Crimson Frost Part 4

MURDERER. KILLER. REAPER b.i.t.c.h.

Those words and other, even nastier ones had been spray painted across the door and the surrounding walls in bright paint-Reaper-red paint.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin," Grandma Frost said, throwing the rag into the bucket and getting to her feet. "I was hoping to get it cleaned up before you saw. Don't worry. They just painted the walls. They didn't get into your room. I checked already."

I stared at the door and the walls. I could feel the anger radiating from the ugly, ugly words just as I'd felt it roll off the crowd at the amphitheater. I knew that if I leaned forward and ran my fingers over the paint, that the emotion would intensify, and I'd feel what the other kids had when they'd written those words-all their terrible hatred of me.

Suddenly, it was all just too much. My disastrous date with Logan. The Protectorate arresting me, then announcing the charges to everyone. Linus telling me the penalty for my supposed crimes was death. It was all just too much. Hot, scalding tears streamed down my cheeks even as I tried to hold back the wrenching sobs that shook my body from head to toe.

Grandma's arms closed around me, and she started rocking me back and forth. "Sshh. Sshh. It's okay, pumpkin. I'm here now. Everything's going to be all right."

I held on to her that much tighter and just cried and cried and cried. Letting it all out. My worries, my fears, my anger. Slowly, my body-shaking sobs died down to a steady stream of quiet tears, and then, even those dried up. I wiped the last of the tears off my flushed face, stepped back from Grandma, and stared at the ruined door, trying to ignore the empty, hollow ache in my chest.

"I guess Metis told you what happened," I mumbled.

Grandma nodded. "She did."

Sighing, I opened the door, and we stepped inside. A bed, a desk, some bookcases, a TV, a small fridge. My dorm room looked like any other, but I'd added my own personal touches, like the posters of Wonder Woman, Karma Girl, and The Killers that hung on the wall, and the framed photos of my mom that stood on my desk, right next to a small replica statue of Nike.

I stared at the statue, wondering if the G.o.ddess would open her eyes and give me a sly wink like she sometimes did, letting me know that everything was going to be okay. But the figurine remained still and frozen in place. I sighed. It seemed that Nike wasn't too happy with me right now either. At least she wasn't bowing her head and looking away from me like all the statues had earlier.

But somebody was happy to see me-Nyx.

The Fenrir wolf pup had been snoozing in a wicker basket in the corner, but she scrambled to her feet at the sound of the door opening. Nyx had only been born a couple of weeks ago, so she was still tiny, only weighing a few pounds, but I thought she was the cutest thing with her dark gray fur and purplish eyes. She bounded out of her basket, pounced on my sneaker, and started growling and playing tug-of-war with one of my shoelaces.

I picked up the wolf pup and hugged her to my chest. Nyx playfully growled again, giving me a nose full of raunchy breath, but I didn't care. The wolf licked my cheek, and I felt her happiness that I was finally back so I could play with her.

On the wall next to my posters, a purplish eye snapped open to glare at me.

"Well, it's about time you got back," a voice said in a cool English accent. "Where have you been all afternoon, Gwen?"

I walked over and looked at the eye. Actually, it wasn't just an eye I was staring at, but half of a man's face, complete with a nose, a mouth, and even an ear. The face was inlaid into the hilt of a silver sword that was hanging in a black leather scabbard on the wall. Vic, my talking sword, the weapon given to me by Nike.

Vic had been around a long, long time, and he had plenty of att.i.tude, especially when it came to telling people how exceptionally awesome he was. Sometimes, the mouthy sword got on my nerves, but right now, I just wanted to hug him close the way I was Nyx.

I held the wolf pup up, and she gave Vic a lick on his metal cheek just like she had me.

"Ugh! Disgusting. Someone needs a breath mint, fuzzball," Vic growled, but he couldn't keep the smile off his half of a face, and neither could I.

Nyx let out another happy growl and licked him again. Vic grumbled some more, but then he spotted my Grandma Frost standing behind me, and his eye widened.

"Geraldine?"

"Vic."

The sword's gaze swiveled back to me. "What's going on? Why do you both have such gloomy expressions on your faces?"

I put Nyx on the floor so she could run around and plopped down on my bed. "It's a long story."

"Well, I think it's one we'd both like to hear," Grandma Frost said, sitting in my desk chair. "Tell me everything that happened, and everything the Protectorate said to you."

"The Protectorate?" Vic said. "What are those b.l.o.o.d.y fools doing here?"

