chapter 2: anina
I thought I'd mastered landing out of the snow globe portal, I really did.
And so I'm very proud of myself when I land on both feet, scratch-free with staff in hand. But then, of course, a big fat book with the letter G imprinted on its cover falls right on my head just as the vortex closes. It hits the ground with a thud.
The Book of the Guardians. North read from it when I was officially inducted as a Guardian, so I guess he must've thought it necessary for me to have it with me when I found the new one. How thoughtful.
As I pick up the Book, I realize where I'm standing. It's a peaceful, quiet place, the endless grass interrupted by pockets of stone and pavement, which I realize are tombstones. Graveyards in the daytime are actually kind of relaxing. But it's really hot here – I realize that this is someplace I shouldn't normally be, according to the fourth rule of the Code. This is someplace where it doesn't snow – likely a tropical country. And that means that no one here believes in me, which for once I'm grateful for, because I don't have to hide from the kids while I'm doing official Guardian business.
Crap. Sometimes it scares me when I think like an adult.
Immediately before me is a family of mourners and a priest. From the looks of it, the funeral rites are underway: everyone's saying prayers and comforting one another. The scene triggers a faint memory from my old life.
"Jack, pay your respects. Say a prayer and tell your Grandpa goodbye."
"Goodbye, Grandpa. I love you."
Grandpa was the one who taught me how to ice skate, I realize. He died of pneumonia during the winter of 1708, when I was thirteen. It was the first time I genuinely learned that there were situations where fun and games had no place.
When I break out of my reverie, I'm surprised to see that it's nighttime, with only the moon and a few street lamps illuminating the graveyard. There are shadows everywhere. Damn, how long was I spacing out? I leave spot where I sat, where the grass has accidentally frozen over. Oops.
Okay, time for business. The family is gone now, and only a few candles shed light on the burial site. Honestly, this is creepy. Wait, am I supposed to dig her out? Crap, I didn't sign up for this. Maybe I'm at the wrong gravesite?
I look up to the Man in the Moon, and my fears are confirmed when he shines a slim beam of light down on the spot where she's buried.
"Seriously?" I say.
The moon, only a crescent tonight, is shaped like a taunting smile. Even more eerily, I hear muffled screams coming from the ground. The Man's woken her up.
It occurs to me that not everyone is fortunate enough to die in water, where you could simply swim up to the surface to be free. I'm a little claustrophobic myself, but I can't imagine how scary it'd be to be buried alive.
I leave the Book and run to the grave. If I'm gonna be Jack the grave-digger tonight, I'm gonna make it fast.
A few taps of my staff and a thin sheet of ice covers the square of ground, though I can feel that it runs deeper than it looks. I will the ice to crumble and melt, until I catch a glimpse of the white coffin buried six feet under.
"Can anyone hear me? I'm still alive!" Her strangled screams are clearer now, mixed in with the sound of her fists pounding on the inside of the coffin.
And then I see some flashlights in the distance – probably some guards on the literal graveyard shift. Unless I want them to go crazy watching a grave dig itself, I've got to hurry.
"I know this is terrifying for you, but I need you to calm down," I say into the hole, as soothingly as possible, but I'm nervous myself. "I'm here to help."
Thankfully, she does calm down. I grit my teeth and jump in the hole, the half-melted ice making me slip a bit. I feel around for the hinges of the coffin, then freeze them brittle. Then I hold on to the sides of the lid and pull up. It takes a bit more effort than I'd like, but soon the hinges crack and I throw the damn thing out whole.
A young girl with long, black hair like a curtain sits up inside. Some of the water splashes onto her, making her shiver.
"Hey, it's gonna be all right," I say. "You're safe now."
"Th-Thank y-you," she stutters. Her burial clothes – a fancy but thin white dress – are half-soaked. She's probably freezing, so I take off my hoodie and give it to her to put on. I wish her family buried her with some shoes, too, but it looks like we're both gonna be barefoot tonight.
"A-Are you all right in just an undershirt?" she asks, pulling the blue hoodie over her head. Thankfully the frost near the neck thawed out as soon as I let go of it.
"The cold doesn't bother me," I say with a smile. "Now come on, grab onto me. We need to get you out of here." I hear the suspicious voices of the guards getting closer.
"Thank you," she repeats, holding onto my arm. "But how? We're six feet under."
