Killer Frost
“You guys stash the car somewhere and hike through the woods and over to the Garm gate,” I said. “That’s where they’ll take me sooner or later. But whatever happens, don’t approach the Reapers.”
“Why not?” Daphne asked. “How do you think you’re going to get away from them?”
I grinned. “Because you guys weren’t the only ones who came up with a plan.”
I told them whom I’d contacted and what I’d asked that person to do. Oliver and Daphne were silent for several seconds.
“Well, it’s not half bad,” Daphne said in a grudging tone.
“Not bad?” Oliver said. “It’s brilliant, in a completely twisted sort of way.”
“Well, I’m glad the two of you think so,” I sniped. We all glared at each other, none of us wanting to
give in. Finally, I let out a breath, leaned forward, and took their hands in mine. I reached for my magic, and I tried to show them how much it meant, their coming with me, helping me, standing by me through this. I tried to show them how much their friendship had meant to me over the past several months, how they had given me a sense of peace, happiness, and belonging I’d thought I would never find at Mythos Academy. Their wonder washed over me in return, along with their own feelings of love and friendship. After several moments, I slowly pulled my feelings, memories, and emotions back into myself and drew my hands away from theirs.
“No matter what happens, promise me you guys won’t approach the Reapers,” I said. “I may be willing to risk myself, but I don’t want you guys to get hurt too. More important than that, if things go wrong, someone needs to go back to the academy to tell Linus, Metis, and the others what happened. Logan too.”
Oliver and Daphne stared at me, and they both slowly nodded their heads. I gave them both a bright, brittle smile.
“All right then,” I said. “Let’s go get my grandma back.”
Chapter 17
I left my messenger bag in the backseat and slid Sol’s candle into my jeans pocket. Then, I got out of the SUV and started walking into the neighborhood. Oliver cranked the engine again, and he and Daphne drove away, leaving me alone. I pulled out my phone and sent out a quick text message, telling the other person I’d contacted my suspicions about the Garm gate. My phone beeped a few seconds later.
Garm gate. Woods. Got it. We’ll be there.
And that was all the message said. That was all it really needed to say. I just hoped I was right about Vivian and the Reapers—or else I’d be dead, along with Grandma Frost.
The smooth, wide street was deserted, and everything was oddly quiet. I didn’t see any TVs flickering through the windows, no cars pulling down the driveways, no one putting envelopes in a mailbox, nothing to indicate that anyone lived in this neighborhood at all. In fact, several of the homes had FOR SALE signs planted in their front yards. I wondered if that was why the Reapers had chosen this area for their hideout—because it seemed to be so empty. I shivered and walked on.
It took me about half an hour to find the right house, which, of course, was the one at the very back of the subdivision, set off from all the other houses, with a twelve-foot-high stone wall and an iron gate that was eerily similar to the one at the academy. I looked up, but no sphinxes perched on the wall on either side of the gate. That was probably for the best. No doubt the statues would have looked like they wanted to tear me to pieces, since this was a Reaper hideout.
A black security camera was mounted over the gate. It must have been motion-activated because it swiveled around and focused on me when I approached it. I waited, but the gates didn’t open, so I went over and punched a button on the metal intercom that was embedded in the stone wall. A bit of static crackled back to me in response; then the line started humming faintly, as though it were a phone and someone on the other end was waiting for me to speak.
“Open sesame,” I joked.
Silence. Apparently, the Reapers weren’t in a joking mood. Neither was I, really.
I sighed. “I have the candle.”
The gates started swinging open even before I finished speaking. I looked at the long, steep driveway that led up to the house. I had no choice but to walk up it. Not if I wanted to save Grandma Frost.
“Well, here we are,” Vic murmured.
I glanced down. The sword hadn’t said anything on the ride over here, but now, his purple eye was wide open, and he was staring straight ahead, his metal face set into hard, determined lines.
“Thank you for being here with me for this.”
