I crouched behind the stuffed horse, my heart pounding, a tight grip on Vic, waiting for more of them to file into the room, but none did. I wondered what the other Reapers were doing, but I wasn’t going to complain. I was just happy they hadn’t all decided to come in here at once. We would have been killed for sure. Now, at least we had a fighting chance.
One of the Reapers stepped forward. “Spread out.”
I blinked. That—that was a girl’s voice. I shouldn’t have been surprised, since Reapers could be anyone, from parents to teachers to students and everyone in between. The two Reapers that I’d battled before had been kids my own age. Still, something about the low, throaty voice bothered me. It almost sounded ... familiar. Like I’d heard it somewhere before—
“Take anything that looks interesting or that has magic attached to it,” she said.
I frowned. I’d thought the Reapers might have seen us standing in the doorway, that maybe that was the reason they’d headed in this direction, but it sounded like they’d just come in here looking for artifacts.
“And start searching for the Helheim Dagger,” the girl continued. “They could have moved it here, according to our calculations.”
My breath caught in my throat. The Helheim Dagger? How did she know about that? And why did she think it was here in the museum? My mind started churning. The girl barked out a few more orders, but I wasn’t really listening to her words anymore. Instead, I concentrated on her voice, comparing it to another one—the voice I’d heard the night my mom had died.
The voice of my mom’s murderer.
Where’s the dagger? Where did you hide it? ... Fool. There’s no place you can hide it that we won’t find it. It’s only a matter of time.... The sneering voice rang in my head, the words playing over and over again.
Thanks to my psychometry magic, I never forgot anything I saw, heard, or felt when I touched an object. Not only that, but I could call up those memories whenever I wanted to and examine them the way someone might look at scenes on her favorite DVD. I suppose it was my own version of a photographic memory, only with perfect playback every single time.
A few weeks ago, my mentor, Professor Aurora Metis, had asked me to use my Gypsy gift on a Reaper boy named Preston Ashton. I got vivid enough vibes from objects, but I could get major whammies, major, major flashes of feeling from touching another person. I could see everything a person had ever done, from childhood to old age, all the feelings he kept locked away in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, and all the secrets he so desperately wanted to hide from everyone—even himself.
Professor Metis had wanted to know what Preston and his Reaper friends might be planning, what their next move might be against the Pantheon. So I’d taken Preston’s hand in mine and used my Gypsy gift to delve into his mind.
I’d just never expected to see my own mom’s murder.
For months I’d thought that my mom had been killed by a drunk driver coming home from work one night, but looking into Preston’s mind had shown me what had really happened. How Preston had been there. How he’d caused the accident by ramming his SUV into my mom’s car. How he’d done so on the orders of a mysterious Reaper girl—a girl who was Loki’s Champion and was searching for the Helheim Dagger that my mom had hidden years ago. And then, finally, how the Reaper girl had plunged her sword into my mom’s heart, killing her.
The same Reaper girl who was standing in front of me right now.
The awful pain of that moment, of reliving my mom’s murder, knifed through my heart, splintering it into a thousand broken, bloody shards. I let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. But along with the pain came anger—more anger than I’d ever felt before. The rage quickly swallowed the pain, burning away everything else except my need for revenge.
“Gwen?” Daphne whispered, sensing the change in me. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t move; I couldn’t even think. There was nothing but the rage that filled every cell of my body. Finally, I forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“It’s her,” I muttered. “The Reaper girl. Loki’s Champion. That’s her right there.”
The girl who killed my mom.
“Hey,” one of the other Reapers said, staring down at the glass that littered the floor. “Why are all the cases in here smashed already—”
“Now, Daphne!” I screamed. “Now!”
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Daphne rose up from her spot behind the stuffed horse, already drawing back her golden arrow and lining up her shot, aiming for the other girl. But the Reaper saw what she was doing, grabbed the man next to her, and shoved him in front of her, using him as a human shield. Daphne let go of her bowstrings.
Thwang!
My best friend’s aim was true, but the arrow zoomed into the man’s heart instead of the Reaper girl’s.
