But then Morgan let out a giggle and I heard a loud sucking noise. I rolled my eyes. Sounded like Samson had beaten her here already.
“About time you got here.”
Sure enough, Samson’s voice floated down from the semidark patio to me. I squinted. Thanks to the lights that ringed the library, I could just make out the Viking standing in the shadows.
“Mmm-hmm,” Morgan agreed.
There were some more smacking sounds, and then something that sounded like a zipper being drawn down. Morgan giggled once more, and I heard some clothing rasp. A minute later, Samson let out a sharp gasp.
“Ah, yeah, baby. Harder. Harder.”
Morgan made some sort of sound in the back of her throat and obliged him.
I winced and resisted the urge to clap my hands over my ears and hurry back to the bonfire. I’d hoped to hear the two of them talking more about Jasmine’s death, not listen to Morgan give her secret boyfriend a BJ. Yucko. Big, big yucko—
A shower of what looked like stone chips rained down from one of the library’s upper floors, sounding like metal marbles as they hit the patio, but Morgan and Samson were too busy to notice. I moved out from underneath the tree and craned up my neck, grateful for the distraction.
One of the stone statues was closer to the edge than I remembered it being before. As I watched, the statue teetered back and forth before tipping over and starting its inevitable descent downward—where it would land right on top of Morgan and Samson.
“Watch out!” I screamed.
Startled, the two of them broke apart. Samson looked up and saw the statue plunging toward them. He threw himself at Morgan and managed to knock them both forward and out of the way. Behind them, in the spot where they’d been standing two seconds before, the statue hit the stone and shattered into a thousand pieces.
I ran up the closest set of library steps and hurried over. The two of them were sprawled on the patio floor. “Are you guys okay?”
“Get off me,” Morgan muttered. “You’re wrinkling my new cashmere sweater.”
With a grunt Samson rolled off her and into a puddle of light. And I realized that all the clothes below his waist had been pulled down while Morgan had been going about her business. I quickly looked away.
“Um, are you guys okay?” I asked again, totally not looking while Samson got to his feet and stuffed himself back into his pants.
“We were fine, until you showed up, you freak,” Morgan muttered.
She got to her feet, dusted herself off, and glared at me. She sniffed, then looked over at the wrought-iron table where she’d put down her drink. The table and her cup had both tipped over during the commotion, and the Valkyrie seemed more upset about her spilled beer than the fact that she’d almost had her brains splattered out of her head.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Samson asked, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “Were you spying on us?”
My mind went blank. “I—”
“She’s a Gypsy freak. She’s nobody. Who cares what she was doing?” Morgan said. “Let’s go. Now. I told you this was a stupid idea anyway. We should have just gone back to the dorms. But no, you’re the one who likes to sneak around and do it in public.”
Samson snorted. “Oh, like you don’t. You practically attacked me in the courtyard this afternoon.”
Morgan put her hands on her hips, opened her mouth, and started to let Samson have it. But then the Valkyrie realized that I was still standing there and watching them.
I opened my mouth again to protest that I wasn’t a Gypsy freak, that I wasn’t a nobody, but Morgan gave me a dirty look, grabbed Samson’s hand, and stormed past me, pulling him along behind her.
That hadn’t gone well at all. I hadn’t heard anything useful, and now the two of them thought that I was some sicko who liked to watch people have oral sex. I sighed.
But I pushed my failure and the embarrassment of the last few minutes aside and stared up at the library. As a detective, my mom, Grace, had never believed in coincidences, and she’d taught me not to put much faith in them either. So I couldn’t help but wonder how and why that statue had come loose at exactly the moment that Morgan and Samson were standing under it.
Had someone else found out that they were sneaking around on the sly? Did someone want to hurt one or both of them? If so, who would do that? And why?
Jasmine was the only one who had reason to hate Morgan and Samson. That I knew of, anyway. But Jasmine was dead. I didn’t know how every single thing worked at Mythos Academy, but I was pretty sure that dead people couldn’t make statues topple off buildings.