Vic rolled his eye up so that he was looking at me.
“No thanks necessary. It’s what I do, Gwen. This isn’t the first time I’ve ever gone into a Reaper stronghold.”
I nodded. After that, there was nothing left to say, so I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and started walking.
The driveway dipped down before arching up a long, steep hill, with the house sitting at the very top. The structure was made out of light gray stone and looked more like a sprawling mansion than something you would find in a subdivision, even one as ritzy as this. I half-expected it to be covered with creepy statues, like the buildings at the academy, but only elegant balconies and tall glass windows fronted the mansion. Of course it wouldn’t have any statues on it. The Reapers probably wanted to blend in with the rest of the neighborhood as best they could, not stand out by having some dark, Gothic mansion. At least, that’s what I assumed. Maybe that’s why all of those paintings, statues, and carvings of the Black rocs had been on the inside of the house, since the Reapers couldn’t put them on the outside.
I glanced left and right as I walked up the driveway, but I didn’t see any Reapers patrolling the grounds or peering out at me from the trees in the woods that flanked the edges of the enormous yard. They must all be waiting inside for me.
Yippee-skippee.
The thought made my throat tighten with panic, but I swallowed down my fear. Nothing mattered except rescuing Grandma Frost—and hoping that the laurel leaves would kill or at least injure Loki. Or, really, do anything but make him stronger.
It seemed to take forever, but all too soon, I reached the front door of the house. I trudged up the steps and stared at the brass knocker, which was shaped like a snarling gargoyle. I squared my shoulders again, grabbed the knocker, and let it fall back down against the wooden door.
Thump.
I waited, but I didn’t hear anyone moving inside the house, and I didn’t see anyone pushing the curtains aside to peek out the windows at me. Was anyone even here? Or was this another one of Vivian’s games? Or worse, a wild goose chase—
The door was abruptly jerked open, and I had to bite back my shriek of surprise.
But the person on the other side was all too familiar. Auburn hair, pretty features, golden eyes. She was even dressed like I was, in jeans, boots, and a gray sweater. Her gold Janus ring flashed on her finger, and I stared at the two faces. I wondered what the god would think of me using his key to steal Sol’s candle. After a moment, I shook off my thoughts and raised my gaze to the girl standing in front of me.
“Hello, Gwen,” Vivian drawled. “So glad you could make it.”
The Reaper girl and I stared at each other for several seconds. So did Lucretia and Vic, since both swords were sheathed in their scabbards and belted around our respective waists. The swords didn’t say anything, and neither did Vivian or I. The time for talking, threats, and insults was long past.
“This way,” Vivian said.
She stepped aside. I swallowed again and entered the mansion. Vivian closed the door and then moved back in front of me.
“I really hope I don’t have to remind you not to do anything stupid or your grandma dies,” Vivian said in a pleasant voice.
I glared at her.
She let out a pleased laugh. “Oh Gwen. It’s going to be so much fun finally watching you die.”
She turned and walked away, and I had no choice but to follow her.
Vivian wound her w
ay through the first floor of the mansion, which featured lots of spacious rooms with high, vaulted ceilings. I looked around at all of the opulent furnishings that filled the house. In some ways, it was like being at the Crius Coliseum or some other mythological museum. Jewelry, weapons, armor, and more lined the walls or were displayed under glass cases, while crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceilings, bathing everything in soft white light. I wondered what all of the artifacts did, but, of course, Vivian didn’t tell me, and it wasn’t like I had time to stop and actually look closely at anything.
I was too busy staring at all of the Reapers.
As we moved deeper into the mansion, I saw more and more Reapers. They lounged on couches and chairs or hunched over tables, their heads close together as they talked softly to each other. They all snapped to attention as Vivian and I passed them, then got to their feet and trailed after us, each one wearing a black robe, although they’d left their rubber Loki masks off today. I supposed they didn’t think I’d be able to identify any of them later.
They were probably right about that. If I lived through the next hour, it would be a wonder.
