Spartan Promise

by Jennifer Estep

  “The Chloris Amulet,” Covington said in a satisfied voice. “At last. I’ve been searching for this for a long, long time. I didn’t even realize that it was here, until Gretchen Gondul asked if I would pay her to steal it.”

  I really…should have gone with…the necklace…instead… Gretchen’s voice whispered in my mind. She had said those words to me in the cemetery last night, and now I knew what she was talking about.

  The longer I stared at the amulet, the more I realized that the circle and the chain looked exactly like the shapes on Gretchen’s drawing, the one that was still tucked into my pocket. They hadn’t been random doodles. No, Gretchen had drawn the circles and chains because she was thinking about stealing the amulet, just as she had drawn the feathers and basilisks to represent Serket’s Pen.

  But what was so special about the amulet? The identification card said that it could control flowers, vines, and the like. Which was cool but hardly dangerous.

  I glanced over at Professor Dalaja, who had a worried look on her face.

  She shook her head. “So you have the amulet. So what? It’s useless without the Narcissus Heart. You can see for yourself that the jewel is missing.”

  She was right. There was a large hole in the center of the amulet, as if it was missing a piece. But what was the Narcissus Heart? And what did it do?

  But the weirdest thing was that this wasn’t the first time I had heard the word narcissus. Sigyn had showed me all those creepy red narcissus flowers in the Eir Ruins dreamscape last night.

  Sometimes the simplest things can be the most dangerous. The goddess had told me that, and I had a bad, bad feeling that those flowers were somehow connected to this amulet.

  Covington waved his hand, dismissing the professor’s point. “A minor detail. Especially since I know exactly where the Narcissus Heart is.” He draped the silver chain over his neck and settled the black amulet against his chest. Then he looked at Dalaja again. “And now, for the other thing I came here for. Where’s the box?”

  At first, I wasn’t sure I had heard him right, but he kept staring at Dalaja, and I knew I hadn’t imagined his words. Shock zipped through me, but it was quickly replaced by cold, cold dread. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking the inevitable question.

  “Box?” I whispered. “What box?”

  “Oh, you know what it looks like, Rory.” Covington spread his hands out wide. “It’s about this big, made of solid stone, lots of silver vines running across the top of it.”

  He was describing the black jewelry box that we had recovered at the Cormac Museum. Only he wasn’t talking about that box—he was talking about a different one.

  There was another box.

  More shock zipped through me, stealing my breath, and I actually swayed on my feet. Covington had spent so much time and effort trying to steal the black jewelry box that it had never occurred to me that there could be another box.

  Even though my heart was pounding and my stomach was churning, I drew in a deep breath and looked around the library. Swords, shields, even the spear that Ian had tried to grab during the basilisk fight. All those artifacts and more gleamed in their cases, but I didn’t see any boxes. Not a single one. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the second box wasn’t here.

  Covington stared at Dalaja, who kept quiet and lifted her chin in defiance. He smiled at her and waved Serket’s Pen in the air again. What was he doing—

  A series of sharp tap-tap-taps sounded on the windows. I glanced in that direction and bit back a shriek. The two basilisks were standing right outside the library, once again looking like they wanted to peck through the glass, come inside, and eat me.

  “Don’t make me ask you again, Dalaja,” Covington warned. “Rory won’t like the consequences of your silence.”

  She stared at me, a stricken expression on her face. I shook my head, telling her not to give in to him, but she sighed.

  “The box is in the solarium.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Of course. That makes sense.”

  Why did that make sense? I had no idea what was going on.

  Covington gestured with his hand, and Professor Dalaja shuffled out of the library and into the solarium. Drake brandished his sword at me, and I had no choice but to follow the professor.

  The solarium looked the same as it had during our field trip. An enormous room with a glass ceiling and walls that let in plenty of light for the flowers growing in their pots. I glanced around, but I didn’t see any boxes. Just lots of flowers, pots, and gardening tools.

  Like the trowel lying on the table a few feet away from me.

  The small silver trowel was half hidden behind a green pot that contained a couple of winterblooms. I glanced at Drake, but he was watching Dalaja. He didn’t see the trowel, so I turned to the side, stepping between him and the table. I had found a makeshift weapon. Now all I had to do was wait for the right time to use it.

  Covington walked from one side of the solarium to the other and back again, his gaze scanning over the flowers, pots, and gardening supplies. Something across the room caught his attention, and he headed in that direction.

  “Ah, there it is,” he purred. “Hiding in plain sight. Clever, Dalaja. Very clever.”

  He went over to the glass shelves that lined one of the walls. He reached up, shoved some seed packets and other supplies out of the way, and plucked something off the top shelf. He turned around, clutching a box in his hands.

  He was right. It was exactly the same size and shape as the black jewelry box in the Bunker. It even had the same silver vines and thorns running across the top.

  But the similarities ended there. The box in the Bunker was made of polished jet and studded with small heart-shaped rubies, but the box in Covington’s hands was the exact opposite. It was a deep, dark red, as if it had been carved out of a single bloody ruby, and studded with small heart-shaped pieces of jet.

