Midnight Frost

them away. Rachel was crying too, but she had the same hurt, determined expression on her face as Rory.
    Covington laughed at their tears and anger. “And do you know what the best part is? That you two were dumb enough to come up here with the rest of these fools. Why do you think I asked you to be our guide?”
    Confusion filled Rachel’s face, but I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what he was getting at.
    “Because I’m the only one from our group who will go back to the academy alive,” Covington answered. “There will be a Protectorate investigation, of course, but in the end, it’ll look like I finally took care of the rest of the Forseti family of Reapers.”
    So not only was he going to help Vivian and Agrona kill us, but the librarian was also planning to frame Rachel and Rory for our murders. And of course everyone would believe him, given the fact that Rory’s parents had been Reapers. Cruel—very, very cruel.
    “You’re not going to get away with it,” Rory vowed. “I won’t let you.”
    More tears slid down her face, but she slowly started advancing on the librarian. So did Rachel. Meanwhile, the Reapers crept up on my friends, who were standing their ground. My friends hesitated, wanting to attack the Reapers, but they couldn’t—not as long as Covington had his dagger against my throat—which meant that I had to find some way to free myself or we were all dead.
    I quickly considered my options. Sure, I had Vic clenched in my right hand, but I couldn’t raise the sword and attack the librarian with it. Not with Covington right behind me. So I concentrated on exactly how and where he was standing. He had his left hand around my waist, and his right one at my throat, still holding the dagger. Warm blood trickled down my neck from where he’d cut me already.
    No, I couldn’t use Vic, not without getting my throat sliced open, but the sword wasn’t my only weapon—I had my touch magic too.
    That’s what I’d used on Preston Ashton when he’d stabbed me with the Helheim Dagger. I’d pulled the Reaper boy’s life force into my own body and healed myself with it—and Preston had died as a result. Killing him had been horrible enough, but Vic had wanted me to do the same thing to Logan, to keep him from murdering me when he’d been under the influence of the Apate jewels. But I’d refused. I hadn’t wanted to hurt Logan. I hadn’t wanted to use my Gypsy gift that way. Not again— never again.
    But Covington was a Reaper, he was my enemy, and he’d happily led me and my friends into Agrona and Vivian’s trap. Not only that, but he’d framed Rory’s parents for something they hadn’t even done.
    Killing Preston with my touch magic had sickened me, and the thought of using it on Covington was making me ill right now, but I didn’t see any other way out of this. My friends couldn’t defend themselves until I was free, and this was the only way I could slither out of the librarian’s grasp.
    So I focused on Covington’s hand wrapped around my waist. I was holding Vic in my right hand, but my left hand was hanging down by my side. Slowly, very, very slowly, I started moving my free hand up toward the librarian’s.
    “Stand still or I’ll cut your throat!” he snarled.
    I froze, my hand no higher than my hip. I couldn’t move it the rest of the way or he’d make good on his threat. Frustration filled me because I needed my skin to touch his. That was how my magic worked. But I realized there was another way I could use my Gypsy gift on the librarian—by getting him to touch me instead.
    Covington’s fingers brushed up against the collar of my snowsuit as he held the dagger against my neck. I shifted on my feet, trying to get his fingers to slip up over the edge of the cloth and press against my skin, but the angle was wrong, and I couldn’t get it to work. More frustration surged through me, and my gaze went to my friends. They’d moved together, forming a tight ring in the middle of the courtyard, even as the Reapers kept advancing on them, slashing their curved swords through the air in anticipation of cutting into my friends. And I realized I was almost out of time—and there was only one option left.
    If I couldn’t get Covington to touch me, then I’d have to touch him instead. All I had to do was turn my neck into the blade at my throat. It was a risky plan, and I didn’t know how much damage the dagger might do to me, but it was the only way I could