Dark Frost

by Jennifer Estep

Page 3

 

  We scrambled up onto the dais and around to the far side. Daphne took up a position between the knight and the centurion, looking like another proud figure standing there, the golden arrow nocked and ready in the onyx bow. Carson moved to her left, while I stood on her right, the two of us flanking and protecting our archer, just like Coach Ajax had taught us to during all the mock fights we'd had in gym class. Across the room, Logan slid behind the wax Viking.

  "We'll be okay, right?" Carson said, fear making his eyes seem more black than brown behind his glasses.

  "Of course, we will," I said, trying to make my voice light. "Just think how jealous all the other kids will be when they hear that we took on a group of Reapers-and won. "

  Carson tried to smile at my lame pep talk, but his lips twisted into a grimace instead. I knew how he felt. After what I'd just seen, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to smile again. There would be no winning. Not today. Not with the other kids outside injured.

  Not with so many dead.

  Beside us, Daphne remained silent, although pink sparks snapped all around her now, cracking like fireworks, letting Carson and me know she was just as scared as we were. The Valkyrie stared at me a moment, then at the band geek, before turning her attention to the open doorway. Carson gripped his staff and pushed his glasses up his nose, while I tightened my hold on Vic.

  I looked at Logan. Even from across the room, I could see the anticipation in his face. The emotion made his eyes glitter like ice. The Spartan was ready for the Reapers, ready to put his fighting skills to the test. Logan gave me a thumbs-up. His certainty in himself, in us, and in what we were about to do, made my stomach unclench the tiniest bit.

  We hunkered down and waited for the Reapers to come.

  Less than a minute later, the first Reaper stepped into the weapons room. The figure wore a black robe over his clothes and heavy black boots, but I thought it was a man, given how tall, thick, and strong his body looked.

  But the most frightening thing about him was the mask.

  A rubber mask covered the Reaper's face from his forehead all the way down to his neck, completely hiding his features. That was scary enough, but it took me a second to realize that the mask actually formed a specific, terrifying shape-the face of the evil god Loki.

  Once upon a time, when the other gods had first imprisoned Loki for his many crimes, they'd chained him up beneath a giant snake that had continually dripped venom onto his face, causing him unimaginable pain. The venom had eaten away at the handsome god's features, melting them into something twisted, ugly, and utterly grotesque. That was the face the Reaper proudly sported over his own, and the sight chilled me to the bone-even more so than the bloody sword dangling from his hand.

  One by one, the Reapers stepped into the room, until seven of them clustered near the doorway. Seven of them, four of us. Not the best odds, but not terrible either, considering it had looked like there had been close to twenty armed Reapers in the main part of the coliseum. Besides, we had Logan. With his fighting skills, the Spartan was worth a dozen Reapers.

  I crouched behind the stuffed horse, my heart pounding, a tight grip on Vic, waiting for more of them to file into the room, but none did. I wondered what the other Reapers were doing, but I wasn't going to complain. I was just happy they hadn't all decided to come in here at once. We would have been killed for sure. Now, at least we had a fighting chance.

  One of the Reapers stepped forward. "Spread out. "

  I blinked. That-that was a girl's voice. I shouldn't have been surprised, since Reapers could be anyone, from parents to teachers to students and everyone in between. The two Reapers that I'd battled before had been kids my own age. Still, something about the low, throaty voice bothered me. It almost sounded . . . familiar. Like I'd heard it somewhere before-

  "Take anything that looks interesting or that has magic attached to it," she said.

  I frowned. I'd thought the Reapers might have seen us standing in the doorway, that maybe that was the reason they'd headed in this direction, but it sounded like they'd just come in here looking for artifacts.

  "And start searching for the Helheim Dagger," the girl continued. "They could have moved it here, according to our calculations. "

  My breath caught in my throat. The Helheim Dagger? How did she know about that? And why did she think it was here in the museum? My mind started churning. The girl barked out a few more orders, but I wasn't really listening to her words anymore. Instead, I concentrated on her voice, comparing it to another one-the voice I'd heard the night my mom had died.

  The voice of my mom's murderer.