"Apparently, deciding whether I live or die," I mumbled.

I told them what had happened at the coffee shop, the amphitheater, and the academy prison. After I finished, they were both silent, although Vic's eye was narrowed in thought. His eye was a strange shade, not quite purple, but not quite gray either-more like the color of twilight, that beautiful shade that softened the sky just before nightfall. Although there was nothing soft about the sword's gaze right now. The fury in his eye made it glow as bright as a star.

"Those b.l.o.o.d.y fools," Vic growled again. "Sometimes, I don't think the members of the Protectorate can tell a hole in the ground from their-"

"Vic," Grandma said in a warning tone. "That's enough of that kind of talk."

The sword glowered at her a little, but he kept right on grumbling about the Protectorate, although he mostly did it under his breath.

"What am I going to do?" I asked her. "Do you really think they'll find me guilty? That they'll actually put me in prison . . . execute me?" I had to force myself to whisper the last few words.

Grandma shook her head. "I don't know, pumpkin. I just wonder who made these accusations against you in the first place. If we knew that, I think we'd know what was really going on."

I got to my feet and started pacing from one side of my room to the other. "It's got to be some plot by the Reapers. But why? To make everyone at Mythos hate me? To get me expelled? None of those things will keep me from fighting the Reapers and being Nike's Champion. . . will they?"

"Of course not," Vic snapped. "The G.o.ddess chose your family to give her magic to. She chose you to be her Champion, Gwen. You-not anyone else. There's nothing the Protectorate can do about any of that. Not one b.l.o.o.d.y thing."

I thought of the cold way Linus Quinn had looked at me. I wasn't so sure about that, but I didn't tell the sword my fears. If I did, Vic would just say something about how he could convince Logan's dad to drop the charges-while his point was pressed against Linus's heart. Vic was rather bloodthirsty that way. One of his favorite things to do was talk about all the Reapers we were going to kill.

Normally, I tried to ignore Vic's Reaper rants as best I could, but tonight I thought about the one Reaper I actually wanted to take down-Vivian Holler. Once again, I flashed back to that night in the forest when Vivian had climbed on top of her Black roc, a huge, mythological bird, and had flown away with Loki riding behind her. I wondered where Vivian was right now. According to Metis, the Pantheon hadn't heard so much as a whisper of where Vivian had gone. Something else that frustrated me. What good was it being a Champion if I couldn't even avenge my own mom's murder?

I stopped pacing, pulled back the curtain, and stared out one of the picture windows. My eyes scanned the lawn below, and it took me several seconds to spot Inari's thin figure. He had his back against one of the trees and looked like just another dark shadow in the night. If I hadn't known he was there, I wouldn't have noticed him at all.

Grandma Frost got up and peered out the window as well. "Is that one of the Protectorate guards?"

"Yeah, his name is Inari Sato."

She nodded. "A Ninja. I've heard of him. He's supposed to be one of the Pantheon's best warriors and one of the leaders of the Protectorate."

"Yeah, him and Logan's dad apparently," I sniped and let the curtain fall back into place. "There are others who will be guarding me too. A Russian guy named Sergei Sokolov and his son, Alexei. He's a third-year student from the London academy. Logan acted like he knew him, and Daphne met him before at some archery compet.i.tion."

Grandma didn't say anything, but she heard the fear and frustration in my voice. She reached over and gently took my hand in hers. As always, the warmth of her love washed over me as soon as her skin touched mine. I focused on that sensation, letting it drown out everything else, all the bad things that had happened today, and all the bad ones that might come to be tomorrow.

"Don't worry, pumpkin," she said in a distant voice. "Everything will work out in the end. You'll see."

Her eyes were empty and gla.s.sy, like she was looking at something only she could see. She was having one of her psychic visions, and I felt this force stir in the air around her-something old, patient, knowing, and watchful. I stayed where I was, still and quiet, and held her hand.

"Things will be difficult for a while, but they'll eventually get better," she murmured. "You'll see."

That force tightened around both of us for a moment, almost like arms pulling us close for a comforting hug, before it abruptly faded away altogether. Grandma blinked, her eyes cleared, and she was herself once more.

Nyx jumped up, batting at the silver coins dangling from her scarves, and Grandma laughed and stooped down to pet the wolf pup. She didn't say anything about what she'd seen, and I didn't ask. It was difficult for Grandma to have reliable visions about family or friends in the first place, since her feelings for someone could influence what she saw. So she rarely told me about the glimpses she got of my future, claiming that she didn't want me to make important decisions based on something that might or might not happen. I understood that Grandma wanted me to take my own path in life, but sometimes a little hint about all the Bad, Bad Things that were on the horizon would have been nice.

