Midnight Frost

everything—including how the Reaper had really been trying to poison me instead of Nickamedes. My voice cracked a little on that last part, but Grandma tightened her grip on my cold fingers, and another wave of love and understanding surged through me.
    “It’s not your fault, pumpkin,” she said. “Not that boy doing what he did, and not Nickamedes being hurt either.”
    I bit my lip and looked away from her, not wanting her to see the guilt in my eyes—especially when it came to Nickamedes. The librarian used to be in love with my mom, Grace, and when I’d first come to Mythos, he’d asked Metis to assign me to work with him in the library so he could look out for me in his own way. I couldn’t help thinking he shouldn’t have done that. He would have been so much better off if I hadn’t been there tonight, if I’d never even set foot in the library to start with—
    One of the double doors that led back into the infirmary opened, and Metis stepped into the waiting room. We all surged to our feet and hurried forward, clustering around her.
    “What happened?”
    “Did you get the poison out of his system?”
    “Is Nickamedes going to be okay?”
    One after another, the questions tumbled out of our lips. Metis held up her hands, and we slowly quieted down.
    “Finding out which poison the Reaper used was an enormous aid,” she said. “It’s helped me figure out the best course of treatment for Nickamedes, including a way to slow the progression of the poison.”
    “Slow, but not stop?” Daphne asked, picking up on what she hadn’t said.
    Metis sighed. “Yes, slow, not stop. Poison is a tricky thing, especially a magic-based poison like this one. Basically, poisons like these eat up all of the magic you use to try to get rid of them. All my healing magic is doing right now is keeping the Serket sap from causing any more damage to Nickamedes. But eventually, the poison will build up a resistance to my magic and start to overcome it. When that happens, the poison will once again follow its normal progression and will start doing further damage to him—until he finally dies from it.”
    I closed my eyes. I wasn’t touching any of my friends, but I could feel the agonizing grief rolling off them—it mirrored my own emotions perfectly. After a moment, I forced myself to open my eyes and look at Metis again.
    “So there’s no . . . cure?” I barely got the words out through the hard lump in my throat. “No way to save him?”
    Metis sighed, a little deeper and sadder than before. “There is an antidote.”
    “So what’s the problem? Go mix it up or get it or whatever and give it to him.”
    She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. The only known antidote to Serket sap is Chloris ambrosia, named after the Greek goddess of flowers.”
    Chloris ambrosia? I’d never heard of it, and neither had anyone else, judging from the blank looks on my friends’ faces.
    “Oh sure,” Carson piped up. “It’s sort of like the honeysuckle that grows around here.”
    We all looked at Carson, who blushed.
    “My dad owns wineries in California,” he said. “He’s always talking about grapes and plants and things like that.”
    Metis nodded. “That’s right. Chloris ambrosia is a flowering vine that is similar to honeysuckle. The only problem is that it’s very rare. In fact, there’s only one place in the United States where it’s supposed to grow—in the Rocky Mountains.”
    “So what’s the problem?” I repeated. “We go there, pick this flower, and bring it back so you can cure Nickamedes with it. No sweat.”
    Metis stared at me. “The problem is that the only place the flower is known to grow is in some ruins on the top of a mountain above the Denver branch of Mythos Academy.”
    Alexei narrowed his hazel eyes. “You mean the Eir Ruins?”
    Metis nodded again, her mouth flattening out into a grim line. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. Daphne started muttering, while Grandma Frost sighed, as if she’d known that was what the professor would say all along. Maybe she had, with her ability to see the future.
    “Okay, so what’s the deal with the ruins?” I asked. “And why do you all look like it would be the worst idea ever to go there?”
    Carson peered at me through his glasses. “The Eir Ruins are supposed to be a place of great power, of great magic.”
    “So?”
    “So . . . tons of people have gone up to the ruins, but some of the folks have come back . . .