CRIMSON FROST
A Mythos Academy Novel
By Jennifer Estep
KTEEN BOOKS
Copyright © 2013
Jennifer Estep
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8146-3
Chapter One
"I have a confession to make."
Logan Quinn looked at me. "Really, Gypsy girl?
What's that?"
I shifted on my feet. "I don't actually like coffee."
The Spartan stared at me a moment before his lips
curved up into a teasing grin. "You probably should
have mentioned that before now."
Yeah, I probably should have, since we were in a coffee
shop. A large counter; lots of comfy leather chairs;
wrought-iron tables; paintings of gods and goddesses on
the walls; a display case full of blueberry scones, raspberry
tarts, and decadent chocolate cheesecakes. Kaldi
Coffee looked like your typical java joint, except that
everything was first class and super-pricey all the way,
from the fancy espresso machines that hissed and
burped to the rich, dark aroma of the ridiculously expensive
coffee that flavored the air.
Then again, such luxury was the norm in the upscale
stores in Cypress Mountain, North Carolina. The Mythos
Academy kids accepted nothing less than the best, and
Kaldi's was one of the most popular places to Hang Out
and Be Seen when the students had free time, like we did
today. Afternoon classes and activities had been cancelled
so all the kids could attend some big assembly at
the academy's amphitheater later on. I wasn't sure what
the assembly was going to be about. Probably some more
hearty reassurances from the professors and staff that
all us warrior whiz kids were as safe as we could be at
the academy, now that Loki was free.
For a moment, a face flashed before my eyes—the
most hideous face I'd ever seen. One side so perfect,
with its golden hair, piercing blue eye, and smooth features.
The other side so completely ruined, with its limp
strings of black hair, red eye, and melted skin.
Loki—the evil god that I'd helped set free against my
will.
A shudder rippled through my body. Thanks to my
psychometry magic, I never forgot anything I saw, but
the image of Loki's double-face was burned into my
memory. No matter what I was doing or whom I was
with, no matter how hard I tried to forget what had
happened, I saw the Norse trickster god's image everywhere
I went. Gleaming in the windows of my classrooms,
shining in the glossy surface of my dorm room
desk, shimmering in the mirror, like a devil perched on
my shoulder.
I shuddered again. It had taken all the strength I had
not to scream when I'd brushed my hair this morning
and had suddenly seen Loki grinning at me in my bathroom
mirror, the perfect side of his face lifted up into a
smile, and the ruined side turned down into a horrible,
twisted sneer—
"Gypsy girl?" Logan asked in a soft voice. "Are you
still here with me?"
I pushed all thoughts of Loki away and made myself
smile at the Spartan even though I wanted nothing more
than to wrap my arms around myself and huddle into a
ball in the corner.
"I know, I know," I grumbled. "I should have told
you that I don't actually drink coffee. I just didn't want
anything to ruin our first date, and when you suggested
coffee ..."
"You went along with it," Logan finished.
I shrugged.
Maybe it was thinking of Loki and his split face, but
as I looked at Logan, I was once again reminded of how
different we were. Simply put, Logan Quinn was gorgeous,
with his thick, ink-black hair and intense ice-blue
eyes. His designer jeans, blue sweater, and expensive
leather jacket only highlighted how strong and muscled
his body was.
Next to him, I pretty much faded into the background.
The most interesting thing about my wavy
brown hair was how frizzy it was today. You might look
twice at my eyes, which were an unusual shade of violet,
but the only thing special about me was the necklace I
wore. Six silver strands curved around my throat before
their diamond-tipped points formed a snowflake in the
middle of the design. A Christmas gift from Logan, one
that I almost always wore, even though it didn't exactly
go with my plain gray sweater, purple plaid jacket, and
not-so-designer jeans and sneakers.
And it wasn't just our looks and clothes that were different.
Logan was a fierce Spartan warrior who was the
best fighter at the academy. I was still trying to figure
out how to wield a sword, even though I was Nike's
Champion, the girl picked by the Greek goddess of victory
to help her fight Loki and his Reapers of Chaos
here in the mortal realm. Something I had failed at
pretty miserably so far, since Loki was now free and
bent on plunging the world into a second Chaos War.
"You know what, Gypsy girl?" Logan said, once
again interrupting my troubled thoughts. "Nothing
could ruin this date. Ask me why."
"Why?"
He slung his arm around my shoulder and grinned.
"Because I'm on it with you."
And suddenly, everything was okay, and I could
breathe again.
That's why I was head over heels for the Spartan.
Logan could be everything from fun and flirty to stubborn
and infuriating, but then he went and said things
like
that. Was it any wonder I had such a massive crush
on him?
Okay, okay, so maybe it had started out as a crush a
few months ago, but given everything we'd been through,
my feelings for him had quickly deepened into something
more: love. At least, that's what I thought it was;
that's what it felt like to me—this warm, soft, fizzy feeling
that filled my heart whenever the Spartan grinned at
me, whenever he teased me or tried to make me forget
about my worries.
Like now.
