“An amazingly addictive new series.” –Fresh Fiction
I’ve seen so many freaky things since I started attending Mythos Academy last fall. I know I’m supposed to be a fearless warrior, but most of the time, I feel like I’m just waiting for the next Bad, Bad Thing to happen. Like someone trying to kill me—again.
Everyone at Mythos Academy knows me as Gwen Frost, the Gypsy girl who uses her psychometry magic to find lost objects—and who just may be dating Logan Quinn, the hottest guy in school. But I’m also the girl the Reapers of Chaos want dead in the worst way. The Reapers are the baddest of the bad, the people who murdered my mom. So why do they have it in for me? It turns out my mom hid a powerful artifact called the Helheim Dagger before she died. Now, the Reapers will do anything to get it back. They think I know where the dagger is hidden, but this is one thing I can’t use my magic to find. All I do know is that the Reapers are coming for me—and I’m in for the fight of my life.
Praise for Touch of Frost
“A great start to a new young adult paranormal series.” –Night Owl Reviews
"At the Mythos Academy, surviving high school means staying alive!" –Kerrelyn Sparks
“It has literally everything: mystery, romance, mythology, boarding schools. What could be better?” --Simply Nerdy Book Reviews
“If you guys don’t stop making out, I’m going to be
Daphne Cruz giggled and laid another loud, smacking
kiss on her boyfriend, Carson Callahan. Princess
pink sparks of magic shot off my best friend’s fingertips
and flickered in the air around the couple, the tiny rainbows
of color almost as bright as Carson’s flaming
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, seriously sick.”
Daphne quit kissing Carson long enough to turn and
stare at me. “Oh, get over it, Gwen. We’re not making
out. Not in this stuffy old museum.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why is Carson
wearing more of your lip gloss than you are?”
Carson’s blush deepened, his dusky brown skin taking
on a fiery, tomato tint. The band geek pushed his
black glasses up his nose and swiped his hand over his
mouth, trying to scrub away the remains of the lip gloss,
but all he really did was get pink glitter all over his fingers. Daphne giggled, then pressed another kiss to the
band geek’s lips.
I sighed. “C’mon, c’mon. Break it up, lovebirds. The
museum closes at five, and we haven’t seen half the artifacts
we’re supposed to for myth-history class.”
“Fine,” Daphne pouted, stepping away from Carson.
“Be a spoilsport.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Yeah, well, this spoilsport
happens to be concerned about her grades. So, let’s go
to the next room. There are supposed to be some really
cool weapons in there, according to the exhibit brochure.”
Daphne crossed her arms over her chest. She narrowed
her black eyes and glared at me for interrupting
her fun, but she and Carson followed me as I stepped
through a doorway and left the main part of the museum
It was a few days after New Year’s, and the three of
us were in the Crius Coliseum, a museum located on the
outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina. Visiting a museum
didn’t exactly top my list of fun things to do, but
all the second-year students at Mythos Academy were
supposed to schlep over to the coliseum sometime during
the winter holidays to view a special exhibit of artifacts.
Since classes started back at the academy in the
morning, today was our last chance to finish the assignment.
It was bad enough that I and all the other warrior
whiz kids at Mythos were being trained to fight the
Reapers of Chaos. But homework over the holidays,
too? That was so not fair.
Daphne, Carson, and I had gotten here about three
o’clock, and we’d been wandering around the museum
for the last ninety minutes, going from one display to
the next. From the outside, the Crius Coliseum looked
like just another building, just another museum, tucked
away in the Appalachian Mountains in and around the
Inside, though, it was a different story.
Walking through the front door of the museum was
like stepping back in time to ancient Rome. The main
room had been designed to resemble a grand coliseum,
and white marble rolled out as far as the eye could see,
broken up by towering pillars. Gold, silver, and bronze
leaf glinted here and there on the walls before spreading
up to cover the entire ceiling in dazzling disks of color.
Sapphires and rubies burned like colorful coals in the
necklaces and rings on display, while the fine silks and
other garments shimmered inside their glass cases, looking
as light and delicate as spun sugar. The museum
staff even wore long, flowing white togas, adding to the
But it wasn’t just ancient Rome that was on display.
