Kiss of Frost (Mythos Academy #2)(18)
Author: Jennifer Estep

"None of your business. And do not touch my comic book," I snapped, moving it out of his reach. "I just got this issue last week, and I don’t want you or anyone else contaminating it."

Oliver frowned. "Contaminate it? How could I do that?" I sighed. I suppose I could have explained it to him, about how people touching and using objects was how they got emotions, images, and memories attached to them in the first place. But I just didn’t feel like it. Al I wanted was to be left alone until the bus got to the ski resort. Especial y since I could hear Savannah’s soft laughter, loud and clear, even though I was three rows back from her and Logan. The Amazon hadn’t quit giggling since we’d left Mythos.

"You could contaminate it because you’re you, " I said.

Oliver’s face tightened, and anger sparked in his green gaze.

But I was angry too-at myself, mostly, because I couldn’t get rid of these stupid feelings I had for Logan, even though he was sitting less than fifteen feet away, smiling at another girl.

As if on cue, Savannah chose that moment to let out another flirty giggle. It took me a moment to unclench my jaw.

"Why did you even sit down here?" I snapped again at the Spartan. "Because I know it wasn’t just to talk to me. I touched your notebook, remember? I know you’ve got the hots for somebody at Mythos, and I know it’s definitely not me. So do us both a favor and don’t waste your time flirting with me or whatever you’re trying to do." By this point, Daphne and Carson had stopped talking and were staring at Oliver and me with open mouths.

For a moment hurt fil ed Oliver’s eyes-along with something that looked like worry. I frowned. Why would the Spartan be worried? I wasn’t saying anything we both didn’t already know. Before I could figure out what was wrong with him, Oliver got to his feet, stormed up the aisle, and dropped into his seat next to Kenzie. He said something to Kenzie, and they both turned around and gave me dirty looks.

I glared right back at them. I didn’t care if they were Logan’s friends or not, they were being total jerks right now.

Okay, okay, so maybe I was being bitchy myself, but Oliver had started it by sitting down and bugging me in the first place.

"What was that al about?" Daphne whispered. "Why were you so mean to him?"

I shrugged. "I don’t know, and I don’t care." Three rows ahead of me, Savannah let out another giggle and laid her head on Logan’s shoulder. I raised up my comic book, so I wouldn’t have to look at them-and I didn’t for the rest of the ride.

The Mythos Academy buses reached the resort a little after nine that morning. Despite the fact that I hadn’t real y wanted to come, I found myself staring out the window with al the other kids.

The Powder ski resort definitely lived up to its name. The ground had stil been bare at the academy, but up here, it was al white. Snow stretched out in al directions, from the ten-foot-high drifts that ringed the parking lot to the ski runs on the hil sides to the jagged tip of the mountain and the others that surrounded it.

The morning sun hit the snow just so, making it blaze like a carpet of diamonds that had been rol ed over the entire mountain.

Everything just sparkled.

Daphne, Carson, and I grabbed our luggage and got off the bus, along with everyone else. We had to wait around for a few minutes while the other buses unloaded, which gave me plenty of time to look around. We stood at the base of the mountain, with the various slopes rising like bigger and bigger ocean waves above us until they crashed into the dazzling blue of the sky. Ski lifts circled the steep, slick hil s, like merry-go-rounds, hauling people up the mountain and back down again.

And that was just what I could see on this side of the complex. Down here, a variety of shops sel ing everything from hot chocolate to snowsuits to mountain crafts clustered together in a charming vil age. Al of the buildings had an old-world, alpine look to them, with sharp, sloping roofs; bright, candy-colored paint; and cute, gingerbread trim. They’d al been decorated for Christmas, and thick boughs of hol y, red velvet ribbons, and strings of twinkling lights stretched from one shop to the next. The whole vil age looked like a holiday painting. I half expected to see a Saint Bernard lope by, a barrel of whiskey attached to its neck, to complete the picture-postcard scene.

The biggest building by far was the resort hotel itself, which loomed over everything. The enormous thirteen-story structure looked like it had been carved out of the mountainside one brick at a time. The light gray stone blended in with the rest of the rugged landscape, while the long, narrow windows reflected the dazzling sparkle of the snow.

Apparently, though, the hotel wasn’t quite big enough, because I saw people moving back and forth in a construction area attached to the right wing. Saws, dril s, and more whined, and hoarse shouts drifted over to us. I hoped Daphne and I didn’t get stuck in a room on that side of the resort with al the noise.

Final y, the professors got everyone rounded up and led us inside the hotel, which was in the center of the whole Powder complex. When I’d first come to Mythos, I thought the academy was total y pretentious, snobby, and froufrou with its suits of armor and old, expensive paintings. But this place put the academy to shame.

Everything about the hotel was massive, from the stone fireplace that took up one entire wal to the thick wooden beams that supported the roof to the diamond-shaped skylights set into the ceiling. An enormous chandelier made out of curved animal horns hung in the center of the lobby, while plush leather chairs and couches were scattered throughout the room, inviting folks to sit, chat, and feel the heat of the crackling fire. Bits of gold and silver leaf glinted here and there among the gray stone, while the hardwood floors gleamed like sheets of bronze underfoot. It was the nicest, fanciest, most expensive place I’d ever been to.

But even here I couldn’t get away from the statues.

A thirty-foot-tal statue of a woman stood in the center of the lobby, her head and chin held high, her arms stretched up toward the sky. Strings of silver snowflakes had been wrapped around her body, making her look like she was summoning the beginnings of a blizzard. Skadi, the Norse goddess of winter. I recognized her from my myth-history book. Other smal er statues stood in the corners of the lobby and peeped out from recesses in the stone wal s, like Ul , another Norse winter god, and Boreas, the Greek god of the North Wind.

Like the alpine vil age, the hotel had also been decorated for Christmas. Fat oranges and bags of figs gleamed like jewels in the silver bowls that had been placed at the statues’ feet, right next to goblets fil ed with spiced mulberry wine. Hol y had been shaped into crowns and ringed the heads of the various gods and goddesses while fat bal s of mistletoe dangled from their cold fingers. Cedar and juniper trees covered with twinkling white lights clustered together in groups in the lobby, the fragrant scent of their needles mixing with the sweet smoke from the fire.