“Even the Nemean prowlers?” Carson asked from in front of me.
“Even the prowlers,” Metis answered. “Although, keep in mind that while the Reapers have trained the creatures to kill, they still have free will in the end, just like we all do. There have been rare instances where prowlers, wolves, and other creatures have turned against the Reapers. Ultimately, it’s up to the creatures as to whom they serve and what they do. Even the gods themselves can’t force a person or creature to do something. We all have free will—we all make our own choices about the kinds of people we are and how we choose to live our lives.”
Free will? Whatever. The Fenrir wolf grinning in my book looked plenty evil to me, just like all the other monsters did. I didn’t care if it had free will or not.
Metis asked us to turn the page and started talking about the next mythological nightmare. Monsters might not be my favorite topic, but I listened to every word the professor said, and took pages of notes. When I’d first come to the academy, I’d hated myth-history, but now it was my favorite class. At the beginning of the semester I didn’t think that I had any connection to the warrior kids here. But now I knew that I did—and I wanted to be like them.
Maybe it was because my mom had been a police detective and had spent her life helping people before she’d died. Maybe it was because she and my Grandma Frost had both been Nike’s Champions before me. Or maybe it was just everything I’d seen and heard since coming to Mythos. But I wanted to be a real warrior like the other students were. I wanted to be as fierce, strong, and brave as they were, as my mom and grandma had been. I wanted to keep the world and everyone in it safe from Reapers and Loki and monsters.
I wanted to do Big Things with my Gypsy gift, even if I didn’t exactly know what those Big Things were just yet—or how I was even going to do them in the first place.
Class flew by, and it seemed like we’d only been talking a few minutes when the final bell of the day rang. I blinked and looked up from my notebook. All around me the other kids got to their feet, grabbed their books, and raced toward the door.
Carson threw his backpack over his shoulder and turned to look at me. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow out on the quad, when we all leave to go to the carnival.”
“Yep,” I said. “Bright and early in the freezing cold.”
The band geek gave me a shy smile and left the room.
I took my sweet time stuffing my things into my messenger bag, so that everyone else had left by the time I was done, leaving me alone with Metis. I walked over to the podium where the professor was sliding her own papers into a battered leather briefcase. She looked up at the squeak of my sneakers on the floor.
“Hello, Gwen.” Metis smiled at me. “How are you and Vic today?”
Like the other kids, I usually carried my own personal weapon with me during the day. It was just easier than having to walk all the way back to my dorm to get it before my fifth-period gym class. In my case, that weapon was Vic. The hilt of the silver sword stuck out of the top of my messenger bag. Vic’s eye was closed, and I knew he was sleeping. Vic had told me more than once that he found the sound of Metis’s soft voice quite soothing.
The professor knew all about Vic and the fact that the sword could talk because she was a Champion just like me. Metis served Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. She’d even showed me the weapon Athena had given her—a thick staff made out of a polished golden wood. All the Champions—good and bad—received a weapon from their respective god or goddess, and all of them were inscribed with some sort of saying relevant to that god or goddess. Only a Champion could read the words on her own weapon, though. Metis had once told me that the phrase “In wisdom, there is great strength” was carved into her staff, while Vic had his own saying etched into his blade—“Victory always.”
“We’re doing fine,” I said.
“And how is your training with Logan going?”
“Um, good. Just ... good.”
“Good” if you considered the fact that I still couldn’t survive more than a minute sparring with Logan. The Spartan had killed me fifteen times this morning before he’d finally taken pity on me and let me practice archery with Kenzie and Oliver. That, at least, I was getting a little better at. All I had to do was think of Daphne, and I could put the arrow into the center of the target every single time. I wondered if I could use my psychometry magic like that in other ways, as Daphne had suggested. I hadn’t tried it yet, though. I’d been a little distracted by almost getting killed twice yesterday.
“Can I help you, Gwen?” Metis asked. “Is there something on your mind?”