Every room had a specific theme and displayed a different
culture, from Norse to Greek to Russian to Japanese
and all the lands and peoples in between. That’s because
the coliseum was devoted to members of the Pantheon.
Gods, goddesses, ancient warriors, mythological creatures—
the Pantheon was a group of good magic guys
who’d originally joined forces to save the world.
Way back in the day, the evil Norse trickster god Loki
had tried to enslave everyone and had plunged the
world into the long, bloody Chaos War. But the members of the Pantheon had risen up to stop Loki and his
followers, the Reapers of Chaos. Eventually, the other
gods and goddesses had locked Loki away in a mythological
prison, far removed from the mortal realm.
Now, the coliseum showcased the artifacts—jewelry,
clothing, armor, weapons, and more—that both sides
had used during the Chaos War and other battles. Despite
Loki’s imprisonment, the fight between the Pantheon
and the Reapers had continued over the years
with new generations of warriors and creatures battling
Of course, what most people didn’t realize was that
Loki was thisfreakingclose to breaking free of his prison
and starting another Chaos War. It was something I
thought about all the time, though—especially since I
was somehow supposed to stop the evil god from escaping.
“This is cool,” Daphne said.
She pointed to a curved bow inside a glass case. The
bow was made out of a single piece of onyx, inlaid with
bits of gold scrollwork, and strung with several thin
golden threads. A matching onyx quiver sat next to the
bow, although only a single golden arrow lay inside the
Daphne leaned down and read the bronze plaque
mounted on the pedestal below the weapon. “This says
that the bow once belonged to Sigyn, the Norse goddess
of devotion, and that every time you pull the arrow out
of the quiver, another one appears to take its place.
Okay, now that’s wicked cool.”
“I like this better,” Carson said, pointing to a curled
ivory horn that resembled a small, handheld tuba. Bits
of onyx glimmered on the smooth surface. “It says it’s
the Horn of Roland. Not sure what it does, though.”
I blinked. I’d been so lost in my thoughts about Loki,
Reapers, and the Pantheon that I’d just been wandering
around, instead of actually looking at the artifacts like
we were supposed to.
We stood in an enormous circular room filled with
weapons. Swords, staffs, spears, daggers, bows, and
throwing stars glinted from within glass cases and in
spots on the walls, next to oil paintings of mythological
battles. The entire back wall was made out of the same
white marble as the rest of the museum, although a variety
of mythological creatures had been carved into the
surface. Gryphons, gargoyles, dragons, chimeras, Gorgons
with snakelike hair and cruel smiles.
An ancient knight dressed in full battle armor perched
on a stuffed horse on a raised dais in the center of the
room. The knight had a lance in his hand and looked
like he was about to charge forward and skewer the
wax figure of a Roman centurion that also stood on the
dais, his sword raised to fend off the charging knight.
Other figures were scattered throughout the area, including
a Viking wearing a horned helmet who was poised
to bring his massive battle-axe down onto the shield of
the Spartan standing next to him. A few feet away, two
female figures representing a Valkyrie and an Amazon
held swords and dispassionately watched the Viking
and the Spartan in their eternal epic battle.
I stared at the Viking and the Spartan, and, for a moment,
their features flickered and seemed to move. Their
wax lips drew up into angry snarls; their fingers tightened
around the hilts of their weapons; their whole bodies
tensed up in anticipation of the battle that was to
come. I shivered and looked away. My Gypsy gift, my
psychometry magic, had been acting up ever since we’d
entered the museum.
“Hmph. Well, I don’t think that bow is so bloody
special,” a voice with a snooty English accent muttered.
“I think it’s rather boring. Ordinary, even.”
I looked down at the source of the voice: Vic, the
sword sheathed in the black leather scabbard hanging
off my waist. Vic wasn’t your typical sword. For
starters, instead of having a plain hilt, the sword actually
had half a face inlaid into the silver metal there. A
single ear, a hooked nose, a slash of a mouth. All that
joined together to form the sword’s hilt, along with a
round bulge of an eye. It always seemed to me like there
was a man trapped inside the metal, trying to get out. I
didn’t know exactly who or what Vic was, other than
rude, bossy, and bloodthirsty. The sword was always
going on and on and on about how we should go find
some Reapers to kill.