I stared at the stone remains. The statue had been even bigger than I was, but there wasn’t much of it left. It had been so old and the fall had been so high that it had pretty much been pulverized on impact. But there were some bigger pieces of rubble lying here and there. Maybe I could use my Gypsy gift to get some kind of reading off of it. Maybe it had just been an accident and the stone would tell me of its age and the wear and tear of the years on it. Or maybe, just maybe, someone had made it fall and I’d see exactly who that person was—and get that much closer to figuring out who had murdered Jasmine.
I’d just reached out my hand to touch the stone, to see if I could get some kind of vibe off of it, when a low, ominous growl rippled through the air behind me.
A growl that sounded like the most evil thing that I had ever heard.
I froze and slowly turned around.
A—a monster stood on the patio behind me. It looked like a panther, only bigger. Much, much bigger. The panther’s shoulders came all the way up to my waist, and it was longer than I was tall. Its fur was completely black, although for some reason it seemed to have a faint reddish tinge to it. The panther’s eyes were red, too—a deep, dark, burning red that made me think of fire, blood, and death. The creature was like one of the drawings in my myth-history book, a mythological monster come to life and ready to eat me.
The panther, cat, or whatever it was opened its mouth and let out another low growl. The outside library lights illuminated each and every one of its razor-sharp teeth.
Then, the panther snapped its jaws shut, licked its lips with its long red tongue, and headed toward me.
Chapter 13
Oh no.
I didn’t know exactly what the panther was, what kind of mythological nightmare it had sprung from, but anything out here in the dark that had teeth that big wasn’t going to be friendly.
As if reading my thoughts, the panther let out something that sounded like a low chuckle, like it was laughing at me. The evil hiss made my breath catch in my throat and my blood run cold. The panther smiled, showing me its teeth again, and then crept closer to me on paws that were bigger than my hands were—with curved needle-sharp claws to match. They clicked against the stone patio with every step the creature took, like the second hand on a clock, ticking down to my death.
I stood where I was. Partly because I was terrified and was pretty sure that my knees would buckle if I even tried to move. But also because I’d seen enough nature programs on TV to know that I couldn’t outrun the panther. And, of course, I didn’t have any weapons to try to fight it off with. Even if I’d had a sword, I doubted I could have used it.
For the first time, I wished that I’d paid more attention in gym class when Coach Ajax and the other instructors had been talking about this sort of thing and showing us how to kill Reaper bad guys. But then again, I hadn’t actually thought that any of that stuff was actually real. But I was fast becoming a true believer. Because this creature? It was very, very real, and I could tell that its teeth and claws were very, very sharp.
The panther prowled around me in a loose, wide circle. Its mouth turned down, almost in a pout, and it seemed disappointed that I wasn’t going to run away. Or scream, at the very least. Its tail, which was at least three feet long, twitched back and forth in what seemed to be annoyance. Or maybe anticipation. I didn’t know. I’d always been more of a
dog person.
I cleared my throat, and the panther stopped and flicked up one of its rounded ears. Listening.
“Um, nice kitty?”
The panther’s eyes narrowed, fire blazing in the red depths, and it let out that hissing sound again. No, no, no. Not a nice kitty at all.
The panther stalked off to the far side of the patio. As soon as its back was turned, I reached down and picked up the biggest remaining piece of the smashed statue that I saw. I waited a second, wondering if I’d get a flash off the stone, but I didn’t. Or maybe the feelings and images just couldn’t penetrate my own cold panic right now.
I didn’t know exactly what the statue had been shaped like, maybe a gargoyle. Whatever it had been made to look like, the creature had horns, one of which I was holding. I wondered if the point would be sharp enough to penetrate the panther’s skin. Probably not. For the first time, I wished for a Valkyrie’s strength or an Amazon’s speed or a Spartan’s skill with weapons—something, anything that would help me. That would save me from getting ripped to pieces. Sweat slicked my hands, and I struggled to hold on to my pitiful weapon.