A Valkyrie, I thought, making a mental note in the back of my mind. The Reaper girl had to be a Valkyrie, had to have a Valkyrie’s superstrength, to shove a grown man around like he weighed nothing.
Beside me, a puff of golden smoke filled the air, and another arrow appeared in the onyx quiver strapped to Daphne’s back. My friend had been right—that was wicked cool. Daphne saw me staring at her. She nodded, reached back, and grabbed the arrow.
“Kill them!” the Reaper girl bellowed over the noise of the still-blaring alarms. “Kill them all!”
The other Reapers didn’t hesitate. Five of them charged forward while the Reaper girl stayed where she was. Two of the Reapers raced by the wax Viking.
With a loud battle cry, Logan leaped out from his hiding spot and rammed his sword into the Reaper closest to him, wounding his enemy. For a moment, there was mass confusion, before those two turned to fight Logan; the other three hurried in our direction, one going right and the last two going left.
Carson and I stepped out from behind the stuffed horse to meet them, still keeping Daphne in between us. She put an arrow in one of the guys to the left, felling him just before he reached Carson. That was all that I saw before the Reaper on my side of the dais attacked.
Swipe-swipe-swipe.
The Reaper swung his sword at my head, but I parried his blows. I hadn’t been going to Mythos Academy for very long, and I hadn’t had the lifelong weapons training the other kids had had, but I’d gotten a crash course in learning how to stay alive these last few months. The Reaper raised his sword for another strike, but I ducked behind the figure of the Roman centurion, putting it between us. The Reaper wasn’t quite quick enough to pull his blow, and his sword stuck in the wax that made up the Roman’s chest. He frantically tugged on his weapon, trying to free it for another strike at me.
I didn’t hesitate. It was kill or be killed, and if the situation had been reversed, the Reaper would have done the same to me. Still, that knowledge, that cold logic, didn’t make me feel any better as I darted forward and shoved Vic into the Reaper’s chest with all my strength. The Reaper screamed and clawed at the silver blade, trying to rip Vic out of my hands. I tightened my grip, yanked the sword out, then plunged it into his stomach. The Reaper screamed again and stumbled back. He sprawled to a stop on the floor below the dais, and he didn’t get back up.
“Nicely done, Gwen!” Vic shouted, his mouth moving underneath my sweaty hand.
“Shut up, Vic!” I screamed back at him.
On the other side of the dais, Carson battled another Reaper, parrying the Reaper’s sword with the staff he’d grabbed earlier. Daphne stood a few feet behind him, her bow up and ready, just waiting to put an arrow into the Reaper as soon as she got a clear shot. Across the room, Logan had killed the Reaper he’d stabbed before and was battling the second one.
My head whipped around to the seventh and final Reaper—the girl who’d murdered my mom. She stood in the same spot as before, a long, curved sword in her black-gloved hand. She stared at me, and through the slits in her mask, I saw the faintest glint of her
eyes—and the spark of red that flashed in their depths. The angry, hate-filled flicker burned like a match underneath the twisted rubber covering her face.
“Well, well, well,” the Reaper girl hissed. “If it isn’t Nike’s Champion, slinging a sword like she actually knows how to use it. I was hoping I might run into you here.”
Her words made my stomach twist with fear, but I pushed the feeling aside. I knew the Reaper girl wanted to kill me. She’d threatened to do so in the memory I had of her stabbing my mom. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew who I was and what I looked like. Professor Metis had once told me that Champions could recognize other Champions, that we were inevitably drawn to each other, attracting and repelling like magnets.
“Yeah, it’s me. Gwen Frost,” I snapped. “Nike’s Champion in the flesh. I know what you did to my mom.”
The girl threw back her head and laughed. She just—laughed. Low, long, and loud. Like it was funny that she’d killed my mom in cold blood. Like it was the most hysterical thing ever that she and her Reaper friends had just done the same thing to a museum full of innocent people.