I opened my mouth to tell Metis about the SUV that had almost run me over and the fact that someone had shot an arrow at me in the Library of Antiquities last night—but nothing came out.
I don’t know why. I wanted to tell her what had happened. I should tell her. Metis was smart. She’d know what to do. She’d know how to help me.
But why can’t you help yourself? a snide little voice whispered in the back of my mind. You’re Nike’s Champion. You should be able to take care of yourself. Everyone else around here can.
It was true. Daphne had her Valkyrie strength and her awesome archery skills, and her magic would probably quicken and kick in any day now, giving her even more power, whatever it turned out to be. Logan, Kenzie, and Oliver had their mad Spartan weapons skills, and could kill Reapers with anything they picked up, no matter how harmless it actually was. Even Carson was better with a sword than I was, and he was the nicest, sweetest, gentlest guy at the academy.
The longer I was at Mythos, the more I wanted to be like them. Yeah, part of it was about fitting in and being something other than Gwen Frost, that freaky Gypsy girl. Part of it was also about being able to take care of myself, to defend myself against Reapers and monsters. But mostly I wanted to be the warrior that Nike thought I could be, the Champion that the goddess had chosen. I wanted to make my mom and my grandma and all the other Frost women who’d come before me proud.
“Gwen?” Metis asked again. “Are you okay?”
In that moment I made my decision. Yeah, maybe it was a little stupid, but I was going to keep my mouth shut about yesterday. I couldn’t run to Metis for help every single time I had a problem. If there was a Reaper after me, then I was going to figure out who it was and take care of him myself. I had a talking sword, I had some fighting skills, and most important, I had my Gypsy gift.
I’d figure the rest of it out as I went along, just like I always did.
I gave her my very best I’m-not-up-to-anything smile. “I’m fine. I just wanted to tell you how excited I am about the Winter Carnival.”
Metis frowned, like she didn’t really believe that was all I wanted to say. I gave the professor another bright smile and hurried out of the room before she could ask me any more questions.
Chapter 7
Early the next morning, Friday, I stood out on the main upper quad, shivering in the cold along with the other students. Classes had been canceled for the day, and the professors were busy herding everyone toward the buses, which had been pulled into the parking lot behind the gym. The buses would haul us a few mountains over to Powder, the ski resort where the Winter Carnival was being held. Then the weekend fun would begin. Yippee-skippee.
I pulled my purple plaid coat tighter around me and shifted on my feet, trying to stay warm. Next to me, Daphne talked to Carson about the slopes they should hit once they got to the resort. The Valkyrie had on a pink designer snowsuit and a matching toboggan with a poofy white ball dangling off the end of it. That hat would have looked ridiculous on me, but it made Daphne seem quirky and cute. And of course everything from her outfit to her purse to her lip gloss went perfectly with the expensive luggage at her feet. Sometimes I thought Daphne took the matchy-match look a little too far.
I’d stuffed my clothes for the weekend into an old gray duffel bag I’d dug out from the back of my closet. Jeans, hoodies, graphic T-shirts, swea
ters. My wardrobe was way more downscale than Daphne’s designer duds. I’d also brought along some of my favorite comic books, a stash of sugary snacks, and Vic—just in case the mystery Reaper tried to kill me again and I needed a sword before the weekend was through.
I wasn’t the only kid with a weapon. Most everyone had a sword or a dagger or two stuffed into their luggage. I could tell by the way the metal clink-clink-clink ed together as the bags were loaded onto the bus. At Mythos, weapons were just another kind of accessory—a status symbol that let everyone else know what kind of warrior you were, what kind of magic you had, and how powerful you were.
Finally, we shuffled to the front of the line and boarded the bus. It wasn’t your ordinary school bus. Oh, no. Nothing but the best would do for the rich kids at the academy. The bus was something a rock star would have, with plush, reclining seats and a flat-screen TV mounted above every third row. There was even a minibar in the very back, next to the restroom, although the profs onboard were making sure nobody was drinking anything stronger than soda—for now. I doubted the alcohol ban would last long, though, since I’d heard so many kids in the library talk about all the wild parties they planned to have before the weekend was over.
