Touch of Frost (Mythos Academy #1)(16)
Author: Jennifer Estep

I’d never thought that a band geek like Carson could be so blase about something like this. That he could talk about kids dying and killing other kids like it was all okay. Like it was the way that things were supposed to be.

I just looked at him. "But doesn’t it bother you? What happened to Jasmine? Or at least the fact that it happened here?"

He shrugged. "Sure it does. But nobody ever said that Mythos was a hundred percent safe. Kids sneak out past the sphinxes all the time. It’s not that much of a stretch to think that a Reaper could sneak in if he really wanted to. Besides, Jasmine wasn’t exactly the nicest girl around. She was kind of a bitch, if you really want to know, always being mean to and putting other people down just to make herself look cool. But nobody ever said or did anything about it because her parents are so loaded and so powerful."

"But-"

Carson sighed. "Look, I know you’re new, Gwen, but pretty much everybody here has lost someone that they love, someone that they care about a whole lot more than a spoiled bitch like Jasmine Ashton."

There was a harshness in his voice now, a tightness in his face, and a strained sadness in his brown eyes that I recognized.

"Who have you lost?"

"My uncle," he said. "He was killed fighting a group of Reapers last year. He was out having dinner with his girlfriend when it happened."

"But why? What did he do to them? Did he have an artifact or something they wanted?" I asked, thinking of the stolen Bowl of Tears.

"Nothing," Carson said in a cold voice. "He didn’t have a thing that they wanted. They just saw him and killed him because they’re Reapers and they like hurting people, especially warriors like us. They kill us before we can kill them because they know that we’re a threat to them, that we’re all here learning how we can stop them and Loki for good-forever. But not everyone gets to live to see that day, whenever it comes."

The raw pain in his face made me wince.

"Carson, I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

"Now you do," he said in a quiet voice, and turned back around.

Carson didn’t speak to or look at me during the rest of class. I couldn’t blame him. I’d been trying to understand, trying to figure out why things were so different here, and I’d put my foot right in my mouth.

After myth-history, I walked over to the Library of Antiquities. As I crossed the quad, I realized that the other kids had felt something over Jasmine’s murder after all. I could see it in the way that they huddled together in tight groups, in the strain on so many of their faces, in the way they talked just a little too fast and laughed just a little too loud. Yeah, they’d felt Jasmine’s death just as much as I had and were trying to deal with it-even if it wasn’t in the way that I’d expected.

I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was curious, freaked out, or whatever, because there was a much, much larger crowd in the library than usual. Almost every table was full, and almost every student was sneaking glances at the spot where I’d found Jasmine’s body.

There wasn’t anything to see. The broken case and the shattered glass had been cleaned up, along with Jasmine’s blood. And, of course, her body was gone, too. There was nothing there, not even some flowers, teddy bears, or a few lit candles to remember the dead Valkyrie. After David Jordan’s murder, people had turned his locker into a shrine, with photos and cards and stuff. But not here at Mythos.

Eventually, the crowd cleared out and I found an open spot at the end of one of the long library tables. I pulled out my books and tried to study, tried to focus on the report that I had to write for Professor Metis’s myth-history class, but I couldn’t concentrate. It didn’t help that all the kids around me were still talking about Jasmine.

"… got what she deserved, if you ask me," one girl whispered. "Jasmine always thought that she was better than everyone else."

"Oh yeah," another guy agreed. "It’s a terrible thing, but at least I won’t have to put up with her in Ancient Languages anymore. She always made fun of me."

"Me too, but what really freaks me out is the fact that there was a Reaper in the library." The girl shuddered. "They’re not supposed to be able to even get on campus, much less steal something from the library. That bothers me a lot more than Jasmine ever did."

I knew the other kids were grieving, venting, or whatever in their own way. And yeah, maybe Jasmine had been a spoiled bitch, like Carson had said. But still, somebody should care that she was dead. I mean really care. Somebody should be sad that she was gone. Somebody should want to know exactly what happened to her and why. Somebody should try to make sure that it didn’t happen again to some other kid.

Paige Forrest’s face flashed through my mind, and I remembered the way that she’d looked at me that day. There had been a … desperation in her eyes. In that moment, in the second before I’d touched her hairbrush, part of me, some small part of me, had realized that Paige was hiding something-something big, something huge. And I’d wanted to know what her secret was, the way that I always did, so I’d picked up her hairbrush. I’d just never imagined how truly terrible Paige’s secret was.

Thinking so much about Paige triggered a rush of images and feelings, and I saw it all again in my head. Paige’s stepdad brushing her hair, then making her lie back on the bed so he could touch her. I felt it all again, too-all of Paige’s shame and fear and helplessness. Once I saw something, once I flashed on an object or a person, those feelings, those memories, were a part of me forever and I always remembered them, could always see and feel them. I supposed it was a Gypsy version of a photographic memory. I could call up specific memories and focus in on them, examining every little thing that I’d seen, felt, or heard. But other times, they just hit me like Paige’s were doing right now, whether I wanted them to or not. In a way, I supposed that it was a punishment for me being so damn nosy sometimes.

I dug my nails into my palms, willing Paige’s memories away before I started screaming again. I drew in slow, deep breaths and focused on another image-my mom. Remembering her face, her voice, her smile, her laugh, trying to pull every single detail into supersharp focus. A trick that she’d taught me to deal with the unwanted memories. Think about something good and forget the bad as much as you could.

It didn’t always work, but this time it did. Paige’s ugly memories faded from my mind and got locked away in a dark, distant corner of my brain, right alongside all the other bad stuff that I’d seen and felt over the years.

Still, the flashes of feeling made me think about what I’d done to help Paige. Yeah, I’d wanted to know her secret, but I’d also told my mom what was going on. And, in some small way, I’d helped my mom stop Paige’s stepdad from hurting her. I thought about what Professor Metis had said last night-about how proud my mom would have been that I’d tried to help Jasmine when most people would have just run away.