  Where's the dagger? Where did you hide it? . . . Fool. There's no place you can hide it that we won't find it. It's only a matter of time. . . . The sneering voice rang in my head, the words playing over and over again.

  Thanks to my psychometry magic, I never forgot anything I saw, heard, or felt when I touched an object. Not only that, but I could call up those memories whenever I wanted to and examine them the way someone might look at scenes on her favorite DVD. I suppose it was my own version of a photographic memory, only with perfect playback every single time.

  A few weeks ago, my mentor, Professor Aurora Metis, had asked me to use my Gypsy gift on a Reaper boy named Preston Ashton. I got vivid enough vibes from objects, but I could get major whammies, major, major flashes of feeling from touching another person. I could see everything a person had ever done, from childhood to old age, all the feelings he kept locked away in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, and all the secrets he so desperately wanted to hide from everyone-even himself.

  Professor Metis had wanted to know what Preston and his Reaper friends might be planning, what their next move might be against the Pantheon. So I'd taken Preston's hand in mine and used my Gypsy gift to delve into his mind.

  I'd just never expected to see my own mom's murder.

  For months I'd thought that my mom had been killed by a drunk driver coming home from work one night, but looking into Preston's mind had shown me what had really happened. How Preston had been there. How he'd caused the accident by ramming his SUV into my mom's car. How he'd done so on the orders of a mysterious Reaper girl-a girl who was Loki's Champion and was searching for the Helheim Dagger that my mom had hidden years ago. And then, finally, how the Reaper girl had plunged her sword into my mom's heart, killing her.

  The same Reaper girl who was standing in front of me right now.

  The awful pain of that moment, of reliving my mom's murder, knifed through my heart, splintering it into a thousand broken, bloody shards. I let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. But along with the pain came anger-more anger than I'd ever felt before. The rage quickly swallowed the pain, burning away everything else except my need for revenge.

  "Gwen?" Daphne whispered, sensing the change in me. "What's wrong?"

  For a moment, I couldn't speak; I couldn't move; I couldn't even think. There was nothing but the rage that filled every cell of my body. Finally, I forced the words out through clenched teeth.

  "It's her," I muttered. "The Reaper girl. Loki's Champion. That's her right there. "

  The girl who killed my mom.

  "Hey," one of the other Reapers said, staring down at the glass that littered the floor. "Why are all the cases in here smashed already-"

  "Now, Daphne!" I screamed. "Now!"

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Daphne rose up from her spot behind the stuffed horse, already drawing back her golden arrow and lining up her shot, aiming for the other girl. But the Reaper saw what she was doing, grabbed the man next to her, and shoved him in front of her, using him as a human shield. Daphne let go of her bowstrings.

  Thwang!

  My best friend's aim was true, but the arrow zoomed into the man's heart instead of the Reaper girl's.

  A Valkyrie, I thought, making a mental note in the
back of my mind. The Reaper girl had to be a Valkyrie, had to have a Valkyrie's superstrength, to shove a grown man around like he weighed nothing.

  Beside me, a puff of golden smoke filled the air, and another arrow appeared in the onyx quiver strapped to Daphne's back. My friend had been right-that was wicked cool. Daphne saw me staring at her. She nodded, reached back, and grabbed the arrow.

  "Kill them!" the Reaper girl bellowed over the noise of the still-blaring alarms. "Kill them all!"

  The other Reapers didn't hesitate. Five of them charged forward while the Reaper girl stayed where she was. Two of the Reapers raced by the wax Viking.

  With a loud battle cry, Logan leaped out from his hiding spot and rammed his sword into the Reaper closest to him, wounding his enemy. For a moment, there was mass confusion, before those two turned to fight Logan; the other three hurried in our direction, one going right and the last two going left.

  Carson and I stepped out from behind the stuffed horse to meet them, still keeping Daphne in between us. She put an arrow in one of the guys to the left, felling him just before he reached Carson. That was all that I saw before the Reaper on my side of the dais attacked.

  Swipe-swipe-swipe.

