Crimson Frost (Mythos Academy #4)(70)
Author: Jennifer Estep

"I don’t know," I said, finally answering his question.

"I guess I keep reading it hoping that it will make sense. That I’ll understand why Logan felt he had to leave. I mean, I know why-because of what Loki did to him and what Logan did to me. But that doesn’t make it any easier."

"He didn’t want to hurt you," Vic said. "It’ll take the boy some time before he trusts himself again, not just with you, but with everyone else he cares about. It’s not necessarily a bad thing that he’s gone for a while. Rituals are nasty business, and the transformation process is one of the most brutal things anyone can experience."

There was an odd note in Vic’s voice, and I looked over at the sword. "You sound like you have some sort of personal experience with transformations."

To my surprise, the sword actually blushed. At least, I thought he did. His cheek seemed to burn bright silver for a moment before he dropped his gaze from mine.

"Well, I have seen a lot of things over the years, Gwen," the sword mumbled. He paused a moment before clearing his throat. "But back to my original point. Logan needs some time to recover from what the Reapers did to him."

"I know, but it hurts all the same."

Vic kept talking, trying to cheer me up by telling me how well I’d fought in the auditorium and how we were going to find Vivian, Lucretia, and Agrona and slice them to ribbons as soon as possible. I let his violent, cheerful words wash over me and made the appropriate noises when necessary, but my heart wasn’t in it.

When he finally wound down, I took a shower and put on my pajamas. By the time I finished, Vic and Nyx were both asleep, curled up in the middle of my bed. In between snores, the sword mumbled about killing Reapers, while Nyx let out contented little sighs, as though she was sharing his dreams.

I stood in front of the mirror, brushing out my wet hair. The motion made my pajama top slip to one side, revealing a thin white line on my chest underneath the edge of my camisole.

I had another scar now, one that slashed over my heart and the scar I had from where Preston Ashton had stabbed me. Metis and Daphne had healed the wound with their magic, but it had still left a mark, probably because Logan had been connected to Loki at the time. I also had another thin line on my right palm.

I touched the scar on my chest, and I thought of Logan. I wondered where he was and what he was doing right now. How he was feeling. I hoped he was okay, that he was getting better, that he was already thinking about returning to the academy-to me.

I finished with my hair, so I put the brush down on my desk, right next to my snowflake necklace. My fingers touched the silver strands, and my memories of the fight in the auditorium filled my mind. I’d had on the necklace during the battle, and once again, it had soaked up all of my emotions-all of my pain.

It seemed that was all I had left now that Logan gone, that pain was all I felt. But I’d meant what I’d said at the amphitheater today-about moving on and fighting until the end.

That’s why I’d started the map.

I thought of it as a sort of treasure map-although the Xs marked artifacts instead of pirate booty. I sat down in my chair and looked at several pieces of paper I’d taped together and spread out across my desk. Despite my love of comic books and graphic novels, I had zero talent when it came to art. Couldn’t paint, couldn’t sketch, couldn’t sculpt. Still, I’d grabbed a pencil out of one of my desk drawers, and I’d started drawing the fresco on the ceiling of the Library of Antiquities-the one that featured me, my friends, and the artifacts I was supposed to find.

Logan might be gone, but there were still Reapers to fight. I was a Champion, and Nike had given me a mission, one that I was determined to complete, no matter how long it took or how dangerous it turned out to be. Besides, I had to do something besides sit in my room and brood.

The only problem was that it wasn’t much of a map. Oh, I could see the fresco clearly in my mind, thanks to my psychometry. I just didn’t have the skills to draw it all that well. Still, I did my best, and the map was slowly coming along. Maybe I’d get Oliver to help me with it. He had some mad art mojo.

I looked at the small replica statue of Nike on my desk. "I hope you’re not grading me on my drawing skills, because I would definitely flunk."

The statue didn’t do anything, but I hadn’t really expected it to.

My gaze went back to the drawing. I’d just started it tonight, so I’d only filled in the center of the fresco so far. Okay, okay, so I’d only sketched one person-Logan. I’d been thinking so much about the Spartan that it had only seemed natural to start with him.

My drawing was little better than a stick figure, but I’d tried to capture Logan’s ferocity, his bravery. Not too hard to do, when he was in the middle of the fight. I wished he was here so I could show him the drawing. I could just picture him looking at it and saying something like, Gypsy girl, don’t you know I’m so much more handsome than that?

Then, he’d grin at me, his icy eyes glittering in his face, and we’d both laugh.

But Logan wasn’t here, and it didn’t look like he was coming back anytime soon. I sighed. Not only did I miss the Spartan terribly, but the fact was that I could have used his help with this. Maybe he would have recognized the items he was holding. Maybe he would have known which ones the others were holding were artifacts and which were just regular weapons. Maybe he would have been able to tell me about the object I had in the drawing-that slender silver arrow, or spear, or whatever it was-the one that just might be able to kill Loki.

"How am I supposed to give these things to Logan or the rest of my friends when I don’t even know where the artifacts or he is?" I muttered and looked at Nike.

This time, the statue’s eyes snapped open.

I froze, and my breath caught in my throat. I’d said the words out of hurt and frustration, never thinking she would respond, but the goddess peered at me, then at the drawing, with her twilight-colored eyes. She dipped her head once before her eyes slid shut, and the statue was just a statue once more.

I let out a breath and sat back in my chair. I looked at the statue for a few minutes, but Nike didn’t reappear. Still, the goddess’s nod of approval made me feel better, like I was at least on the right track. Nike had told me to find the artifacts and give them to the right people-including Logan. That meant I’d see the Spartan again. And when I saw him, I wouldn’t let him go. I’d make him come back to the academy with me, no matter what it took.

The more I looked at the drawing, the more certain I felt about things. Somehow, I knew that when I found these mysterious artifacts, I’d find Logan too. After that, well, I didn’t know what would happen, only that I wanted to see him again as soon as possible.