Midnight Frost

ruddy flush in his cheeks, and the faint, upset gurgle of his stomach. His blue eyes seemed dull and unfocused, and he was swaying from side to side, as though he was having a hard time keeping his balance.
    “Nickamedes?” I asked.
    The librarian collapsed without another word.
     
    “Nickamedes? Nickamedes!”
    I rushed forward, and dropped to my knees beside the sick librarian.
    “Nickamedes? What’s wrong? Are you okay—”
    My gaze caught on a piece of plastic that had rolled underneath the counter—the bottle of water I’d slapped out of the librarian’s hand when I’d been chasing after Jason. The bottle was empty now, the water having pooled underneath the counter. A sick feeling filled my stomach, and I turned back to Nickamedes.
    “The water,” I asked, leaning forward and shaking his shoulders to try to get him to talk to me. “Did you drink any of your water in the last few minutes?”
    “I just . . . had a sip . . .” he mumbled, his head lolling to one side.
    Poisoned—Nickamedes had been poisoned.
    He must have taken a drink from his own spiked water bottle while I was running down to the first floor and through the stacks. I’d been so focused on trying to stop Jason that I’d never considered someone else—Nickamedes—might drink the poisoned water meant for me.
    For a moment, my mind went completely, utterly, horribly blank. There was nothing but shock—and growing fear. Then, the moment passed, the gears in my mind started grinding together again, and all I could think about was the terrible thing that had happened—because of me.
    “Metis!” I screamed. “Somebody get Metis!”
    “Gwen?” Oliver asked, peering over the counter, still holding Nyx. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nickamedes drank the poisoned water. Go get Metis! Right now!”
    Oliver’s eyes widened, and he hurried away. All I could do was lean over Nickamedes again.
    The librarian looked at me. “Not . . . your fault . . .” he rasped.
    I shook my head. “Don’t try to talk. Save your strength. Metis will be here any second, and she’ll fix you.”
    Nickamedes gave me a weak smile. “Not much . . . she can do . . . against poison . . .”
    I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Instead, I made myself crouch there and talk to Nickamedes, telling him how happy he should be that I’d just chased the Reaper through the library this time, instead of knocking over some of the stacks like I’d done in the past. The librarian stared at me, but his eyes seemed to get brighter and glassier with every passing second. I didn’t know if he was hearing me or not, but I kept up my constant stream of chatter.
    Fabric whispered, and I looked up from Nickamedes’s face long enough to see Coach Ajax ordering Aiko and the other Protectorate guards to form a semicircle around the counter, face outward, and draw their weapons as if more Reapers might storm into the library. But they wouldn’t—the Reapers had already done all the damage they needed to tonight. Bitter laughter bubbled up in my throat like acid, but I managed to swallow it.
    I don’t know how long I huddled there, babbling nonsense to Nickamedes, but finally— finally —I heard footsteps hurrying across the floor. A second later, Metis was there, along with Daphne, Carson, and Alexei. Metis dropped to her knees on the other side of Nickamedes and took her hand in his. A second later, a golden glow enveloped them both as Metis channeled her healing power into the sick librarian.
    Daphne put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me up and out of the way.
    “C’mon, Gwen,” she said. “Let Metis do her thing.”
    Daphne kept her arm around my shoulders, and we watched Metis work on Nickamedes. The librarian didn’t have any visible injuries so I couldn’t actually see his wounds knit together and disappear like I did when Metis used her magic to heal cuts and scrapes. The only thing visible was the golden glow that flowed from Metis into Nickamedes and back again.
    Minutes ticked by. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Finally, Metis dropped her hand, and the golden, healing glow of her magic disappeared. I looked at Nickamedes. He wasn’t sweating anymore, and his eyes were closed, as though he were sleeping peacefully. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. So did Daphne and the rest of my friends. Nickamedes would be okay now—
    Metis slumped against one of the metal book carts, her shoulders sagging and exhaustion grooving deep lines around her mouth. Her