Jennifer Estep Bundle Page 4

  The metal blades crashed together in a furious roar, so loud and sharp that it made me want to cover my ears. But I couldn’t look away from the mock battle. Back and forth, the two guys fought, attacking and retreating, each one trying to get the upper hand.

  My eyes locked on to one of the guys. He had thick black hair, a totally muscled body, and he swung his sword like he knew exactly what he was doing with it. He was power and grace and elegance, and I could see the intense focus burning in his blue eyes even from up here on the bleachers. I didn’t know anything about weapons, but even I could tell that he was the better fighter. Again and again, he attacked, while all his opponent could do was try to get out of the way of his whistling sword.

  Finally, the second guy wasn’t quick enough. The first guy, the fighter, knocked his opponent’s sword away, then stepped forward, his blade an inch away from the other guy’s throat. I blinked, wondering how someone could move so fast.

  The other kids watching the battle started clapping, and the winner gave a little flourish with his sword and bowed to his classmates. A grin spread across his face, and I realized just how gorgeous he was—the kind of guy who could take your breath away without even trying.

  “Good job, Logan.” The praise came from a big, burly man standing on the edge of the mat. He was even more muscled than Logan and looked like he could break bricks with his bare hands. He wore a white polo shirt, shorts, and sneakers, and a whistle dangled around his neck.

  “That’s Coach Ajax,” Metis said, pointing to the burly man. “He’s responsible for training all the students at Mythos. And the Spartan who just won the sword fight is Logan Quinn.”

  Spartan? Like an ancient warrior kind of Spartan? My mind spun, trying to latch on to all these new ideas and fit them in with what I knew of the world, but I wasn’t having much success.

  Logan walked over to the bottom of the bleachers, grabbed a towel from the steps, and wiped the sweat off his face. He noticed me staring at him, and our eyes locked, his a brilliant blue and mine a confused violet. He gave me a sexy smirk before turning away to talk to one of his friends. A minute later, Logan picked up his sword again and stepped back into the ring of kids to fight someone else.

  Metis and I stayed where we were and watched the Spartan win another battle. After that, the kids split up into pairs and started fighting each other with the various weapons. Coach Ajax walked from one pair to the next, offering hints, suggestions, and praise.

  “So gym class is really what here? Weapons training?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Because this is what you’re here for, Gwen,” Metis said in a serious voice. “What all the kids are here for. To learn how to use weapons. To learn how to fight. To learn how to protect yourself and the people you love.”

  “Protect myself from what?” I asked. “What’s out there that’s so bad?”

  Metis hesitated. “I think that’s a discussion best left for another day. After all, we wouldn’t want to scare you off before the fall semester starts.”

  She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t quite turn up all the way. After a minute, she quit trying and looked away from me.

  I thought of all the weird stuff I’d seen today. The dark, Gothic buildings, the kids giving off sparks of magic, the creepy statues of monsters, the ones of the gods and goddesses in the library, and now two guys hacking at each other with swords. I was starting to think that maybe Mythos Academy was exactly what Metis had claimed it was—a school for warrior whiz kids. The thought sent a shiver up my spine and filled me with confusion at the same time.

  If Mythos was a school for warrior whiz kids, then what was I doing here? I wasn’t a warrior, and given how much I sucked at gym class at my old school, all the training in the world wouldn’t turn me into one.

  “Come on,” Metis said, getting to her feet. “I’ll take you over to the dining hall, and then we’ll go back to the library so you can finally meet Nickamedes.”

  “I can’t wait,” I muttered, but the professor didn’t hear me.

  Metis started walking down the bleacher steps, and I got up and followed her. She pushed through the doors and waited, holding one open for me. Even though I knew I was dawdling, I couldn’t help sneaking one more glance over my shoulder at the Spartan guy—Logan.

  He noticed me staring at him and gave me a slow, suggestive wink. Was he . . . was he flirting with me? He didn’t even know me.

  “Logan!” Coach Ajax called out. “You’re up again!”

  Logan tipped his head to me one more time, then turned to face his next opponent.

  “Gwen?” Metis called from the doorway. “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah,” I said, tearing my gaze from the Spartan. “I’m coming.”

  I followed Professor Metis out of the gym and back to the main quad. My eyes roamed over the landscape. I saw the same things I had when I’d first stepped onto the quad. Trees. Benches. Buildings. Students. Statues.

  It all looked innocent enough from a distance, but there was more here than met the eye. I didn’t have to touch anything or use my Gypsy gift to figure that out. I could feel it deep in my bones.

  I didn’t know why I was being shipped off to Mythos Academy or how I was supposed to fit in with the rich kids and the weapons they wielded with such skill, but one thing was certain—my life was never, ever going to be the same.

  TOUCH OF FROS†

  A Mythos Academy Novel

  Jennifer Estep

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  I was almost clear of Valhalla Hall when a window on the second floor opened and a backpack sailed outside and plummeted to the ground in front of me. Somehow, I stifled the surprised scream in my throat. Especially since the backpack was followed a second later by a guy who landed in a low, perfect crouch. He got to his feet with ease, like the twenty-foot fall was nothing to him, and I saw who he was.

