Midnight Frost

save myself and my friends.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Vivian was watching me, a frown on her face, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain in my head, as though a pair of fingers were digging into my brain. Vivian was using her telepathy magic to peer into my mind. After a moment, her eyes widened. Too late, she realized what I was planning.
    “Covington! Don’t let her move! Don’t let her touch you—”
    I gritted my teeth and turned my neck, trying not to scream as the dagger sliced into my skin. Covington jerked back in surprise, but I kept turning, turning, turning my neck, even as the blade cut deeper and deeper into my throat.
    Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t stand the pain a second longer, I felt the librarian’s cold fingers scrape against my bare, bloody skin—and then I yanked .
     
    Covington’s thoughts and feelings flooded my mind the second his skin touched mine.
    The dark jealousy that seeped through every part of his being almost took my breath away. One after another, I saw images of him over the years. Working in the library, looking down on all the students and professors, meeting with Agrona and other Reapers, gleefully doing whatever foul thing Agrona asked of him. Metis, Nickamedes, and Ajax were even in a few of his memories, when Covington had visited the North Carolina academy. I felt his deep, burning hatred of them, particularly of Nickamedes and the fact that he was in charge of our Library of Antiquities, a job Covington had always secretly coveted.
    I blinked, and another memory roared to the surface of my mind—Covington arguing with two people dressed in black Reaper cloaks. They weren’t wearing masks, so I could see their faces—the same faces, the same people, I’d seen in that photo with Rory. I knew I was watching her parents—Rebecca and Tyson.
    “You’ll have to find another way . . . we’re not going to do it...” Rebecca’s voice sounded in my mind. “We’re tired of this . . . of the Reapers. All we want to do is live a nice, quiet, peaceful life with our daughter . . .”
    Tyson nodded, agreeing with her.
    The two of them walked away, and Covington picked up the sword he’d hidden underneath the library’s checkout counter. Quiet as a whisper, he advanced on them and raised the weapon high, even though their backs were turned—
    The rest of the memory rushed by before I could latch on to it, but I knew how it ended—with Covington murdering Rory’s parents.
    But a new image took its place—one of Covington alone in the library, poring over book after book, looking at pages covered with plants, herbs, and flowers. Searching for a poison—the poison the Reapers had meant for me . . .
    I drew in a breath and pushed the images away. Instead, I let myself sink even deeper into the librarian until I saw the black spark flickering at the very center of his being—the ugly thing that made Covington who and what he was. I imagined closing my hand around that spark, and then I yanked again—even harder than before.
    Covington screamed as I pulled his magic, his power, his life into my own body. The wounds on my neck healed, and I could feel myself growing stronger and stronger even as the spark inside his body started to dim. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to snuff that spark out completely—and kill the librarian where he stood.
    “Let go of her!” I heard Vivian scream. “You’re dead if she keeps touching you!”
    Covington let out one more agonized scream. Then, he dropped the dagger from my neck and shoved me away. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees in the rocky rubble.
    “You!” Covington snarled. “You think you can use your pitiful psychometry to kill me? I’ll show you how wrong you are, Gypsy!”
    He raised his dagger high. I brought up Vic, although I knew I wouldn’t be quick enough to block his attack—
    A figure darted between us. It took me a second to realize it was Rory—and the Spartan girl had her hand locked around the librarian’s wrist. Rory’s free fist snapped up, and she punched Covington in the face. He cursed and staggered back, and Rory smoothly plucked his dagger from his hand.
    She twirled the weapon around a few times, getting a feel for it, her green eyes glinting with that Spartan combination of anger and anticipation of the fight to come. “I’ve got this, Gwen,” she said in a cold voice. “You help the others. Covington is mine .”
    “Alive!” I heard Ajax yell.