First Frost, Page 3

  Still, I struggled to be calm. Maybe there was a chance I could get out of going to this stupid academy.

  “But why do I have to go to this school?” I said. “Why can’t I just go back to my regular school? Maybe in the fall?”

  “Because Mythos isn’t just any school, Gwen,” Metis said. “It’s for kids like you. Kids with magic.”

  Magic. The word hung in the air between us, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her right. But Metis kept staring at me, and so did Grandma Frost. It hadn’t been a mistake or a slip of the tongue. Somehow, Metis knew that I had magic.

  “So you know? About my Gypsy gift?” I asked in a small voice.

  Metis nodded. “I do. Your grandmother told me about it and the . . . accident that you had with it a few weeks ago. The teachers at Mythos can help you keep that from happening again. We can teach you how to fully harness your psychometry magic, Gwen. Among . . . other things.”

  I thought I had a pretty good grip on my magic already. I’d freaked out and started screaming only when I’d touched Paige’s hairbrush, because the memories attached to it had been so horrible. But what were these other things Metis had mentioned? And why did she look so grim about them?

  “What kinds of kids go there?” I asked. “What kind of magic do they have? Are they Gypsies like me?”

  Metis looked at my grandma again. “It varies, depending on the student and her background. But the Vikings and Valkyries are very strong, while the Romans and Amazons are very quick.”

  Valkyries? Amazons? What was she talking about? Metis sounded like my mom. Next thing you knew, she’d be spouting off about how the gods were real.

  Despite my confusion, I focused on her words. “Strong? Quick? What do you mean? Strong like they can bench press a hundred pounds strong? Or strong like Hulk strong?” I gestured at a stack of comic books on the counter.

  Metis stared at me. “Hulk strong. Supernaturally strong. Magically strong.”

  “Oh.”

  That was all I could say. The dull ache that had fogged my brain had burned away, but it had been replaced by a throbbing knot of worry—and more than a little curiosity, too. Even now, even after my mom’s death and my guilt over it, some small part of me wondered about these kids who could do things like me—and what kind of magic and secrets they might have.

  I noticed that Metis hadn’t really answered my question about whether there were other Gypsy students at Mythos Academy, but a dozen other questions had already popped into my head.

  “But how and why—”

  “I’m sorry, Gwen, but it’s already been decided.” Grandma Frost cut me off. “I’ve enrolled you, and Professor Metis has set up your class schedule already.”

  Metis reached under the table and pulled out a leather briefcase. She set it on her lap, popped open the lid, and rustled around inside. Then she closed the case and passed me a sheet of paper. I looked at it a second before taking it from her.

  I held my breath, but I didn’t get any unwanted vibes or flashes off the paper. Just the sense of its having rolled through a laser printer somewhere before Metis put it in her briefcase. No surprise there. Most of the time, I was pretty safe when it came to touching ordinary things that had a specific function, like pens, dishes, or doorknobs. People just didn’t think much about those kinds of things or leave many vibes on them. The same was true of stuff that lots of people used every day, like the computers in the library at my school. My old school now, I thought.

  Once I was sure that I wasn’t going to get any nasty, unexpected vibes off the paper, I started reading. English lit, calculus, chemistry, gym . . . My eyes scanned down the list, stopping on the final class.

  “Myth-history?” I asked. “What kind of class is that?”

  Metis just smiled. “You’ll see, Gwen. You’ll see. But right now, I’m afraid I have to get back to the academy. I’ve got some papers to grade, among other things. I just wanted to come by and introduce myself.”

  The professor rose to her feet. “Geraldine, it was lovely to see you again. I just wish the circumstances could have been different.”

  “Me too, Professor. Me too,” my grandma murmured.

  The two of them shared a sad, almost wistful look before Grandma Frost stood up and shook the professor’s hand. Then my grandma turned to me.

  “Pumpkin, why don’t you show Professor Metis out? I’ve got to get ready for my next client.”

