Killer Frost (Mythos Academy #6)(51)
I was too busy staring at all of the Reapers.
As we moved deeper into the mansion, I saw more and more Reapers. They lounged on couches and chairs or hunched over tables, their heads close together as they talked softly to each other. They all snapped to attention as Vivian and I passed them, then got to their feet and trailed after us, each one wearing a black robe, although they’d left their rubber Loki masks off today. I supposed they didn’t think I’d be able to identify any of them later.
They were probably right about that. If I lived through the next hour, it would be a wonder.
Vivian strode up several sets of steps, then threw open a pair of double doors, leading me into a large, familiar room.
“I thought you might like to see this again,” she purred. “For old times’ sake.”
Dark wooden furniture, antique sofas, crystal vases full of black and bloodred roses. It was the same opulent living room I’d woken up in the night she’d kidnapped me after I’d found the Helheim Dagger. The one with all of the creepy Black roc paintings, statues, and carvings decorating everything from the walls to the tables to the sofa legs. The room looked the same as I remembered, right down to the chair in front of the desk, the spot where I’d woken up and realized that Vivian was Loki’s Champion and that she was working with Preston Ashton.
Only this time, another figure was sitting in that same chair, flanked by two Reapers.
“Grandma!” I said, running past Vivian and over to her.
Grandma got up out of the chair, and I threw myself into her arms.
“I’m okay, pumpkin,” she whispered into my ear, even as she smoothed down my hair. “I’m okay.”
Tears scalded my eyes, but I forced myself to blink them back. Now was not the time to show any sort of weakness, not in front of the Reapers. I drew away from her and gave her a critical once-over. An ugly, purple, fist-shaped bruise marred her right cheek, and more cuts and bruises dotted her hands and arms, probably from where she’d struggled against the Reapers in the park. But overall, she looked okay.
“Touching,” Vivian said. “Really. But let’s get on with things.”
She snapped her fingers at the Reapers who’d entered the room behind us. “Bring them.”
The Reapers already had their long, curved swords out, ready to use them, but Grandma and I didn’t give them any trouble as they marched us over to the far side of the room, out the balcony doors I remembered, and down a set of stone steps. After that, we left the backyard of the mansion behind and trooped out into the woods beyond.
Daphne was right. It looked different in the day than it had that terrible night when I’d realized how thoroughly Vivian had tricked me. The woods were only woods now, filled with trees and leaves and rocks and snow, and not crawling with creepy, eerie shadows the way they had been back then. Of course, the Reapers and their swords surrounding me and Grandma Frost on all sides weren’t really an improvement, but at least I could tell where we were going now—and we were headed straight toward the Garm gate, just as I’d suspected.
Still, as we moved deeper and deeper into the woods, my gaze flicked up to the trees that towered above our heads, but I didn’t see any Black rocs roosting in the tops of the sturdier oaks and maples, peering down at me as though I was a worm they wanted to gobble up.
“What happened to all your rocs?” I asked. “You seemed to have a ton of them on the road the other day, but I haven’t seen a single one since I’ve been here. So disappointing.”
I made my voice sound as innocent as possible, although my question was anything but. I had a very specific reason for asking about the Black rocs, and where they might be lurking, and the answer might determine whether or not Grandma Frost and I made it out of here alive. Still, I made myself look totally bored, as though I didn’t really care one way or the other about the answer and was simply mocking the Reapers for kicks.
Vivian shot me a dirty look. “We’re still rounding them up, thanks to you.”
Which was exactly what I wanted to hear.
I grinned. “Aw, so sorry to make more evil work for you to do, Viv.”
Her golden eyes narrowed, and her hand dropped to her sword, as if she’d like to pull Lucretia and attack me right now. Yeah. I knew the feeling.
But Vivian controlled herself, and so did I, and we kept walking.
It didn’t take us long to reach our destination. We left the path behind, stepped into a large clearing in the middle of the woods, and there it was.
The Garm gate.
Once, it had been a smooth, circular, unbroken slab of black marble that had been set into the middle of the forest floor. A hand holding a balanced set of scales had been carved into the very center of the stone.
But that was then, and this was now.
The black marble was cracked, jagged, and split two ways from where Loki had used the Helheim Dagger to escape the prison that the other gods had placed him in so long ago. I rubbed my chest, which was suddenly aching, thinking of the scars there, the ones that were shaped like a weird X that slashed over my heart, the same X shape that had ruined the marble before me. The stone couldn’t recover from Loki tearing through it any more than I could forget about my scars and how
I’d gotten them from Preston and Logan.
My gaze drifted over to a particular patch of stone, one close to the center of the jagged tears. My heart twisted as the memories washed over me. Nott had been killed right there, when Vivian had stabbed her in the side. I’d cradled the Fenrir wolf’s head in my hands and stared into her eyes as she’d slowly died. It had been one of the worst moments of my life.