“Well, I should certainly hope so,” she said. “Killing your weak, sniveling mother was the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
Rage once again filled my heart, blocking out everything else. All my questions, all my worries, all my fears. There was only me and her and my desire for revenge, this burning, burning need I had to make her pay, to make her suffer for taking my mom away from me.
With a roar, I leaped off the dais, raised my sword, and rushed forward—and the Reaper girl stepped up to meet me.
Chapter 3
I swung Vic in a vicious arc at the Reaper girl, trying to separate her head from her shoulders with one blow, trying to avenge my mom with one quick strike, trying to do something, anything to ease this intense ache in my heart.
It didn’t work.
She easily blocked my attack and let out another mocking laugh. “Is that the best you can do, Gypsy? Pathetic. No wonder the Pantheon is doomed to fail, with you as Nike’s Champion.”
Then, the Reaper girl snapped up her gloved hand and hit me in the face. Yep, I thought, staggering back as pain exploded in my jaw. Definitely a Valkyrie with a punch like that.
I barely had time to blink the flashing stars out of my eyes before the Reaper girl came at me with her own sword. I lurched to one side, just managing to get out of the way of the whistling blade. The weapon stuck in the wooden base of one of the glass artifact cases I’d smashed. The sudden, jarring stop made the Reaper girl lose her grip on her weapon and stumble away.
Eyes wide, I stared down at the other girl’s sword, which was a foot away from where my head had been a second before. Strange symbols gleamed on the surface of the blade, just below the hilt, each one of them outlined in the blackening blood that already coated the sword there.
Metis had told me that all the gods and goddesses gave their Champions a weapon, since Champions were those picked by the gods to carry out their wishes here in the mortal realm. The professor had also said that only a Champion could read the words on her specific weapon. Victory always was carved into Vic’s blade. I wondered what the Reaper girl’s sword said. Somehow I knew it had something to do with blood, pain, and death.
But that wasn’t the only thing I noticed. Half of a face was set into the sword’s hilt—a woman’s face with a single crimson eye that was glaring at me. Hate made the orb burn as bright as a bloody sun.
I bit back a shriek and brought up Vic, so he could see the other sword.
“Lucretia,” Vic snarled, apparently recognizing it.
“Vic,” the other sword growled back in a low, feminine voice. “I’d so hoped that someone had finally melted you down and used you for scrap metal.”
“Scrap metal!” Vic scoffed. “I’ll show you scrap metal, you tarnished toothpick!”
Okay, so the Reaper girl had a talking sword, too, one that seemed to have just as much attitude as Vic did. Super, super creepy, but right now, I was more concerned about not getting stabbed to death than about the fact that her weapon was a mirror image of mine.
The Reaper girl surged to her feet, yanked her sword free of the wooden base, and turned to face me once more. Behind me, I could hear the clang-clang-clang of a Reaper’s sword hitting Logan’s shield. Up on the dais, Carson still struggled with the last Reaper, while Daphne yelled at the band geek to get out of the way so she could put an arrow through the Reaper’s heart.
“Get ready to die, Gypsy,” the Reaper girl snarled, as she came at me again.
Clash-clash-clash.
Our swords rang together, and glass crunched like cereal under our feet as we battled back and forth across the room. The other girl’s Valkyrie strength gave her a big advantage, and every single one of her blows threatened to tear Vic out of my sweaty, shaking grasp. Not to mention that the Reaper girl knew exactly what she was doing when it came to fighting. She moved from one attack position to the next, and she never stopped coming at me—not even for a second.
Desperate, I tried to call up my memories of Logan and the Spartan’s fighting prowess, tried to tap into those memories and Logan’s skills with my psychometry magic. But there was just too much going on, and I couldn’t focus the way I needed to.
Swipe-swipe-swipe.
The Reaper girl laughed again, her sword inching closer to my throat with every single pass, and I got the sense that she was just toying with me. That she could have killed me anytime she liked but wanted to draw out the fight for as long as possible for her own twisted amusement—
“Carson!” Daphne screamed, her frantic voice penetrating my rage. “Carson!”
I looked at the dais just in time to see the Reaper there lunge forward and ram his sword into Carson’s chest.