I grin and put my arm around her shoulder, using my other hand to tap my staff on the ground. A column of ice propels us up and out, but I forget to keep my grip on her. I conjure a pile of snow to cushion her landing, but I wince a bit when I hear the thud.
At least she recovers quickly. "What in the – how did you do that?" she asks, standing up and wiping the snow off her shoulders.
"No time to explain. We need to get out of here before someone sees your dug-up grave," I say. She takes a look at the spot where she was buried, and she looks like she needs to throw up.
"I-I was buried...? Did I die? Am I a zombie?"
"Yes, temporarily, no," I say, willing the pile of snow into the open grave. I hope it looks normal when it melts. "Actually, wait, maybe you are a zombie. The Zombie Guardian – that'd be pretty awesome."
The look on her face tells me she's just that much closer to vomiting.
That's when I see the guards turning the corner. I'm not sure if they can see this girl, but I'm not taking any chances.
"Hey, I was just kidding, okay? I know you're confused, but I promise I'll explain everything soon. By the way, I'm Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun and prankster extraordinaire."
I grab her arms and guide their hold around my waist, floating up on the next gust of wind.
I catch the Book on the hook of my staff just as we touch off, and then we're out of there before the guards can wonder they saw a grave filled with snow.
"Hey, are you okay back there?" I ask, mostly to break the silence.
We've been flying for ten minutes now, and I have to say it's a bit awkward circling fifty feet above a city skyline with a stranger hugging you from behind, hanging on for dear life. She doesn't choke me like North, though. It's strangely comforting to feel something warm nearby, for once.
"Yeah," she says, weirdly unfazed. I thought she might be freaked out by all this, but she's calmed down completely since we left the graveyard. "This is incredible, flying like this. Everything looks so beautiful from up here."
I have to agree with her. Flying is one of my favorite things, and only now do I realize I might've been taking it for granted. "It really is."
I spot a decent roof to land on: clean, not too low to catch the view, and most importantly, deserted. I'm very picky about my rooftops.
I let her down gently, and she leans on the railing to look at the city. I float beside her, putting down the Book but keeping the staff. Ever since Pitch broke it, I've always kept it close.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Anina," she says, facing me. I've never heard a name like that before, but I like it.
"Well, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Anina. Now's the time to ask."
She hesitates. "You said your name is Jack Frost? Like the legend?"
"You've heard of me?"
She hesitates again, but then her next words come gushing out so fast I almost can't decipher them. "In story books and fairy tales. To be honest, I never believed any of it, until tonight. All I remember was that I was in darkness, like I was sleeping... And then this voice – he called himself the Man in the Moon – told me that I was supposed to be a Guardian. I don't even know what that is, but he said that these childhood legends – you, Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Sandman – are Guardians, not to mention real, living beings."
To my surprise, she pokes me in the arm. The few people who've touched me flinched when they felt my cold skin, but she simply stares in awe, like a kid figuring out a new gadget.
"Yeah, I'm real," I laugh. "Though only the children who believe in me can see me."
She smiles a bit, but then she leans back on the railing and continues. "I was so scared, because I couldn't remember anything about myself – not even my name – until he told me. And I wanted to know so much more, but then I woke up, and I was in the coffin."
I can hear the fear in her voice, and it reminds me of how I felt in those first few moments in the dark water. "Are you still scared?" I ask.
"Strangely, no. Everything I've learned in my life tells me that none of this is possible. Realistically, I should be checking into a psycho ward right now, but I'm so calm about it inside. It's so hard to explain – it's like my brain's rejecting the fact that you can fly and conjure snow, but my instinct is telling me that things are as they should be." She pauses before her last sentence. "It's like I was meant for this my whole life."
"That's the same as I felt, when I was first chosen," I say.
A bit of the unease drains out of her eyes. It's then that I notice that her waist-length hair and eyes are the same shade of true black, a color so pure and dark that I know it can't be human. I touch my own hair, the exact opposite hue but just as unnatural.
"Are you an albino or something?" she says with a small smile. "You're pale as a ghost and you have the hair of an old man."
"You're pretty pale yourself," I say. In fact, she might even be paler than me.
"What, are you kidding? I have brown skin, I remember that much."
Then it hits me. The Man in the Moon changed her appearance, like he did mine, and it's been too dark for her to get a good look at herself.
