Touch of Frost (Mythos Academy) by Estep Jennifer

Author:Estep, Jennifer [Estep, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp
Published: 2011-08-01T07:00:00+00:00

Feeling like a stupid, stupid loser, I trudged up the stairs to my dorm room, took a shower, and got ready for bed. Maybe it was the fact that I’d almost been eaten by a killer kitty cat or maybe it was my almost kiss with Logan, but I couldn’t sleep.

But I just couldn’t lie in bed, stare up at the pointed ceiling, and do nothing either. At least, not without replaying the scene with Logan in my mind over and over again. Thanks to my psychometry, I could remember in crystal-clear, humiliating detail just how much I’d freaked out when he’d started to kiss me. I’d be lucky if he ever spoke to me again.

I had to do something to take my mind off all that, so I grabbed the last of Grandma Frost’s sweet pumpkin roll out of my minifridge, turned on Jasmine’s laptop, and once again surfed through the computer files that Daphne had unlocked for me. But I didn’t find anything else that would tell me what was going on, what deep, dark secrets Jasmine might have had, or who had killed her.

I popped another bite of pumpkin roll into my mouth. Thinking. Maybe everyone else was right. Maybe a Reaper had been in the library to steal the Bowl of Tears all along. Maybe he’d murdered Jasmine simply because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Thinking about the library and the Bowl made me remember the mythology book that I’d taken from Jasmine’s dorm room. My violet eyes flicked over to the thick volume, which was sitting on the edge of my desk. It was the only thing I’d swiped from the Valkryie’s room that I hadn’t looked at yet.

Gingerly, I touched the book, my fingers skimming the surface, just in case I got another angry, hate-filled flash off it like the one that had been on the photograph of Morgan and Samson. I didn’t want to start muttering to myself again—or worse, start screaming so loud that everyone came up to my room to watch the Gypsy girl have another mental meltdown. One had been enough.

No real emotions swept over me as I touched the book—just the feeling of old knowledge and the soft, well-worn impression of hundreds of hands turning and turning and turning the pages until they found the information they were looking for. I couldn’t tell exactly how old the book was, but it had been around for quite a while.

I flipped over to the section that Jasmine had marked. To my surprise, it was the start of a whole chapter that dealt with Loki’s Bowl of Tears. I moved over to my bed, propped some pillows up behind my back, and started reading.

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