  Cold dread shot through my body, and I almost reached for the trowel on the table. But Covington was all the way across the room, and I wouldn’t be able to get close enough to stab him before Drake stepped up and cut me off. So I forced myself to wait.

  I held my breath, wondering if Covington might open the box and release whatever magic was inside, but he simply admired the blood-red stone, along with the sparkle and flash of the jet hearts.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” he said in a low, reverent voice. “I can almost feel the power flowing through the stone. So much power.”

  No one said anything, but Drake shifted on his feet, as if he were worried that Covington might use the artifact on him. Yeah, I would be worried about that too.

  “What is that?” I whispered.

  “It’s called a Chloris box. It’s one of several that belonged to the Greek goddess of the same name.” Covington smiled at me. “Would you like to see what’s inside, Rory? You must be curious, especially since you kept me from getting my hands on that black Chloris box.”

  I didn’t answer him, but he didn’t want to me to anyway.

  He walked over and set the box down on a table in the middle of the room, not too far away from where I was standing. Covington jerked his head at Drake, who shoved Professor Dalaja forward until she was standing next to the table. I started to reach for the trowel, but Drake faced me again, forcing me to drop my hand down to my side.

  Dalaja stared at the box with a mixture of awe, horror, and disgust. The artifact might be beautiful, but she knew how dangerous it was.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how to open the box, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “Of course you know how to open it,” Covington replied. “You’re the caretaker, remember? You know everything there is to know about every single artifact here, including this one. Especially this one.”

  Her lips pressed together into a tight line. Covington was right. She did know how to open the box.

  “Oh, come on, Dalaja,” he said. “Do I really have to thr
eaten Rory again?”

  He raised the black feather pen. A few seconds later, a series of sharp, familiar tap-tap-taps rang out. I glanced over to my left. The basilisks were right outside the solarium walls, waiting to peck their way through the glass to get to me.

  Dalaja stared at me, regret filling her face. Her shoulders straightened, and her chin lifted again. She wasn’t going to give in to Covington’s demands. Not this time. Whatever was in that box was simply too dangerous. She had been stalling for time, like I had been, hoping that Pan’s Whistle had worked and that my friends would show up. But it didn’t seem like the gryphons had gotten my message, which meant the professor and I were on our own.

  I gave her a grim smile, telling her that I understood. She couldn’t open that box, not even if it meant sacrificing me to the basilisks.

  Dalaja faced Covington again. “Even if you manage to open the box, the Protectorate will still stop you.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “No one can stop me. Not as long as I have Rory on my side.”

  He, Dalaja, and Drake all looked at me. A chill slithered down my spine, and a sick, sick feeling filled my stomach. Covington was going to use whatever was in that box on me, just as I’d feared.

  “What’s so special about me?” I snapped. “Why are you so determined to make me your Reaper minion?”

  Covington’s eyes glittered with a cold, hard light. “Your parents thought that they could walk away from the Reapers. That they could walk away from me. I showed them how wrong they were. Now I’m going to make sure that their precious daughter follows in their footsteps.”

  Anger surged through my body. “Isn’t it enough that you murdered them? Why can’t you just leave me alone? What did I ever do to you?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You mean besides beating me to a bloody pulp at the Eir Ruins in front of Gwen Frost and her friends? Or the fact that I rotted in a Protectorate prison for months afterward? Have you forgotten about those things? Because I certainly haven’t, Rory.”

  My hands clenched into fists so tight that my fingernails dug into my palms, but I ignored the pain. “You murdered my parents, not to mention all those innocent kids in the Library of Antiquities, just so you could cover up the fact that you were a Reaper. You deserved everything you got and then some. I should have killed you at the ruins when I had the chance, but I was trying to be a good person. I was trying to be a better person than you.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Covington agreed. “And that’s what will make this so satisfying. The Spartan girl who could have killed me doing all the horrible things that I order her to do. Enjoy your last few moments of freedom, Rory.”

  His words chilled me to the bone, and I knew that I had to act now, so I lunged for the trowel on the table. I didn’t care if Covington sicced the basilisks on me again. I would rather die fighting the monsters than be his pawn.

  But once again, I was too slow.

  Right before my hand closed over the trowel, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my own arms down by my sides. I kicked and thrashed, but Drake easily lifted me off my feet with his Viking strength and gave me a vicious shake.

  “Stop fighting, or I’ll squish you like a grape,” he warned.

  I kept struggling, so he charged over and slammed me into the closest wall. My head snapped against the glass, and pain shot through my skull, stunning me. Despite my best efforts, I went limp in his arms.

  “That’s more like it,” Drake said.

  He carried me over to where Covington and Dalaja were standing. Covington pulled a dagger out from one of the slots on his belt.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “This won’t hurt…much.”

  He waggled the dagger at me, as though he were going to step forward and gut me with it. But he had something else in mind.

  Instead of slicing me with the dagger, Covington whirled around and stabbed Professor Dalaja.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “No!” I screamed. “No! Don’t! Stop!”