Vivian strode up several sets of steps, then threw open a pair of double doors, leading me into a large, familiar room.
“I thought you might like to see this again,” she purred. “For old times’ sake.”
Dark wooden furniture, antique sofas, crystal vases full of black and bloodred roses. It was the same opulent living room I’d woken up in the night she’d kidnapped me after I’d found the Helheim Dagger. The one with all of the creepy Black roc paintings, statues, and carvings decorating everything from the walls to the tables to the sofa legs. The room looked the same as I remembered, right down to the chair in front of the desk, the spot where I’d woken up and realized that Vivian was Loki’s Champion and that she was working with Preston Ashton.
Only this time, another figure was sitting in that same chair, flanked by two Reapers.
“Grandma!” I said, running past Vivian and over to her.
Grandma got up out of the chair, and I threw myself into her arms.
“I’m okay, pumpkin,” she whispered into my ear, even as she smoothed down my hair. “I’m okay.”
Tears scalded my eyes, but I forced myself to blink them back. Now was not the time to show any sort of weakness, not in front of the Reapers. I drew away from her and gave her a critical once-over. An ugly, purple, fist-shaped bruise marred her right cheek, and more cuts and bruises dotted her hands and arms, probably from where she’d struggled against the Reapers in the park. But overall, she looked okay.
“Touching,” Vivian said. “Really. But let’s get on with things.”
She snapped her fingers at the Reapers who’d entered the room behind us. “Bring them.”
The Reapers already had their long, curved swords out, ready to use them, but Grandma and I didn’t give them any trouble as they marched us over to the far side of the room, out the balcony doors I remembered, and down a set of stone steps. After that, we left the backyard of the mansion behind and trooped out into the woods beyond.
Daphne was right. It looked different in the day than it had that terrible night when I’d realized how thoroughly Vivian had tricked me. The woods were only woods now, filled with trees and leaves and rocks and snow, and not crawling with creepy, eerie shadows the way they had been back then. Of course, the Reapers and their swords surrounding me and Grandma Frost on all sides weren’t really an improvement, but at least I could tell where we were going now—and we were headed straight toward the Garm gate, just as I’d suspected.
Still, as we moved deeper and deeper into the woods, my gaze flicked up to the trees that towered above our heads, but I didn’t see any Black rocs roosting in the tops of the sturdier oaks and maples, peering down at me as though I was a worm they wanted to gobble up.
“What happened to all your rocs?” I asked. “You seemed to have a ton of them on the road the other day, but I haven’t seen a single one since I’ve been here. So disappointing.”
I made my voice sound as innocent as possible, although my question was anything but. I had a very specific reason for asking about the Black rocs, and where they might be lurking, and the answer might determine whether or not Grandma Frost and I made it out of here alive. Still, I made myself look totally bored, as though I didn’t really care one way or the other about the answer and was simply mocking the Reapers for kicks.
Vivian shot me a dirty look. “We’re still rounding them up, thanks to you.”
Which was exactly what I wanted to hear.
I grinned. “Aw, so sorry to make more evil work for you to do, Viv.”
Her golden eyes narrowed, and her hand dropped to her sword, as if she’d like to pull Lucretia and attack me right now. Yeah. I knew the feeling.
But Vivian controlled herself, and so did I, and we kept walking.
It didn’t take us long to reach our destination. We left the path behind, stepped into a large clearing in the middle of the woods, and there it was.
The Garm gate.
Once, it had been a smooth, circular, unbroken slab of black marble that had been set into the middle of the forest floor. A hand holding a balanced set of scales had been carved into the very center of the stone.
But that was then, and this was now.
The black marble was cracked, jagged, and split two ways from where Loki had used the Helheim Dagger to escape the prison that the other gods had placed him in so long ago. I rubbed my chest, which was suddenly aching, thinking of the scars there, the ones that were shaped like a weird X that slashed over my heart, the same X shape that had ruined the marble before me. The stone couldn’t recover from Loki tearing through it any more than I could forget about my scars and how
I’d gotten them from Preston and Logan.
