Kiss of Frost (Mythos Academy #2)(59)
Author: Jennifer Estep

I blew out a breath. "All right. I’l do it."

"Thank you, Gwen. This means more to the Pantheon than you know."

Metis drew an old-fashioned skeleton key out of her pocket and slid it into the lock on the door. It turned with an ear-splitting screech. For a moment it seemed like the sphinxes looked in her direction, narrowing their eyes and judging whether or not the professor had the right to be down here. Apparently, they were satisfied she did, because the professor yanked open the heavy door and stepped through to the other side. I hesitated a second, then fol owed her.

The prison was larger than I’d thought it would be, given the fact that we were so far underground. It was shaped like a dome, just like the Library of Antiquities was, although with a much lower ceiling. I glanced up, but no gold or jewels adorned the top of the dome. Instead, an enormous hand holding a set of balanced scales had been carved into the rock. I shivered. Somehow, that was creepier than if the faces of All the gods and goddesses in the Pantheon had been up there, glaring down at me.

The glassed-in cel s were arranged in a circle, rising up three stories, and forming the wAll s of the prison. They were All empty, but a stone table stood in the center of the open space, directly below the carving of the hand and the scales.

That’s where Preston sat, his hands shackled to the table and his legs anchored to the floor beneath it. Coach Ajax stood on one side of him, while Nickamedes hovered on the other. Preston’s head hung down, and he stared at the floor.

And there was one more person in the prison: Mrs.

Raven, the lady who manned the coffee cart in the library.

She sat at a desk just inside the door, thumbing through a celebrity gossip magazine. I’d never paid much attention to her while I was working in the library, but now that I did, I realized that she was an old woman, even older than Grandma Frost.

Everything about her was extreme and opposite. Her hair was completely white, although her eyes were as black as coal. Her skin was even paler than mine, yet wrinkles painted thick black streaks All over her face.

Her fingers were long and slender, but old, faded scars marred her hands and arms. She wore a long, flowing, white gown made of a fine silk, and black combats boots adorned her feet. I noticed those in particular since she had them propped up on the desk and was leaning back in her chair. Weird. Even for Mythos.

"Why is Mrs. Raven here?" I whispered to Metis.

"Shouldn’t she be in the library handing out snacks or something?"

"She helps guard the prison whenever we have someone who needs to be watched," Metis whispered back. "She’s part of the academy’s security council, along with Nickamedes, Ajax, and myself. And it’s just Raven-no Mrs."

I eyed Mrs., er, Raven and her bizarre figure. I supposed there was more to her than met the eye, just like the sphinxes on the door. Although I had no idea what that something more could possibly be.

Both Ajax and Nickamedes looked as grim as Metis did.

Raven stared at me a few seconds, her eyes dark and curious, before going back to her magazine. Metis gestured for me to fol ow her. I swAll owed and headed toward the center of the room.

Preston looked up at the whisper of our footsteps on the stone floor. His blue eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

"Why, Gypsy, so nice of you to come visit me. I would stand but …" He lifted his hands and rattled the chains at me.

I flinched at the harsh, ringing sound of the metAll clanking together.

"There’s no way he can break those chains," Ajax said in his deep, gruff voice. "They’re magicAll y reinforced. There’s no way he can hurt you, Gwen. We’ve made sure of that." I wanted to tel him that Preston had already hurt me, that his threat against my Grandma Frost haunted my dreams, but I kept my mouth shut.

Now was definitely not the time to confess how wimpy I reAll y was.

I crept closer, staring at Preston. White blond hair, blue eyes, great body. He looked just as handsome as he had the ski resort, despite the orange jumpsuit and paper shoes he wore. But the faintest flicker of red burned deep in his gaze. I wondered if the professors could see it, too. I didn’t know how I’d missed it before.

An empty chair stood on the other side of the table from Preston, and Metis pul ed it out for me. I undid the strap of my gray messenger bag from around my shoulder and set it on the floor. Then I sank down into the chair, trying to keep my hands from visibly shaking. The stone chair felt as cold as ice against my back.

"Take your time, Gwen," Metis said in a kind voice.

"There’s no rush. Whenever you’re ready." Preston’s lips thinned out into an amused smile. "Ah, so they’ve brought you in to try to break me. Oh, Gypsy, trust me when I tel you that you won’t like what you’l see if you use your psychometry on me."

I blinked. How did Preston know about my magic? I’d never told him about my Gypsy gift, but he was talking as if he knew All about it. Oh, we know all about you, Gwen Frost, and what you’re supposed to do. Preston had said those words to me in the gloom of the construction site. I hadn’t thought much about them then, but now they fil ed me with worry. What did the Reapers know about my magic that I didn’t? What could I possibly do with it that would interest them?

Preston kept staring at me, expecting me to say something.

"I don’t like breathing the same air as you," I finAll y snapped back. "But I make do."

I stared at his hands resting on top of the table. They were just hands, I told myself. Hands that belonged to an evil, psycho-kil er Reaper, but just hands nonetheless. Five fingers on either one. I could do this. I could handle this.

I drew in a breath and let it out. Then I reached over and grabbed his hand, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Wanting to get Metis the information she needed so I could leave this awful place and never see Preston again.

The feelings and images flooded my mind the second my skin touched the Reaper’s. Even though I didn’t want to, I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and let the memories carry me away.

Maybe it was All my years of tracking down lost objects, of touching desks, purses, and wAll ets and trying to get specific vibes off them, so I could locate the phones, jewelry, and laptops that people had misplaced or others had stolen. But going into Preston’s mind was easier than I’d thought it would be. I could feel him trying to block me, trying to think of nothing at All , just a blank wAll of white, but I went deeper, slipping past the emptiness he tried to fil his mind with.

I saw so many things-so many horrible, horrible things.

Preston fighting, Preston kil ing other people, other kids, even whipping the Fenrir wolf until its back was red with blood.