  Logan freaking Quinn.

  It was more dark than light now, and the Spartan looked even more dangerous in the blackening shadows. The pale, milky moon brought out the blue highlights in his thick, wavy black hair. Logan dusted a few leaves off his designer jeans, then glanced up to find me staring at him. His eyes narrowed in his chiseled face.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Gypsy girl out here in the dark all by herself... .”

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  BEYOND THE STORY

  KISS OF FROST,

  To my mom, my grandma, and Andre—just for being themselves

  Acknowledgments

  Any author will tell you that her book would not be possible without the help and hard work of many, many people. Here are thanks for some of the folks who helped bring Gwen Frost and the world of Mythos Academy to life:

  Thanks to my agent, Annelise Robey, for encouraging me to try writing a young adult book.

  Thanks to my editor, Alicia Condon, for taking time out of her busy conference schedule to meet with me in the first place and for all her editorial suggestions. They really helped make the book so much better.

  And, finally, thanks to all the readers out there. Entertaining you is why I write
books, and it’s always an honor and a privilege. I hope you have as much fun reading about Gwen’s adventures as I do writing them.

  Happy reading!

  Chapter 1

  “I know your secret.”

  Daphne Cruz leaned closer to the mirror over the sink and put another coat of pale pink gloss onto her lips, pointedly ignoring me the way all the pretty, popular girls did.

  The way everyone did at Mythos Academy.

  “I know your secret,” I repeated in a louder voice.

  I pushed away from the statue of a sea nymph that I’d been leaning against, strolled over to the door that led out of the girls’ bathroom, and locked it. I might not care who knew Daphne’s dirty little secret, but I was willing to bet that she would before we were through. That’s why I’d made sure that all of the white marble stalls were empty and waited for the rest of Daphne’s friends to leave their spots on the cushioned settee in the corner before I’d approached her.

  Once Daphne was satisfied that her lips were glossed to a high sheen, she dropped the tube into the depths of her oversize pink Dooney & Bourke purse. Next, she drew out a hairbrush and went to work on her smooth, golden locks. Still ignoring me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned against the door, and waited. The intricate raised figures of warriors and monsters carved into the heavy wooden door pressed against my back, but I ignored the odd lumps and bumps. The two hundred bucks I was getting for this job meant that I could afford to be patient.

  After another two minutes, when her hair had been brushed a dozen times and she realized that I wasn’t actually, you know, leaving, Daphne finally deigned to turn and look at me. Her black eyes flicked over my jeans, graphic T-shirt, and purple zip-up hoodie, and she let out a little snort of disgust, obviously offended that I wasn’t wearing the latest designer threads like she was. That I didn’t have the matchy-match look down pat that she and her friends had going on.

  Apparently, today’s theme had been argyle, because the pattern was on everything that Daphne wore, from her pink cashmere sweater to her black pleated skirt to the printed black and pink tights that showed off her legs. The contrast of light and dark colors made her perfect, amber skin look that much more luminous. So did the shiny lip gloss.

  “You know my secret?” Daphne repeated, a sneer creeping into her voice. “And what secret would that be?”

  So the Valkyrie wanted to be snotty. Not a problem.

  I smiled. “I know you took the charm bracelet. The one that Carson Callahan was going to give to Leta Gaston as a will-you-go-to-the-homecoming-dance-withme present. You snatched it off the desk in his dorm room yesterday when he was helping you with your English lit paper.”

  For the first time, doubt flickered in Daphne’s eyes, and disbelief filled her pretty face before she was able to hide it. Now, she was looking at me—really looking at me—trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. After a moment, her eyes narrowed.

  “You’re that Gypsy girl,” Daphne muttered. “The one who sees things.”

  That Gypsy girl. That’s what everyone at Mythos Academy called me. Mainly because I was the only Gypsy trapped here in this school for magical warrior freaks. The middle-class girl whose strange ability had landed her here among the rich, popular, and undeniably powerful. Like Daphne Cruz, a spoiled, pampered wannabe princess who also happened to be a Valkyrie.

  “What’s your name?” Daphne asked. “Gail? Gretchen?”

  Wow. I was impressed that she even knew it started with a G.

  “Gwen,” I told her. “Gwen Frost.”

  “Well, Gwen Frost,” Daphne said, turning her attention back to her purse. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Her voice and face were both just as smooth as the gilded silver mirror in front of her. I might have even believed her, if her hands hadn’t clenched the tiniest bit as she put her hairbrush back into her purse. If I hadn’t known just how good girls like her could lie.

  Just how good everyone could lie.

  I reached into my gray messenger bag and drew out a clear plastic bag. A small silver charm shaped like a rose glinted inside. I might as well have shown her a bag full of pot from the way Daphne visibly recoiled.

  “Where—where did you get that?” she whispered.