  The Reaper swung his sword at my head, but I parried his blows. I hadn't been going to Mythos Academy for very long, and I hadn't had the lifelong weapons training the other kids had had, but I'd gotten a crash course in learning how to stay alive these last few months. The Reaper raised his sword for another strike, but I ducked behind the figure of the Roman centurion, putting it between us. The Reaper wasn't quite quick enough to pull his blow, and his sword stuck in the wax that made up the Roman's chest. He frantically tugged on his weapon, trying to free it for another strike at me.

  I didn't hesitate. It was kill or be killed, and if the situation had been reversed, the Reaper would have done the same to me. Still, that knowledge, that cold logic, didn't make me feel any better as I darted forward and shoved Vic into the Reaper's chest with all my strength. The Reaper screamed and clawed at the silver blade, trying to rip Vic out of my hands. I tightened my grip, yanked the sword out, then plunged it into his stomach. The Reaper screamed again and stumbled back. He sprawled to a stop on the floor below the dais, and he didn't get back up.

  "Nicely done, Gwen!" Vic shouted, his mouth moving underneath my sweaty hand.

  "Shut up, Vic!" I screamed back at him.

  On the other side of the dais, Carson battled another Reaper, parrying the Reaper's sword with the staff he'd grabbed earlier. Daphne stood a few feet behind him, her bow up and ready, just waiting to put an arrow into the Reaper as soon as she got a clear shot. Across the room, Logan had killed the Reaper he'd stabbed before and was battling the second one.

  My head whipped around to the seventh and final Reaper-the girl who'd murdered my mom. She stood in the same spot as before, a long, curved sword in her black-gloved hand. She stared at me, and through the slits in her mask, I saw the faintest glint of her eyes-and the spark of red that flashed in their depths. The angry, hate-filled flicker burned like a match underneath the twisted rubber covering her face.

  "Well, well, well," the Reaper girl hissed. "If it isn't Nike's Champion, slinging a sword like she actually knows how to use it. I was hoping I might run into you here. "

  Her words made my stomach twist with fear, but I pushed the feeling aside. I knew the Reaper girl wanted to kill me. She'd threatened to do so in the memory I had of her stabbing my mom. I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised that she knew who I was and what I looked like. Professor Metis had once told me that Champions could recognize other Champions, that we were inevitably drawn to each other, attracting and repelling like magnets.

  "Yeah, it's me. Gwen Frost," I snapped. "Nike's Champion in the flesh. I know what you did to my mom. "

  The girl threw back her head and laughed. She just-laughed. Low, long, and loud. Like it was funny that she'd killed my mom in cold blood. Like it was the most hysterical thing ever that she and her Reaper friends had just done the same thing to a museum full of innocent people.

  "Well, I should certainly hope so," she said. "Killing your weak, sniveling mother was the most fun I've had in ages. "

  Rage once again filled my heart, blocking out everything else. All my questions, all my worries, all my fears. There was only me and her and my desire for revenge, this burning, burning need I had to make her pay, to make her suffer for taking my mom away from me.

  With a roar, I leaped off the dais, raised my sword, and rushed forward-and the Reaper girl stepped up to meet me.

  Chapter 3

  I swung Vic in a vicious arc at the Reaper girl, trying to separate her head from her shoulders with one blow, trying to avenge my mom with one quick strike, trying to do something, anything to ease this intense ache in my heart.

  It didn't work.

  She easily blocked my attack and let out another mocking laugh. "Is that the best you can do, Gypsy? Pathetic. No wonder the Pantheon is doomed to fail, with you as Nike's Champion. "

  Then, the Reaper girl snapped up her gloved hand and hit me in the face. Yep, I thought, staggering back as pain exploded in my jaw. Definitely a Valkyrie with a punch like that.

  I barely had time to blink the flashing stars out of my eyes before the Reaper girl came at me with her own sword. I lurched to one side, just managing to get out of the way of the whistling blade. The weapon stuck in the wooden base of one of the glass artifact cases I'd smashed. The sudden, jarring stop made the Reaper girl lose her grip on her weapon and stumble away.

  Eyes wide, I stared down at the other girl's sword, which was a foot away from where my head had been a second before. Strange symbols gleamed on the surface of the blade, just below the hilt, each one of them outlined in the blackening blood that already coated the sword there.