Crimson Frost (30 page)
What’s the next Bad, Bad Thing
Gwen and her friends at Mythos
will have to face?
Gwen and her friends at Mythos
will have to face?
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
MIDNIGHT FROST,
available in August.
MIDNIGHT FROST,
available in August.
Chapter 1
“Do you really think the artifact is here?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Daphne Cruz, my best friend, stopped in the middle of the room, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me. Princess pink sparks of magic streamed out of the Valkyrie’s fingertips, telling me that she wasn’t exactly happy with me right now. Daphne always gave off more magic when she was angry or upset—or aggravated, in this case.
“Well, if you don’t know, then what are we doing here?” she asked.
Here
was the Crius Coliseum, a museum on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina. The coliseum was devoted to all things mythological and featured exhibits of armor, weapons, jewelry, and clothing that the gods, goddesses, and the creatures and warriors who served them had worn and used over the centuries. Most folks who visited the coliseum thought it was an interesting look back at ancient mythology, with its rooms illustrating Greek, Norse, Russian, Roman, Japanese, and all the other cultures of the world.
was the Crius Coliseum, a museum on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina. The coliseum was devoted to all things mythological and featured exhibits of armor, weapons, jewelry, and clothing that the gods, goddesses, and the creatures and warriors who served them had worn and used over the centuries. Most folks who visited the coliseum thought it was an interesting look back at ancient mythology, with its rooms illustrating Greek, Norse, Russian, Roman, Japanese, and all the other cultures of the world.
What they didn’t realize was that it was all
real
.
real
.
That those in the mythological world were locked in a struggle that had carried over into modern times—and that it was up to warrior whiz kids like me and Daphne to make sure the good guys of the Pantheon won.
That’s right. Me. Gwen Frost, the Gypsy girl who touched stuff and saw things, was officially responsible for saving the world. Something I wasn’t doing too well at so far, since I’d gotten my ass kicked more times than I cared to remember by the Reapers of Chaos. But no matter how terrible things got, I kept on fighting. It was the only thing I could do.
Today, I’d come to the coliseum in search of a net that had supposedly belonged to Ran, the Norse goddess of storms. Finding powerful mythological artifacts and keeping them safe from Reapers was the latest mission that Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, had given me.
I looked at the brochure I’d grabbed from a metal rack by the front door. “Come on. According to this, the net is in one of the rooms in the back.”
“Of course it’s in the back,” Daphne muttered, but she fell into step beside me.
It was a Sunday afternoon in late January, just before closing time. Because of the bitter winter chill and steady snow showers outside, we were the only ones in the coliseum, besides a few staff members wearing long white togas who were taking inventory in the gift shop.
None of the staff gave us a second glance, despite the sparks of magic that Daphne was still giving off. Students like us from Mythos Academy came into the coliseum all the time to look at the exhibits and gather information for reports, essays, and other homework assignments. Most of the staff members were former Mythos students themselves, so they knew all about the mythological world and the Valkyries, Spartans, Amazons, and other warriors who inhabited it.
We walked through the main room of the coliseum, which was filled with glass artifact cases. The metal of the swords and spears glinted with a dull, bloody light, while the jewels in the rings and necklaces winked like evil eyes opening and closing and following my every move. The gauzy silks hovered in midair like ghosts, as if they were about to break free of the wires holding them up, burst through the glass, and attack. But the weirdest thing was that the walls, ceiling, and even the white marble columns seemed to creep closer the farther I went into the coliseum, like they were all slowly moving in on me, getting ready to surge forward and crush me in their cold stone embrace.
I shivered and quickened my steps. Winking eyes. Ghostly garments. Sliding walls. My Gypsy gift was acting up again.
Most of the time, I had to touch something before my psychometry magic kicked in and let me know, see, and feel an object’s history. But sometimes, I didn’t have to touch an object to get a vibe, especially if there were a lot of emotions already attached to it. There were a lot of artifacts here with a lot of good, bad, and bloody memories radiating from them, so it was no wonder I was seeing things that weren’t really there. Or maybe my unease was because I’d been to the coliseum twice before—and both visits had ended with me fighting for my life against Reapers.