Actually, there was just one Reaper I wanted to kill—
the girl who’d murdered my mom.
A crumpled car. A sword slicing through the rain.
And blood—so much blood . . .
The memories of my mom’s murder bubbled to the
surface of my mind, threatening to overwhelm me, but I
pushed them away and forced myself to focus on my
friends, who were still staring at the onyx bow and
I’d brought Vic along today because I thought he
might enjoy seeing the items on display. Besides, I’d
needed someone to talk to while Daphne and Carson
had been giggling and tongue-wrestling with each other.
The two of them were so into each other that it was
rather disgusting at times, especially given the sad state
of my own love life.
“It’s just a bow, after all,” Vic continued. “Not anything
important. Not a real weapon.”
I rolled my eyes. Oh, yeah. Vic talked, too—mostly
about how awesome he was.
“Well, some of us happen to like bows,” Daphne
sniffed, looking down at the sword.
“And that’s what’s wrong with you, Valkyrie,” Vic
The sword stared at her. Vic only had one eye, and it
was a curious color—not quite purple but not quite
gray either. Really, Vic’s eye reminded me of the color of
twilight, that soft shade that streaked the sky just before
the world went dark for the night.
“And you, Celt,” Vic said, turning his attention to
Carson. “Gwen told me that you prefer to use a staff. A
staff! It doesn’t even have a bloody point on the end of
it. Disgraceful, the things they’re teaching you warrior
kids at Mythos these days.”
Every kid who went to Mythos Academy was some
sort of warrior, including the three of us. Daphne was a
Valkyrie, Carson was a Celt, and I was a Gypsy, all of us
the descendants of the Pantheon warriors who’d first
taken on Loki and his Reapers. Now, we carried on that
tradition in modern times by going to the academy and
learning how to use whatever skills and magic we had
to fight against the Reapers of Chaos. And we weren’t
the only ones. Vikings, Romans, Amazons, Ninjas,
Samurais, Spartans. All those warriors and more could
be found at the academy.
“Disgraceful, I say,” Vic crowed again.
Carson looked at me. I just shrugged. I’d only had Vic
a few months, but I’d quickly learned there was no controlling
the mouthy sword. Vic said whatever he liked,
whenever he liked, as loudly as he liked. And if you
dared to disagree with him, he was more than happy to
discuss the matter further—while I pressed his blade up
against your throat.
Vic and Daphne glared at each other before the
Valkyrie turned to Carson and started talking to the
band geek about how cool the bow was. I wandered
through the rest of the room, peering at the other artifacts.
Vic kept up his running monologue about how
swords were the only real weapons, with him, of course,
being the best sword ever. I made agreeing noises when
appropriate. It was easier than trying to argue with him.
Daphne and Carson continued to look at the bow,
and Vic finished his rant and fell silent once more. I was
reading about a ball of silver thread that had belonged
to Ariadne, who gave it to Theseus to help him find his
way through the labyrinth where the Minotaur was
kept, when shoes tapped on the floor and someone
walked up beside me.
“Gwendolyn Frost,” a snide voice murmured. “Fancy
seeing you here.”
I turned and found myself face-to-face with a fortysomething-
year-old guy with black hair, cold blue eyes,
and skin that was as white as the marble floor. He wore
a dark blue suit and a pair of wingtips that had a higher
polish than most of the glass cases in the room. I would
have thought him handsome if I hadn’t known exactly
how uptight and prissy he was—and how very much he
I sighed. “Nickamedes. What are you doing here?”
“Overseeing the exhibit, of course. Most of the artifacts
on display are on loan from the Library of Antiquities.”
Nickamedes was the head honcho at the Library of
Antiquities, which was located on the Mythos Academy
campus not too far away in Cypress Mountain, North
Carolina. In addition to books, the massive library was
famous for its priceless collection of artifacts. Hundreds
and hundreds of glass cases filled the library’s seven
floors, containing items that had once belonged to
everyone from gods and goddesses to their Champions
to the Reapers they had battled.
I supposed it made sense that the Crius Coliseum had
borrowed some artifacts from the library—that was
probably the reason the Mythos students had been assigned
to come here in the first place. So they’d be
forced to look at and study the items they walked past
and ignored on a daily basis at the library.