I sighed and put my head on his shoulder. Logan
hugged me to his chest. He didn't say anything, but he
didn't need to. Just being close to him was enough for
me, after all these months we'd spent dancing around
each other.
"You guys ready to order?" the barista asked.
We stepped up to the counter. The Spartan ordered a
triple espresso since he loved the caffeine rush, while I
got a hot, honey-pomegranate tea. Logan started to pull
his wallet out of his jeans, but I beat him to it and
handed the barista a twenty-dollar bill.
"My treat," I said. "After all, I'm the one who suggested
coffee in the first place way back when."
Logan nodded. "That you did. All right, Gypsy girl.
Your treat. This time. The next round's on me."
We got our drinks and went over to a table in the
corner of the shop next to a stone fireplace. Since the
students had been given the afternoon off, we weren't
the only Mythos kids who'd decided to come to Kaldi's
and get something to eat and drink before the assembly
started in another half hour or so. I spotted several students
I knew, including Kenzie Tanaka, Logan's Spartan
friend, who was on his own date with Talia Pizarro, a
pretty Amazon in my gym class. I waved at them, and
Kenzie winked at me before turning his attention back
to Talia.
"What is
he doing here with
her?" A sneering voice
drifted over to me.
I looked to my right to see Helena Paxton staring
at me. Helena was a stunning Amazon with caramel-colored
hair and eyes. Since Jasmine Ashton's death
back in the fall, Helena had established herself as the
new mean-girl queen of the second-year students at
Mythos. She sat at a nearby table with two of her Amazon
friends, all of them dressed in pricey jeans, stiletto
boots, and tight, fitted sweaters; they had perfect hair,
jewelry, purses, and makeup to match.
"I thought Logan's standards were a little higher than
that. Guess I was wrong. Then again, guys will do anything—and
anyone—to get some."
Helena's voice was low, but the cruel smile on her
face told me that she meant for me to hear every word.
I'd never done anything to Helena, except stand up for
another girl she'd been teasing, but that had been
enough to put me on the Amazon's hit list. Now, every
time she saw me, Helena went out of her way to be
snotty to me. Try as I might, I could never seem to get
the best of the Amazon, not even dream up a quick
comeback to get her to shut up.
Helena whispered something to her friends, and they
all started snickering. My hand tightened around my
mug of tea. Not for the first time, I wished that I had an
Amazon's quickness so I could bean Helena in the head
with it. But she would only catch the mug and throw it
back at me before I could blink.
"Ignore them," Logan said. "They're just jealous that
you're here with me."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. You and your ego."
His grin widened, and I couldn't help but laugh. No
matter how bad things got, the Spartan could always
make me laugh, if only for a moment. Something else
that added to that warm, fizzy feeling in my chest.
We sat there in silence, listening to the murmurs from
the other kids and the gurgles of the espresso machines.
After all the battles we'd survived recently, it was nice to
just hang out with Logan without worrying about what
was going to happen next or what Reapers might be
lurking around, masquerading as students, professors,
or even the coffee shop staff.
But after a few minutes, the reality of the situation hit
me. I was on a date with Logan freaking Quinn, one of
the cutest guys at Mythos—and I had no idea what to
say to him.
"So ..." I said. "What do people talk about on dates?"
Logan looked up from his espresso. "What do you
mean?"
I shifted in my seat. "I mean, you have a lot more experience
at this than I do."
In fact, Logan had a reputation for being a total man-whore
who went from one girl to the next. Me? I'd had
exactly one boyfriend for a grand total of three weeks
before I'd met Logan. So going on a date was still sort of
a new experience for me. Besides, the Spartan had this
natural, easy charm that made everyone like him—girls
and guys alike. Me? I was about as charming as a wet
sock.
"I know what we talk about at the academy. You
know, weapons training, where Loki might be hiding,
when he's going to come and kill us all, how we're supposed
to stop him."
Actually, that last one was more like how
I was supposed
to kill the god. Yeah, me, kill an actual living,
breathing, walking, talking
god. And not just any god,
but Loki, who was pretty much evil incarnate.
But that was the seemingly impossible mission that
Nike had given me the last time I'd seen her a couple of
weeks ago—something that I hadn't shared with Logan
or any of my friends. Kill a god. I had no idea how the
goddess expected me to do that. I had no idea how
anyone
could do that, especially me, Gwen Frost, that
weird Gypsy girl who touched stuff and saw things.
Logan kept staring at me, and I found myself opening
my mouth once more.
"I guess we could talk about how I'm actually getting
a little better at using weapons, although I doubt that
I'll ever be in your league. Or we could talk about Nyx,
and how totally cute she is. Or Daphne and her healing
magic. Or Carson and how obsessed he is with the winter
concert the band is putting together ..."
Babbling. I was finally out on a real date with Logan,
and I was babbling like a wind-up doll someone had
cranked into high gear.
Logan reached over and put his hand on top of mine,
which was still wrapped around my mug. "Relax,
Gypsy girl. Relax. You're doing fine. We don't have to
talk about anything, if you don't want to. I'm just
happy to be here with you. It's nice to just sit here and
relax, with everything that's been going on these past
few weeks. You know?"
