Dark Frost (Mythos Academy #3)(60)
Author: Jennifer Estep

Preston started to scream, but I blocked out the sound. My entire world had shrunk to holding on to the Reaper and using his magic to heal myself.

I don’t know how many minutes passed before I noticed that Preston wasn’t moving, that the Reaper wasn’t fighting me, that he wasn’t screaming anymore.

And that the wound in my chest wasn’t hurting anymore.

I frowned, wondering what was wrong, wondering why I didn’t feel Preston struggling, wondering why I didn’t feel the Reaper’s energy pouring into me. It was difficult, but I peeled my bloody fingernails from around Preston’s ankles. Then, I turned over onto my back, unzipped my hoodie, and pulled up the T-shirt I had on underneath it. Blood coated my chest like I’d painted it for a football game, but the stab wound had healed. All that remained of it was a faint line slashed over my heart.

Somehow I’d done it-I’d used my touch magic to heal myself.

I shoved my shirt down, turned back over onto my stomach, and started crawling toward Preston. I might have healed the dagger wound, but I was still weak, and I had to stop and rest every other breath. But finally, I was able to see the Reaper’s face.

Preston’s sightless blue eyes stared up at the sky, his mouth twisted in a silent scream.

He was dead, and I finally realized exactly what had happened. I’d killed the Reaper. I’d killed Preston with my Gypsy gift, used my psychometry magic to suck all the life right out of him.

I slumped to the stone and tried not to cry at the evil thing I’d done-I’d just committed murder.

Chapter 25

I don’t know how long I would have lain there if a low whimper hadn’t sounded, penetrating my hate, fear, and self-loathing. I looked up to find Nott staring at me, her eyes barely open.

"Nott!"

I crawled over to the Fenrir wolf as fast as I could. Somehow I forced myself to sit up and cradle her enormous head in my lap. The wolf weakly licked my fingers, and I felt her pain pulse through my body. It was even greater than my own had been, so great that I didn’t know how she found the strength to keep breathing, to keep fighting. Her rusty eyes were completely dark now and covered by a thin, gray film.

"Don’t you worry," I whispered. "I’m going to fix you."

I reached for my magic, but this time, I pushed it outward, trying to heal Nott the way I’d used Preston’s energy to heal myself.

It didn’t work.

She was too far gone, and I didn’t have enough magic. Every bit that I fed her got soaked up immediately, and I could tell it wasn’t making a difference. I was exhausted now. I’d barely had enough power to save myself, and Preston was already dead. In that moment, I wished the Reaper had still been alive. I would have dragged him over here and happily murdered him again with my magic if it meant saving Nott.

The wolf licked my fingers again, as if trying to tell me that it was okay, that she knew I’d done my best to save her.

"Nott?" I whispered. "Nott!"

The wolf laid her head down, closed her eyes, and let out what sounded like a happy sigh. Then, she was still-forever.

I put my head down on the wolf’s neck and wept.

They found me at dawn, just as the last of the lavender twilight was fading away, and the world was preparing itself for a new day-the first day without Nott. I huddled there on the cold stone, stroking Nott’s silky ears with my frostbitten fingers.

Clash-clash-clang!

Screams and shouts echoed through the forest, followed by the ring of blade on blade. Branches snapped and leaves crackled as several Reapers raced into the clearing. They stopped short at the sight of me huddled in the middle of the broken circle, my head still pressed against Nott’s cold neck.

"Is that the Gypsy?" one of them said. "The one that Ashton stabbed to death? How is she still alive?"

"I don’t know," another one muttered. "But she won’t be for much longer."

The Reaper walked over to me and raised his sword high, ready to bring it down on my head-

He jerked, screamed, and arched his back a moment before falling to the ground beside me. A golden arrow quivered in his back. Daphne, I thought, and went back to petting Nott.

The other Reapers whirled around, and a moment later, my friends charged into the clearing. Logan carrying a sword, a shield strapped to his arm. Daphne with her onyx bow and quiver. Oliver, Kenzie, Metis, Nickamedes, and Ajax, all carrying weapons. Even Carson was here, clutching a staff and an ivory horn that reminded me of a miniature tuba, the same horn he’d picked up at the coliseum, the one that Daphne had said kept appearing in his room no matter how many times he gave it back to Metis. The Horn of Roland, I thought. That’s what Loki had called it.

"Gwen?" Logan shouted, swinging his sword at the Reaper closest to him. "Gwen!"

I didn’t raise my head, and I didn’t respond to him. I just kept stroking Nott’s ears. Nothing else mattered but that.

Clash-clash-clang!

The battle raged in the circle all around me, but it seemed distant and far away. The curses, the shouts, the smash of steel against steel. It was like a dim dream. Eventually, though, as my friends fought their way closer to the center of the circle, I began to make out their voices through the noise and chaos.

"Get out of the way, Spartan!" I heard Daphne snap. "Unless you want me to put an arrow in your back!"

"No!" Logan shouted back at her. "I have to get to Gwen before it’s too late! I won’t let her die like I did my mom and sister!"

I frowned. That wasn’t right, I thought. Logan hadn’t let his family die. He’d been a kid when the Reapers had murdered them. There was nothing he could have done to save them. If he’d tried, he would have been killed, too.

The sound of Logan’s voice made me blink and raise my head. The Spartan froze when he realized that I was staring at him.

"Gwen?" he said in a shocked voice. "Gwen!"

Logan was so surprised that he did something I’d never thought he’d do-he stopped fighting. The Reaper he’d been battling raised his sword, ready to press this unexpected advantage. Panic rose up in my chest, breaking through the cold fog that clouded my mind. Logan was going to die because of me-just like Nott had.

I started to scream out a warning, but Nickamedes stepped forward, putting himself between Logan and the Reaper. The librarian parried the blow meant for his nephew, then drove his sword into the Reaper’s chest. Logan pulled his eyes away from me and started fighting again.

A minute later, the battle was over, and all the Reapers were dead. My friends hurried over to me, stepping over the bodies that littered the cracked black stone.

"Gwen?" Logan said. "Are you all right?"

The Spartan stared at me, an anguished look on his face, but all I could see was the blood on him. It covered his sword, his shield, and his hands like a coat of fresh, glossy paint. Blood had even spattered onto his face, looking like crimson tears dripping from the corners of his blue, blue eyes.