Killer Frost (Mythos Academy #6)(32)
Author: Jennifer Estep

I walked over and looked up at the goddess’s face. I held my breath, wondering if she might appear to me, if she might open her eyes and wink, or smile, or give me some sort of indication that I was doing the right thing. But she didn’t, and her face remained as smooth and remote as ever. I let out my breath. Well, if she wasn’t going to give me any guidance, then I’d have to trust my instincts. And they were screaming at me to find some way to save Grandma Frost.

Because I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t—

no matter what the price might be.

So I turned away from Nike and went back over to the case. I looked around again, but the balcony was as deserted as before, although the murmurs of students talking drifted up from the first floor below, along with that soft, faint, tapping sound again, which seemed to be getting louder. I paused, listening to the sounds, especially the other kids talking, but they seemed to be the usual sorts of conversations and not more excited murmurs like, Oh, look at the Gypsy girl up on the second floor getting ready to steal an artifact.

Since the coast was clear, I reached out, put my hand on the case, closed my eyes, and concentrated, trying to see if any spells or protection measures had been placed on the wood or glass. But I didn’t sense anything, and the only flash I got was of Nickamedes standing by and watching while I put the key into the case a couple of weeks ago.

I opened my eyes and dropped my hand. Well, it was good there was no magic mumbo jumbo on the case, but there was still a small metal padlock that hooked the glass to the wood—one that I couldn’t pop open with my driver’s license like I did all of the flimsy door locks in the dorms. I was no lock pick, so I couldn’t get past it that way. Maybe I could find out where Raven had put her tool belt, and see if she had a pair of bolt cutters or some sort of metal saw—

“Gwendolyn?” a low, familiar voice called out behind me. “What are you doing up here?”

I bit my lip to keep from shrieking with surprise—and fear. I quickly plastered a bored, nonchalant look on my face and turned around. Nickamedes slowly walked toward me, and I realized that faint tapping sound I’d heard earlier had actually been his cane hitting the floor.

My heart sank. He was the last person who I wanted to figure out what I was doing. He’d never forgive me for stealing one of his precious artifacts, not even to save my grandma.

But before I could scurry away from the case, he had reached my side, leaning on his cane and carrying a stack of books in the crook of his other arm.

“Here,” I said. “Let me get those for you. They look heavy.”

I stepped forward and took the books from him before he could protest, putting myself in between him and the case so he wouldn’t realize how interested I was in the key. That was my hope, anyway. Yeah, it was totally lame, but it was the only thing I could do.

“You ready to go back to your office?” I asked in a bright voice, edging away from the case.

“Actually, I was looking for you,” Nickamedes said. “I’ve found out something interesting about your silver laurel leaves.”

He reached forward and pulled one of the books out of my hands. Then, Nickamedes stepped past me, put the book down on top of the case, and opened up the thick, heavy volume.

“Come here and look at this,” he said. “I think you’ll find it extremely interesting.”

I wanted to scream, but I kept that blank look fixed on my face and did as he asked. “What is it?”

Nickamedes started flipping through the book. “Remember how we thought you actually had to find a way to grind up the leaves in order to get them to work?”

I nodded. In their attempt to poison me, the Reapers had used a plant called Serket sap, by drying and then grinding the plant’s leaves and roots into a fine white powder. So Nickamedes and I had thought that maybe we had to do the same thing to the laurel leaves. Of course, the only problem was that the leaves on my bracelet were made of solid silver, so they weren’t something you could throw on a cutting board and chop up with a knife. In fact, we hadn’t figured out any way to use the leaves so far. Otherwise, I would have used as many as it took to heal Nickamedes’s bum legs, since I was the reason he’d been injured.

“Well, it looks like we don’t have to grind, boil, or do anything like that to the leaves,” Nickamedes said. “Here. Take a look at this.”

He reached the passage he wanted and stepped aside so that I could read it.

Not much is known about how to use silver laurel leaves to heal or injure. However, one thing is clear. The leaves’ metallurgic properties make it impossible for them to be administered in the way one might boil, cut, or grind up a more typical plant, herb, or root. There is one school of thought that suggests getting someone to swallow one of the leaves is enough to activate their power, although that is a risky proposition at best. But another, more interesting idea is that the leaves can actually be used in conjunction with other artifacts to augment or influence their power, or perhaps even intensify a person’s own magic . . .

The book went on to give a few examples of how laurel leaves had been used in combination with other artifacts. The Greek goddess Hera had added a leaf onto a jeweled ring that her husband, Zeus, had planned to give to one of his many mortal lovers. Only when Zeus had given his lover the ring, she had dropped dead because of Hera’s jealousy and the malicious intent with which the goddess had used the leaf.

But apparently, the most famous example was of the leaves being stitched onto a pair of long, white silk gloves that Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion, had once worn, in order to help heal some horrible wounds. She’d gotten the injuries on her hands and arms while being splattered with snake venom when she’d been holding the Bowl of Tears up over her husband, Loki’s, head while he’d been imprisoned by the other gods.

“Great,” I sniped. “So all I have to do is tie one of the leaves to Loki’s finger, and he’ll drop dead. No problem. I’m sure he’ll let me close enough to do that, not to mention hold still while I slip the laurel onto his finger in the first place.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, Gwendolyn,” Nickamedes said, picking up the book and shutting it. “Of course, I will research this further, but I thought you would want to know. I thought it might take your mind off . . . things.”

I tried not to look at it, but my gaze still flicked down to the key. That was what I needed to take my mind off things. Or at least to start working on the rest of my plan to rescue Grandma Frost—