Midnight Frost

grow tired of being a Reaper, of the endless battles, the constant fighting, always hurting the people around him. And your mother felt the same way, especially after being Nike’s Champion for so many years. So the two of them decided they’d create a new life for themselves—one completely separated from the mythological world. For a while, it worked.”
    “What happened?” I asked. “And don’t tell me my dad died of cancer. I don’t believe that. I haven’t for a while now.”
    “I know, pumpkin,” she replied. “And I know I promised not to keep any more secrets from you either. But your mom and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
    “Reapers killed my dad too, didn’t they?”
    Silence.
    Then, a sigh. Finally, she answered me. “Yes. A group of Reapers managed to track down Tyr and Grace after you were born. They attacked, and your father sacrificed himself so you and your mother could live.”
    So many thoughts crowded into my mind—about my dad, about the Reapers, about how he and my mom hadn’t been able to escape them or the mythological world no matter how much they’d wanted to, no matter how hard they’d tried. I wondered if I was doomed to the same sort of life, if Logan and I were destined to repeat my parents’ fate—or if we already had.
    I couldn’t stand still, so I tiptoed to the end of the hallway and peered out into the main room. Rory must have gotten over her snit because she and Rachel were sitting in front of the fireplace, playing some sort of board game.
    “And what about Rory’s parents?” I asked.
    Grandma sighed. “I don’t know much about them, only that they followed a different path from your dad. They were Reapers, and they always stayed Reapers.”
    “But why didn’t they tell Rory anything about being Reapers? Why didn’t they make her one of them? Why didn’t they raise her to be a Reaper too?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe they wanted her to decide to become a Reaper of her own free will. Maybe they were secretly hoping that if she didn’t know about them, she might choose a different path in life. I can’t answer that for you—or her.”
    I stared at Rory. Rachel said something, and a smile spread across Rory’s face, softening the scowl she always seemed to wear. For a moment, she almost looked relaxed . . . and happy. I wondered if it was because none of the other kids were around to sneer at her—or judge her for the horrible things her parents had done.
    “Thank you for telling me this.”
    “You’re welcome,” Grandma said. “Although I should have told you a long time ago, pumpkin. But with your mom being murdered and you going to Mythos and everything that’s happened these last few months . . . it never seemed like there was a good time to bring it up. You’d gone through so much already. I didn’t want to cause you any more pain.”
    “I know you were trying to protect me,” I said. “But we both know you can’t do that anymore. At least now I know the truth about my dad, even if I don’t like it.”
    “That you do.”
    We were silent for a few moments before she finally spoke again.
    “Be careful tomorrow,” Grandma Frost said. “I know your friends are going to be with you, but I don’t like the thought of you going up to those ruins. Especially since the Reapers know you’re coming.”
    “I’ll be careful. Ajax is taking a lot of precautions. We’ll be ready for whatever the Reapers have in mind.”
    “I know, but that won’t keep me from worrying.”
    “How’s Nickamedes?” I asked, realizing she hadn’t said anything about him while we’d been talking.
    She hesitated. “He’s getting worse. He has a fever. Not too high right now, but Metis says it’s just a matter of time before his temperature shoots up and the poison starts overpowering her healing magic. He also . . . he can’t feel his legs sometimes. The numbness comes and goes. It’s another sign of the poison spreading. Metis thinks . . . the paralysis could be permanent, even if the ambrosia flowers flush the poison out of his body.”
    I rubbed a hand across my head, which was suddenly aching. Here I was, worried about my family drama, as Daphne had said, when Nickamedes was suffering—because of me. But I pushed my worry for him aside and embraced the other emotion blazing through me—determination to find the flowers and get them back to the academy in time.
    “I love you, pumpkin,” Grandma Frost said. “Be good, and be