“No!”
I didn’t know if I screamed or if Daphne did or if it was both of us together, but Carson crumpled to the dais, blood splashing everywhere. Logan increased his attacks on the second Reaper he’d been fighting so he could finish him off and rush over to help Carson, but I knew it was already too late.
“A www, did one of your friends get hurt, Gypsy? What a shame,” the Reaper girl mocked me.
Rage, fear, and adrenaline filled my heart, and I didn’t think—I just acted. I threw myself at the Reaper girl, tackling her and driving her to the floor. The move surprised her, and she lost her grip on her sword, which clattered away. I could hear Lucretia shouting at the girl, but I didn’t stop my attack. Even though I didn’t have her Valkyrie strength, I raised Vic and smashed the hilt of the sword into the Reaper girl’s face, hoping that I could break her nose underneath that hideous Loki mask.
“That’s my girl!” Vic roared. “Keep it up, Gwen!”
But the Reaper girl wasn’t done for. Somehow she got her arms in between us and shoved me off her. I stumbled back and landed on my butt, glass digging into my hands and even more slicing through my jeans.
The Reaper girl scrambled to her feet. In her haste to grab her sword, something soft and white fluttered out of the folds of her black robe and fell to the floor. The girl stretched out her hand, making a frantic grab for it, but I staggered to my feet, lurched forward, and swung Vic at her again, making her scuttle back.
The Reaper girl glared at me, her eyes flashing like rubies behind her rubber mask, and let out a vicious curse. Then, she did the strangest thing of all—she turned and ran out of the room.
“Where is she going? Why is she bloody retreating?” Vic snapped, echoing my own thoughts.
“I have no idea, but she’s not getting away,” I growled.
I took a step forward, ready to chase after her, when Daphne screamed again. This time, it wasn’t a scream of fear—it was one of rage.
My head snapped around. While I’d been battling the Reaper girl, Daphne had stepped up to fight Carson’s attacker, using her onyx bow as a shield to block his attacks and the latest arrow from the magical quiver as
a makeshift sword. Over and over, the Valkyrie stabbed at the Reaper with the arrow, causing the man to back up. His foot caught on something I couldn’t see, and Daphne stepped forward and shoved the arrow into the Reaper’s chest. The man screamed and stumbled back, the arrow sticking out of his heart like a golden finger.
Daphne didn’t care, though. She turned around and fell to her knees beside Carson. Tears streamed down her pretty face as she cradled the band geek’s head in her hands. I hurried toward her. Across the room, I saw Logan kill the last Reaper and do the same.
“Stop, Gwen, stop!” Vic yelled at me.
I pulled up short of the dais, and Logan skidded to a halt beside me.
“What? What’s wrong? Are there more Reapers?” Logan asked, his head turning back toward the door.
“No, it’s the Valkyrie,” Vic said. “Her magic is finally quickening. Just watch and give her a little room.”
We did as he said. If Vic was right, then Daphne’s hidden Valkyrie power—latent until now—was about to erupt in a big, big way.
I propped Vic up against the side of the stuffed horse so he could see what was going on. As we watched, more and more pink sparks began to flicker around Daphne, until a continuous stream of magic flowed out of her fingertips. Daphne cried the whole time, tears falling off her face and mixing with the magic in the air. Every time one of the Valkyrie’s tears hit the stream, the magic sparked and cracked, taking on a rosy glow tinged with gold. That rosy glow just kept growing and growing, until it covered Daphne’s entire body—and Carson’s too.
“Carson,” Daphne pleaded, staring down at the band geek. “Please, please don’t die. You can’t die. I won’t let you. Do you hear me?”
I didn’t know if the Valkyrie did it herself or if it was just her magic having a mind of its own, but something shifted at her words. The magic coalesced around her, no longer sparking and cracking, but instead filling the whole room with its warm power. Even though I was exhausted from my fight with the Reaper girl, something about that glow soothed me, made me feel stronger, more vibrant, more alive.
Dark Frost: A Mythos Academy Novel Page 3