My gaze drifted over to a particular patch of stone, one close to the center of the jagged tears. My heart twisted as the memories washed over me. Nott had been killed right there, when Vivian had stabbed her in the side. I’d cradled the Fenrir wolf’s head in my hands and stared into her eyes as she’d slowly died. It had been one of the worst moments of my life.
And this was shaping up to be another one.
Because a familiar figure was standing in the exact spot where Nott had died. His back was to us, but I would have recognized him anywhere. He slowly turned at the sound of our footsteps echoing across the stone and faced us head-on.
Loki.
Chapter 18
Somehow, I held back a shudder and forced myself to study the evil god.
Loki was wearing a black Reaper robe that rippled around his body like water, as though the material were made out of some especially fine silk, instead of the more mundane cotton the other Reapers wore. He looked the same as I remembered him the last time we were here at the Garm gate, the same as I’d seen him dozens of times in my dreams—my nightmares.
One side of his face was smooth, perfect, and utterly gorgeous, with its aquiline nose, great cheekbone, alabaster skin, and bright blue eye. His long hair was a beautiful gold that flowed down and brushed the top of his right shoulder. But the left side of his face was completely horrible, smashed and twisted together, as though it had been made out of the same wax as Sol’s candle—wax that had been melted down into something almost unrecognizable as a man’s face. The hair on that side of his head hung in thin, matted, black and crimson strings, while that eye was red—that awful, awful Reaper red.
Loki was almost seven feet tall, but his shoulders were slumped forward and uneven, and parts of his body stuck out at awkward angles, because he had been forced to stay in one cramped position in Helheim for so long. Perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed weaker than I remembered him being before, thin and brittle, as if he would shatter if he moved too fast. I wondered if it was because the ritual with Logan hadn’t worked, and Loki’s soul had been forced back into his own twisted, broken, ruined body.
Agrona was standi
ng by his side, one of her hands resting lightly on his left elbow, almost as if she was ready to support him should he stagger.
This time, I couldn’t hide my shudder. Loki might be weakened, but I could still feel the power rolling off him in thick, malevolent waves. I couldn’t imagine actually being that close to him, actually touching him, but for Agrona, no doubt it was some sort of great honor.
The other Reapers spread out, forming a circle around us, with me, Grandma Frost, Vivian, Agrona, and Loki in the center. I looked past the Reapers into the forest beyond, but if Oliver and Daphne were out there somewhere, they were hidden too well for me to spot them. “So,” Loki began, his voice smooth and seductive. “This time, I’m faced with not one, but two Frost scions.”
I reached down and gripped Grandma’s hand. Neither one of us said anything. What exactly did you say to the . . . the . . . the thing that had defined so much of your life? The evil that you’d fought against so hard and for so long? That you had sacrificed so much trying to stop? I didn’t know, but Grandma raised her chin in defiance and met his hateful, two-toned gaze with her own steely violet one.
Loki paused, as if he expected Grandma to say something, but then, he shook his head. I could hear each and every one of the vertebra in his neck crack-crack-cracking, and the sharp motion made him wince and hunch over. It took him a moment to straighten back up.
“Well,” he purred again, his gaze zooming over to Vivian. “At least you get another chance to finally correct your failure, your many failures to kill her, to kill both of them.”
Vivian ducked her head, as though she was ashamed. Agrona plastered a smile on her face. “Yes, my lord. Vivian can finally do that now. How wonderful of you
to point that out to all of us—”
He turned to her. “And you weren’t any better, with all of your pitiful attempts to kill the mother and grandmother. You never revealed your true self to them, and yet you still never managed to kill them, either one of them. Not to mention what a catastrophe the soul ritual with the Spartan boy turned out to be. A ritual that I am still suffering the effects of, thanks to you.”