“Geez, Gwen,” Daphne muttered again. “Slow down. It’s not a race.”
I bit my lip and forced myself to walk at a more normal pace. We left the main room behind and stepped into a hallway.
“It’s all the way in the back,” I said, pointing up ahead. “In a room next to the library.”
Daphne sighed, and another shower of pink sparks streaked out of her fingertips.
“Look,” I said. “I know you’re getting tired of chasing after artifacts, but the net I saw on the coliseum’s Web site looked like the one in my drawing. So I figured we might as well come and check it out. Besides, it’s not like we were doing anything else important.”
“Oh no,” she sniped. “It’s not like I wanted to spend the afternoon with my boyfriend or anything.”
“I asked Carson to come too,” I said, referring to her boyfriend, Carson Callahan, “but he had that band meeting about rescheduling the winter concert that the Reapers ruined.”
Daphne snorted. “
Ruined
is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”
Ruined
is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”
I grimaced. She was right.
Ruined
didn’t even come close to describing the horror show the concert had turned into. Reapers had planned to murder everyone at the Aoide Auditorium as a blood sacrifice to their leader, the Norse god Loki. I’d stopped their evil plan, but it had cost me—more than I cared to remember.
Ruined
didn’t even come close to describing the horror show the concert had turned into. Reapers had planned to murder everyone at the Aoide Auditorium as a blood sacrifice to their leader, the Norse god Loki. I’d stopped their evil plan, but it had cost me—more than I cared to remember.
“Well, at least Gwen decided to look for this artifact during the day,” a voice with a cool Russian accent chimed in. “Instead of dragging me over to the Library of Antiquities in the middle of the night like she did last week.”
I looked over to my left at Alexei Sokolov, the Bogatyr warrior who now served as my bodyguard.
“You’re just grumpy that Oliver couldn’t come with us today,” I said.
Alexei smiled, and his hazel eyes softened at the thought of Oliver Hector, the Spartan he was involved with. “Maybe.”
“And you’re just grumpy that Logan’s not here,” Daphne sniped again.
Her words surprised me, and I stumbled over my own feet, even as my heart twisted in my chest.
Daphne caught my arm and pulled me upright with her great Valkyrie strength. She winced at the miserable expression on my face.
“I’m sorry, Gwen. I didn’t mean that—”
I held up my hand, cutting her off. “No, it’s fine. I am grumpy about Logan.”
Another understatement. Logan Quinn was the guy I loved—the one whose absence seemed to hurt me more every day.
“Gwen?” Alexei asked.
I snapped out of my dark thoughts. “I’m fine. Let’s see if the net is here. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
“Just starting to?” Daphne muttered.
We hurried to the end of the hallway and the last exhibit room in this part of the coliseum. According to a sign on the wall, this area was devoted to gods and goddesses of the sea, the sky, and all the storms that raged between them. I went from one case to the next, looking at the artifacts, which included everything from splintered planks of the doomed boat the Greek warrior Odysseus had sailed home on to a couple of tridents that had supposedly belonged to Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea.
Finally, I spotted a bronze plaque that read R
AN’S
F
ISHING
N
ET
, and I stepped over to that case.
AN’S
F
ISHING
N
ET
, and I stepped over to that case.
A net made out of something that looked like light gray seaweed lay underneath the glass. Truth be told, it wasn’t all that impressive. The seaweed was gnarled and knotted and looked so thin, threadbare, and brittle in places that it would probably crumble to dust if you so much as breathed on it. But I’d learned the hard way that looks were often deceiving, especially in the mythological world, so I scanned the rest of the information on the plaque.
This net is thought to have belonged to Ran, the Norse goddess of storms, and was rumored to be among her favorite fishing gear. Despite its fragile appearance, the net is quite strong and can hold much more than it should be able to, given its relatively small size. The braided seaweed itself is thought to have the unusual property of making whatever is inside it seem much lighter than its actual weight . . .
The plaque went on to talk about some of the mythological creatures that Ran had supposedly caught and tamed with the net, but I skimmed over the rest of the words. Instead, I leaned even closer to the glass, studying the net.
