Kiss of Frost

Chapter 3

Despite my sour mood, the day passed by with its usual mix of classes, lectures, and boring homework assignments. The last bell rang after sixth period, and I headed outside, along with the other students.

It was early December, and I pulled my purple plaid coat a little tighter around my body, trying to keep warm. Even though it was midafternoon, the sun's rays did little to penetrate the thick, heavy, gray clouds that cloaked the sky, and my breath frosted in the air, like a stream of icicles before flowing away to the ground. Winter had already spread its chilly blanket over North Carolina for the season. That's where the academy was located, in Cypress Mountain, a suburb tucked up in the mountains above the artsy town of Asheville.

You could tell Mythos was a place for rich kids just by walking around campus. All of the buildings were made out of old, dark, gray stone covered with curling coils of ivy, and every single one of the perfectly manicured lawns sported a thick layer of grass, despite the cold. Plus, the open quad that lay in the middle of campus looked like something you'd see in a brochure for an expensive college-lots of curving, cobblestone walkways; lots of iron benches; lots of shade trees.

In a way, Mythos Academy was a kind of college, since the students ranged from the first-years, who were sixteen, all the way up to the sixth-year kids, who were twenty-one. Since I was seventeen, I was a second-year student, which meant I had roughly four and a half more years to go before I'd graduate. Oh, goody.

The main quad spread out like a picnic blanket that had been thrown across the top of a grassy hill overlooking the rest of the lush academy grounds. I stepped onto one of the ash gray cobblestone paths that led down to the lower quads, where the student dorms and other smaller outbuildings dotted the landscape. All around me the other students headed down to their dorms or back up the hill to attend whatever after-school clubs, sports, or activities they were involved in. Not me, though. I hadn't joined any clubs, and I wasn't coordinated enough to play any sports, especially not at Mythos. Everyone was so much faster, stronger, and tougher than I was, thanks to their ancient warrior genes and the magic that went along with them.

I made a quick stop at my dorm-Styx Hall-to drop off Vic and some of my schoolbooks before heading out again. Instead of going back up to the main quad, I went the opposite direction toward the edge of campus, and I didn't stop walking until I reached the twelve-foot-high stone wall separating the academy from the outside world. A closed gate stretched across the entrance, with two sphinxes perched on the wall on either side, staring down at the black iron bars between them.

My steps slowed, then stopped altogether as I stared up at the statues. The sphinxes were reportedly imbued with some kind of magic mumbo jumbo, and only folks who were supposed to be at the academy-students, professors, and staff-could pass through the gate and get by the sphinxes' watchful eyes. I didn't know exactly what would happen if someone tried to force his way in past the statues, but I felt like there was something underneath the smooth stone facades-something old and violent that could erupt at any moment and gobble me up if I so much as breathed wrong.

But it always seemed like there was a loophole when it came to magic, and with the sphinxes, it was the fact that they were designed to keep Reapers out-but not students in. That's what Professor Metis had told me, and I believed her, since the creatures hadn't come to life and clawed me to death yet. Still, it always took me a moment to suck up enough courage to dare to slip past them.

I glanced around, but no one else was within sight here at the edge of campus, which was just the way I wanted it. I drew in a breath, then darted forward, turned sideways, sucked in my stomach, and slipped through a gap between the iron bars. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could feel the sphinxes' lidless eyes on me, tracking my every awkward movement and shallow breath. It only took a second for me to slide out to the other side of the gate, but it felt much longer than that. I didn't look back at the statues. It was one thing to suspect there was something inside the stone watching me-it was another to see it for myself.

Students weren't supposed to leave the academy grounds during the week, since, you know, we were all supposed to be studying, training, and stuff. That's probably why I felt like the sphinxes were glaring at me, but I didn't care. Sneaking off campus was a pretty minor infraction compared to some of the other things that went on there.

Besides, if I didn't sneak out, I wouldn't be able to see my Grandma Frost.