Nickamedes stared at me, not looking a bit happier to
see me than I was to have run into him. His mouth
twisted. “I see that you and your friends waited until the last possible second to come and complete your
myth-history assignment, along with a great many of
Morgan McDougall, Samson Sorensen, Savannah
Warren. I’d spotted several kids I knew roaming through
the coliseum. All seventeen or so, like me, Daphne, and
Carson, and all second-year students at Mythos, trying
to cram in a visit to the museum before winter classes.
“I’ve been busy,” I muttered.
Nickamedes let out a disbelieving huff. “Right.”
Anger filled me. I had been busy. Very busy, as a matter
of fact. Not too long ago, I’d learned that the
Reapers were searching for the Helheim Dagger, which
was rumored to be one of the Thirteen Artifacts that
had been used during the final battle of the Chaos War.
All of the Thirteen Artifacts had a lot of power, since
they’d seen action during the climactic fight. But what
made the weapon so important—what truly scared
me—was the fact that the dagger could be used to free
Loki from the prison realm he was trapped in.
I was determined to find the dagger before the
Reapers did, so during the holidays I’d read everything I
could get my hands on about the weapon. Who might
have made it, how it might have been used during the
Chaos War, even what powers it might have. But all the
books and articles I’d read didn’t tell me what I really
wanted to know: where my mom, Grace, had hidden
the dagger before she’d been murdered—or how I was
supposed to find it before the Reapers did.
Of course, I couldn’t tell Nickamedes all that. He
wouldn’t believe I’d been doing something useful,
something important, during the holiday break. No
doubt Nickamedes thought I’d just been sitting around
reading comic books and eating cookies like I did so
many nights when I was working for him in the Library
of Antiquities. Yeah, yeah, so maybe I wasn’t all
that dedicated when it came to my after-school job.
Sue me for wanting to goof off and have a little fun before
I had to face down another crazy Reaper who
thought I was more powerful and important than I
Still, despite the librarian’s frosty attitude, I couldn’t
help glancing around the room, hoping I’d see a guy my
age with him—a guy with the most beautiful eyes I’d
ever seen and a sly, teasing grin to match.
“Is Logan here with you?” I couldn’t keep the hope
out of my voice.
Nickamedes had opened his mouth when a voice interrupted
“Right here, Gypsy girl.” A low voice sent chills
down my spine.
My heart pounding, I slowly turned around. Logan
Quinn stood behind me.
Thick, wavy, ink black hair, intense ice blue eyes, a
confident smile. My breath caught in my throat as I
looked at Logan, and my heart sped up, beating with
such force that I was sure he could hear it.
Logan wore jeans and a dark blue sweater topped by
a black leather jacket. The clothes were designer, of
course, since the Spartan was just as rich as all the other
academy kids. But even if he’d been dressed in rags, I
still would have noticed the lean strength of his body
and his broad, muscled shoulders. Yeah, Logan totally
rocked the bad-boy look, and he had the man-whore
reputation to match. One of the rumors that kept going
around the academy was that Logan signed the mattresses
of every girl he slept with, just so he could keep
track of them all.
I’d never quite figured out if the rumors were true or
not, or how Logan would even manage to do that in the
first place. Sure, I’d touched the Spartan and flashed on
him with my psychometry, but I’d mostly seen his fighting
skills, since that’s what Logan had been thinking
about and what I had needed to tap into at the time. I
didn’t know how many girls Logan had dated, but the
rumors didn’t matter that much to me because the Spartan
was just a really, really great guy. Smart, strong,
funny, charming, caring. Then, of course, there was the
whole saving-my-life-multiple-times thing. Kind of hard
not to like a guy when he kept you from getting killed
by Reapers and eaten by Nemean prowlers.
Logan’s eyes dropped to my throat and the necklace I
wore there—the one he’d given me before school had let
out for Christmas. Six silver strands wrapped around
my throat, creating the necklace, while the diamond-
tipped points joined together to form a simple, yet elegant
snowflake in the center of the strands. The beautiful
necklace looked like something a goddess would wear. I
thought it was far too pretty and delicate for me, but I
loved it just the same.