Touch of Frost (27 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Estep

BOOK: Touch of Frost
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Vic had opened his twilight-colored eye again and was studying me intently. Well, as intently as he could with only the one eye.
“You did okay tonight, for a bloody rookie,” the sword said, his mouth moving under my hand and tickling my palm. “Although you really should get your Spartan friend to show you a few things. Because he has the potential to be a
real
warrior.”
“Later, Vic,” I said. “Much, much later.”
He seemed to nod. “Well then, by your leave, I think I’ll take a little nap. All this excitement has worn me out. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”
“Of course not,” I said in a kind voice. “You take your nap, Vic. We can talk about everything else later.”
I’d scarcely finished saying the words before the eye snapped shut again. I might have only imagined it, but it felt like the part of the hilt that was Vic’s mouth curved into a soft smile.
I was about to lower the sword and leave the library when something shimmered on the blade itself, above Vic’s face and the rest of the hilt. I held the sword up to the light, turning it this way and that, so I could see what had caught my eye.
It was the symbols that I’d seen before on the blade, the faint letters that I hadn’t quite been able to make out. Now, they glowed with a cold, silver fire, and, for the first time, I could clearly read the words that had been carved into the sword’s blade—
Victory Always.
Of course. Nike was the Greek goddess of victory, and this was her sword.
And now, it was mine, given to me by the goddess herself to help me be her Champion.
I only hoped that I was worthy of Vic and the strange, unwavering faith that Nike seemed to have in me.
Chapter 24
 
