Midnight Frost

symbol of the Protectorate stitched into the collars in white thread. The Protectorate members waited for us to get clear of the train before they boarded, pushing metal carts into the car where the Reapers’ bodies were.
    The other folks on the train had finally realized something had happened, and more than a few kids held their phones out and up, taking photos of me and my friends before they started texting furiously. Someone must have known someone who knew something about me, because within two minutes, everyone’s phones started chirping, and the whispers drifted over to me.
    “Her name is Gwen Frost . . .”
    “She’s supposed to be a Champion . . .”
    “Apparently, she’s always in some sort of trouble with the Reapers . . .”
    Well, there went Ajax’s hopes of our staying incognito for as long as possible. I grimaced. Maybe things weren’t going to be all that different here at the Colorado academy after all. Reapers trying to kill me? Check. Everyone staring at me? Check. Kids whispering about me behind my back? Double-check. So far, it was like I hadn’t even left home.
    The only person who seemed as miserable as I did was Rory. The Spartan girl stood off to one side of the platform by herself. Once again, I noticed how the other kids took pains to avoid her—when they weren’t openly sneering and snickering at her.
    “Of course she was on the train with the Reapers . . .”
    “Keeping it in the family, I suppose . . .”
    “I don’t know why they even let her come to school with us . . .”
    From the sound of things, the other kids thought Rory had something to do with the Reapers. But why would they think that? She’d helped us fight them. If she’d really been one of them, she would have joined in the attack—and let that arrow punch right through my skull. I frowned and looked at Rory, but once again, she wouldn’t meet my gaze.
    “Come on,” Ajax said, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s just a short walk to the academy from here. We need to get there, get settled in, and start making plans for tomorrow.”
    We shouldered our bags and followed the stream of students through the station and out into town. Ajax walked in front, with Carson and Daphne behind him, then me, then Oliver and Alexei bringing up the rear.
    In many ways, Snowline Ridge was pretty much a carbon copy of Cypress Mountain. Designer shops, coffeehouses, and expensive cafés lined the wide streets, each storefront window showcasing luxury clothes, jewelry, electronics, and more. I even spotted a couple of parking lots full of Aston Martins and BMWs, along with sturdy SUVs and expensive pickup trucks with four-wheel drives to help navigate the icy roads in these parts. I guess the students here couldn’t have cars on campus either.
    But there were plenty of differences that let me know this wasn’t home. For one thing, walking down the streets was like stepping back in time to the Old West. Many of the old-fashioned, wooden storefronts looked like they’d come straight out of some cowboy movie, right down to life-sized carvings of grizzly bears that stood guard on either side of the swinging saloon doors you pushed through to get inside. Then, there were the items the shops sold—custom-made cowboy boots, turquoise lariat ties, ten-gallon hats, diamond-crusted belt buckles the size of dinner plates. Everything had a Western feel to it, and I half-expected some tumbleweeds to come rolling down the street, despite the snow underfoot.
    Finally, we left the shops behind and reached the edge of the academy grounds. Just like at home, a stone wall ringed the entire academy, although the main iron gate stood open to let the returning students back onto campus. My friends stepped through the gate without even glancing around, but I stopped and peered up.
    Sure enough, two statues perched on top of the stone wall on either side of the gate. But they weren’t the sphinxes I expected—these statues were gryphons.
    Eagle heads, lion bodies, wings, curved beaks, sharp talons. These statues looked as fierce, majestic, and lifelike as the ones back home.
    It was almost as if the statues could hear my thoughts, because as I watched them, they began to move. Their wings twitched, the feathers ruffled back and forth in the cold winter wind, their talons dug a little more into the stone at their feet, and their eyes narrowed as they glared down at me—
    “C’mon on, Gwen!” Daphne said. “It’s freezing out