Daphne and Carson snagged two spots about halfway back on the bus, in one of the sections where four seats faced one another. They shared a quick kiss before Daphne pulled a map of the ski resort out of her oversize purse. The two of them bent their heads together and continued their previous discussion about which slopes they wanted to try out first.
I dropped into one of the seats facing them. We hadn’t even left yet and I already felt like a third wheel. I sighed. I liked Daphne and Carson together—I really did. They made a cute couple, and they were good for each other. Daphne brought Carson out of his shell, while the band geek calmed the Valkyrie’s quick temper. But seeing them together just reminded me of the fact that I didn’t have a boyfriend—just a mad, mad crush on a guy who didn’t like me back.
As if to prove my theory, Logan stepped onto the bus. The Spartan looked as scrumptious as ever in his black leather jacket, blue sweater, and faded jeans. For a moment I sat up straighter, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d see me, walk to the back, and take the seat next to mine. Yeah, I was really that pathetic.
Savannah boarded the bus right behind him, dashing my small, silly hope. Logan stuffed the Amazon’s bag into one of the overhead compartments, and then the two of them sat down together. I had a perfect view of them from my seat. Great. Just great.
I got up, opened the bin where I’d stashed my own stuff, and pulled a stack of comic books and the tin with the last of Grandma Frost’s chocolate-strawberry cookies out of my duffel bag. Then I plopped back down into my seat and resigned myself to reading about Wonder Woman, Batman, and other superheroes for the next two hours. Too bad the cookies wouldn’t last nearly that long.
The first hour of the trip passed quietly, since everyone was still trying to wake up and recover from being dragged out of bed so early. By the start of the second hour, the conversation picked up, the noise level got louder, and more and more people started going to the bar in the back of the bus to get a drink or a snack. I moved over to the seat by the window, so my fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush up against someone else’s. I didn’t want to flash on a guy walking by and see just how totally wasted he planned on getting this weekend.
I’d read about half of my comic books when Oliver dropped into the empty seat beside me.
“Hey, there, Gypsy girl,” Oliver said, grinning.
I eyed him, wondering what he could possibly want. The Spartan and I had never talked outside of weapons training—not even once. I didn’t know a lot about Oliver, just the things I’d overheard him talking to Logan and Kenzie about during our fighting sessions, but I doubted we had much in common. He loved gym class, and I did not. He knew how to use weapons, and I did not. He was a real bad-ass warrior, and I was not.
“Oliver,” I said, then stuck my nose back into my comic book.
I expected him to get up and head over to his seat next to Kenzie, but instead, Oliver leaned over and peered at the colorful pages.
“Whatcha reading?” Oliver said, stretching out his fingers, like he was going to pluck the book out of my hands.
“None of your business. And do not touch my comic book,” I snapped, moving it out of his reach. “I just got this issue last week, and I don’t want you or anyone else contaminating it.”
Oliver frowned. “Contaminate it? How could I do that?”
I sighed. I suppose I could have explained it to him, about how people touching and using objects was how they got emotions, images, and memories attached to them in the first place. But I just didn’t feel like it. All I wanted was to be left alone until the bus got to the ski resort. Especially since I could hear Savannah’s soft laughter, loud and clear, even though I was three rows back from her and Logan. The Amazon hadn’t quit giggling since we’d left Mythos.
“You could contaminate it because you’re you,” I said.
Oliver’s face tightened, and anger sparked in his green gaze. But I was angry too—at myself, mostly, because I couldn’t get rid of these stupid feelings I had for Logan, even though he was sitting less than fifteen feet away, smiling at another girl.
As if on cue, Savannah chose that moment to let out another flirty giggle. It took me a moment to unclench my jaw.
“Why did you even sit down here?” I snapped again at the Spartan. “Because I know it wasn’t just to talk to me. I touched your notebook, remember? I know you’ve got the hots for somebody at Mythos, and I know it’s definitely not me. So do us both a favor and don’t waste your time flirting with me or whatever you’re trying to do.”