His fingers felt warm against my own, but more than
that, I felt the warmth in Logan's heart—and all his feelings.
His strength, his bravery, his determination to fight
Reapers and to protect me no matter what. All those
images, all those feelings, flashed through my mind, driving
away all my doubts about me, Logan, and everything
else that was going on right now.
My Gypsy gift let me know, see, and feel the history
of any object I touched. Given that, I had to be careful
about touching things and, most especially, people.
More than once, my hand had brushed against someone's,
and I'd realized that what he said didn't match
what he felt. That's what had happened with my first
boyfriend. He'd kissed me, and I'd realized that he was
really thinking about another girl instead.
But there was nothing to be afraid of with Logan. I
knew all the Spartan's secrets, and he knew mine. Well,
except for the whole
Gwen's-supposed-to-kill-Loki thing.
I still wasn't sure exactly how to bring that up, and I
wasn't going to. Not today. There would be time enough
to obsess and worry about that later. Right now, I just
wanted to enjoy my date with Logan.
"How is it that you always know just what to do and
say to make me feel better?" I said.
Logan grinned. "Just another part of that Spartan
killer instinct. I can slay the ladies just as well as I can
Reapers."
I rolled my eyes and leaned over to punch him in the
shoulder—and managed to knock over my tea and his
espresso. Liquid cascaded all over the table, most of it
spilling off the far side and into Logan's lap. The Spartan
jumped up, but he didn't have an Amazon's quickness,
so he couldn't avoid getting soaked.
"Sorry!" I said, getting to my own feet. "I'm so
sorry!"
I reached for the silver holder on the table, intending
to rip some napkins out of it, but instead I ended up
knocking it to the ground as well. The napkin holder
clang-cla-cla-clanged across the floor.
By the time the holder skidded to a stop and the noise
faded away, everyone in the shop had turned to stare at
us. Embarrassment made my cheeks burn, while Logan
looked like he'd had water dumped all over him.
"Sorry," I mumbled again.
"It's okay," Logan said, holding his hands out to his
sides to keep from touching his now-sticky clothes. "I'll
just go get cleaned up."
He headed off toward the bathroom. I sighed, picked
up the holder, put it back on the table, grabbed some
napkins out of it, and started mopping up the mess.
After a few seconds, most people went back to their
conversations—except for Helena and her friends. They
were too busy laughing at me to talk.
I put my head down, ignored them, and cleaned up
the liquid as fast as I could before wiping my hands off.
I threw all the used napkins into a trash can, then sat
down and slumped as low as I could in my chair. So far,
this date hadn't exactly been a big success—or even just
the fun time I'd wanted it to be. Once again, I'd messed
up everything without even trying. Sometimes, I
thought that was my specialty in life.
I was so busy brooding that I didn't pay any attention
when the door to Kaldi's opened, and three men trooped
inside. Once again, all conversation stopped, and I felt a
collective emotion ripple off everyone in the shop: fear.
"The Protectorate," I heard Helena whisper.
The Protectorate? What was that? I'd never heard of
them before, but apparently they knew me because the
men walked in my direction, their eyes fixed on my face.
I tensed, then sat up in my seat, wondering who the
men were and what they wanted. Could they be
Reapers come to attack the students? I'd wanted to be
alone with Logan, so I'd left Vic, my talking sword, in
my dorm room. Stupid of me not to bring the weapon,
even though we'd only been getting coffee. I should
have known by now that nothing was simple at
Mythos—not even my first date with Logan.
My eyes scanned the shop, looking for something I
could use as a weapon, but the only things within arm's
reach were the two mugs and the napkin holder on my
table. I wrapped my hand around the napkin holder and
put it in my lap under the table and out of sight of the
men.
This wouldn't be the first time Reapers had attacked
me. If these men decided to do the same, well, I'd think
of something. Besides, one good scream, and Logan
would come running out of the bathroom to help me.
One of the men stepped up and stared down at me.
He was handsome enough, with blond hair and pale
blue eyes, but his mouth was fixed in a firm frown, as if
he constantly found fault with everyone around him. He
looked at me, and I stared at him a moment before my
gaze moved to the two men flanking him. One of the
men was tall and slender, while the other was short,
with a body that looked fat but was really all hard
muscle.
The strangest thing was that the men all had on dark
gray robes over their winter clothes. The robes reminded
me of the black ones the Reapers always wore,
although the men weren't sporting hideous, rubber Loki
masks like Reapers did. Instead, a symbol was stitched
into their robes in white thread on their left collars close
to their throats—a hand holding a balanced set of
scales.
I'd seen that symbol before. It was carved into the
ceiling of the prison in the bottom of the math-science
building on campus, and it had also been in the middle
of the Garm gate that Vivian Holler had used to free
Loki. My unease kicked up another notch. Nothing
good was ever associated with that image, as far as I
was concerned.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from CRIMSON FROST
by Jennifer Estep
Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Estep.
Excerpted by permission of KTEEN BOOKS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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