Jennifer Estep - Killer Frost

I grabbed an extra blanket from my closet, curled up in the window seat, pushed back the curtains, and looked outside. Below, partially hidden by the branches of a large maple, Aiko, a Ninja and one of the Protectorate members, stood guard outside my dorm the way she did every night.

My eyes scanned the darkness, but all I saw were shadows, broken up here and there by a few patches of snow that still clung to the ground from the latest winter storm a couple of days ago. The night was so cold that a killer frost covered everything, from the grass and trees to the cobblestone walkways that wound through them, adding sharp glints of silver to the black landscape. Frost had even crept up onto my window and frozen into delicate clusters of hard, brittle snowflakes around the edges of the glass.

Everything seemed calm, cold, and quiet. Still, I couldn’t help but peer out past the frost and stare broodingly into the night, wondering how long it would be before the Reapers struck again.

At noon the next day, Sunday, I found myself standing on the tarmac at the Cypress Mountain airport, shivering in the cold. The sun had already vanished for the day, disappearing into a wall of ominous, dark gray clouds that cloaked the sky like a Protectorate robe spread over the tops of the surrounding mountains. The private Protectorate plane containing the artifacts had arrived fifteen minutes ago, but it was taking the guards forever to unload the crates, which was why I was standing around, freezing my ass off.

I tucked my chin down into the dark gray scarf patterned with silver snowflakes that was wrapped around my neck. It didn’t help much, though, especially since a winter wind continually gusted across the tarmac, bringing tiny flakes of snow along with it.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I found myself looking up into Oliver’s grinning face.

“Relax, Gwen,” he said. “Surely, they’ll get the plane unloaded in another few minutes.”

“You mean before or after I freeze to death?” I groused. “I don’t know what you are complaining about,” Alexei chimed in, his Russian accent coloring his words.

“It’s not even chilly. Not really.”

Alexei tilted his face into the wind and smiled, as if he actually enjoyed the cold breeze sweeping over his exposed skin. Oliver and I exchanged a look.

“Hey, now—” Logan stepped up and drew me away from Oliver. “That’s my girl you’re cozying up to.”

Like me, Logan was also bundled up, wearing a black leather jacket and a black fleece toboggan to help ward off the chill of the day.

“It’s not my fault you left her all by herself,” Oliver teased. “You know that’s how Gwen gets into trouble.” “I would stick my tongue out at you, but it’s too

cold,” I grumbled.

Oliver laughed. So did Logan, but I didn’t mind because he kept his arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the worst of the winter wind.

Linus stood off to the far side of the tarmac, holding a clipboard and talking with Sergei and Inari. More members of the Protectorate, all wearing gray robes over their heavy winter clothes, milled about them, including Aiko. I waved at the pretty petite Ninja, and she waved back at me.

“Well, I’m glad to see that I’m not late after all,” a voice called out behind me.

A faint, familiar jingle-jingle-jingle rang out across the tarmac. I turned at the sound, a smile spreading across my face at the sight of the older woman walking toward me. A long gray coat covered her black pants and boots, although green and gray scarves peeked out from underneath her collar and trailed down her chest.

The silver coins on the edges of the thin, rippling silk tinkled merrily in the gusty breeze. A purple scarf was wrapped around her head, covering her ears, and holding her iron-gray hair back off her face.

“Grandma!” I said, breaking away from Logan and stepping forward to hug her.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Grandma Frost said, enfolding me in her warm, welcoming embrace.

We hugged for several seconds before I drew back. “What are you doing here?”

“Metis called and told me about the shipment of artifacts,” Grandma said, her violet eyes meeting mine. “She asked me to come to the airport to see if I could help you figure out which one the Reapers are after.”

That made sense. Like me, Grandma was a Gypsy, part of a family that had been gifted with magic from one of the gods. In our case, our magic came from Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, and Grandma’s Gypsy gift was the ability to see the future. Maybe she could simply look at the artifacts and tell which one might be important to the Reapers or the Pantheon in the days ahead. It was worth a shot.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, hugging her again. She smoothed down my frizzy brown hair. “Me too,

pumpkin. Me too.”

Grandma Frost and I broke apart. Footsteps smacked against the pavement, and Linus strode over to us. He held out his hand, pointing at one of the nearby hangars.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Frost, I think we’re ready to get started,” he said.

I nodded. Grandma Frost squeezed my hand, and we fell in step behind him, with Logan, Oliver, and Alexei following us.

Linus led us inside the hangar, which was really just a giant metal shell. No planes perched inside the area, no tools covered the concrete floor, and no other kinds of flight equipment could be seen anywhere. There was nothing in the open space at all, except for a table that had been set up along one of the walls.

A table that was covered with artifacts.

Weapons, armor, jewelry, clothing. The long, wide table featured all of the usual items, the objects that had belonged to the gods and goddesses and the warriors and creatures who had served them over the centuries.

As I stepped closer to the table, I realized that most of the Protectorate guards had left the tarmac behind and had followed us inside the hangar—and that they were all staring at me with curious, expectant eyes. No added pressure or anything.

“Any time you’re ready, Miss Frost,” Linus said. “There’s no rush.”

Yeah. Right.

“You’ll do great,” Logan whispered as he squeezed my hand. “I know you will.”

I returned his crooked grin with one of my own, then drew in a breath, took off my gray fleece gloves, stuffed them into my coat pockets, and stepped up to the table.

I touched first one thing, then another, systematically going down the table and two rows of artifacts, and spending a few minutes with each item. A large, silver shield that had belonged to Ares, the Greek god of war; a bronze-tipped spear that had once been the property of Sekhmet, an Egyptian war goddess; a set of tiny diamond rings that had been worn by Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love.

One by one, I picked up each of the items and waited for my psychometry to kick in and reveal all of the artifact’s secrets to me. The memories and emotions were exactly what I expected them to be. The shield taking a severe beating as swords screeched across it and arrows thunk-thunk-thunked against it during the many battles that the shield had been used in over the centuries. Various warriors wielding the spear, stabbing their way through one enemy and one fight after another, shouts and screams rending the air all around them. Still more men and women wearing the diamond rings in hopes of enticing the objects of their affection to love them in return.

But there was nothing surprising among all the flickers and flashes, the cracks and crashes, the images and feelings. Nothing that stood out, and absolutely nothing that told me which specific artifact the Reapers might be interested in and why.

Frustrated, I opened my eyes, pulled the diamond rings off my fingers, and set them back down onto the table.