Dark Frost (Mythos Academy #3)(41)
Author: Jennifer Estep

I ran over to the SUV, yanked open the door, and threw myself into the passenger’s seat.

"Gwen?" Oliver said, putting the car into gear. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," I said. "But I can’t take a chance with my grandma’s life. Now, drive."

Oliver peeled away from the curb without another word. I laid Vic across my lap, then pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket. Once again, I tried Grandma Frost’s number. Once again, she didn’t answer. My red-hot panic slowly melted into cold, sinking fear. I had to get to her before Preston and the Reaper girl did. I couldn’t lose my grandma like I had my mom. I just couldn’t.

"I called Logan and Kenzie to come and help," Oliver said, zipping down the mountain as fast as he could. "But they didn’t answer me."

My heart sank a little lower in my chest. I bit my lip and nodded, resisting the urge to scream at Oliver to drive faster. Logan and Kenzie didn’t matter right now. If we didn’t get to the house before Preston and the Reaper girl did, my grandma was as good as dead.

It seemed to take forever for Oliver to zoom down the mountain, although he made better time than the bus ever did. He turned onto the street that fronted my grandma’s house and parked outside. I was out of the SUV before the wheels stopped rolling. Oliver cut off the engine, opened his own door, and raced after me.

What I saw on the porch made my blood run cold. The PSYCHIC READINGS HERE sign beside the front door barely clung to the side of the house, like someone had taken a crowbar and tried to pry it off. Even worse was the fact that the door had been kicked in, the frame splintered in at least three places.

"Gwen! Stop!" Oliver hissed, grabbing the back of my hoodie before I could sprint into the house. "You don’t know who or what is in there."

Even though I wanted nothing more than to race inside, I made myself stop. The Spartan was right. My rushing into the house blind could make a bad situation worse.

So I tightened my grip on Vic and brought the sword up into an attack position. Beside me, Oliver slapped a bolt into the crossbow he’d brought along. The Spartan nodded at me, telling me to take the lead and that he had my back. Together, we stepped into the shadows.

The inside of the house was a disaster. Everything that could be overturned was, from the curio cabinet that displayed Grandma’s good china to the blue sofa to the entertainment center that held the TV. Everything was smashed, stomped, and broken, like someone had taken great glee in destroying every single thing he could.

Preston, I thought darkly, and moved on.

Oliver pointed to another splintered door, and I tiptoed over to it and peered inside the room where my grandma gave her psychic readings. The beaded curtains that hung on the windows had been torn down, and the gray silk-covered table had been split into two pieces. My grandma’s crystal ball had also been shattered, the splintered shards glistening like teardrops on top of the gauzy cloth.

A cold fist of fear wrapped around my heart and squeezed tight. I turned around and shook my head at Oliver, telling him the room was clear. We tiptoed through the rest of the downstairs, stepping over more smashed furniture, before we finally headed toward the kitchen. My heart pounded at the thought of what we might find in there, and I had such a death grip on Vic that my hands ached.

Something crunched in the kitchen. Oliver and I stopped where we were in the hallway-listening. A series of rustles and scuffles sounded, telling us that someone was moving around in the kitchen. Oliver put a hand on my shoulder, silently asking me if I was okay. I nodded, drew in a breath, and eased forward, peering into the room.

The sight there stunned me.

Grandma Frost stood in the middle of the kitchen, a bloody sword in her hand, Nott sitting off to her right, and a dead Reaper at her feet.

Chapter 17

"Grandma?" I whispered, hurrying forward. "Are you okay?"

Grandma Frost gave me a grim smile. "Well, as much as I can be with a dead Reaper bloodying up my kitchen and an overgrown wolf wanting a treat."

Nott let out a soft whine, apparently agreeing with my grandma. I laid Vic on the kitchen table, then hugged my grandma as hard as I could. Her wrinkled hand smoothed down my hair and brushed across my cheek, and the warmth of her love filled me, driving away the cold, cold fear.

"I’m all right, pumpkin," she whispered. "I’m all right."

Tears of relief slid out of the corners of my eyes. I pulled back and brushed them away.

"What happened?" I asked. "How many Reapers were there? How did you fight them off by yourself?"

"Sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it. As for how I fought them off …" Grandma swung her bloody sword in a vicious arc that even Coach Ajax would have been proud of. "You forgot one thing, pumpkin-I used to be Nike’s Champion, too."

Then, she grabbed a dishtowel and started wiping the Reaper’s blood off the sword as if it was just another stain to be cleaned up.

Fifteen minutes later, Grandma Frost slid a pan of homemade apple cinnamon rolls out of the oven. The warm smells of melted butter, brown sugar, and sweet cinnamon blasted into the kitchen, making it feel as inviting and cozy as ever-except for the dead body on the floor. Oliver had dragged the Reaper’s body over to the far corner, and Grandma had put a gray sheet over it, but we all knew it was there.

Apparently, the body didn’t bother Oliver, though.

"These are great," he said, taking a big bite of one of the hot, sticky rolls. "You’ve been holding out on me, Gwen. If I’d known your grandma made desserts like this, I would have come here ages ago."

Grandma Frost leaned over and patted the Spartan’s hand. "You are welcome here anytime, Oliver. Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll make something special for you."

She winked at him. The Spartan grinned and took another bite of his roll.

I picked up my own roll but put it back down on my plate. I didn’t have the appetite for it right now. "So what happened with the Reaper?"

Grandma stared at me, her violet eyes dark in her face. "I’d had a bad feeling all day that something was wrong, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. I’d just given my last reading of the afternoon and had walked my client to the front door when I saw a black SUV parked across the street. I looked at it, and I knew there was trouble inside-trouble that was headed my way."

"Then what happened?" Oliver asked, reaching for another cinnamon roll.

"I went to the closet and grabbed my trusty old sword," Grandma said, giving the weapon a fond pat. She’d cleaned the sword and had propped it up in a chair along with Vic, although it was just a regular sword and didn’t have a face or talk like he did. "Then I came back here in the kitchen to wait for them. They came in through the front door, tearing up everything they could. I don’t think they expected me to fight back, though. The first one there on the floor came in here like it was his kitchen instead of mine. I cut him down pretty quick, but that wasn’t the end of them."