Dark Frost (Mythos Academy #3)(23)
Author: Jennifer Estep

Sighing, I glanced at my watch. I still had plenty of time to kill before I had to go to the Library of Antiquities to work my regular shift. Despite the cold, I didn’t feel like going back to my dorm room and obsessing about Logan, the Reaper girl, where my mom had hidden the Helheim Dagger, and everything else that was on my mind right now.

I called Daphne, hoping I could hang out with the Valkyrie, but she didn’t pick up. Weird. My best friend was one of those obsessive people who always picked up their phones. Even when someone texted her, Daphne would usually just go ahead and call them back. I wondered what was up with the Valkyrie. First, she’d bolted out of the dining hall during lunch, and now, she wasn’t answering her cell. It wasn’t too hard to figure out it had something to do with what had happened at the coliseum. I just couldn’t imagine what it could be, though. Yeah, the attack had been scary and horrible, but we’d come through it okay. That was what I was focusing on, or at least trying to, even though Samson Sorensen’s dead face and those of the other kids had flashed through my mind more than once today.

Since I didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to be for a while, I decided to wander along one of the ash gray cobblestone paths that ran parallel to the wall and see where it took me. Usually, I just walked straight down to the gate and ran over to the bus stop. I’d never stopped to explore what was just inside the wall, so I set off on one of the paths, heading to the left.

Purple pansies and other small winter flowers struggled to keep their colorful petals spread wide, despite the chill in the air. Above them, the trees stretched their bare, skeletal branches out in all directions, creating a dark wooden canopy that screened out what little sun there was. A few iron benches were tucked away in the blackening shadows, while a small creek that snaked alongside them had completely iced over.

And of course, there were more statues.

The statues were made of the same dark gray stone as the ones on the main campus buildings, although these were much smaller, no more than two or three feet high. A small group of them was clustered around a stone footbridge that arched over the frozen creek. The largest figure had a man’s torso, along with goat’s hooves and a short tail. Two horns curled up out of his stone hair, and he held a flute to his lips, like he was getting ready to blast out a cheery tune. I recognized the statue as Pan, the Greek god of the shepherds and a whole bunch of other things, depending on which myth-history book you picked up in the library.

Several other stone statues of wood nymphs and dryads were arranged around him, their arms wide and feet high, flowers clutched in their fingertips, like they were dancing to Pan’s phantom song. The more I stared at them, the more it seemed like the nymphs were looking back at me, their eyes narrowing to sly slits, their lips drawing back to show their teeth, their fingers strangling the delicate petals in their grasps.

I sighed and looked away. Sometimes I thought if I never saw another statue again, it would be too soon. And now I had to do a stupid report on them for Metis’s class. Ugh.

I kept walking, passing more benches and more statues, but what surprised me was the fact that several more gates were set into the stone wall that circled the academy. So far, I’d only been through the main gate and the secondary one at the end of the parking lot behind the gym, but iron bars were spaced into the wall every few hundred feet. A pair of stone sphinxes perched above them all, looming over either side of the open spaces. I supposed there were so many gates in case the students ever needed to leave campus in a hurry-like if the Reapers ever attacked the academy in a group the way they had the coliseum. The thought made my stomach knot up.

Despite my brisk pace, the winter chill continued to creep through my clothes and seep into my bones. I’d just turned around to head back to my warm dorm room when a low growl sounded.

I froze, suddenly colder than ever before, wondering if I’d only imagined the sound-and really, really hoping I had. In my experience, growls were never, ever good. Growls usually meant that large, scary creatures like Nemean prowlers were lurking around and intent on tearing into me with their teeth and claws. I was so not fond of the oversize, black panther-like creatures- especially since the Reapers trained them to be deadly, kitty-cat assassins.

The growl rippled through the air again, shattering any hope I’d had of it just being my imagination or my Gypsy gift gone wild. I slowly turned my head to the right-and saw the Fenrir wolf.

Chapter 9

The Fenrir wolf was hunkered down in a pile of leaves on the other side of the gate I was standing in front of. The creature was even longer than I was tall, with a thick, powerful body and razor-sharp teeth and claws to match. Its fur wasn’t quite black, but more like the dark, deep, smoky color of ashes. The shaggy coat helped it blend in with the shadows cast by the towering trees. The last time I’d seen a Fenrir wolf, I’d noticed that its fur had crimson strands glistening in it, but I didn’t see any in this creature’s coat. Its eyes were a rusty red, although the color was far dimmer than I remembered it being and without the creepy burning glow that had told me just how much the wolf had wanted to gobble me up.

My gaze roamed over the creature, and my eyes caught on its ear. A small V was grooved into the wolf’s right ear, and I knew it was my wolf after all. The one I’d met at the ski resort, the one that had kept me from freezing to death after we’d both been caught in the avalanche Preston had set off. The wolf had gotten the V-shaped scar that day.

"Um, puppy?" I asked in a tentative voice, since that was all I’d ever called the wolf. "Is that really you?"

At the sound of my voice, the Fenrir wolf sprang to its feet, and its muzzle creased back into what looked like a-a smile. Okay, that was a little creepy. Usually, mythological creatures weren’t any happier to see me than I was to notice them stalking me and licking their chops at the thought of sinking their teeth into my body. But the wolf actually seemed glad I’d noticed it, like-like it had been waiting here for me to walk by.

The wolf let out a soft whine and crept closer to the gate, making the leaves crackle underneath its enormous body. I walked over to the iron bars. I hesitated, then stretched my hand out through one of the gaps. The wolf paced back and forth for a few seconds before heading toward me and shoving its head underneath my hand.

As soon as my fingers brushed its fur, images of the wolf began to fill my mind. Flashes of the crushing avalanche that had almost buried us both, then one of the branch that had pierced the creature’s leg and of me shoving the sharp wood out so the wolf could walk again, even a memory of me facing down Preston and the wolf spoiling the Reaper’s aim when Preston had tried to kill me with a crossbow.