“I’m going to kill you for this, Gwen,” Daphne snarled. “Slowly.”
I looked at her, but I didn’t stop dragging her up the hill. “Why? You got exactly what you wanted. A date with Carson. You should be thanking me, not plotting how you can rip my face off with your sparkly fingers. The two of you might have stood there for another hour before he worked up the nerve to ask you out. I just cut through the geek speak.”
Daphne’s black eyes narrowed, but she didn’t contradict me. “Fine. So maybe you did me a favor. But what do you want now? I’m not your freaking sidekick, you know. I don’t even like you. Not the least little bit. And we’re certainly not friends or anything.”
“Of course we aren’t,” I said. “I could never, ever be friends with a rich, spoiled, wannabe Valkyrie princess like you. But since you’re one of the few people at the academy who will actually speak to me, you’ve been elected. Now hurry up. Logan’s trapped. He may be hurt, too. I don’t know.”
“Logan?” Daphne asked. “As in Logan Quinn? The Logan Quinn? What have you gotten yourself into, Gwen?”
We reached the top of the hill, and I took off in a run. After a moment, I heard a muttered curse and Daphne fell in step behind me, her feet smashing the dewy grass along with mine. I led her back to the library and up onto the patio.
“I need you to help me move that thing, whatever it is,” I said, pointing to the panther. “Logan killed it, and now, he’s trapped underneath it.”
Logan waved his arm again. Evidently, he’d heard us run up onto the patio.
“Dude!” Daphne whispered, her eyes wide as she stared down at the creature. “That’s a Nemean prowler!”
I looked at her. “What’s a Nemean prowler?”
“How can you not know what a prowler is?” Daphne asked. “Everybody knows about prowlers.”
I shrugged. “I’m new here, remember?”
She shook her head. “Well, anyway, that’s a Nemean prowler. Hercules killed a whole bunch of them way back when. Today, they’re kind of like the mythological equivalent of a familiar. You know, like a witch’s black cat?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Except, of course, prowlers are much more than that,” Daphne said. “Bigger, stronger, tougher. Their claws can tear through almost anything, which is one of the reasons that Reapers love them. Most Reapers don’t keep them so much as pets as they do to kill people. They’re really just big kitty-cat assassins. Man, those things are nasty. I can’t believe that he actually killed it.”
“Hello,” Logan muttered, waving his arm again to get our attention. “Still trapped under here.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Daphne bent down and dug her hands into the creature’s fur, just like I had done a few minutes ago. With her Valkyrie strength it was easy for her to shove the prowler off Logan and roll it over to the side of the patio. Daphne bent over the creature, muttering that she’d never seen a prowler in person before and how cool it was that it was dead. And she thought I was a freak.
I dropped to my knees beside Logan, who was lying on his back, trying to get his breath back after being somewhat smushed by the prowler.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I think so.” Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. “But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.”
I rolled my eyes and stood up. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”
His smile widened. “Not when you’re around, Gypsy girl.”
My eyes narrowed, and I bit back a retort. Probably not a good idea to criticize the guy who’d just saved your life. But still. Logan Quinn seriously needed to be taught some manners.
“Um, guys,” Daphne said. “You might want to look at this.”
The Valkyrie backed up until she was standing next to us. Logan and I looked over at the prowler.
Which was disappearing before our eyes—literally.
The creature’s fur, which had once been so dense, thick, and black, slowly wisped up into the air like it was made out of smoke. The mist curled up, and, for a moment, I could have sworn that I saw two eyes in the middle of it. The smoky eyes seemed to glare at me before a cool fall breeze swept over the patio and carried them away.
“Is that ... normal?” I whispered.
“Not at all,” Daphne murmured. “I’ve never seen a prowler up close before, but they’re as real as we are. They aren’t supposed to disappear after you kill them. Only illusions do that.”
Only illusions do that. Daphne’s words echoed through my mind, and I felt a memory stirring in my subconscious. Something to do with illusions. Something that I’d seen or heard or read or thought about in the last few days. Something that was important. But the harder I tried to grab onto my thought, the more I tried to call up the memory, the deeper it sank into my brain—
Logan got to his feet and rubbed his chest. “Well, whatever it was, it was very heavy and very interested in killing me.”
Whatever thread that I’d been following in my head snapped at his words, and the memory sank back down into the darkness. Still, I struggled to make sense of what I’d just seen.
“But if that prowler was an illusion, then it couldn’t really hurt us, right?” I asked. “And why was it even here to start with? Are illusions like ghosts or something? Do they haunt certain places?”
Logan and Daphne exchanged a look, like I should have known exactly what was going on instead of asking such obvious questions.
“No, illusions aren’t like ghosts,” Daphne explained. “Illusions are created by people with magic, by warriors like us. And they can hurt you just as badly as the real thing can—sometimes even worse, depending on what type of illusion it is. The only difference between the illusion of a prowler that attacked you and a real prowler is that there’s no body to get rid of, now that Logan’s killed it.”
I still didn’t really understand why the prowler would have been able to kill me, if it was just an illusion to start with, but I didn’t want to look completely stupid, so I kept my mouth shut.
