“Why?” I whispered. “Why did they have to kill my mom?”
Nike’s face remained cold and impassive. I didn’t know why I’d come here, what I’d thought would happen, but the grief overwhelmed me, weighing me down until I couldn’t take another step.
I curled up into a ball at the goddess’s feet and wept.
I don’t know how long I cried—the eerie, still silence of the second floor swallowed up my sobs—but at some point, my exhaustion overpowered everything else, and I fell asleep right there in the library. I woke up, stiff and sore from my awkward position, my eyes crusty with dried tears, and my heart just—just sick with what I’d seen in Preston’s mind. His awful, awful memories of my mother’s murder.
It took me two minutes to realize the statue was gone.
I’d collapsed in a heap at Nike’s feet, but now only empty air filled the space where the goddess’s statue had been. I jumped to my feet and looked around, but all the other statues were still in their places along the second floor balcony, all turned the same way, staring down into the first floor of the Library of Antiquities. Only Nike was missing. I took a few steps back from the spot where she’d been—
“Hello, Gwendolyn,” a soft voice called out to me.
Somehow I managed not to scream. Instead, I slowly turned around, and there she was—Nike. She looked the same as she had the last time I’d seen her, the night Jasmine had tried to murder me in the library.
Nike might have been the Greek goddess of victory, but she was also the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her hair slipped past her shoulders, the soft brown waves shimmering with a metallic, bronze sheen. An elegant gown in a soft lilac color rippled around her body like water, while a thin silver belt looped around her waist. The belt matched the crown of silver flowers that ringed her head—laurels, the symbol for victory. Soft, feathery wings arched up from the goddess’s back, making her look as if she could take flight at any moment.
Nike was pretty enough, but the thing that made her striking to me was the sheer power that radiated off her—cold, beautiful, and terrible all at the same time.
“Okay,” I said. “We’re doing that weird dream world thing again, aren’t we? Where we’re in the library but not really there at all? That’s why there aren’t any students studying on the first floor right now?”
It was the same thing that had happened the last time I’d spoken to the goddess. One minute I’d been in the library, fighting Jasmine. The next I’d still been in the library, but everyone and everything else had disappeared except for me, the goddess, and Vic.
Nike laughed and stepped closer to me. “Something like that.”
The goddess’s eyes met mine, and I felt I could stare into her gaze forever. Her eyes were a curious shade, not quite purple, but not quite gray either, just like Vic’s eye was. Her gaze made me think of the soft color of twilight, that instant of time just before darkness came and covered the land in blackness for the night.
Maybe I should have been more humbled, maybe I should have been more respectful, but now that the goddess was here in front of me, I couldn’t help asking the questions that burned in my heart.
“Why did the Reapers kill my mom? What did they want? What are they up to? How can I stop them? What am I supposed to do now?”
Nike’s face was kind, but sadness tugged down her mouth. “Walk with me, Gwendolyn.”
I fell in step beside the goddess, and we started strolling around the balcony, passing the other statues of the gods and goddesses from all the various cultures of the world. Maybe it was my Gypsy gift or maybe it was only my imagination, but it seemed that all the stone figures stared at me, their heads swiveling around one by one to watch us circle the balcony. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, dropping my gaze from the statues. I didn’t know what I’d see if I kept looking at them. Part of me didn’t want to know.
Finally, Nike spoke. “Long ago, after Loki was defeated in the final battle of the Chaos War, the other gods and I combined our powers and locked Loki away from the mortal realm, trapping him in another realm, another dimension. In a sort of prison, if you will.”
“Kind of like this library is a mirror image of the real one that I’m sleeping in right now ... or whatever?”
She nodded. “The gods placed seven seals on Loki’s prison, using various artifacts and other magical safeguards to keep him contained.”
The goddess stopped and looked at me. “Six of those seals have been broken. And when the last one, the seventh seal breaks, Loki will be free once more.”
The seals are all but broken, and it won’t be much longer before we find the key to unlock the last one. Soon, Loki will be free, and his Chaos will reign once more. And when that happens, you will rue the day you were ever born, Gypsy. You and Nike and all the other members of the pathetic Pantheon.
Preston’s words echoed in my head. Back at the ski resort, I’d wondered if the Reaper knew what he was talking about or if he was just crazy. I really, really wished he had just been crazy.
I drew in a ragged breath. “But—but how is that even possible? You’re so strong. I can feel the power rolling off you in waves. Surely, you and the other gods together have enough magic to fix the seals.”
Nike shook her head. “It took all the magic we had to create the artifacts and seals in the first place and trap Loki with them. Centuries have passed, and some of the gods still haven’t recovered from the ordeal.”
“But how did the seals even get broken in the first place?” I asked.
“By Loki’s followers,” Nike said. “They found the artifacts and other items we used, took them from the Champions who were guarding them, and destroyed them. They also weakened and eventually broke through some of the other safeguards with their blood sacrifices. Blood has great power you see, especially a Champion’s blood, since she has been blessed by her god or goddess. Every time a Reaper kills and dedicates that spilled blood to Loki, the god of chaos becomes a little stronger and gets a little closer to breaking free of his prison.”