Grandma walked over to my desk and picked up a metal tin shaped like a giant chocolate chip cookie. "How about something to eat?" she asked. "I'd just finished making some oatmeal raisin cookies for you when Metis called."

Grandma Frost loved to bake, and she was always making some sweet, delicious treat for me to bring back to the academy and share with my friends.

"I also stopped and got you a sandwich," she added.

She pointed to a white paper bag on my desk, and I knew she was talking about the Pork Pit, one of my favorite restaurants. But I didn't feel like eating anything tonight, not even cookies.

Still, I made myself smile at her. "Maybe later."

Grandma stayed with me the rest of the evening, while I called Daphne and filled her in. I called Logan too, but he didn't answer his phone. He was probably still arguing with his dad, so I left him a voice mail, saying that I was going to bed and that I'd see him tomorrow morning at weapons training.

Finally, just before the ten o'clock curfew, Grandma got to her feet and said that she'd better go before the dorms locked down for the night. I was on the floor playing with Nyx, and I gathered the wolf pup up in my arms once more and got to my feet. A tear leaked out of the corner of my eye at what I had to do now.

"I think you should take Nyx home with you," I said in a sad voice. "I don't want the Protectorate to find her here and take her away."

"Yes, do please send the fuzzball away," Vic said in a snarky tone. "All that fur is terrible on my allergies. Terrible, I tell you!"

The sword sniffed as if to prove his point, but I could see the gleam of a tear in his eye. In his own way, he loved Nyx just as much as I did.

Grandma nodded. "That's probably for the best, pumpkin. There's a lot going on right now. Better not to take the chance."

I pa.s.sed Nyx over to Grandma Frost. She tucked the Fenrir wolf pup inside her coat so Nyx would stay warm on the walk across campus to her car. I petted Nyx a final time, whispering that I'd come see her just as soon as I could. I hugged Grandma tight, and they left.

My room seemed so quiet, so still, so terribly empty, without them, especially without Nyx bounding from corner to corner, sniffing, growling, and exploring the room like she hadn't been living here all her short life. I'd never realized how sad and suffocating the quiet could seem until now.

I wiped away a few more tears and got ready for bed. Taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, getting my books together for my morning cla.s.ses. Nothing too difficult, but by the time I finished, I was exhausted.

I crawled into bed and snuggled down under my purple and gray plaid comforter. Normally, I would have left Vic on his spot on the wall, but tonight, I laid the sword and his scabbard on top of the bed, right next to me. I'd already lost Nyx-I didn't want to lose him too.

"Don't worry, Gwen," Vic said. "You'll find out who's behind all this, and when you do, I'll be right there to help you deal with the Reaper sc.u.m. Why, we'll slice them to b.l.o.o.d.y ribbons! We'll wear their guts for garters! We'll . . ."

And on and on he went, each fantasy a little bloodier and more violent than the last. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but smile. So many things had changed in my life since I'd come to Mythos, but Vic was one of the constants. I could always count on the sword to be exactly who and what he was. Something that comforted me tonight more than ever.

"Good night, Vic," I said when he finally wound down. "We'll talk more in the morning."

"Good night, Gwen."

The sword yawned, his half of a jaw popping in the darkness. His eye snapped shut, and a few minutes later he started snoring.

I reached over and rested my hand on top of the sword, and I didn't let go of him, not even when I finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6.

To my surprise, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep until my alarm startled me awake the next morning.

I got ready for the day and peeked out the window at the lawn, but Inari wasn't in sight. I guess the Ninja had pulled the night shift, and now it was time for someone else to take over the horrible duty of guarding me. Well, I had things to do, and I wasn't going to wait around for the Protectorate to show up.

I didn't have to. When I opened the door to my room, I found Alexei waiting outside in the hallway. The Russian warrior was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his lean, muscled chest. A black backpack lay at his feet, and I could see the hilts of two swords sticking out of the top of it.

"So you get to follow me around all day. Yippee-skippee," I grumbled, looping the strap of my gray messenger bag over my head and chest.

Alexei didn't say anything, but his mouth twitched up into something that almost looked like a smile. Well, at least someone was amused by my suffering.

