Midnight Frost (Mythos Academy #5)(15)
Author: Jennifer Estep

Minutes ticked by. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Finally, Metis dropped her hand, and the golden, healing glow of her magic disappeared. I looked at Nickamedes. He wasn’t sweating anymore, and his eyes were closed, as though he were sleeping peacefully. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. So did Daphne and the rest of my friends. Nickamedes would be okay now –

Metis slumped against one of the metal book carts, her shoulders sagging and exhaustion grooving deep lines around her mouth. Her black hair drooped out of its usual bun, her bronze skin seemed unnaturally pale, and she looked almost as sick as Nickamedes had when he’d first collapsed. I frowned. I’d never seen Metis look so worn out from healing someone. Oliver must have put Nyx down sometime while Metis had been working on the librarian, because the pup tiptoed forward and gave the professor’s hand a tentative lick. Metis smiled and scratched Nyx’s head, but if anything, she looked even more weary than before.

"Professor?" I asked.

Metis stared down at Nickamedes, a troubled look on her face. "He’s stable – for now."

That sick feeling ballooned up in my stomach again, choking the hope I’d felt a moment ago. "For now? What does that mean?"

She looked up at me, pain, weariness, and sorrow glinting in her green eyes. "It means that if we can’t figure out what kind of poison the Reapers used, then Nickamedes will die."

Chapter 7

Nickamedes? Die?

It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem real. He couldn’t die. Not like this. Not when the Reaper had been trying to kill me.

For a moment, I swayed from side to side, just like the librarian had done. Then, all of my seesawing emotions, all of the pain and fear and worry I’d felt these past few weeks, disappeared into the burning ball of anger that roared to life in my chest. The Reapers had already taken my mom away from me. Nyx’s mom, Nott. Logan. They weren’t getting anyone else – not if I could help it.

I shrugged off Daphne’s arm, got down on my hands and knees, and peered under the counter.

"Gwen?" Daphne asked. "What are you doing?"

I didn’t answer her. There was only one thing I was focused on right now – Nickamedes’s water bottle.

I used the edge of my hoodie sleeve to fish the bottle out of the shadows, careful not to touch any of the water that had leaked out of it. The plastic rolled to a stop right beside the stool I always sat on whenever I was working in the library. Before anyone could ask me what I was doing, I grabbed the water bottle, closed my eyes, and reached for my magic.

I was dimly aware of someone, maybe Carson, gasping in surprise, but I ignored my friends’ shock and focused on the bottle. But I only saw the same things I had from the balcony – Jason Anderson dropping the poison into the water. I concentrated, and, a moment later, Nickamedes’s face filled my mind, along with the memory of him reaching for the bottle and taking a swig. He’d just started to put the bottle to his lips a second time when something caught his attention – me screaming at the Reaper. After that, all I felt was his surprise and confusion at why I was fighting a boy in the middle of the library. The final image was of me smacking the bottle out of his hand, not realizing it was already too late . . .

That was all there was. Just a chain of events. Nothing useful, like why Jason had tried to kill me or what poison he’d used.

I opened my eyes and got to my feet, the empty bottle clutched in my hand. I looked at it a moment, then turned and threw it against the glass wall as hard as I could. But, of course, the plastic only bounced off and clattered across the floor, adding to my anger and frustration.

I stood there, fuming for a moment, before I snapped around, marched past the counter, and headed toward the back of the library.

"Gwen? Gwen!" Daphne shouted. "Where are you going?"

"You’ll see."

I drew in a breath and started to run. I knew what I had to do now, and I didn’t want my friends trying to stop me. I raced through the stacks, rammed my shoulder into one of the side doors to open it, and hurried outside. Then, I pounded down the nearest set of steps and ran across the quad.

The dead Reaper boy lay in the same position as before, although now two Protectorate guards wearing gray robes were standing over him. The guards both stopped talking at the sight of me sprinting toward them. I ignored them and fell to my knees beside Jason, the dusty snow melting into my jeans.

"Gwen!" Oliver shouted behind me. "No! It’s too dangerous! Don’t do it!"

But he was too late, and I didn’t care how dangerous it was. I reached for Jason’s hand and let the memories come.

Jason Anderson had been dead for the better part of twenty minutes, and much of the warmth had already fled from his body, along with his memories. But I gripped his hand that much tighter and let myself fall into the few images that remained.

Most of the flickers and flashes were of him fighting and running through the library, trying to get away from me and Oliver. I concentrated on the images, but all that filled Jason’s mind was a mix of anger that he hadn’t been able to poison me and his growing fear that he wouldn’t be able to escape and that there was only one option left to him – taking the last pouch of poison. He knew it would be kinder than what Vivian, Agrona, and the other Reapers would do to him if he reported his failure.

My stomach roiled at his grim determination to do whatever was necessary to avoid capture, but I forced myself to clutch his hand in mine and go that much deeper into what was left of his memories. It was almost like watching a movie in reverse. Jason dying, being chased through the library, poisoning the water bottles, and sidling up to the checkout counter in the first place. Once again, I didn’t see or feel anything I didn’t already know, and the memories were getting fainter and fuzzier with every passing second.

I was just about to admit defeat and let go of his hand when a final memory popped into my head – one of him sitting at a study table looking through a reference book. I almost let the ordinary image slide by and disappear into the growing darkness of his mind when a wave of emotion hit me – heart-quickening excitement.

I frowned. Why would Jason be so thrilled to look through some boring old reference book? I loved books, but even I didn’t get excited about something like that. So I zoomed in on the memory, pulling up every single detail I could.

Jason didn’t actually read the book so much as he kept shooting little glances all around him, holding his breath and hoping no one would notice the book or what he was up to. Every time he did look at the book, he would skim a few paragraphs, then nod his head, as if he’d already memorized the information and was reviewing it one more time for some important test – killing me. It almost seemed as if he were making himself look at the book and then deliberately glance away over and over again, although I couldn’t imagine why. So I forced myself to focus that much harder, trying to see each small detail and learn as much as I could from the open pages in front of him.