Midnight Frost

according to Ajax’s plan, we’d hike up to the ruins tomorrow. Then, the day after that, we’d head back to Mythos, hopefully with the ambrosia flowers.
    Oliver texted something to Kenzie. He started to put the phone away, but it beeped again.
    “Who is it now?”
    Oliver frowned, as if he didn’t like what the screen said this time. “Just Kenzie again. He forgot to tell me something.”
    I wanted to ask if he’d heard from Logan, but I kept my mouth shut. Before we’d left the infirmary, Metis had said that she had already called Linus Quinn and told him what had happened to Nickamedes. Ajax and the other Protectorate guards had swept the academy grounds, but there had been no sign of Vivian or any other Reapers. Still, I couldn’t help worrying that Vivian and Agrona really did have Logan, despite all my friends’ assurances that he was safe with his dad.
    Oliver typed in another message and put away his phone. Silence descended over the car once again, so I stared out the window. I didn’t know where we were in relation to Denver, but mountains ringed the horizon as far as I could see, although gray clouds had begun to gather around some of the higher peaks, as though a snowstorm was blowing in from the west. I didn’t see the future like Grandma Frost did, but I couldn’t help wondering if it was a sign all the same—that Reapers weren’t the only things we had to worry about.
    We’d been riding for about thirty minutes, when Ajax steered the car off the main road and onto a smaller highway. Ten minutes after that, we pulled into a parking lot that fronted a train station. A sign read Snowline Ridge Runner—Tourist trains departing daily . The image of a red train climbing up a green mountain had been carved into the wood, complete with white puffs of smoke coming out of the engine.
    “What are we doing here?” I asked.
    “The roads up to the academy are narrow, winding, and littered with switchbacks,” Ajax said. “There are dozens of spots along the way that would be the perfect place for an ambush, and we’d be sitting ducks in any kind of vehicle. Metis and I agreed it would be safer if we took the train. Lots of Mythos folks use it to get down to Denver and then back up the mountain to the academy again. We have a better chance of blending in with the crowd this way, especially since some of the students were in the city yesterday attending a weapons tournament and are returning to the academy this morning.”
    “That sounds like you and your buses, Gwen,” Carson said in a cheery voice.
    “Yay for public transportation,” I said.
    We got out of the car, grabbed our bags, and headed into the train station. The inside was nicer than I expected, with lots of gleaming wooden benches and old-fashioned brass rails running alongside them, dividing the seats into various sections. The walls were made out of the same light, varnished wood as the benches, while the floor was an off-white marble with flecks of gold shimmering in it. A series of ticket counters took up the back wall, but a wide strip of white marble ran above the windows—one that featured dozens of carvings.
    Many of the figures were the same creatures I walked by on a daily basis at the academy—dragons, basilisks, gargoyles, chimeras, even a Minotaur. But there were other figures depicted too—bears, wolves, buffalo, coyotes, rabbits, porcupines. All ten feet tall and frighteningly lifelike, as though they were about to bust out of their stone shells and leap down into the middle of the floor.
    Once I spotted the carvings, I noticed all of the other things I’d missed before. Two suits of armor, both clutching giant battle-axes, stood on either side of the water fountains, while a series of paintings of some bloody mythological battle hung on the wall beside the doors that led out to the tracks. Small wooden carvings of mythological creatures perched in glassed-in recesses in the walls, all staring out at the passengers who milled through the waiting area.
    The carvings, the statues, the paintings, the suits of armor. In a way, it was eerily familiar—and strangely comforting. When I’d first gone to Mythos, I hadn’t thought I belonged at the academy, but now I couldn’t imagine not being part of the mythological world. The carvings and statues told me I was in my element—so to speak.
    We had thirty minutes to wait until the train arrived. The others pulled out their cell phones and started checking their