Midnight Frost

with me—a boy about my own age with ink-black hair and a lean, muscled body.
    Logan freaking Quinn.
    The guy I loved.
    The one who’d stabbed me in the chest—and left me behind.
    He wore boots, jeans, and a black leather jacket over a light blue sweater that brought out the intense color of his icy eyes. He looked the same as I remembered, the same as I’d imagined him a hundred times since he’d left Mythos, since he’d left me.
    Logan?” I asked, my voice a hoarse, hopeful whisper. “Logan!”
    I scrambled to my feet. I opened my arms and started to run toward him when I realized that Logan was holding a sword—and that his eyes were now glowing that eerie Reaper red.
    I stopped short. The last time Logan’s eyes had been that horrible color had been a few weeks ago during a Reaper ambush at the Aoide Auditorium. He’d attacked and almost killed me before I used my psychometry to undo the murderous magic the Reapers had done.
    I thought I’d saved Logan from the Reapers, from Loki, but now, it looked like he was here to finish the job.
    “Oh, go on, Gwen,” a mocking, sneering voice called out. “Go say hello to your boyfriend. He’s oh so glad to see you.”
    I whirled around. A girl now sat in the middle of one of the auditorium steps. A black Reaper robe hid her clothes from sight, but she wasn’t wearing a mask so I could see her face. Frizzy auburn hair, amazing golden eyes, pretty features. Vivian Holler, Loki’s Champion, the Reaper girl who’d murdered my mom.
    “What are you doing here?” I hissed.
    Vivian grinned at me. “Nothing much. Just watching Logan finally follow through with what he started. Isn’t that right, Logan?”
    I looked at the Spartan. He didn’t say anything, although his fingers slowly tightened around the hilt of the sword. After a moment, he started twirling the weapon in his hand, getting a feel for the sword, just like he’d done at the auditorium before he’d attacked me.
    “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
    “Oh yes, yes, yes, Gypsy,” another voice purred.
    I looked back at the steps. A woman with golden hair and bright green eyes was now sitting beside Vivian, wearing the same sort of black robe that she did. Agrona Quinn, Logan’s traitorous stepmom and the head of the Reapers.
    I frowned. How had Agrona and Vivian gotten here? And how had they managed to work their foul magic on Logan again? He was supposed to be with his dad, Linus, recovering from all of the terrible things that had happened at the auditorium. He was supposed to be safe .
    “What’s going on?” I asked.
    I backed away from Logan and eased toward the far side of the stage, hoping I could run down the steps before he caught me. Logan would cut me to ribbons with his sword, especially since I didn’t have Vic to defend myself with. But more than that, I didn’t want to fight Logan—not again.
    “Ah, ah, ah,” Vivian called out. “Stay right where you are, Gwen.”
    A soft click sounded. My head snapped back to the Reaper girl, who now had a crossbow trained on me. I froze. Where had she gotten that from?
    “Excellent,” Agrona purred again.
    She waved her left hand, causing a large, heart-shaped ruby to sparkle in a ring on her finger. Did Agrona still have some of the Apate jewels left? Was that how she was controlling Logan again? I thought that I’d smashed all of the jewels she was wearing at the auditorium, but she must have gotten her hands on some more of them.
    “Now,” Agrona said. “We can finally proceed. If it pleases you, my lord?”
    She and Vivian both turned and looked over their shoulders. I’d been so focused on the two of them that I hadn’t realized a third figure was sitting on the steps in the exact center of the amphitheater.
    Instead of a robe, shadows wrapped around his body, curling, writhing, and wisping around him like smoke hovering over a fire. Slowly, the darkness began to spread out from him, unrolling like a carpet over the steps, smothering the soft, rainbow flashes of color in the stone and staining everything a horrible, unending black. All I could see of his features were his eyes—one a vivid blue, the other that burning Reaper red I hated more than anything else—but I shivered with fear all the same.
    Because somehow, someway, Loki, the evil Norse god of chaos, was here at Mythos Academy.
    “My lord?” Agrona asked again.
    “Proceed,” Loki answered, his voice booming through the auditorium, louder than any clap