  “Sure,” I muttered, wondering what was going on between them and why they’d decided to exclude me from it. “This way, Professor.”

  Metis followed me down the hallway and back to the front door. I opened it, and she stepped outside. Sometime while we’d been talking, the sun had come out and burned away the silvery frost, until only a trace of it remained in the shadows on the porch.

  I started to shut the door behind her, but Metis turned to face me, a kind look in her green eyes.

  “I was very sorry to hear about your mother,” she said in a soft voice.

  Dozens of people had said the same thing to me over the past few weeks, everyone from my friends at school to the other cops who had worked with my mom. But for some reason, I felt that Metis really meant what she said—that she really was sad to hear about my mom. Almost like . . . she’d known my mom or something. But that just wasn’t possible. I’d known all of my mom’s friends, and Metis wasn’t one of them.

  “I hope you’ll give Mythos Academy a chance, Gwen,” Metis continued. “I really do think it’s the best place for you right now. For you to learn how to fully master your magic . . . and other things.”

  There were those pesky other things again—the ones she still hadn’t explained. I opened my mouth to ask her about them, but Metis smiled, headed down the porch stairs, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She got into a Range Rover that was parked in front of the house and drove away.

  I stepped onto the porch as well and watched her turn the corner and disappear from sight. Somehow, I knew that my whole life had just changed. It wasn’t just the fact that I was getting shipped off to some new school in the fall. There was more to this than that. I could feel it.

  Just the way I knew there was nothing I could do about it but go to Mythos and see what was in store for me there. Rich kids with magic, from the sound of it. Warriors maybe, since Metis had mentioned Valkyries and Amazons. But who or what could they possibly be fighting against?

  For a second, that burning pair of red eyes filled my mind again. Despite the spring sunlight, a shiver slid up my spine and not just because of the creepy dream I’d had last night. No, I was worried about what I might find at Mythos Academy in the fall—all the secrets I might uncover.

  Secrets about myself—and maybe my magic, too.

  “Is this really necessary?” I grumbled.

  A week had passed since Grandma Frost and Professor Metis had informed me that I’d be going to Mythos Academy in the fall. Earlier this morning, Metis had shown up at my grandma’s house and announced that it was time for me to take a tour of the school. Ignoring my sullen protests, the professor had driven the two of us up to Cypress Mountain, past an enormous iron gate, and onto the academy grounds.

  Now we stood on the edge of what Metis was calling the upper quad—the heart of Mythos Academy. The picturesque quad looked like something you’d find at an Ivy League prep school or college campus. Enormous trees boasting thick, green, leaf-laden branches, iron benches nestled underneath them in the shade, a smooth carpet of grass rolling out in all directions.

  “Can’t I just look at photos of the academy online?” I grumbled some more. “You e-mailed me the link and the password for the school Web site already.”

  “Yes, Gwen, it is really necessary, and no, you cannot just look at pictures online,” Professor Metis said. “This is the same orientation we give to all the first-year students, and you’re getting it, too, even though at seventeen you’ll be classified as second year. Now, come along. We’ve got a lot of gr
ound to cover today.”

  Metis stepped onto a gray cobblestone pathway that made an enormous circle around the quad and started walking at a slow, leisurely pace. I sighed and trudged after her.

  “These five buildings are where you’ll be spending most of your time. English-history, math-science, the dining hall, the gym, and of course, the Library of Antiquities,” Metis said.

  She pointed out the appropriate structures as we passed them, but they all looked the same to me—dark gray stone buildings covered with curling green ivy vines. Each one featured a variety of towers and balconies, making them look like part of some Gothic horror movie set instead of a posh private school. I half expected jagged lightning to suddenly crackle in the sky overhead, zoom down, and slam into the top of one of the pointed towers.

  That didn’t happen, but the more I stared at the buildings, the more I realized there was something . . . sinister about them. Not so much the buildings themselves, I thought, but rather the statues that covered them.

