Jennifer Estep - Kiss of Frost

I grabbed the old, rickety cart and pushed it into the stacks, having to fight against the loose wheel that always pulled to the right. I shelved books for the next twenty minutes, sliding all the thick volumes back into their proper places. Despite my psychometry, I didn't get much of a vibe off the books, since so many kids had thumbed through them over the years. They were just history books, used for research purposes and class assignments. Nobody had any other real interest in them. Usually, I didn't get much of a feeling off stuff that people used every day or items that had a specific purpose or function, like dishes, tables, or chairs.

I only got the whammies-the big, vivid, high-def flashes of images and feelings-when I touched an object that someone had a deep, personal attachment to, like a treasured family heirloom ring or a photo of the kid stepbrother who someone secretly despised.

When I'd first come to Mythos, I'd hated working in the library because, well, I'd hated pretty much everything about the academy. Especially the fact that I'd been taken out of my old school and away from all my old friends with no real explanation. But now I kind of liked roaming through the stacks-mainly because of all the cool artifacts on display.

It wasn't called the Library of Antiquities for nothing. Hundreds of glass cases could be found throughout the various floors of the library, each one containing an item that had once belonged to someone or something important in the mythological world. Like the shield that Achilles had used during the Trojan War, or the tattered shoes that Pysche had worn as she wandered the world in search of her husband, Eros, the Greek god of love. I peered into all the cases I passed, taking a minute to read the silver plaques stuck on the fronts or the small white cards tucked inside that told me what the objects were, who had used them, and what magic they might have.

I'd just finished reading about the loom Arachne had used to test her weaving skills against those of the Greek goddess Athena when something rustled in the next aisle over, and a flash of movement caught my eye.

"Hello?" I said, peering in that direction. "Is someone there?"

Yeah, calling out was probably the wrong thing to do, but I didn't want to step around the far end of the aisle and trip over a couple of kids doing the nasty. I'd done that twice last week, which had been two times too many.

"Hellooo," I said, pushing the cart toward the end of the aisle.

I wiggled the wheels back and forth, making them squeak-squeak-squeak even more than usual. Hopefully, if there were some kids going at it, they would hear the noise and have the good sense to pull their clothes back up-or down-where they belonged.

I pushed the cart past the end of the aisle and stepped out into the main library space. "The library's closing in a few minutes-"

An arrow zipped through the air and thunked into the bookcase beside my head.

It quivered there, wobbling back and forth ever so slightly, just like the ones I'd shot into the target in the gym this morning. A foot closer, and it would have drilled straight into my skull.

That's when my brain caught up with my eyes, and I realized that, you know, someone was actually shooting at me .

I immediately dropped to my knees and crabbed backward among the stacks, dragging the metal cart along with me and wincing at all the freaking noise it made. I didn't know if I was out of the archer's line of sight or not, but surely, he couldn't shoot at me through the cart-could he? Were there magical bows and arrows that could do that sort of thing?

Shit, shit, shit! Why did this always happen to me? You'd think the library would be one of the safest, most boring places at Mythos instead of one of the deadliest. This was the second time someone had tried to kill me in here. I so needed to work somewhere else on campus.

I huddled in the stacks, my back against a bookshelf, knees tucked into my chest, and the cart positioned in front of me. My breath puffed out of my mouth in sharp, short, ragged gasps. It took me several seconds and some deep, deep gulps of air before I was able to notice anything but the crazy thump-thump-thump of my heart and the blood roaring in my ears. I forced myself to focus, to listen, and to keep the panic to a minimum. You know, so I could maybe hear whether or not the mysterious archer was nocking another arrow in his bow and coming my way with it.

Silence-I heard nothing but absolute, still, dead freaking silence.

I stayed where I was. The seconds ticked by, going past one minute, then two, but I still didn't hear anything. Whoever the archer was, I hoped he was long gone by now, but I wasn't going to be stupid enough to just go about my business, like everything was normal. I might not be a highly trained warrior like all the other kids, but even I knew that assuming the bad guy was gone would be a quick, dumb way to die.

As quietly as I could, I shoved the metal cart away and crawled to the opposite end of the aisle, keeping close to the shelves and the floor. I paused there and listened some more. When I didn't hear anything, I slowly stuck my head around the corner.

Empty-the library was completely empty.

Nobody was studying at the tables. Nobody was packing up their stuff. Nobody was walking toward the double doors with a backpack slung over their shoulder. Even Mrs. Raven, the woman who manned the coffee cart, had already left for the night.

I bit my lip. Just because I didn't see anyone didn't mean the library was empty. That arrow had come from somewhere. Someone had shot it at me, and I had no way of knowing whether or not he was still in here-

A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I shrieked and threw myself to the left, banging my shoulder on the opposite bookshelf. I grabbed one of the thick books, whipped back my arm, and turned around on my knees, ready to throw the heavy volume at whomever was behind me, then surge to my feet and run like crazy.

Nickamedes stood in the middle of the aisle, his hands on his hips.

"Gwendolyn?" The librarian frowned. "Are you okay?"

I scrambled to my feet, for once extremely grateful to see him. So much so that I would have hugged him if it wouldn't have been just too weird. Nickamedes opened his mouth to say something else, but I held up my hand.

"Shh!" I hissed.

Nickamedes's confused frown turned into a glacial glare at my shushing, but I ignored him and concentrated. Once again, I didn't hear anything. No rustles, no whispers of clothing, no footsteps hurrying away.

"I ask again. Are you okay?" Nickamedes said in a snide tone. "Or are you having some sort of… episode?"

"No, no, I'm not okay," I said, moving past him and stalking to the end of the aisle. "I'm not okay because of that-"

I rounded the corner and pointed at the end of the bookshelf, but my words died on my lips.

The arrow was gone-vanished, like it had never even been there to start with.

"Gwendolyn? Is something the matter?" Nickamedes stepped out from the stacks behind me.

My mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no words came out. No, I'm not okay, I wanted to say. Someone just tried to put an arrowthrough my skull .

But I couldn't tell him that. Not without proof. Nickamedes hated me. He'd never believe someone had just taken a shot at me in the library. And even if he did, well, he might not care all that much.

I clamped my lips together and stood there, anger, embarrassment, and fear making my cheeks burn.

Nickamedes raised his black eyebrows in a way that clearly said he thought I'd lost what little sense I had. "Well, I'm done with my e-mails. Go get your things together, and I'll turn off the lights and lock up for the night."