Spartan Promise

by Jennifer Estep

  “But thanks to you, Dalaja, I have the perfect test subject right here.” Covington turned to me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Rory?”

  Horror filled every single part of my body, blotting out everything else. It was my worst nightmare come to life, the thing I had been fearing and dreading above all others ever since he had first tried to turn me into a Reaper at the Cormac Museum.

  “I was planning to use the seeds on your parents, so they would be bound to me forever, but I’m quite happy that you’re here to take their place.” Covington smiled, and my blood ran cold again. “You’re more talented than both of them put together, especially when it comes to your fighting skills. So let’s make you mine like you should have been all along.”

  “No!” I screamed. “No, no, no!”

  Drake was still holding on to me. I kicked and thrashed with all my might, but he was a Viking and much, much stronger. The more I struggled, the more he tightened his grip on my arms. His fingers dug into my muscles and then bruised the bones underneath, but I kept struggling.

  But Drake was too strong, and Covington was too quick.

  The Reaper leader crossed the distance between us. Before I could react, he grabbed my left hand, forced my fingers open, and pressed the seed into the center of my palm.

  “There,” he said. “That should do it. Let her go.”

  Drake dropped his arms from around me and stepped back.

  I swayed on my feet, staring down at the ruby seed glittering in my palm. I didn’t feel anything. No sting of pain, no burn of venom, nothing. Just the slight weight of the seed resting against my skin. Maybe Covington was wrong. Maybe it didn’t have any power. Maybe it was just a seed and nothing more—

  The seed started beating and pulsing, like I was holding a living heart in my hand. I shrieked and tried to fling it away, but the seed stuck to my skin. Then, as soon as it had begun, the pulsing stopped, and the seed was still again.

  I let out a breath. Maybe something was wrong with it. Maybe it didn’t have the magic that Covington thought it had—

  The tiny black thorn on the end of the seed started vibrating. The motion reminded me of the basilisk’s spiked tail whipping back and forth. Before I could react, the thorn rose up and then stabbed deep into my hand.

  * * *

  I screamed as the thorn ripped into my skin.

  It wasn’t that the thorn just stabbed me and that was the end of things. Oh, no. I could actually feel it burrowing deeper and deeper into my body, tearing through my muscles, and I could actually see it wriggling through my hand, like a thin black worm burrowing under my skin. The ruby seed remained where it was, though, looking like a bloody heart that had been tattooed onto my palm.

  Covington and Drake backed away from me, but I didn’t try to run. Even though I was still screaming, I knew that I had to get rid of the seed before I did anything else. I didn’t have Babs to help me this time, so I focused on the one other thing that might save me.

  Freya’s Bracelet.

  It was still hanging off my right wrist, and the silver chain felt as cold as ice against my feverish skin. Maybe it was my imagination, but the bracelet seemed to be glowing a faint silver, along with the heart locket and the winterbloom charm hanging off it.

  The black thorn slowly snaked up my arm, tearing through more of my flesh, and a burning sensation flooded my veins, growing stronger and hotter with every passing second. The basilisk poison had been painful, but the red narcissus venom was worse—so much worse.

  My legs shook, and I stumbled over and hit the table. I almost fell to my knees, but I forced myself to focus on the bracelet, on that ring of hard frost around my wrist. I needed to be hard and cold and strong right now. That was the only way I was going to survive this.

  Concentrating on the bracelet didn’t stop the pain of the thorn crawling up my arm or the venom pumping through my body, but it at least kept me from screaming.

  “You shouldn’t try to fight it,” Covington said. “From what I’ve read, that will only make the transformation process more painful.”

  Drake stared at me with open curiosity. “What is that thorn doing?”

  “Infecting her with red narcissus venom as it travels through her body,” Covington said. “Once the thorn reaches her chest, it will burrow into her heart, and nothing will be able to save her then.”

  “But how will that thorn, that seed, let you control her?” Drake asked.