The panther reached the edge of the patio and stalked back toward me. Its black nose quivered in its face, and its lips curled back into another smile. Yep, it was definitely smelling my fear. I reeked of terror.
The monster grew tired of playing its little stalking game, because it sank down onto its back haunches, getting ready to leap up and kill me—
The panther sprang, and I felt something ram into me. I closed my eyes, waiting for claws and teeth to tear into my skin. But instead, all I felt was my shoulder slamming into the stone floor and hands moving over my body, like they were searching for something.
“Give me that,” a voice muttered in my ear.
Someone yanked the stone horn out of my hands, and I opened my eyes. What was happening? Why wasn’t I dead yet? I looked up to find the last person I’d expected standing on the balcony between me and the panther.
Logan Quinn.
And he wasn’t running away or screaming like he should have been—like we both should have been. Instead, Logan stood in between me and the panther, clutching the horn in his hand like it was a real weapon or something.
The panther narrowed its bloodred eyes and circled one way, trying to get around Logan to get to me. But Logan stepped in front of the animal, tightening his grip on the stone horn. The panther let out another evil hiss, and a—a smile spread across Logan’s face.
And then it hit me what he was doing. He was—he was actually going to fight that thing. Like ... to the death.
Oh no!
I didn’t even get to open my mouth to scream before the panther leapt at Logan.
Over and over, the two of them rolled across the patio, snarling, spitting, and hissing at each other. I scrambled to my feet and leapt back against the wall, not sure what else to do other than get out of the way. Not sure what else I could do. Maybe I should have been running the other direction, back toward the bonfire, trying to get some help. But for some reason, I didn’t want to leave Logan out here by himself in the dark with the evil panther.
Not when he’d just saved me from it.
The panther was yowling at this point, and each sound it made felt like a dagger punching into my brain. I clapped my hands over my ears, wondering how Logan could stand being so close to that awful noise. Then I whirled around, looking for something that I could use to help Logan fight off the creature. My eyes landed on a metal chair sitting next to one of the tables on the balcony, and I grabbed it and hoisted it up over my shoulder.
By this point, the panther had Logan pinned beneath him and was snapping its jaws right in his face. I ran over, brought the metal chair up, and hit the creature as hard as I could with it.
I didn’t do any real damage to it, but I definitely got the panther’s attention. The monster lashed out, swiping its paw at me, but I held out the chair like it was a shield, keeping it between us. The panther’s claws scraped down the chair with a horrifying screech, completely shredding the metal and sending up sprays of red sparks.
While I distracted the creature, Logan got his feet in between him and the panther and did some kind of fancy move to throw the animal off him. The panther sailed through the air and slammed into the side of the balcony wall. Then Logan flipped up onto his feet like he was a freaking Ninja.
Despite the fact that I’d almost been turned into catnip, it was seriously the coolest thing that I’d ever seen.
The panther got back up onto its feet, but it was too late. Logan dove on top of the creature and stabbed it with the stone horn.
The panther screamed in pain. It was the most horrible sound that I’d ever heard, a high keening, wailing cry that seemed to shred my eardrums from the inside out. It was almost like ... the panther was calling out to something or someone, begging that person to help it, to stop its pain.
The noise didn’t seem to bother Logan. With a grim face, he pulled the horn out of the creature’s side and stabbed it again. The panther screamed once more and threw itself back on top of Logan. Then, they both started moving too fast for me to follow, just a wild tangle of arms, limbs, and claws lashing out, each one trying to kill the other.
I stood there with my shredded metal chair. I would have used it to hit the panther again, if I hadn’t been afraid of accidentally braining Logan in the process. But I didn’t get a chance to do anything.
The panther let out one more scream, and then it and Logan were both still.
Dumbfounded, I stared down at the huge pile of black fur in front of me, Logan trapped somewhere underneath.