I wasn't crazy about the fact that I'd started attending Mythos Academy back at the beginning of the school year, but even I had to admit that Cypress Mountain was a pretty suburb. Upscale shops lay on the other side of the road that curved past the academy, selling everything from books and coffee to designer clothing and custom-made jewelry and weapons. There was even a car dealership full of Aston Martins and Cadillacs, and another lot where the Mythos kids parked their expensive rides, since students' cars weren't allowed on campus during the week. But the most popular stores with the academy kids were the ones that sold wine, liquor, cigarettes, and condoms-and that wouldn't look too closely at your ID as long as you paid in cash, preferably hundreds.

I caught one of the afternoon buses that shuttled tourists down from Cypress Mountain to the city and back up again. Twenty minutes later, I got off in a residential neighborhood full of old, spacious homes, just a few streets over from downtown Asheville. I walked to the opposite end of the block, then hurried up the gray, concrete steps of a threestory house painted a light shade of lavender. A sign beside the front door read PSYCHICREADINGSHERE. The brass plate looked a little dull, so I polished it up a bit with the edge of my jacket sleeve before I used my key to let myself inside.

"Back here, pumpkin."

I'd barely closed the front door behind me when my grandma's voice drifted down the hallway. I couldn't see her from where I was, but it sounded like she was in the kitchen. Grandma Frost was a Gypsy, just like me, which meant that she also had a gift, that she had magic. In Grandma's case, she could see the future. In fact, that's how she made extra cash-by giving psychic readings here in her house. People came from near and far to get Geraldine Frost to read their fortunes. But unlike some of the conmen out there, Grandma didn't lie to anyone about what she saw. She always told people the truth, no matter how good, bad, or ugly it was.

I walked down the hallway and stepped into the kitchen. With its white tile floors and sky blue walls, the kitchen was a bright, cheery space and my favorite room in the whole house.

Grandma Frost stood in front of one of the counters, chopping up dried strawberries and dropping the ruby red pieces into a bowl of cookie dough. In addition to her psychic powers, Grandma also had some mad baking skills. I breathed in and could practically taste the dark chocolate, rich brown sugar, and bittersweet almond flavoring she'd already stirred into the batter. Yum.

Grandma must have just finished telling her fortunes for the day because she was still dressed in what she called her "Gypsy gear"-a white silk blouse, black pants, black slippers with curled toes, and most important, lots and lots of colorful scarves. The gauzy layers of lilac, gray, and emerald fabric fluttered around her body, while the gleaming silver coins on the ends of the scarves jingled and jangled together in a merry way. She also had a scarf wrapped over her head, hiding her iron gray hair from sight. Grandma had taken off the stacks of rings she usually wore on her fingers. The silver bands clumped together in a small patch of sunlight on the kitchen table, the jewels in them flashing and winking like faceted fireflies.

"You were expecting me," I said, slinging my messenger bag into a chair and eyeing the gooey batter with hungry interest. "Did you get a psychic flash that I was coming over?"

"Nah," Grandma Frost said, her violet eyes twinkling in her wrinkled face. "It's Wednesday. You always come to see me on Wednesdays, before you work your shift at the library. I finished a little early today, so I thought I'd make some cookies for you and Daphne."

I'd brought Daphne over and introduced the Valkyrie to my grandma a few weeks ago. The two of them had totally hit it off, thanks in part to the excellent applesauce cake Grandma had made that day. Daphne didn't have a raging sweet tooth like Grandma and I did, but the cake had still knocked off her pink argyle socks. Now, every time I came over here, Grandma always sent me back to Mythos with a treat for both me and Daphne, usually packed up in a tin shaped like a giant chocolate-chip cookie. The tin matched the cookie jar on the counter.

"So what's going on at school this week, pumpkin?" Grandma asked, dividing the batter into small, round balls and then sliding the cookies into the oven so they could bake.

I sat down at the table. "Not much. Classes, homework, weapons training-the usual. Although Daphne keeps asking me to go with her to this thing called the Winter Carnival. The Powers That Were at the academy are taking all the kids over to one of the ski resorts. There are supposed to be carnival games and parties and stuff all weekend long."