I locked the door behind me, brushed past Alexei, and headed down the stairs. He fell into step right behind me, as close to me as my own shadow. Once again, he didn't make any noise as he walked, not a single sound, not even when he went over the squeaky step at the bottom of the staircase. His eerie, watchful silence made me feel like there was a ghost haunting me. The only difference was that I could actually see Alexei when I turned around.

I made it to the bottom of the steps, walked down a hallway, and stared out the front door of the dorm. The morning was ice-cold, and the frosted gra.s.s glinted like thousands of tiny silver daggers, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The sun had barely come up, but the faint rays had already given the frost a b.l.o.o.d.y, crimson tint. What was the old saying? Something about a red sky in morning being a warning. Yeah, I had a feeling it was going to be that kind of day.

I reached into my coat pockets and pulled out my dark gray gloves, scarf, and toboggan, all patterned with glittery silver snowflakes. When I was all bundled up, I went outside, shoved my hands into my coat pockets, and stepped onto one of the cobblestone paths that wound up the hill to the main quad. Since it was so early, Alexei and I were the only ones outside.

We walked in silence for about two minutes before I looked over my shoulder at Alexei.

"So what's your deal?" I asked.

"My deal?"

I shrugged. "Your deal. You know, where you're from, what kind of warrior you are, why the Protectorate would a.s.sign a kid my own age to guard me."

Alexei studied me, as if he couldn't decide whether or not this was some kind of trick to get supersecret Protectorate information out of him. Heh. If I wanted to do that, all I would have to do was touch him. Unlike me, Alexei wasn't wearing gloves. His hands hung bare by his sides, instead of being tucked into his coat pockets like they should have been on such a chilly morning. Maybe the cold didn't bother him. Some of the Mythos kids had magic that made them immune to extreme temperatures.

Even though I'd decided awhile back not to use my magic to pull secrets out of people unless it was absolutely necessary, I couldn't help eyeing his hands and wondering if I could yank off my gloves, touch him, and flash on him with my psychometry before he realized what I was up to. Probably not without an Amazon's quickness.

Still, the temptation to try was so strong. I wanted to know what Alexei, and more important, the Protectorate, knew about me. I especially wanted to know what they knew about my touch magic-and if they'd realized that I'd killed Preston with it.

I shivered, but it wasn't because of the chill in the air. A guy's face filled my mind. Once, it had been a handsome face, but now it was twisted with pain, and his blue eyes were cold, dead, and empty-all because of me. Metis and Grandma Frost had always told me that my magic would keep growing, that I'd be able to do other things with it besides just touch objects and see memories, but I never thought I could actually kill someone with it. But that's what I'd done to Preston. I'd used my psychometry to kill him so that I could live. That was bad enough, but the worst part was that I knew I could do the same thing again-to anyone, at any time. I could feel the magic, the power, the knowledge deep inside me, a dark whisper that rasped along in time to the beat of my heart. Use me, use me, use me . . .

"I'm from Saint Petersburg, Russia," Alexei finally said. He must have decided that my questions were harmless after all. "However, I attend the London academy since that's where my dad spends most of his time with the Protectorate these days. I'm a Bogatyr warrior, and I'm not your age. I'm eighteen, a third-year student."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah. I knew that all the academies all over the world had the same structure, with first-year students who were sixteen or so all the way up to the sixth-years, who were around twenty-one. Second-year, third-year, it wasn't that big a difference.

"I'm here to guard you because my father is a senior member of the Protectorate, and I'm training to be a member too someday. And also because I'm . . . familiar with some of your cla.s.smates."

I raised an eyebrow. "Familiar how? And what's a Bogatyr?"

"We're going to your weapons training now, yes?"

I nodded.

"You'll see."

And that was all he said. He didn't explain anything else about himself, who he was, or why he was here. Okay, okay, so he wanted to be all dark, brooding, and mysterious, something that his cool Russian accent definitely helped him with. Whatever.

We walked the rest of the way to the gym in silence. I pushed through the double doors that led into the main s.p.a.ce and headed for the bleachers on the far side, but Alexei stopped a moment to look around. I didn't see what was so interesting. Bright banners dangling from the ceiling, polished wooden bleachers jutting out from the walls, thick mats covering the floor. The gym looked like any other-except for the racks of weapons.

Since Mythos was a school for the descendants of ancient warriors, gym cla.s.s was a little more strenuous than just running laps and shooting hoops. Here, gym was really weapons training, where Coach Ajax and the rest of his staff taught us kids how to use everything from swords to staffs to daggers to bows. All those weapons and more were lined up in neat rows, their sharp points glinting underneath the lights, just waiting for the students to come and grab them.