What happened at the Library of Antiquities the night of the homecoming dance was the talk of Mythos Academy for the next week.
But not in the way that I expected.
Even though she didn’t seem to remember anything, Morgan McDougall still managed to take credit for everything, from thwarting Jasmine to destroying the Bowl of Tears to killing the Nemean prowler. It was like Logan and I hadn’t even been there and she’d saved everyone at the academy from a fate worse than death.
Not all of the kids believed her, though, and wild rumors spread as fast as people could text them. Everything from how a group of Reapers had planted a magic bomb on campus to drunk kids performing a crazy ritual to Jasmine coming back from the dead and destroying the library because she was pissed that she hadn’t been crowned homecoming queen before she’d been murdered. The last one was a little truer than anyone knew.
I kept my head down through the whole mess. Something told me that the fewer people who knew that I’d been involved in what had happened, the better. I still remembered the glowing red eyes that had been swirling around in the cloud of magic when I’d destroyed the Bowl of Tears. How the eyes had been fixed on me and exactly how full of hate, rage, and anger they’d been. I remembered what Jasmine had said about being a Reaper and how there were other Reapers at the academy, other kids and profs who served Loki, who wanted to free him from his prison and return the god to the mortal realm so he could bring about another Chaos War—something that Nike had told me I was somehow supposed to help her with.
Despite my unease, life returned to normal. I went to my classes and worked my assigned shifts at the library. Actually, I worked double shifts, because Nickamedes had more or less decided that I alone was responsible for the destruction of his precious library, so he was making me help him clean it from top to bottom as punishment. If I thought that Nickamedes hadn’t liked me before, he absolutely
hated
me now. So yeah, my world was pretty much back to normal.
I’d called Grandma Frost the night that everything had gone down at the library and told her what had happened. She’d immediately offered to come to the academy to comfort me, but I’d told her that I was okay. The truth was that I’d needed some time to myself to think about things—a lot of things. Finally, a couple of days later, I managed to get away from Nickamedes long enough to sneak off campus and go see her.
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” I asked Grandma Frost as we sat in the kitchen eating the sticky, sinfully sweet chocolate fudge that she’d just made. “That we come from a long line of warrior chicks who serve a kick-ass goddess.”
“Warrior chicks? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Grandma Frost smiled and reached for another piece of fudge, her bright scarves fluttering with the motion. She’d just been doing a reading for a client, so she was dressed in her usual Gypsy clothes.
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, you know what I mean.”
“Of course I know. That’s what makes us Gypsies, Gwen.”
I frowned. “How does being warrior chicks make us Gypsies? You never told me that before.”
Grandma Frost stared at me, a serious look on her face. “Gwen, why do you think that we can do the things that we can do? Why do you think that I can see the future or that you can touch objects and know everything about them? Where do you think that power comes from?”
I opened my mouth, but no answer came to me. I shrugged.
“We can do those things and more because Nike has gifted us with that power. Back when our very first ancestor served Nike, the goddess rewarded her by giving her the gift of seeing the future. Over the years and generations, that psychic gift has taken on many different forms, like your mother’s ability to sense the truth and your psychometry.”
“But I thought we were Gypsies,” I said. “Not warriors.”
“ ‘Gypsy’ is just another word for those who are gifted by the gods,” Grandma said. “Who have special powers and abilities like we do. We’re just as strong in our magic and just as much warriors as all the Valkyries, Amazons, and other kids you go to school with.”
So Daphne had been right after all. I was a warrior, just with a different kind of magic.
I thought for a minute about what my grandma had said. “Okay, so Nike gave us our powers. I guess I can understand that. But there are tons of other gods and goddesses out there. I mean, you should see all the statues of them in the library. So . . . are there more people out there like us? More Gypsies? More people Nike has gifted?”
“Yes and no.” Grandma Frost stared at me. “There are more Gypsies out there, but each family is gifted by a single god or goddess, which means that we are the only ones gifted by Nike, just like there is only one family that has been gifted by Athena and Ares and Odin and so on.”
“Have you ever met any of the other Gypsies?” I asked.
“Yes,” Grandma Frost said in a dark tone. “But not all of them are like us.”
“What do you mean?”
She stared at me with her violet eyes. “Not all of them are good, Gwen. Some of them are lazy or indifferent or use their powers to gain wealth and power. And some of them are Reapers.”
“Reapers? Like Jasmine?”
Grandma Frost nodded. “Just like Jasmine—and worse.”
So there were other people, other kids, running around just like me who had powers? And some of them were Reapers of Chaos? I shivered at the thought.
“So why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I asked. “About where our gifts come from and Reapers and Gypsies and why I got shipped off to Mythos in the first place? It would have made things . . . easier for me. Simpler. At least, then I would have understood. I would have given the academy a chance. I would have believed in all the magic to start with.”
I hesitated, thinking about something else that had been on my mind lately. “Did you and Mom ever . . . go to Mythos? Were you students there, too?”
Grandma gave me a sad smile. “We did. And that’s why we decided that you shouldn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “We’re part of a dangerous world, pumpkin. Gypsies, Reapers, Loki. We’re all tangled together like a ball of string. You can’t have one without all the others. But your mom and I wanted better for you. We wanted you to have a normal life. We wanted you to grow up slowly, naturally, without always worrying about Reapers trying to kill you.”
I thought of Daphne and Carson and Logan and all the other kids at school. About how all the violence and gods and magic seemed normal to them—and about how Carson had told me that they’d all lost somebody to the Reapers. Suddenly I was grateful for what my mom and grandma had done, for protecting me as long as they had.
“But then, I picked up Paige’s hairbrush and had my magical freak-out,” I said. “Is that why Professor Metis came here?”
“Partly.” Shadows darkened Grandma Frost’s violet eyes, and she didn’t say anything for a moment. “Metis thought that it was time for you to go to Mythos, for you to learn where your power really came from and how to better control it as it grows. And I’m not as young as I used to be, Gwen. I wanted you to go to the academy, too, so you’d be safe. At least, as safe as you can be there.”
“But what about Nike?” I asked. “Did you and Mom serve as her Champions, too?”
Grandma nodded. “We did. Nike comes to us all and asks us to serve her when she thinks that we are ready.”
“So why didn’t you tell me about that either?”
“Because it was your decision to make, Gwen. Just like your mom and I made it before you. Just like your own daughter might make it someday.” She sighed. “So many of the kids at Mythos are expected to be great warriors from birth. Your mom and I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. We wanted you to make your own choices because you wanted to, not because you felt you had to uphold some great family legacy. Besides, being a Champion is as good as having a target painted on your back. Reapers kill warriors, sure, but they’ll do anything—
anything
—to take down a Champion.”
My stomach twisted at her words. “Why is that?”
“Because Champions always have the strongest magic, the best fighting skills, the bravest hearts. That’s why they’re picked to be Champions in the first place—because they can do the most good. That makes them the biggest threats to Loki and his Reapers. We just wanted to protect you as long as we could, pumpkin.” Grandma paused. “And we also didn’t want you to grow up to be as spoiled as some of the kids are.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard living in a world where you know Reapers want nothing more than to kill you and your children. So most warrior parents indulge their kids and give them whatever they want—cars, clothes, jewelry—just in case they’re not around to see their kids grow up. I’m not saying that it’s wrong or it’s right, but it’s not how your mom wanted to raise you. She wanted you to know the value of money—and life, too. Most especially life.”
That must be why the professors at Mythos let the kids get away with so many things, too—smoking, drinking, hooking up—because the profs knew that we could all be killed by Reapers on any given day and they thought that the students should live it up in the meantime. But Grandma’s words raised another question in my mind.
“So do we have money, then? I mean . . . a lot of money? Like the other kids’ parents do? And if we do, then why do I have to work in the Library of Antiquities?”
Grandma shrugged again. “Not as much money as some, but enough. More than enough. Your working in the library was actually Professor Metis’s idea. She thought interacting with all the other students there would help you adjust to the academy. Of course, it didn’t quite work out that way.”
No, it hadn’t. I pushed the plate of chocolate fudge away. My head was spinning with too much information for me to enjoy them right now. I still couldn’t quite believe everything that Grandma had told me, everything that I’d learned the past few days, all the secrets that had finally been revealed to me. Knowing that I was in danger now because I’d agreed to be Nike’s Champion didn’t exactly put me in a great mood. But that was the thing about secrets—they were almost never good.
Grandma Frost didn’t say a word. Instead, she reached over and put her hand on top of mine. As always, I felt the soft, warm blanket of her love wrap around me. And I knew that no matter what happened, no matter how crazy things got, Grandma Frost would always love me just as much as I loved her. Just as much as I’d loved my mom.
I thought about how I’d seen my mom, Grace, when I’d first picked up Vic, the sword. Of how I was now part of the same thing that she had been. Of how my mom had smiled at me like she approved of what I was doing. The idea, whether it was true or not, made me miss her a little less, made the ache of her loss and my guilt over her death a little easier to bear. Maybe this was one secret that I could live with after all.
“But enough talk about Gypsies and gods and everything else,” Grandma said, a light, teasing tone creeping into her voice. “Metis told me about seeing you at the homecoming dance with a very cute Spartan boy, the same Spartan boy who helped you that night in the library. You’ve been holding out on me, Gwen. Now, I want to know all about him.”
I still had more things to figure out, more things that I wanted to ask her about my mom and the academy and being Nike’s Champion. But all that could wait. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this moment with my grandma.
“You want to know about Logan Quinn?” I asked, arching my eyebrow.
“Every little detail,” Grandma quipped. “Now spill, as you kids say.”
I just laughed and shook my head. We stayed there in the kitchen, eating and talking, the rest of the afternoon.

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