There was nothing else for us to do but stand there and watch the prowler evaporate. Thirty seconds later, nothing remained of it at all, except for the crushed bits of stone that had sprayed everywhere when Logan had thrown it into the patio wall.
When the last remnants of the prowler were gone, Daphne turned and stabbed me in the shoulder with her finger.
“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Gwen. So talk. Now.”
She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and I supposed that I owed Logan some kind of explanation since, you know, he’d almost gotten clawed to death because of me. So I told the two of them about everything that had happened tonight. About my spying on Morgan and Samson, what they’d been doing, the statue falling and almost hitting them, and then the prowler showing up and trying to take a bite out of me.
“So Morgan and Samson were out here getting busy when they almost got clobbered by that statue. Then, the prowler appears and almost eats you before Spartan boy kills it instead. Nice kill, by the way,” Daphne said. “Sticking it with that horn. Impressive. Even for a Spartan.”
Logan grinned, accepting her backhanded compliment.
“So what does it all mean?” Daphne asked. “Do you think that statue fell on purpose? That someone was trying to hurt Morgan and Samson, then created that prowler illusion and sicced it on you after you warned them?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. The library’s locked up tight for the night, and I didn’t see or hear anyone on the patio besides Morgan and Samson. So who could have created the illusion? And why? Who would have a reason to want to hurt them or me to start with? Jasmine was the only one who cared about Morgan and Samson seeing each other, and she’s dead.”
“Maybe it was the same Reaper who killed Jasmine,” Logan suggested. “Before he left the library that night, maybe he created some spells to make the statue fall and the prowler appear to help cover his esca
pe. Maybe they just didn’t work like or when they were supposed to, and you, Morgan, and Samson accidentally triggered them tonight.”
Daphne nodded her head. “It’s possible. Reapers are twisted that way. They love to leave booby traps behind.”
“Do you think there are any more traps out here?” I asked, glancing around the patio.
Logan and Daphne both shook their heads.
“No,” Logan said. “Otherwise, they would have gone off when the prowler illusion did. When you set off one booby trap, you set them all off. Reapers like to do as much damage as possible at one time.”
Booby-trap spells? That seemed a little far-fetched to me. But so had Nemean prowlers until about ten minutes ago.
“I don’t know. None of this makes any sense,” I said.
I rubbed my head, which was suddenly aching. I felt like I was missing something—something obvious about this whole situation. But try as I might, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“C’mon,” Logan said. “Whatever is going on, you aren’t going to figure it out tonight, Gypsy girl. I don’t know about you two, but I need to take a shower.”
For the first time, I realized that Logan had blood all over his clothes from where he’d stabbed the prowler and it had fallen on top of him. The blood was black, just like the monster had been, and it had completely ruined his T-shirt and jeans. First I’d made him spill soda on himself, and now this. Graceful I was not.
“Sorry.” I winced. “I’ll buy you some new clothes. But you’re right. Let’s get out of here.”
Daphne and Logan turned and walked down the library steps, but I hung back a moment, staring up at the spot where the statue had fallen from.
There was nothing up there, of course. Just more statues shrouded in more shadows. Maybe it was all the crazy things that had happened tonight, but I felt like there were eyes on me, like someone or something was watching me from somewhere higher up in the library—
“Gwen!” Daphne called out. “Come on, already!”
I shivered and pulled my gaze away from the library. But the cold, watchful feeling lingered as I stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets and hurried to catch up with the others.
Chapter 14
Logan, Daphne, and I walked back down the hill to the lower quad.
The bonfire still burned, although by this point most of the students had plopped down into the chairs that surrounded the cheery blaze or crept up the stone steps for a bit more privacy. More than a few couples sat close together in the shadow-kissed upper levels, huddled underneath a comforter from someone’s dorm room. The giggles, smacking sounds, and occasional squeals of laughter told me exactly what was happening underneath the covers.
More kids were drunk now, too, stumbling around so bad that Professor Metis and Coach Ajax were herding a group of them back to their dorms before they did something stupid, like pass out and fall into the bonfire.
“Hey,” I said. “Do you think we should tell Metis what happened? You know, about the falling statue and the Nemean prowler being at the library?”
Maybe I should have gone straight to Metis in the first place, but I’d forgotten all about the professor even being at the bonfire in my rush to get Daphne and drag her back to the library so the Valkyrie could heave the dead prowler off Logan before it completely smothered him.
“Sure, if we had some proof,” Daphne said. “But the statue was smashed to bits and the prowler evaporated, remember? Besides, do you really want to explain to Metis why you were spying on Morgan and Samson and what they were doing? She’s sure to ask why you were at the library in the first place, since it closed early tonight because of the bonfire.”
I bit my lip. Daphne was right. I couldn’t tell Professor Metis what had happened, not without getting into the whole weird story. Metis was cool, but I doubted that she’d think too kindly of me breaking into Jasmine’s room, swiping her laptop, and then spying on the dead Valkyrie’s best friend and boyfriend because I had a weird vibe about the whole situation.
