Midnight Frost

And just like the roc, her gaze shimmered with that spark of Reaper red. The girl looked at me and grinned.
    “Hello, Gwen,” Vivian Holler said. “I thought I might find you here.”

    I immediately threw my backpack down and drew Vic out of the scabbard on my waist. I started to charge forward, but Alexei held his hand out, stopping me. He shook his head in warning, then drew his twin swords out of the scabbard on his back and stepped in front of me. The others dropped their bags and pulled out their weapons, as well, ready to fight the Reaper girl.
    When she realized that we weren’t going to immediately swarm all over her, Vivian pouted, as though she was disappointed by our restraint. That told me that she’d wanted us to charge her. I wondered why, since it seemed that she was alone. My gaze scanned over the ruins, but I didn’t see any other Reapers lurking behind the piles of rubble. They were here somewhere, though. They had to be. Vivian would never try to fight us all by herself. She wasn’t that stupid—or brave.
    Vivian stared at Alexei, her eyes lingering on the twin swords in his hands. “A bodyguard, Gypsy? Really? Even I don’t have one of those. Kind of sad that you feel the need for one, though.” She clucked her tongue in mock sympathy. “Then again, I can take care of myself, and we just can’t say the same for you, now can we?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” I drawled. “I think I’m doing okay. After all, you haven’t managed to murder me yet. Kind of a big epic failure on your part, isn’t it? Especially since I’m so weak and pitiful and helpless? What’s wrong with you that you can’t kill one geeky girl, Viv? Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with such powerful magic? Bet Loki’s not too happy about all that—that his Champion hasn’t been able to carry out this one simple order. Who knows? If you keep sucking like you do, he might decide to name a new Champion. Maybe even take away your telepathy magic. And wouldn’t that just be so humiliating for you.”
    Her golden eyes glimmered, and that eerie Reaper red spark burned a little brighter and hotter in her gaze. Her hands tightened around the roc’s reins, like she was thinking about urging the creature forward and making it plow into me. After a moment, Vivian relaxed her grip, but I knew I’d pissed her off. Good. I was planning to do a lot more of that—before I killed her.
    Still, I couldn’t help feeling that Vivian had already sprung her trap—and all that was left was for the teeth of it to sink into our throats, like the snap-snare had done to the baby gryphon’s leg. Once again, my eyes scanned the ruins, but I didn’t see anyone, and the only sound was the whistle of the winter wind whipping around the crumbled stones.
    Vivian unbuckled herself from her harness and slid to the ground, grabbing a sword out of the scabbard that was tied to the roc’s harness. She stepped in front of the bird and held up the sword by the blade, so that the hilt was showing. After a moment, I stepped up next to Alexei and did the same thing with Vic.
    “Lucretia,” Vic hissed.
    A Reaper red eye snapped open on the hilt of Vivian’s sword and glared right back at him. “Vic,” she purred in a low, feminine voice. “So nice to see you again, especially looking so dull and tarnished. But you are getting up there in years, aren’t you?”
    “Dull? Dull and tarnished? Why—why you—” Vic was so incensed that all he could do was sputter.
    Lucretia laughed at his anger, her dark chuckles mirroring the ones coming out of Vivian’s mouth.
    Finally, when they’d both quit laughing, I looked at Vivian again. “What do you want? What is this all about?”
    Vivian pouted once more. “Getting down to business already, Gwen? If you want to die sooner rather than later, well, that’s fine with me.”
    She grabbed the sword’s hilt, then lifted Lucretia high overhead. I tensed, wondering what she was doing, but I got my answer a second later when another Black roc dropped down from the sky.
    It plummeted into the ruins, landing beside Vivian’s. Another familiar figure was riding the enormous bird—Agrona Quinn.
    She too looked the same as in my nightmares—silky blond hair, tan skin, intense green eyes. She wore a long black robe that fluttered in the wind, showing off her silver snowsuit and boots underneath. Despite the cold, she wasn’t wearing gloves, and a ring flashed on her left hand, just as