Thanks to my psychometry, I never forgot anything I saw, so I was able to pull up my memories of the drawing I’d done a few weeks ago—the one that featured all the artifacts I was supposed to find for Nike. I compared the net before me to the one in the drawing. It was a perfect match.
“Here it is!” I called out.
Daphne and Alexei moved over to stand beside me. They both looked down at the net.
“What do you think it does?” Daphne asked, her black eyes narrowed in thought.
I shrugged. “I have no idea, other than what the plaque says about it being stronger than it looks. But Nike showed it to me, so it must be important.”
“Now what?” Alexei asked.
I shrugged again. “The usual. I’ll call Metis, and she and Nickamedes can come and get the net—”
A flash of silver caught my eye, and I instinctively jumped back.
A Reaper’s sword missed my head by an inch.
One second, Alexei, Daphne, and I were alone in the exhibit room. The next, six Reapers had appeared, all wearing black robes and twisted rubber Loki masks and all carrying curved swords.
“Reapers!” I screamed, even though my friends had already spotted them.
The Reaper next to me raised his sword again, and I pivoted and lashed out with my foot, kicking him in the stomach. The Reaper stumbled back, giving me the chance to grab my own weapon—the sword in the black leather scabbard that was belted around my waist.
I raised the blade into an attack position, and a purplish eye on the hilt snapped open. Instead of being plain metal, half a man’s face was inlaid into the hilt of my sword, complete with a nose, an ear, and a mouth that I could feel curving into a smile under my palm at the prospect of the battle to come.
“Reapers!” Vic, my talking sword, said with dark relish. “Let’s kill them all!”
Beside me, Daphne slung an onyx bow off her shoulder and quickly notched a golden arrow in the thin strings, while Alexei pulled two matching swords out of the gray leather scabbard strapped to his back. Like all the Mythos kids, we took our weapons almost everywhere we went, especially now that Loki was on the loose.
I tightened my grip on Vic and charged into battle.
Clash-clash-clang!
I swung my sword at the Reaper over and over again, mercilessly hacking and slashing my way through his defenses until I was able to bury my weapon in his chest.
“That’s my girl!” Vic crowed as I pulled him free of the Reaper’s crumpled body. “On to the next one!”
I turned to face the next Reaper coming at me—
Thwack!
A golden arrow zoomed past me and buried itself in the Reaper’s chest, and he too fell to the marble floor. My head snapped around.
“You’re welcome!” Daphne shouted.
I raised Vic and saluted her with the sword. The Valkyrie grinned before bringing up her bow and using it as a sort of shield to fend off another Reaper. Daphne stepped forward and punched the Reaper in the face, her Valkyrie strength throwing him all the way back against the wall. I knew she’d be okay so I charged over to where Alexei was fighting two Reapers. The Bogatyr’s swords flashed through the air like streaks of silver fire as he danced back and forth, attacking first one Reaper, then the other.
“Get the net!” one of the Reapers screamed.
The last Reaper smashed his sword into the case, reached through the broken glass, and grabbed the gray net. He threw the seaweed over his shoulder and raced toward the open doorway.
“Go!” Alexei said, slicing his sword across first one Reaper’s chest, then the other’s, making them both scream with pain. “I can handle these two!”
I hurried after the last Reaper. He turned to see how close I was to him and slammed into another artifact case. The Reaper tripped and hit the floor hard, sliding to a stop just inside the doorway.
“Get him, Gwen!” Vic shouted.
I leaped over the smashed case and brought the sword up, ready to bring it down on the Reaper.
And that’s when he threw the net at me.
KTEEN BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Estep
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and KTeen are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8148-7
Other books
The Snowman by Jo Nesbø, Don Bartlett, Jo Nesbo
Little Boy Blues by Malcolm Jones
Exiles of Forlorn by Sean T. Poindexter
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree by Dennis Wheatley
Alyssa Everett by A TrystWith Trouble
A handful of dust by Evelyn Waugh
Unseen Things Above by Catherine Fox
Sweet Revenge by Anne Mather
The Soul Redeemer: From Victim to Victory by Bowser, Nancy
Tattoos & Teacups by Anna Martin