  Gryphons, gargoyles, dragons, a hulking Minotaur. It took me a minute to realize that all the statues were carved into the shapes of mythological monsters right out of the bedtime stories my mom used to read me. The statues were made of the same dark gray stone as the buildings themselves, but for some reason, their teeth and claws and talons glinted in the warm spring sunshine. I thought the architect had taken the name Mythos Academy a little too literally. Mythological monsters didn’t exist, no matter how real and lifelike the statues looked or how their open, lidless eyes seemed to follow my every movement . . . right? I wasn’t so sure of the answer now. I shivered and dropped my gaze from a pair of particularly fierce-looking gryphons planted on either side of the library steps.

  Before I could ask Metis what was up with the creepy statues, another professor came over and started talking to her. I dug my sneaker into a patch of grass and focused on the other things I could see on the quad—the students.

  A class must have just ended because kids of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities streamed onto the quad, laughing, talking, and texting on their cell phones. Metis had told me that the Mythos kids ranged in age from the first-year, sixteen-year-old students up to the sixth-year, twenty-one-year-old students—but she hadn’t told me how rich they all were. Even the wealthiest kids at my old high school couldn’t afford the brand names I saw stitched onto the purses, shirts, jeans, and sneakers that the kids here wore and carried. Not to mention the platinum watches that gleamed on wrists and the diamond studs that winked in ears.

  A girl my age stopped on the quad a few feet away from me, texting on her phone. She was pretty, with blond hair, amber-colored skin, and black eyes, but what really caught my attention were the princess-pink sparks dancing in the air around her like butterflies. Her fingers tapped across her phone’s keyboard, and I realized that the sparks were actually shooting out of her fingertips like miniature fireworks.

  And she wasn’t the only one with sparking fingers and lights flickering around her body. Green, blue, gold, red. All those colors and more shimmered in the air, as if the kids around me were kicking up clouds of glittering confetti as they walked from one side of the quad to the other. Electricity hummed in the air, and I could feel the power in those flashes of color—and in the kids themselves.

  Magic, I thought with a jolt. Those cracks and sizzles and sparks were magic. Not magic like I had, but supernatural power all the same. I hadn’t quite believed Metis when she’d claimed there were other kids out there like me, kids who could do amazing things, but now I was seeing it for myself.

  The blond girl with the phone finished her text message and looked up, catching me staring at her with wide eyes. “What are you looking at?” she snapped.

  “I—”

  “Daphne!” another girl called out from across the quad.

  Daphne stared at me a final time, then waved her hand at the other girl and started walking toward her. I thought about calling out to Daphne and asking her what kind of magic she had, where those princess-pink sparks came from, and what she could do with them, but I didn’t want to feel like a total idiot.

  Metis finished her conversation with the other professor and turned back to me. She didn’t seem to notice the dazed look on my face. “How about a tour of the library next?”

  All I could do was just nod my head and follow her.

  Metis led me past the two gryphon statues, up the library steps, through the front doors, and down a short hallway. We stepped into the main part of the library, which was shaped like an enormous dome. The ceiling was cut out all the way to the top, and I arched my neck up, trying to see what was on the upper levels, but all I could really see were thick shadows.

  Metis walked down a wide center aisle and past several study tables. A checkout counter divided one side of the library from the other, along with several glassed-in offices.

  “This is the Library of Antiquities,” the professor said, spreading her hands out wide. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

  It was kind of marvelous, although I would never admit that to her. It was the biggest library I’d ever seen, crammed with more books than I’d ever dreamed existed. Shelves and shelves and shelves of books stretched out into the farthest reaches of the domed room, along with a series of glass cases, the kind you see in museums. I squinted at the closest case, trying to figure out what was inside it. Was that a . . . sword? Strange. Why would there be weapons in a library?

  But my attention was quickly captured by something else—the statues that ringed the entire second-floor balcony. Slender, fluted columns separated the statues, which were roughly thirty feet tall and made of white marble that gleamed in the dim light. To my surprise, they weren’t shaped like monsters this time.