“Too bad about the prowler, though,” Logan mused. “I would have liked to have shown it to Coach Ajax. He would have been so impressed.”
“True,” Daphne agreed.
I looked at the two of them. “Geez. Do you guys really think killing a mythological monster is that cool?”
Daphne and Logan looked at each other.
“Totally,” Daphne said.
“Absolutely,” Logan agreed.
And they thought I was a freak. At least I had the good sense to be scared of things like prowlers. Things with big, sharp, pointy teeth that could rip me to shreds. I shivered again at the memory of the creature stalking me.
“Well,” Daphne said. “I think I’ve had enough fun for one evening. I’m going back to my room. I still have that paper to write for English lit.”
“Let me walk you to your room,” Logan offered in a helpful voice. “You, me, and the Gypsy girl could have our own bonfire tonight.”
Daphne and I stared at each other. I rolled my eyes while Daphne sniffed.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Like I need a guy to protect me. I’m a Valkyrie, remember? I could pick you up and break your back over my knee, Spartan. Like you were a piñata.”
“Kinky,” Logan said, smiling at her. “I like it.”
She snorted. “Save the smarmy charm for Gwen. We all know that she’s the one you’re really trying to impress anyway.”
We did? Because I hadn’t gotten that message at all.
My eyes flicked to Logan. Something that looked like a guilty flush crept up the side of his neck, but the flickering flames of the bonfire made it hard to tell for sure.
Daphne snorted again and stomped off in the direction of her dorm, leaving the two of us standing there by the firelight.
“Don’t forget to call Carson,” I called out in a helpful voice. “The two of you have a date tomorrow night, remember?”
Daphne turned around and made a rude gesture with her hand, telling me exactly what I could go do with myself. But she had a smile on her face while she did it. I found myself grinning back at her. Daphne Cruz was okay, even if she was a rich, spoiled, wannabe Valkyrie princess.
Logan looked at me. “You going to stomp off into the dark, too?”
“Oh no,” I said, remembering the way that the prowler had licked its lips and hissed at me. Another shudder rippled through my body. “I’m more than happy to let you walk me back to my dorm.”
We left the amphitheater behind and set off across the lower quad. A few people milled around the bonfire, but everyone else was wrapped up in their own little worlds beneath their blankets, macking on their hotties, and nobody paid any attention to Logan and me.
Good thing, since the Spartan was pretty much covered with black blood from head to toe. I winced when we passed by the fire and I saw exactly how much of it there was on him. Logan looked like he’d taken a bath in the prowler’s blood.
I couldn’t help but wonder what had made him follow me up to the library, and most especially what had made him step in between me and that horrible monster. Yeah, I knew that he was a Spartan and killing bad things was basically what he did, what he was here at Mythos learning how to do.
But there had to be more to it than that. Maybe if I’d been prettier, richer, or more popular it would have made sense. I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl that guys tripped over themselves to help. Did Logan think that I’d be so grateful that I’d change my mind about him and just fall into his arms?
My eyes moved over his face and down his muscled body. Well, okay. That would have had some serious appeal, if he wasn’t so icky looking right now. Okay, okay. It still had some serious appeal, even if he was all blood covered and nasty.
Logan saw me staring at him. “What are you looking at, Gypsy girl?”
This time, a flush crept up my cheeks. “Nothing,” I muttered, and looked away from him.
We didn’t speak as we left the light and warmth of
the bonfire behind and stepped onto one of the cobblestone walkways that wound around the lower quad and led to Styx Hall.
“So,” Logan finally said. “You’re trying to figure out what happened to Jasmine, huh? Who killed her and took the Bowl of Tears?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Why?” Logan asked. “Why do you even care? As you’ve probably guessed by now, Jasmine wasn’t exactly the best-liked girl at Mythos. Sure, she was popular, but she terrorized people to get that way. People were afraid of her, and she was basically a coldhearted bitch. Why would you want to find out what happened to someone like that?”
Once again, I thought about Paige Forrest. She’d been a lot like Jasmine, well, except for the coldhearted bitch part. Paige had been pretty, popular, and sweet, but no one had known about the awful thing that was happening to her. Even now, I could still see her stepfather making Paige lie back on her bed while he touched her. My stomach turned over at the memory, and I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.
I couldn’t tell Logan all that, of course. That in some weird way Jasmine reminded me of Paige and that I wanted to help the Valkyrie like I had the other girl. It was too long of a story, and it probably wouldn’t make sense to him anyway. Sometimes, my Gypsy gift and all the flashes, vibes, and feelings that went along with it didn’t make much sense to me either. But my mom had always told me to trust my instincts, and that was what I was going to do.
“Because somebody should at least care what happened to her,” I said in a quiet voice. “Somebody should be sorry that she was murdered, even if nobody really liked Jasmine deep down inside.”
“Maybe,” Logan said. “But Metis, Ajax, Nickamedes, and everyone else think that a Reaper killed Jasmine and stole the Bowl of Tears. The guy, whoever he is, is long gone.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But something about this whole situation just doesn’t feel right to me. Maybe it’s because my mom was a cop. She always told me to listen to my instincts.”
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