  “Carson hadn’t finished putting all the charms on Leta’s bracelet when he showed it to you during your tutoring session yesterday afternoon,” I said. “I found this one way, way back behind his desk in his dorm room. It fell down there when you grabbed the bracelet and stuffed it into your purse.”

  Daphne let out a laugh, still keeping up the act. “And why would I do something like that?”

  “Because you’re crazy about Carson. You don’t want him to ask out Leta. You want him for yourself.”

  Daphne slumped over, her hands dropping to one of the sinks that lined the wall below the mirror. Her fingers curled around the silver faucets, which were shaped like Hydra heads, before sliding down to the basin. Her French-manicured nails scraped across the white marble, and pale pink sparks of magic shot out of her fingertips. Daphne might only be seventeen like me, but Valkyries were incredibly strong. I knew that if she wanted to, Daphne Cruz could rip that sink out of the wall easier than the Hulk could.

  Maybe I should have been scared of the Valkyrie, of the weird princess pink sparks, and especially of her strength and what she could do to me with it. But I wasn’t. I’d already lost one of the people I cared about most. Everything else dulled in comparison to that.

  “How do you know all that?” Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  I shrugged. “Because, as you put it, I see things. And as soon as I found this charm, I knew that you were the one who took the bracelet.”

  I didn’t tell Daphne anything else about my Gypsy gift, about my ability to know an object’s history just by touching it, and she didn’t ask.

  Instead, the Valkyrie kept staring at me with her black eyes. After about thirty seconds of silence, she came to some sort of decision. Daphne straightened, reached into her bag once more, and drew out her wallet. It matched her designer purse.

  “All right,” she said. “How much will it take for you to give me that charm and forget about this whole thing? A hundred dollars? Two?”

  This time, my hands were the ones that clenched into fists. She was trying to buy me off. I’d expected nothing less, but the gesture still made me angry. Like everyone else at Mythos Academy, Daphne Cruz could afford the very best of everything. A few hundred dollars was nothing to her. She’d spent that much on her freaking purse.

  But a few hundred dollars wasn’t nothing to me. It was clothes and comic books and a cell phone and a dozen other things that girls like Daphne never had to worry about.

  “Carson’s already paid me,” I said.

  “So?” she said. “I’ll pay you more. However much you want.”

  “Sorry. Once I give my word to somebody, I keep it. And I told Carson that I would find the charm bracelet for him.”

  Daphne tilted her head to the side like I was some strange creature that she’d never seen before, some mythological monster masquerading as a teenage girl. Maybe it was stupid of me, not taking her up on the cash that she was so willing to give me. But my mom wouldn’t have taken Daphne’s money, not if she’d already made a promise to someone else. My mom, Grace, had been a Gypsy, just like me. With a gift, just like me.

  For a moment, my heart ached with guilt and longing. My mom was gone, and I missed her so much. I shook my head, more to push the pain aside than anything else.

  “Look, just give me the bracelet. That’s all I want. That’s all Carson wants.”

  Daphne’s lips tightened. “He—he knows? That I took the bracelet? And why?”

  “Not yet. But he’s going to if you don’t give it to me. Right now.”

  I opened the top of the plastic bag and held it out to her. Daphne stared at the rose charm glinting inside. She bit her pink lip,
smearing her gloss on her teeth, and looked away.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I don’t know why I even took it in the first place.”

  I did because I’d flashed on Daphne when I’d touched the charm. As soon as my fingers had brushed the silver rose, an image of the blond Valkyrie had popped into my head. I’d seen Daphne sitting at Carson’s desk, staring at the bracelet, her fingers tightening around the metal links like she wanted to rip them in two.

  And I’d felt the other girl’s emotions, too, the way that I always did whenever I touched an object or even another person. I’d felt Daphne’s hot, pulsing jealousy that Carson was thinking about asking out Leta. The warm, soft, fizzy crush that Daphne had on Carson herself, despite the fact that he was a total band geek and she was part of the popular crowd. Her cold, aching despair that she didn’t like someone the rest of her snobby friends would approve of.

  But I didn’t tell Daphne any of that. The less people knew about my gift and the things I saw and felt, the better.

  Daphne yanked the bracelet out of her bag. Carson Callahan might be a band geek, but he had money, too, which was why the bracelet was a heavy, expensive thing loaded down with a dozen charms that jingled together. Daphne’s nails scraped against one of the charms, a small heart, and more pink sparks of magic fluttered like fireflies in the air.

  I held out the bag again, and Daphne dropped the bracelet inside. I closed the top and tied off the plastic, careful not to touch the jewelry itself. I didn’t want another slide show into Daphne Cruz’s psyche. The first one had almost made me feel sorry for her.

  But any sympathy I might have had for Daphne vanished when the Valkyrie gave me the cold, haughty stare that so many mean girls before her had perfected.

  “You tell anyone about this, Gwen Frost, and I’ll strangle you with that ugly purple hoodie you’re wearing. Understand me?”