Daphne and Grandma Frost had both told me that being a Champion was dangerous, that it was as good as having a target on your back, and that Reapers would do anything to kill Champions. Know I knew why. Because my blood had power—more power than I’d ever dreamed of. More power than I’d ever wanted. I shivered.
Nike walked on, passing a statue of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. I thought about Metis then, about how the professor was Athena’s Champion. I wondered if Metis knew about the broken seals—and the fact that Loki was thisfreakingclose to being free again.
“So what can I do?” I asked. “Is there any way to keep the last seal from being broken?”
“The last seal, the strongest seal, was an artifact that was entrusted to my Champion,” Nike said, not quite answering my question. “Over the years, it has been passed down from one of my Champions to the other, from your first ancestor all the way down to your mother, Grace Frost.”
Suddenly, the words Preston had said in his memories made perfect sense to me.
“A dagger,” I whispered. “The artifact, the one that’s the last seal on Loki’s prison, is a dagger. That’s why the Reapers killed my mom—because she hid the dagger and wouldn’t tell them where it was, and they need it to free Loki.”
Nike nodded. “Correct. It’s called the Helheim Dagger, because it has the power to open a portal to Helheim, the underground netherworld where the other gods and I trapped Loki.”
“Do you know where the dagger is?” I asked. “Where my mom hid it?”
Nike shook her head. “After the last battle of the Chaos War, all the gods made a pact not to become involved in mortal affairs. We would have torn the world apart otherwise until there was nothing left. That’s why the seals and other safeguards were given to our Champions and other trusted warriors to hide and protect as best they could. The seals were designed to stay in the mortal world, so no god could touch or break them. But, of cou
rse, the Reapers have been relentlessly searching for them ever since Loki was imprisoned. One by one, they’ve found the artifacts, and now, only the dagger is left.”
“And nobody knows where the Helheim Dagger is but my mom, and she can’t tell anyone because she’s dead.” Bitterness filled my empty, aching heart.
“I’m truly sorry, Gwendolyn,” Nike said in a sad voice. “But Champions are often called upon to make sacrifices. Your mother gave her life to keep Loki imprisoned, and she saved countless other lives doing that. Every day Loki remains trapped is another day the world isn’t on the brink of war. Your mother died protecting others, which is the bravest, noblest thing a Champion can do.”
I understood what my mom had done and why, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. It didn’t make my heart hurt any less.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I whispered, feeling like I was coming apart from the inside out.
“These things never stay hidden forever,” Nike said, once again not quite answering my question. “There’s too much power attached to the dagger, and there are too many Reapers looking for it. One of them will eventually find the dagger and use it to free Loki.”
I looked at the goddess. “You want me to find the dagger first, don’t you? And what, hide it somewhere else? What good will that do? Won’t the Reapers just keep looking for it?”
Nike nodded again. “They will. Even now, they are using their blood sacrifices to try to break through the cloaking spell your mother put on the dagger to hide it. Once the spell is gone, they’ll be able to divine its general location and start searching for it. You need to find the dagger, hide it somewhere else, and put a new, stronger cloaking spell on it. Your Professor Metis should be able to help you with that, along with the Spartan librarian, Nickamedes.”
Well, that made sense. If there was anyone here at Mythos who could help keep the dagger out of the Reapers’ hands, it was Metis. But Nickamedes? Really? And he was a Spartan? My brain rattled around inside my skull a little at that revelation. But then, I thought about seeing Logan and Nickamedes together at the ski resort. If they were related like I suspected, it made sense that Nickamedes was a Spartan, just like Logan was.
“Your mother hid the dagger well, and every day the Reapers don’t find it is a small victory for the members of the Pantheon—and the world,” Nike continued. “But time is running out, and the cloaking spell won’t hold much longer. The Pantheon needs more time to prepare for what’s coming.”
“And what would that be?”
The goddess stared at me with her twilight eyes. She didn’t say anything, but somehow, I knew the answer to my question. Chaos. War. Death. Destruction. Loki breaking free of his prison and trying to take over the world again. Bad, Bad Things all around.
“But how am I supposed to find the dagger?” I asked. “My mom was smart—the smartest person I knew. If the Reapers haven’t been able to find the dagger where she hid it, what makes you think I can?”
Nike smiled. “Because you’re my Champion, Gwendolyn, and I have faith in you, just as I did in your mother before you.”
As much as I appreciated the goddess’s confidence, it wasn’t exactly the most helpful thing in the world right now. “But can’t you help me at all? Give me a clue or something? Someplace to start at least? What am I supposed to do now?”
It was the same question I’d asked her a minute ago, and for the third time, she didn’t exactly answer me.
“I can’t tell you that. All I can do is appear to you now and then to advise you, Gwendolyn. Nothing more. That is the agreement the gods made with respect to our Champions. The battle is between you and the Reapers. The rest is up to you. The choices are yours to make. Neither I nor any of the other gods can ever make you do anything you don’t want to,” Nike said. “Every creature, mortal and god alike, has free will. It’s what we choose to do with that will that defines us, that makes us who we are, good or bad. Remember that.”