By this point, Daphne and Carson had stopped talking and were staring at Oliver and me with open mouths.
For a moment hurt filled Oliver’s eyes—along with something that looked like worry. I frowned. Why would the Spartan be worried? I wasn’t saying anything we both didn’t already know. Before I could figure out what was wrong with him, Oliver got to his feet, stormed up the aisle, and dropped into his seat next to Kenzie. He said something to Kenzie, and they both turned around and gave me dirty looks.
I glared right back at them. I didn’t care if they were Logan’s friends or not, they were being total jerks right now. Okay, okay, so maybe I was being bitchy myself, but Oliver had started it by sitting down and bugging me in the first place.
“What was that all about?” Daphne whispered. “Why were you so mean to him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
Three rows ahead of me, Savannah let out another giggle and laid her head on Logan’s shoulder. I raised up my comic book, so I wouldn’t have to look at them—and I didn’t for the rest of the ride.
The Mythos Academy buses reached the resort a little after nine that morning. Despite the fact that I hadn’t really wanted to come, I found myself staring out the window with all the other kids.
The Powder ski resort definitely lived up to its name. The ground had still been bare at the academy, but up here, it was all white. Snow stretched out in all directions, from the ten-foot-high drifts that ringed the parking lot to the ski runs on the hillsides to the jagged tip of the mountain and the others that surrounded it. The morning sun hit the snow just so, making it blaze like a carpet of diamonds that had been rolled over the entire mountain. Everything just sparkled.
Daphne, Carson, and I grabbed our luggage and got off the bus, along with everyone else. We had to wait around for a few minutes while the other buses unloaded, which gave me plenty of time to look around. We stood at the base of the mountain, with the various slopes rising like bigger and bigger ocean waves above us until they crashed into the dazzling blue of the sky. Ski lifts circled the steep, slick hills, like merry-go-rounds, hauling people up the mountain and back down again.
And that was just what I could see on this side of the complex. Do
wn here, a variety of shops selling everything from hot chocolate to snowsuits to mountain crafts clustered together in a charming village. All of the buildings had an old-world, alpine look to them, with sharp, sloping roofs; bright, candy-colored paint; and cute, gingerbread trim. They’d all been decorated for Christmas, and thick boughs of holly, red velvet ribbons, and strings of twinkling lights stretched from one shop to the next. The whole village looked like a holiday painting. I half expected to see a Saint Bernard lope by, a barrel of whiskey attached to its neck, to complete the picture-postcard scene.
The biggest building by far was the resort hotel itself, which loomed over everything. The enormous thirteen-story structure looked like it had been carved out of the mountainside one brick at a time. The light gray stone blended in with the rest of the rugged landscape, while the long, narrow windows reflected the dazzling sparkle of the snow.
Apparently, though, the hotel wasn’t quite big enough, because I saw people moving back and forth in a construction area attached to the right wing. Saws, drills, and more whined, and hoarse shouts drifted over to us. I hoped Daphne and I didn’t get stuck in a room on that side of the resort with all the noise.
Finally, the professors got everyone rounded up and led us inside the hotel, which was in the center of the whole Powder complex. When I’d first come to Mythos, I thought the academy was totally pretentious, snobby, and froufrou with its suits of armor and old, expensive paintings. But this place put the academy to shame.
Everything about the hotel was massive, from the stone fireplace that took up one entire wall to the thick wooden beams that supported the roof to the diamond-shaped skylights set into the ceiling. An enormous chandelier made out of curved animal horns hung in the center of the lobby, while plush leather chairs and couches were scattered throughout the room, inviting folks to sit, chat, and feel the heat of the crackling fire. Bits of gold and silver leaf glinted here and there among the gray stone, while the hardwood floors gleamed like sheets of bronze underfoot. It was the nicest, fanciest, most expensive place I’d ever been to.
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