"Oh?" Grandma said. "I remember that from your mom's days at the academy. She always seemed to have a lot of fun on those trips."

I shrugged. "Maybe the carnival will be fun, maybe not. I'm not even sure yet if I'm going or not."

Grandma looked over at me, but her violet eyes were suddenly blank and glassy, like she was seeing something very far away instead of just me sitting in her kitchen.

"Well, I think you should go," she murmured in that odd, absentminded voice she used whenever she was staring at something only she could see. "Get away from the academy for a while."

She was having one of her visions. I sat there, still and quiet, while something old, powerful, and watchful swirled in the air around us. Something familiar and almost comforting. Something that made me think of a certain goddess I'd met not too long ago.

After a few seconds, Grandma's eyes snapped back into focus, and she smiled at me once more. The moment and her vision had passed, and the ancient, invisible force that had been stirring in the air around her was gone. Sometimes Grandma got all sorts of details when she had one of her visions, seeing the future with sharp, crystal clarity. Sometimes, though, her psychic flashes were vague and hazy, and she only got a general sense that something good or bad was going to happen, but not exactly what it was. This must have been one of those vague and hazy times, because she didn't say anything else about why I should go to the Winter Carnival or what might take place once I got there. Besides, Grandma had always told me that she wanted me to make my own choices and chart my own destiny, instead of acting on a possible future that might never come to pass in the first place. That's why she rarely shared the specific things she saw whenever she had a vision about me.

Grandma sat down beside me at the kitchen table while we waited for the chocolate-strawberry cookies to bake. "So, pumpkin, what are you on the trail of this week?" she asked, smiling. "Tracking down more lost cell phones and laptops for the other Mythos students?"

"Nah," I said. "Everyone's focused on the Winter Carnival. Nobody's hired me to find anything for them this week."

Cell phones, laptops, wallets, purses, car keys, jewelry, discarded bras, and missing boxers-my psychometry magic helped me find all sorts of things that were lost, stolen, or otherwise missing. Of course, if the object wasn't where it was supposed to be, I couldn't actually touch it, but people left vibes everywhere they went and on everything they handled. Usually, all I had to do was run my fingers across a guy's desk or dig through a girl's purse to get an idea about where he'd last left his wallet or where she'd put down her cell phone. And if I didn't immediately flash on an item's location, then I kept touching that person's stuff until I did-or saw an image of who had swiped it. Most of the time, it was pretty easy for me to follow the trail of psychic bread crumbs to the missing item.

"And how are you feeling, pumpkin?" Grandma asked in a softer voice. "About everything? It's been several months now since… the accident."

I looked at her, wondering at the way she'd said "the accident," like the words had some hidden meaning, but Grandma's face was dark and sad. Besides, I knew what she was really asking: how was I handling my mom's death.

My dad, Tyr Forseti, had passed away from cancer when I was a kid. He and my mom, Grace, had been married, but she'd kept the last name of Frost and given it to me, as was the tradition for all the women in our family, since our Gypsy gifts, our powers, were passed down from mother to daughter.

I don't even remember my dad, but my mom had died back in the spring, and everything about her death was still sharp and fresh and painful. I had a lot of guilt-okay, aton of guilt-over my mom's death, since I'd sort of caused it.

Back at my old high school, I'd picked up another girl's hairbrush after gym class. I'd figured I'd be safe enough using it, since it was just a hairbrush. Most people didn't have a lot of feelings about what they used to comb their hair.

I'd been wrong.

Instead, I'd immediately flashed on the hairbrush and had learned a sick, sick secret-that the girl's stepdad was sexually abusing her. The memories, images, and feelings had been so horrible that I'd had a total freak-out with my magic. I'd screamed and screamed and screamed before blacking out and later waking up in the hospital. I'd told my mom about what I'd seen, since she was a police detective. My mom had called me from the police station that night to say she'd arrested the girl's stepdad.

That had been the last time I'd ever spoken to her.