The Spartan was dead. He had to be. Nobody could survive something like that. That was the thought that slammed into my brain. No, no, no! He was dead. He’d been trying to help me, trying to save me, and now he was dead. Sure, maybe he was a man-whore who slept around and seemed to enjoy annoying me for no good reason, but Logan hadn’t been all bad. He had just saved my life.
Something let out a grunt, and I stepped back, wondering if maybe the panther wasn’t dead after all. Anger filled me, and I raised my chair again, ready to pound the animal to death if I had to just for killing Logan—
“You think maybe you could put that chair down and heave this thing off me?” a strained voice muttered.
The chair slipped from my numb fingers and clattered to the patio floor. I fell to my knees beside the panther. “Logan! You’re still alive!”
An arm trapped underneath the animal’s heavy weight waved in my direction, although I couldn’t see his face. “Of course I’m still alive. I’m a Spartan. Now, are you going to help me or not, Gypsy girl?”
“Help. Definitely help.”
I got up on my knees, pushed up my hoodie sleeves, and held out my hands. I didn’t want to touch the monster, didn’t want to flash on the rage and pain that it had been feeling before Logan had killed it, but I didn’t have a choice. So I gritted my teeth, put my hands on the animal’s fur, and pushed as hard as I could.
Nothing happened.
The panther was far too heavy for me to move on my own. It weighed several hundred pounds, at least.
But the really weird thing was that I didn’t get any kind of vibe off it. No flashes of images, no feelings, nothing. I frowned. Was something wrong with my Gypsy gift, my psychometry? This was the third time this had happened this week. First, I hadn’t gotten any vibes off Jasmine’s body in the library. Second, I hadn’t flashed on her blood either, even though it had been all over my hands and clothes. And now I didn’t feel anything when I was touching this dead creature either—
“What are you waiting for?” Logan muttered. “This thing is crushing my ribs and face, in case you haven’t noticed.”
There was no way that I could move the panther off him. I just wasn’t strong enough—My eyes narrowed. But I knew someone who was—and she owed me.
“Stay here,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “I’m going to go get som
e help. I’ll be right back.”
“What? Wait—”
Logan started to say something, but I’d already sprinted off the patio. I raced back across the upper quad in the direction that I’d come, then down the hill to the lower quad and the bonfire. While I’d been gone, someone had plugged a radio into the sound system, and the loud rock music added to the noise in the amphitheater.
It took me the better part of a minute to find Daphne in the crowd. She stood near the bonfire, standing in the shadows cast out by the flames and talking to Carson. Both of them were smiling, laughing, and shooting flirty little glances at each other when each thought the other person wasn’t looking. I rolled my eyes. They really should just get on with things.
I reached them just as Carson put his drink down on the table, drew in a breath, and looked at Daphne.
“Daphne, I was wondering, I mean, I know it’s kind of last-minute, but if you don’t have a date for the homecoming dance—”
I popped up next to Daphne, and Carson stifled a scream of surprise. Daphne jumped as well, as shocked by my sudden appearance as the band geek was.
“Hi there, Carson. Daphne. Sorry to cut this short, but you’re coming with me.” I grabbed one of the sleeves on Daphne’s pink corduroy jacket.
“But—but—” That was all that Carson could get out, so I decided to make things easy for him.
“Yes,” I said in a cheery tone. “Daphne would love to go to the homecoming dance with you tomorrow night. She thinks you’re totally awesome. She’s had a crush on you for ages. But right now, she has to come with me. She’ll call you later, and the two of you can work out all the details. Color schemes, corsages, and whatnot. Bye now.”
I dragged Daphne away from the band geek and started up the hill in the direction of the library. For the first few feet Daphne seemed just as stunned as Carson. But then she got with the program and stared back over her shoulder. Behind us, Carson was grinning like a fool—or a guy who’d just scored a date with his dream girl. Daphne’s face alternated between absolute happiness and humiliated rage. After a few seconds, the rage won out.
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