  But it was too late. Covington ripped the blade out of Dalaja’s chest, and she crumpled to the ground, groaning with pain. Blood spattered onto the floor around her, and I couldn’t tell how badly she was hurt.

  “Don’t worry, Rory,” Covington murmured. “I didn’t hit anything vital. Besides, I don’t know exactly how much blood I need, so I can’t kill her. Not yet, anyway.”

  He turned and held the dagger over the box on the table. Professor Dalaja’s blood dripped off the blade and spattered onto the red stone.

  At first, nothing happened, and the drops of blood were just sitting there on top of the box. But then the drops slowly dissolved into the stone, like rain soaking into the ground. The black hearts on the box gleamed with a soft, sinister light, and the silver vines and thorns twisted and writhed, almost as if they were rearranging themselves. Several soft click-click-clicks rang out, as though some sort of mechanism were turning inside the box.

  A moment later, the clicks stopped, and the top of the box popped open.

  Covington’s triumphant smile made my blood run cold. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

  He set his bloody dagger down on the table, picked up the box, and opened it the rest of the way. Despite the dread swirling through my body, I leaned forward, trying to see what was inside. Drake leaned forward with me, as curious as I was. Seemed his boss hadn’t told him what was in the box either.

  The answer? Rubies.

  Lots and lots of rubies.

  Dozens of small rubies filled the box. Covington dug his hand into the pile and let them trickle through his fingers. One of the gems hit the side of the box and bounced off, landing on the table.

  “Whoops,” he said, grabbing it. “Wouldn’t want to lose a single one of these.”

  “Rubies?” I snarked. “You went to all this trouble for some lousy rubies?”

  “Oh, they might sparkle like rubies, but they’re not jewels. They’re something far rarer and much more special. They’re seeds.”

  I frowned. Seeds? What was he talking about? Why would he want seeds, of all things?

  Covington held out the object clutched in his fingers so that I could see it. At first glance, it looked like a small ruby, complete with facets that winked in the light streaming in through the glass walls. But I took another, closer look at it, and I realized he was right.

  It was a seed.

  The seed was shaped like a blood-red heart, with a hard black point on the bottom that looked like a tiny thorn. I glanced at the red box on the table. The seed was the same size and shape as the jet hearts that glittered on top of the box, and I was willing to bet that it also matched the ruby hearts on the black Chloris box in the Bunker.

  I also thought about taking a keepsake box, but I think it’s in storage. It wasn’t in the library with everything else. Gretchen’s voice whispered in my mind again.

  In addition to circles and chains, she had also sketched vines, flowers, and red hearts on her drawing. Now I knew exactly what those symbols represented. Gretchen had researched all the estate artifacts. She must have realized that the red Chloris box was here somewhere and what it contained. Maybe she had even mentioned it to Covington when she offered to steal and sell Serket’s Pen to him. Either way, he had set all of this in motion, and now he finally had the box and its seeds.

  “What kind of seed is that?” I asked, even though I had a sinking feeling that I already knew the answer. “What’s so special about it?”

  “Each one of these seeds will grow into a red narcissus,” Covington said.

  That sick, sick feeling in my stomach intensified, and I almost vomited. Sigyn had shown me the red narcissus flowers in the Eir Ruins last night. I had thought that the poisonous flowers had just been a metaphor for my fight against Covington. I hadn’t realized that the goddess was showing me exactly what he was after.

  He turned the seed this way and that, examining it the way he had examined the box. “Such a
unique specimen. Unlike some flowers that choke other vegetation to death with their leaves and roots, the red narcissus does something far more sinister. Its venom actually transforms other flowers and changes them into red narcissi as well.”

  I thought back to all the times Covington had tried to recruit me to become a Reaper over the past few weeks. All the times I had refused. And all the times he had told me that I was going to become a Reaper, whether I wanted to or not.

  “This is it,” I whispered. “This is your plan. You want to poison the Protectorate members with red narcissus venom and turn them into Reapers, into your puppets.”

  It sounded crazy, especially since I had no idea how the seeds would turn people into Reapers, much less how Covington would control them afterward. Then my gaze fell to the black amulet around his neck, and I knew the answer.

  “The amulet,” I whispered. “It lets you control the red narcissi, doesn’t it? And anyone infected with their venom.”

  I stared at Covington, and for once, I actually wished he would throw his head back, laugh, and tell me how stupid I was. That this wasn’t his plan. That he was going to do something far more normal and harmless with the seeds.

  But of course, I wasn’t that lucky.

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do with them,” he confirmed. “Yours is a simplified explanation, but I’m not going to bore you with the details.”

  Professor Dalaja was still sprawled across the floor, but she looked up at Covington. “It will…never work… You’ll never…get away…with it…”

  “I already have.” He tilted his head to the side, studying her the same way the basilisks studied their prey. “You know, I was going to test one of the seeds on you, Dalaja, to make sure they work, but you’re of no further use to me.”

  She stared up at him, pain shimmering in her eyes.