Mom's car had been T-boned by a drunk driver on her way home. Supposedly, she'd died instantly, and she'd been messed up so badly from the accident that the casket had been closed at her funeral. Hence, all my heartshattering, soul-twisting guilt. I couldn't help but think that if I hadn't picked up that hairbrush, then my mom wouldn't have been out so late-and she would have never been killed.

I missed my mom like crazy, and I knew Grandma Frost did too, since it had always been just the three of us. That's why I risked the wrath of the professors and the other Powers That Were at Mythos to sneak off campus to come see her and that's why Grandma let me. Because we both wanted to spend as much time with each other as we could, just in case one of us was ever taken away as suddenly and cruelly as my mom had been-

Ding!

The timer sounded, interrupting my dark, guilty thoughts and saving me from answering her question. Grandma got up and slid the cookies out of the oven. The smells of melted sugar, sweet strawberries, and dark chocolate blasted into the kitchen, making everything feel warm, safe, and cozy. I didn't even wait for the cookies to cool before I snatched two off the baking sheet, broke them apart, and stuffed the pieces into my mouth. Yum. So good.

"Now you be sure and give some of these to Daphne," Grandma reminded me in a gentle voice, filling up my usual tin with the cookies. "I know she'll want some, too."

"Okay." That's what I said, but since I was still chewing, it sounded more like "Mmm-kay."

By the time Grandma had finished packing up the cookies, it was after five, which meant that I needed to leave so I could ride the bus back up to the academy. Nickamedes would be on my ass if I was even a minute late for my shift. In addition to going to classes and weapons training, I also had to work several hours a week at the Library of Antiquities as sort of an after-school job. Fun, fun.

I slid the container of cookies into my messenger bag, on top of the stack of comic books I was currently reading, then slung the strap over my head and across my chest.

"Love you, Grandma." I leaned down and kissed her wrinkled cheek.

"I love you too, pumpkin," she said, patting my hand one final time. "You be careful. It's a wicked old world out there."

I paused, wondering if Grandma Frost was having another one of her psychic flashes, if she was trying to warn me about something, but her violet eyes were calm, clear, and focused. Then again, I didn't really need Grandma to warn me. Thanks to my time at Mythos, I knew exactly what kind of scary things were out there-things like Reapers of Chaos, Nemean prowlers, and most especially, Loki.

"I will," I promised her. "I'll be careful."

With a third, still-warm cookie in my hand, I left Grandma Frost's house. The sun had given up trying to break through the clouds, and it had gotten even darker and colder while I'd been inside. I shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth and stuck my hands deep into my jacket pockets, wishing I'd thought to wear gloves today. Of course, I supposed I could have worn gloves around the clock, to cut down on the flashes I got off other people and objects. But I already felt like enough of a freak as it was. Wearing elbow-length gloves all the time wouldsonot help my social status at Mythos.

I walked to the end of the block, looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and stepped out into the street heading for the bus stop on the opposite side.

I didn't even see the car until it was right on top of me.

It was a big, black, expensive SUV with a shiny silver grille-and it was racing right toward me.

I froze in the middle of the street, not quite believing what I was seeing, not quite believing that the driver hadn't spotted me, that he wasn't going to blow the horn and slam on his brakes at any moment. Where had he come from? The street had been completely empty a second ago.

The SUV kept coming and coming, and the wheels kept churning and churning, gulping down all the pavement that separated us. The tinted windshield loomed up in my vision until it was all that I could see-a hungry black maw that was going to swallow me up whole, and then spit out my bloody, broken bones.

It seemed like forever, but after a second, my brain kicked in, screamingMove! Move! Move!I didn't have an Amazon's lightning-quick speed, but I managed to throw myself forward, my body slamming against a rusty pickup truck parked on the opposite side of the street.

The SUV roared past me, so close I felt the rush of air from its passing brush the back of my jacket. The vehicle zoomed down the street, zipped around the corner at the end of the block, and disappeared from view. The driver never slowed down-not even for a second.

With my mouth open, heart hammering, arms trembling, and legs shaking, I stared down the empty street and wondered whether or not the whole thing had been an accident-or something far more sinister.