  No, these statues were of the gods.

  I recognized a few of the statues from the stories and pictures my mom had told and shown me, mostly Greek gods like Zeus, Athena, and Poseidon, and Norse gods like Odin with his one eye. But my gaze kept drifting back to one statue in particular—a goddess with a pair of wings arching up over her back and a crown of laurels resting on her head. The goddess’s eyes seemed to stare straight at me, just like the ones of the monsters had done out on the quad, and I had a hard time looking away from her cold beauty.

  “Who’s that?” I asked Metis, pointing at the statue.

  “Nike, the Greek goddess of victory,” the professor said. “You’ll be learning about her and all the other gods in my myth-history class. Now, come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Metis led me over to the checkout counter and peered into one of the glass offices that sat behind it. A man with ink-black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin sat in the largest office, talking on the phone and tapping a pen on his desk with his free hand.

  “That’s Nickamedes. He’s the head librarian,” Metis said. “You’ll be working for him.”

  In addition to making me change schools, the Powers That Were at the academy apparently thought I needed an after-school job, too. Metis had dropped that little bombshell on me on the way up here this morning. It was bad enough that I had to leave all my friends behind to come to Mythos, but making me get a job, too? That was so not fair. Besides, I already had a job—finding lost items for kids—although I didn’t mention that to Metis.

  The professor waved at Nickamedes to get his attention, and he waved back. He smiled at Metis, but then his eyes flicked to me, and his expression completely changed. His eyes darkened, and his mouth pinched into a frown. If there was such a thing as hate at first sight, it seemed like Nickamedes had it for me, and I had no idea why. I glared back at him. I didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted me here.

  “Since he’s busy, we’ll come back later,” Metis said, apparently not seeing the same look of disdain on the librarian’s face that I did. “There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

  We left the library and headed over to the building that she’d pointed out earlier as the gym. It wasn’t quite a
s large as the library, but it was impressive all the same. Banners announcing the academy’s championships in various sports like archery, fencing, and swimming dangled down from the rafters high overhead. I eyed the colorful fabrics. Fencing? Seriously? They taught that here? Why?

  I shook my head and looked at the rest of the gym. Glossy wooden bleachers jutted out from two of the walls and butted up against the thick mats that lined the floor. The mats stretched out to the far wall, which was covered with something rather surprising—weapons.

  Racks and racks of weapons—swords, daggers, throwing stars, staffs, axes, a variety of bows with arrows to match. More weapons than I had ever seen before in one place.

  But the really freaky thing was that the kids were using them.

  A couple dozen kids stood around one of the mats, holding weapons and watching two guys fight with swords. At least, that’s what I thought was happening, as ridiculous as it seemed. Metis noticed me standing on my tiptoes, trying to see what was going on. The professor climbed halfway up the bleachers and gestured for me to do the same so I could get a better view.

  I hadn’t been imagining things. Down below, two guys who seemed to be my age were trying to hack each other to pieces with long swords.

  Clang-clang-clang!

  The metal blades crashed together in a furious roar, so loud and sharp that it made me want to cover my ears. But I couldn’t look away from the mock battle. Back and forth, the two guys fought, attacking and retreating, each one trying to get the upper hand.

  My eyes locked on to one of the guys. He had thick black hair, a totally muscled body, and he swung his sword like he knew exactly what he was doing with it. He was power and grace and elegance, and I could see the intense focus burning in his blue eyes even from up here on the bleachers. I didn’t know anything about weapons, but even I could tell that he was the better fighter. Again and again, he attacked, while all his opponent could do was try to get out of the way of his whistling sword.

  Finally, the second guy wasn’t quick enough. The first guy, the fighter, knocked his opponent’s sword away, then stepped forward, his blade an inch away from the other guy’s throat. I blinked, wondering how someone could move so fast.