  “That’s where the amulet comes in,” Covington said. “Chloris is the Greek goddess associated with vegetation. She can control all sorts of flowers, even something as deadly as the red narcissus, and her amulet has that same power. It might be missing a piece, but there’s still enough magic in it to let me control Rory once she’s fully infected.”

  I wanted to snap back and tell him that I would destroy that amulet just like I had destroyed the Apate jewel that he’d used on me at the Cormac Museum, but the black thorn kept crawling up my arm, and it hurt too much to talk. Even though my entire body was shaking, I brought my right hand up and dug my fingernails into my left palm, trying to tear out the ruby seed. I managed to draw a bit of blood, but the seed was too deeply embedded in my skin, and I couldn’t pry it out—

  I spotted a gleam of metal out of the corner of my eye. The dagger that Covington had used to stab Professor Dalaja was lying on the table a few feet away. I couldn’t pry the seed out of my palm with my nails, which meant that I needed something stronger, something sharper.

  This was going to hurt.

  By this point, I was slumped over the table, and it was the only thing holding me upright. Somehow I forced myself to stand up straight, even though my legs were shaking, and I was wobbling like crazy.

  Drake started forward to latch onto me again and hold me still while the thorn finished its foul work, but Covington waved him off, amused by my suffering. On the floor, Professor Dalaja had her hand clamped down over the stab wound in her chest, but she was too weak to help me. Up to me, then.

  So I shuffled forward, one slow step at a time, my gaze locked onto the dagger. No one tried to stop me, not even when I grabbed the blade off the table.

  Another amused smile lifted Covington’s lips. “Do you really think you can kill me before the thorn and the red narcissus venom take hold of you for good? Oh, Rory. You should know better than that.”

  “I know…that I can’t…kill you…right now,” I rasped between waves of pain. “But I’m…pretty sure…that I can kill…this thing.”

  I lifted the dagger high. Too late, Covington realized what I was going to do. He tried to stop me, but for once, I was quicker than he was.

  I stabbed the dagger into my own hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I punched the dagger deep into my palm, right beside the ruby seed, and then I started slicing, cutting the foul thing out of my own skin, one slow, sawing motion at a time.

  Blood spurted out of the jagged wound, and more pain blossomed in my body. On the bright side, this fresh misery distracted me from the thorn still crawling around under my skin. Even better, the thorn stopped moving up my arm and actually retreated, sliding back down. Okay, I didn’t know if that was really better or not, since it hurt even more than it had before, but at least it wasn’t creeping closer to my heart now. At this point, I would take whatever small victory I could get.

  I didn’t care how much it hurt. I was not going to be Covington’s puppet. I’d cut off my own hand if I had to. Anything to escape that horrible, horrible fate.

  “Drake!” Covington hissed. “Stop her!”

  The Viking stepped forward, but Dalaja kicked out with her foot and caught him in the ankle. He tumbled to the ground and landed right on top of her. I didn’t know where Dalaja found the strength, given her injuries, but she locked her arm around Drake’s neck, trying to choke him out.

  “Run, Rory!” she shouted. “Run!”

  Covington drew his sword and headed toward me, but Dalaja kicked out with h
er foot again. She managed to trip Covington, who fell to his knees. He snarled and started to get back up.

  I couldn’t fight him and cut the seed out of my hand at the same time, so I decided to take Dalaja’s advice. I hated to leave her behind, but I couldn’t help her if I was Covington’s pawn. I had to get the seed out of my skin first. Then I would come back and save the professor.

  So I whirled around and sprinted out of the solarium.

  * * *

  I ran past all the exhibit rooms we had toured during the field trip. Well, ran was an overstatement. All I really did was stumble forward, plow into furniture, and bounce off, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep going.

  I didn’t have a plan, other than getting away from Covington and getting this seed out of my hand. Somehow I ended up back outside on the patio where we had first entered the mansion. I staggered forward toward the lawn—

  Caw. Caw-caw. Caw.

  I had forgotten that the two basilisks were still outside. They were hopping around and seemed to be chasing after a butterfly.

