Midnight Frost

trickling out the far side, although the water seemed still and frozen in the photos. Perhaps they’d been taken in the winter, although I couldn’t imagine how that many flowers could survive in such a cold climate.
    “Legend has it that the ruins were once the winter home of Eir, the Norse goddess of healing,” Covington said, clicking through some more photos. “Of course, what we are interested in is the main courtyard. Well, it’s more like a garden, really. All sorts of plants and flowers bloom there all year long. There’s also a stream that winds through the area.”
    The next photo showed a stone statue of a goddess, which I assumed was Eir. Short hair, sharp nose, curvy body. She wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Nike, but there was . . . a kindness in her face, one I could sense even through the photo.
    “After Rachel guides us to the ruins, we’ll make camp and search for the ambrosia flowers,” Covington said. “Rachel believes they should be located somewhere in this area in the main courtyard.”
    The librarian hit a button on his computer, and another image appeared, this time a close-up shot of several colorful wildflowers that had grown up through some small cracks in the stone courtyard.
    “After we locate the ambrosia flowers, we will wait until midnight to pick them, as per Professor Metis’s instructions,” Covington said. “Then, we will rest until dawn and hike back down the mountain. Rachel, do you want to say a few words about what everyone can expect on the trip?”
    She nodded, got up from her chair, and stepped to the front of the room.
    “The journey itself isn’t all that dangerous,” Rachel said. “It’s about a two-hour hike from Snowline Ridge up to the top of the mountain where the ruins are located. Now, I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories. Locals claim the ruins are filled with all sorts of strange magic and curious creatures. I’ve never seen anything like that, but we still need to be careful. The winter weather has eroded many spots along the trail, so twisted ankles and broken legs are always a concern. We’ve been lucky in that it hasn’t snowed much in the last few weeks, so hiking shouldn’t be too difficult, but there is a storm front blowing in. We need to be off the mountain before the snow starts.”
    “So the ruins don’t actually have any magic mumbo jumbo?” I asked. “Are you sure?”
    Rachel shook her head. “Not in the way that you mean. The only magic they have is whatever is in the soil and rocks that helps the flowers grow and bloom year-round, even during the harshest winter. That magic makes the ruins beautiful, but not dangerous.”
    I stared at the wildflowers. I didn’t know about that. Yeah, they were just flowers, but I could almost feel a force emanating from them, some sort of raw, wild energy. As I looked at the photo, the petals and leaves started moving, as though the wind was whistling over them. Slowly, all of the flowers turned in my direction, the streaks, stripes, and stars on their bright petals scrunching up into faces that were staring at me. Suddenly, a scent filled my nose—a light, floral scent that was somehow sweet, sharp, and crisp all at the same time . . .
    I shook my head, and the sights, sounds, and scents vanished. My psychometry was acting up again. It was only a photo. But what would I feel when I saw the ruins and flowers in person? I didn’t know, but I was going to find out.
    Covington hit another button, and the photo disappeared. Ajax leaned over and hit the lights on the wall.
    “We will leave at noon tomorrow,” Covington said. “That should give us ample time to get up the mountain, make camp, and find the ambrosia flowers. Don’t you agree, Rachel?”
    She nodded.
    “I’m going too,” Rory cut in.
    Covington hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. From what Ajax has told me, time is of the essence. The more people who go, the slower the group will be. Besides, why would you want to go anyway?”
    She looked at the librarian like the answer should have been obvious. “Because there are going to be Reapers there—Reapers that I can kill.”
    Eyes wide, Covington glanced at Rachel, who sighed.
    “Rory, you don’t know that Reapers are going to be there,” Rachel said.
    “Of course they’ll be there,” I said. “We all know this is some sort of Reaper trap. That’s why they used the poison in the first place—so we’d have to come here to get the