Midnight Frost

don’t know.”
    Daphne Cruz, my best friend, stopped in the middle of the room, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me. Princess pink sparks of magic streamed out of the Valkyrie’s fingertips, telling me she wasn’t exactly happy with me right now.
    “Well, if you don’t know, then what are we doing here?” she asked. “And by we , I really mean me .”
    Here was the Crius Coliseum, a museum on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina, devoted to all things mythological. Most folks who visited the coliseum thought it was an interesting look back at ancient times, with its rooms highlighting Greek, Norse, Russian, Roman, Japanese, Chinese, and all the other peoples, cultures, and gods of the world.
    What they didn’t realize was that it was all real .
    That those in the mythological world were locked in a struggle that had carried over into modern times—and that it was up to warrior whiz kids like me and Daphne to make sure the good guys of the Pantheon won.
    That’s right. Me, Gwen Frost, the Gypsy girl who touched stuff and saw things, was officially responsible for saving the world. Something I wasn’t doing so well at so far, since I’d gotten my ass kicked more times than I cared to remember by some seriously bad guys. But no matter how terrible things got, I kept on fighting. It was the only thing I could do.
    I’d come to the coliseum in search of a net that had supposedly belonged to Ran, the Norse goddess of storms. Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, had tasked me, her Champion, with finding such mythological artifacts and protecting them from the Reapers of Chaos. Something else I wasn’t doing so well at.
    “Well?” Daphne asked. “What do you have to say for yourself, Gwen?”
    I looked at the brochure I’d grabbed from a metal rack by the front door. “That the net is in one of the rooms in the back. So come on.”
    The Valkyrie kept glaring at me, but I was used to her temper. Daphne’s bark was always worse than her bite—unless you were a Reaper.
    I batted my eyelashes at her. “Pretty please?”
    “Of course it’s in the back,” Daphne muttered, but she fell in step beside me.
    It was a cold afternoon in late January, just before closing time. Given the bitter winter chill and snow showers outside, we were the only ones in the coliseum, besides a few staff members wearing long white togas who were taking inventory in the gift shop.
    None of the staff gave us a second glance, despite the sparks of magic Daphne was still giving off. Mythos Academy students like us came into the coliseum all the time to look at the exhibits and gather information for reports, essays, and other homework assignments. Most of the staff members were former Mythos students themselves, so they knew all about the mythological world and the Valkyries, Spartans, Amazons, and other warriors who inhabited it.
    We walked through the main room of the coliseum, which was filled with glass artifact cases. The silver and bronze swords and spears all glinted with a dull, bloody light, while the jewels in the rings and necklaces winked like evil eyes opening and closing, following my every move. The gauzy silks hovered in midair, as if they were ghosts about to break free of the wires holding them up, burst through the glass, and attack.
    I shivered and quickened my steps. Bloody weapons. Winking eyes. Ghostly garments. My Gypsy gift was acting up again.
    “Geez, Gwen,” Daphne muttered again. “Slow down. It’s not a race.”
    I bit my lip to keep from telling her that it was a race—us against the Reapers—and forced myself to walk at a more normal pace. We left the main room behind and stepped into a long hallway.
    “It’s all the way in the back,” I said, pointing up ahead. “In a room next to the library.”
    Daphne sighed, and another shower of pink sparks streaked out of her fingertips.
    “Look,” I said. “I know you’re getting tired of chasing after artifacts, but the net I saw on the coliseum’s Web site looked like the one we’re searching for. So I figured we might as well come and check it out. Besides, it’s not like we were doing anything else important.”
    “Oh no,” she sniped. “It’s not like I wanted to spend the afternoon with my boyfriend or anything.”
    “I asked Carson to come too,” I said, referring to her boyfriend, Carson Callahan, “but he had that band meeting about rescheduling the winter concert that the Reapers ruined.”
    Daphne snorted.