  I didn’t want them to notice me, so I ducked behind a large gryphon-shaped planter that was filled with winterblooms on the edge of the patio. It wasn’t much of a hiding spot, but if I didn’t get the seed out of my hand in the next minute, then I was betting that it wouldn’t come out at all.

  My entire body was trembling and shaking, but I tightened my grip on the dagger and went to work with the blade, sawing it into my hand again with awkward, jerky motions. The pain was almost unbearable, and I had to grind my teeth to keep from screaming. Even then, little hisses and snarls spewed out of my lips, and tears streaked down my cheeks in a steady stream.

  The seed must have sensed what I was doing, because it fought back. The thorn lashed around under my skin, stinging me over and over again, sending wave after wave of burning venom shooting out through my veins.

  Both of my hands were slippery with blood and sweat, and every single nerve ending in my left palm felt like it was on fire, but I kept cutting and cutting. Finally, I managed to dig down deep enough to slide the tip of the dagger underneath the seed, which was still stuck to my palm like glue.

  “Where is she?” Covington’s voice boomed out through the open doors.

  “I see blood on the floor!” Drake yelled. “I think she went outside!”

  Footsteps sounded, heading in this direction. It was now or never. So I braced myself against the agony that I knew was coming, then punched the dagger even deeper into my own skin, trying to use the tip to pry the seed out of my hand.

  The dagger slipped, causing even more blood to spurt out of the wound. I almost passed out from the hot, searing pain, but I kept sawing and sawing, sliding more and more of the dagger underneath the seed, even as I kept trying to cut it out of my skin at the same time.

  Somehow it worked.

  The seed finally—finally—peeled away from my palm. Even through all the blood, I could see that tiny black thorn on the bottom wiggling around and rising up like it was going to stab right back into my palm again. I bit back a shriek, snapped my hand down, and flung the seed off before it could reattach itself to me.

  The seed landed on the stone at my feet. My blood must have somehow further triggered its magic, because it was now glowing a bright, sickening Reaper red. Disgust rolled through me, along with another wave of pain, and I raised my foot up, then stepped down on the seed. The blood made it slippery, and it spurted out from underneath my boot unharmed, so I chased it down and stomped on it again. But once more, it skittered away, like a spider trying to keep from being squished to death.

  Determination surged through me, even stronger than the pain. I was killing this thing right here and now. My boot didn’t seem to be having any effect, so I dropped to my knees, turned the bloody dagger around so that I was holding it by the blade, and slammed the hilt onto the seed.

  This time, when I hit the seed, it let out a small squeak, as if I had finally succeeded in injuring it. I gritted my teeth, raised the dagger, and slammed the hilt onto the seed again.

  And I didn’t stop.

  Over and over, I slammed the dagger hilt onto the seed. Finally—finally—the seed started to crack. So I raised the dagger up a final time, then brought it down as hard as I could.

  CRACK!

  The seed shattered into a dozen sharp ruby splinters. Each splinter still burned with that bright, eerie Reaper red light, but the glows quickly faded, and the splinters turned black and shriveled up, before dissolving into black ash that was blown away by the wind.

  Tears and sweat were still streaming down my face, but I fell back against the stone planter and concentrated on breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out. My head spun around, more blood dripped out of my hand, and that hot, fiery venom still burned through my veins.

  I didn’t know how long I huddled there, trying not to scream from all the pain surging through my body. But slowly, very, very slowly, my head stopped spinning, and I felt like myself again. Well, as much as I could feel like myself with a mangled hand. I kept staring at my palm, waiting, hoping that my healing magic would kick in and take away the worst of the pain.

  And it did.

  The fiery burn of the red narcissus venom slowly subsided, replaced by that cool, soothing rush of power, and the jagged flaps of my skin sealed themselves shut, as my healing magic stitched my hand back to the way it was supposed to be.

  I might have gotten rid of the seed, but I still had another problem: the Reapers.

  Drake stormed out of the mansion and darted out onto the lawn, followed by Covington. The basilisks were still chasing that butterfly, but they turned their heads to study the Reapers.