I find a dent in the roof, then freeze it over. She crouches down to see what I'm doing just as I wipe it off until it's smooth enough for her to see her reflection.
"Oh..." she says. She turns around and examines herself, checking her actual arms and hands to make sure. "My hair was only half this length before! And not as dark. And my eyes – you can't even tell the difference between the pupil and the iris now."
"Is that a bad thing?" I ask.
"No, it's not bad. Just... different," she says, pensive.
"I myself used to have brown hair and eyes, and, uh... healthier-looking skin. But I've grown to like the new look."
She looks at my face as if I said I used to have three eyes.
"Yeah, it suits you," she says finally.
"Thanks."
"I mean, it suits you because you're a magical winter ghost thingy," she says with a laugh.
"Excuse you," I say with a huff. "I am one hundred percent human. Well, except that I'm immortal and have badass powers over ice and snow." I flick my finger, creating a snowflake for emphasis.
"Yes, snowflakes are very badass," she laughs. It's a quiet, pleasant sound. It occurs to me that her voice sounds like something very familiar – kind of comforting, really. Soothing.
"Oh, I forgot! What are your powers?" I ask.
"My powers?" she frowns.
"When the Man in the Moon chose the Guardians, he gave each of us some sort of gift. I remember dancing around like an idiot and freezing everything around me when I found out how to work mine," I laugh. Good times.
"I-I don't know." She seems genuinely worried. I know that look: What if I'm different? What if I can't do what you do?
"Hey, don't worry about it. They'll come eventually. Sometimes they're not as straightforward as conjuring snow and stuff. You could be more like North – I mean, Santa. You could have a big heart full of Wonder, enough to share with every kid on Earth."
"But I don't drive a magic sleigh or work with elves."
"Yetis," I chuckle.
"What?"
"Nothing. My point is, all the powers of a Guardian stem from their center."
"Center?"
"A Guardian's center is the single most important thing that they represent, and they protect that same trait in children. Mine is Fun," I say, twirling my staff and floating around her.
"How am I supposed to find mine?"
For a moment, I'm back in North's workshop, and he's showing me his matryoshka dolls with all the verve of a true Guardian of Wonder. Looking back, if he hadn't done that, I wouldn't be half the guy I am today. And that makes me realize something:
Anina reminds me so much of me, ten years ago. And I owe it to North and the others to teach her everything about what being a Guardian means, new threat or no new threat.
"That's what I'm here for," I say. "I've been assigned to be your Guardian mentor. To train you and help you find your center." I poke her shoulder with my staff and grin at her baffled expression.
"The Guardian of Fun, a mentor? How are we gonna get anything done?" she laughs.
"I know, that's exactly how I feel!" I say. Just because I'm really willing to train her now doesn't mean I have to let her know it. "All I know is that there's trouble around, so the Man in the Moon needs a new Guardian – that's you – and he put me on babysitting duty."
"Babysitting? You don't look any older than me," she raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, I am. I'm immortal. But by no means am I a boring adult; immortality only means I'm gonna be living like teen forever," I grin.
"So you are an old man," she says. "Immortal... how old are you exactly?"
Suddenly I'm a bit age-conscious. Before her, I was the youngest Guardian by several centuries. "Three hundred and twenty-seven. But I was made immortal at seventeen, so technically, now I'll never be legal."
She laughs again, but then her forehead creases. "I don't know how old I am."
"Seventeen," I say, before I can remember how I knew that. "I checked the dates on your tombstone."
"Thank you for telling me that. I feel like I lost everything I used to know – when I woke up, I wasn't even sure if I had a life before this one."
"I had that same problem," I say, with a wry smile. "I went without my memories for three hundred years, until the other Guardians helped me get them back."
"I can get my memories back?" Her face lights up, and only then do I get a good look at it. She has no harsh angles or worry lines, only soft features and a dimpled smile.
"Only the important ones. But once you get those, the rest of them come back to you naturally. I myself still have bits and pieces of my old life coming back to me." Like the one during her funeral.
"Wait, I must've had a family! And friends and talents and hobbies and everything..."
"Of course. And, more importantly, you can figure out how you died and why. I died saving my sister from falling into frigid water, and that's why I became a Guardian. Your memories can help you realize your purpose. Maybe even find your center."
There's another thing about Anina that reminds me of myself: eagerness. "So where do I get my memories back?"
I grin. "At the Tooth Palace, of course."