It was the same speech Metis had given a few weeks ago in myth-history class, but it didn’t make me feel any better now than it had then. Yeah, free will was great and all, but I didn’t see how it would help me defeat a Reaper—or Loki, if the evil god ever got free.
By this point, we’d circled all the way around the balcony. The goddess stepped back up onto the pedestal where her statue stood in the library’s pantheon.
“You have served me well so far, Gwendolyn Frost,” Nike said. “You have used your wits and your magic wisely. I hope you continue to do so—for all our sakes.”
The goddess leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. For a moment her power washed over me—that cold, beautiful, terrible power that made her who and what she was. My own blood turned to ice, just like it had the last time she’d kissed me here in the library, and I felt something shift inside myself. Something settling into a new place, bringing new strength, courage, and determination along with it. The feeling didn’t frighten me like it had before. Not anymore.
The goddess stepped back. She gave me a final, soft smile before her body started shimmering and melting like early morning twilight being banished by the breaking dawn.
I blinked, and Nike was gone, replaced by her white marble statue once more.
Chapter 27
“Gwen?” a soft voice called out to me. “Gwen, wake up.”
A hand gently shook my shoulder, snapping me out of—of wherever I’d been. I opened my eyes to find Logan crouching in front of me, his ice blue gaze full of concern.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked. “Nickamedes told me what happened with Preston. He and the others were worried about you. They’re out looking for you, along with Daphne, Carson, and Oliver.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “I must have really freaked them out if Nickamedes was worried about me.”
I leaned my head back against the base of Nike’s statue. Logan looked at me a second, then sat down on the cold floor beside me.
“You want to tell me what happened? What you saw?” he asked in a quiet voice.
I needed to talk to someone about what I’d seen when I’d touched Preston, when I’d looked into his horrible memories. I couldn’t think of anyone better than Logan. After all, I’d seen the Spartan’s memories, too, when I’d kissed him—I knew he’d understand.
“Yeah, I’d like to talk about it,” I said. “But to really understand it, first I have to tell you some other things about me. Things you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
I drew in a breath. “Like the fact that I’m Nike’s Champion.”
I sat there and told Logan everything, starting from the first time I saw Nike that night in the library when we’d both been fighting Jasmine and her Nemean prowler. The Spartan didn’t say a word while I talked. He just sat there and let me get it all out, let me get all my fears, feelings, and hurts out there in the open. And I told him everything—about seeing my mom’s murder through Preston’s eyes, that Metis and my Grandma Frost had known about it the whole time, that they’d kept the truth from me, what Nike had told me about the broken seals on Loki’s prison, how my mom had hidden the Helheim Dagger, and that Nike had asked me to find and protect the dagger from the Reapers who were looking for it.
After I was done, Logan sat there for a minute, thinking. Then he grinned at me. “You really have a talking sword?”
I rolled my eyes. “Trust you to be a total Spartan weapons geek and focus on Vic.”
I leaned over and lightly punched him in the shoulder. But we both laughed, and I felt just a smidge better.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” Logan said in a quiet tone. “I know—I know what it’s like to lose your family, to lose someone you care about so much.”
The image of him as a boy standing over those two bloody bodies filled my mind, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I looked at Logan, wanting him to tell me what had happened that day, how he’d lost his mother and sister, and why he thought knowing about it would make me think less o
f him. Would make me think he wasn’t the hero I knew him to be.
He didn’t say a word.
Logan opened his mouth, like he was going to tell me, but then he shut it again and looked away, a haunted, guilty expression on his face. I stared down at his bare hand, which was just an inch away from mine. I knew if I touched him right now, if I reached over and took his hand in mine, my psychometry would kick in. And then I would see and feel what Logan was remembering right now—and I’d finally discover his secret. Why and how he’d lost his family—and the reason it was keeping us apart. The reason it made the Spartan doubt himself and who and what he was.
I cared about Logan so much, and the temptation to do it was so strong.
But then I remembered what both Professor Metis and Nike had said about free will, about how the choices we made defined who we were. I didn’t want to use my magic to find out Logan’s secret. I wanted him to trust me enough to tell me about it, just the way I trusted him. And if I had to wait a little while longer for him to do that, then that was okay. My feelings for him weren’t going to change, my caring about him no matter what wasn’t going to change.
“I’m glad you came looking for me,” I finally said. “Here tonight and back at the ski resort.”
Logan gave me a crooked grin. “I’ll always come looking for you, Gypsy girl.”
He hesitated, then reached over and put his arm around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he tightened his other arm around me, careful not to touch my bare skin.
We stayed like that for a long, long time.
The next day after classes, I slipped off campus and went to visit Grandma Frost. We sat on opposite sides of the table in the kitchen, but for once, the bright furnishings failed to cheer me up, and the scrumptious raspberry pound cake that Grandma had just baked sat uncut and untouched between us. She knew why I was here. After Logan had found me in the library, I’d talked to Metis and told the professor exactly what I’d seen when I’d touched Preston’s hand, all the talk about the Helheim Dagger and all the awful, awful memories that I’d witnessed of him and the Reaper girl murdering my mom. Metis had called my grandma and told her everything. Now I wanted answers—about a lot of things.
Kiss of Frost Page 24