  Blood glistened on Drake’s sword, but he didn’t seem to be injured. My heart squeezed tight. He had probably hurt Dalaja, but I couldn’t help her right now. I was going to be lucky if I could help myself.

  Even though I was still weak from the blood loss, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the dagger from the ground, along with a small pot filled with winterblooms. Not the best weapons I’d ever had, but they would have to do.

  Drake must have seen me move, because he whipped around. “There she is!”

  He ran at me, and the basilisks charged along behind him. I didn’t know if the monsters were chasing Drake or if Covington had finally ordered them to kill me. I eyed the creatures, focused on the one closest to me, and then threw the flowerpot.

  Bull’s-eye.

  The pot hit the basilisk right between its eyes. The clay exploded on impact, and the basilisk shrieked and stumbled into the monster next to it. Both creatures fell to the ground in a tangle of black wings.

  I might have taken the basilisks out of the fight, at least for a few minutes, but Drake swung his sword at my head.

  I ducked the blow, spun toward him, and lashed out with my dagger. He jerked to the side, but I still managed to open up a long gash on his right cheek. He growled and swung his sword again, forcing me back.

  Drake raised his hand to his cheek, then brought it down, staring at the blood on his fingers. Anger sparked in his blue eyes. “You’re going to pay for that, Spartan!”

  “Bring it on!” I snarled back.

  He yelled and charged at me, and I did the same to him.

  Clash-clash-clang!

  Clash-clash-clang!

  Back and forth, we fought across the patio. Drake’s Viking magic made him far stronger than me, but my Spartan instincts let me anticipate his attacks and avoid them. I struck back with a series of quick counterstrikes and managed to open up a few gashes on his arms, but his sword gave him a much longer reach than my dagger, and I couldn’t move in for a debilitating strike without him slicing me to pieces.

  Neither one of us could get a clear advantage, but I was still going to lose. The basilisks were still down on the ground, squawking at each other, but Covington was creeping up on me.

  “Alive!” he called out. “I want her alive!”

  Drake
snarled, but he quit trying to chop off my head. Instead, he swung his sword back and forth, driving me across the patio. He was trying to pin me up against the wall so that he and Covington could force me to surrender, but there was nothing I could do to stop him—

  Screech!

  Screech-screech!

  Screech!

  Those familiar cries sounded, and three large shapes appeared in the sky in the distance. Fresh hope surged through me. The gryphons were here.

  And they weren’t alone.

  The gryphons zoomed toward the mansion. Ian was riding on Balder’s back, with Brono, the baby, and a third adult male gryphon flying on either side of their leader.

  A roar also sounded, growing closer and closer. At first, I thought one of the gryphons was making the noise, but then a white van careened around the side of the mansion and slid to a stop on the lawn, churning up grass and dirt. The doors opened, and Takeda, Zoe, Mateo, and Aunt Rachel jumped out of the vehicle, all clutching weapons.

  Covington realized that he was in danger of being overrun and captured, and he cursed and slashed Serket’s Pen through the air. The two basilisks immediately got back up onto their feet, flexed their wings, and hopped toward my friends.

  “Watch out for their spikes!” Takeda yelled. “Don’t let them poison you!”

  He and Aunt Rachel swung their swords at one of the basilisks, while Zoe attacked the other with her electrodagger, protecting Mateo while he fired a crossbow at that monster.

  Covington growled and slashed the feather pen through the air, summoning three more basilisks. One of the monsters stayed on the ground, but the other two flapped their wings and launched themselves into the air, heading for the gryphons. The basilisks crashed into Brono and the third gryphon, although Balder avoided the creatures and spiraled down to the ground.

  “Rory! Rory!” Ian yelled from the top of Balder’s back.

  I waved, telling him that I was okay, then turned my attention to Covington. I had to stop him before he conjured up more basilisks, so the next time Drake swung his sword at me, I ducked the blow, spun to my right, and leaped over one of the stone planters. I stopped long enough to grab another small flowerpot off the patio, then sprinted at the evil librarian.