing birds and animated mice to come scurrying out of her room, pleased by their work for the night.
Jennifer Estep Bundle Page 20
