My breath caught in my throat, and I thought back to that day outside my Grandma Frost’s house. The SUV that had almost hit me had been big, black, and expensive. That was all I really remembered about the vehicle. It could have been an Escalade, or it could have been something else. Only one way to find out.
My heart racing, I picked up the keys and wrapped my fingers around the one for the Cadillac. The metal key felt cold and smooth in my palm, and the images started almost immediately. Flickers and flashes of various trips Oliver had taken, most of them with Kenzie sitting in the passenger’s seat, the two of them listening to the radio. Sometimes Logan lounged in the back, hanging out with his friends.
I concentrated, going deeper, and calling up every image, every memory associated with the key. After a few seconds, the images changed, and the scene shifted. Oliver sat in his SUV parked on a residential street. I got the sense he was nervous and waiting for something—or someone. He looked through the tinted windshield, his eyes on a lavender-painted house at the end of the block.
It was like I was watching a scary movie from the killer’s point of view. After a moment, I saw myself open the door of Grandma Frost’s house and come outside, heading toward the bus stop. Oliver cranked the engine, put the SUV into gear, and steered it away from the curb. I stepped out into the street, and he accelerated, putting his foot all the way down on the gas—
My eyes snapped open again, and I had to sit back down on the bed a second time. I knew what had happened from there. Oliver had almost run me down. I was willing to bet if I touched the Spartan’s bow, wherever it was, I’d get a flash of him aiming it at me in the Library of Antiquities.
Yeah, maybe I’d thought Oliver had tried to kill me, but my stomach still twisted with the certain knowledge, and a bitter, bitter taste filled my mouth. Oliver Hector had tried to kill me. Well, had tried to run me down with his SUV at the very least. But why? Because he’d thought I’d tell Kenzie about Oliver’s crush on him? Or because Oliver was a Reaper? I didn’t know, and my head started pounding as my troubled thoughts spun around and around.
Whether he was a Reaper or not, Oliver wanted me dead. The real question now was this: What was I going to do about it?
I put Oliver’s keys back where they belonged and laid Kenzie’s key card on his nightstand to make him think he’d just forgotten it this morning. Then I left the Spartans’ room and pulled the door shut behind me.
I stood there in the hallway, thinking about everything I’d just seen and felt and wondering what I should do next. Metis, I thought. I should go tell Professor Metis what I’d learned. Yeah, she’d be pissed that I’d broken into Oliver’s room, but she’d listen when I told her what I’d seen when I’d picked up his car keys. She’d believe me when I told her he’d tried to run me down.
While I was standing there wondering if Metis was even in the hotel this morning and how quickly I could find her, the elevator at the end of the hallway pinged. The doors opened, and Oliver stepped out.
Our gazes locked, and Oliver started, like he was surprised to see me on the guys-only floor. Then he realized exactly whose room I was standing outside. His face paled, then his eyes narrowed. Oliver took a step toward me.
I turned and ran.
Yeah, maybe I was a coward, but Oliver had tried to kill me at least once that I knew of. Given the angry expression on his face, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that me snooping around in his room would seriously piss him off, maybe even enough for him to try again—right here, right now.
“Gwen! Stop!”
There wasn’t an elevator at this end of the hallway, so I slammed through a door and into the emergency stairwell. Down, down, down, I hurried as fast as I could. Footsteps echoed on the stairs above my head, growing louder and louder with every second. The Spartan was gaining on me.
“Gwen Frost!” Oliver called out again, his voice bouncing all the way down to the ground floor and then ricocheting back to the top of the stairwell.
I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t outrun Oliver, but maybe, just maybe, I could lose him. On the fifth floor, I stopped long enough to shove open the door, like I’d left the stairs and stepped out onto that floor. Then I crept down to the fourth-floor landing and stopped, trying to listen to what Oliver was doing despite the blood roaring in my ears and the rapid thump-thump-thump of my heart.
His footsteps slowed, then stopped. He paused, and for a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. I stood as still as possible, scarcely daring to breathe for fear the Spartan might hear me. For all I knew, Oliver had enhanced senses, like so many of the other warrior whiz kids did. I knew he was wondering whether I’d really gone through the door or was just trying to trick him. Oliver went for the door. I heard him open it and step out into the hallway.
I started sprinting down the stairs again. I tried to listen and run at the same time, but I didn’t hear any more footsteps ringing out on the steps above me. Maybe I’d lost him. I hoped so. I reached the bottom of the stairwell and pushed through the door, expecting it to open up somewhere in the resort hotel’s massive lobby.
I stepped out into the construction zone. Plywood, sawhorses, power tools, and plastic tarps filled the space in front of me. There were no lights down here, just eerie shadows cast by what little sunshine trickled in through the gaps in the boards that were nailed up where the windows were supposed to go. The dark, sinister gloom covered everything, like a thick, suffocating blanket. I shivered.
Daphne had told me the resort was adding on a new wing, and I’d seen the construction myself from the outside when we’d first gotten here Friday morning. Somehow I’d walked right into the middle of it by going down the emergency stairs instead of taking the elevator. I peered into the gloom. How was I supposed to get out of here? I couldn’t go back up the stairs, not without risking running into Oliver, and I didn’t see any doors or exits nearby. All I could do was go forward and try to find a way out of the construction maze.
I picked my way through the semidarkness, trying to make as little noise as possible. I winced every time my sneakers scuffed up against something in the shadows. Sawdust puffed up with every step I took, making my nose twitch. I put my hoodie sleeve up against my nose, so I wouldn’t sneeze and give myself away, just in case Oliver had followed me down here.
I don’t know how long I wandered around, but it seemed like I was moving in circles. That, or the resort expansion was just much, much bigger than I realized, and I hadn’t reached the end of it yet.
I stopped in front of one of the windows. This one hadn’t been boarded up as tightly as the others, and a couple of cracks of sunlight slipped through, along with a blast of cold, wintry air. I put my back to the window and stood there a second, looking around and trying to get my bearings. Okay, this looked like it was one of the exterior walls, so if I just followed it, I should be able to get out of here sooner or later. That made sense, right?
Besides, tons of footprints marred the sawdust, probably from all the construction workers. I’d seen them, too, on Friday morning, although they must have quit work for the weekend, since I didn’t hear any hammers banging or drills whining. I squatted down and peered at the faint marks, trying to see which direction the footprints went. Maybe I could pretend they were the Yellow Brick Road and follow them right out of here.
I froze, staring at one of the prints on the floor. It wasn’t a boot print or even one made by a sneaker or some other kind of shoe. No, this print hadn’t been made by anyone walking around down here. It was shaped like an animal’s paw, one that was bigger than my hand, with four toe pads and four sharp claws on the ends of them. I might not be a nature-loving girl, but I’d seen that kind of paw print twice before: once in my myth-history book and yesterday in the snow after the avalanche had almost swept me away.
The Fenrir wolf had been down here. Recently, from the looks of it. And where the wolf was, the Reaper wouldn’t be far behind.
Just as that chilling th
ought occurred to me, I noticed an odd shape out of the corner of my eye, something that didn’t match the rest of the construction equipment. It took me a few seconds of squinting, but I finally realized what the shape was: a sleeping bag. And that wasn’t all. A couple of flashlights rested on top of it, along some empty bottles of Perrier and crumpled bags that smelled of cold, greasy food. It wasn’t hard to figure out that someone had been hiding down here with the wolf.
I thought I’d been so clever getting away from Oliver, but I’d walked right into the middle of his supersecret lair in the construction zone.
Stupid, stupid, stupid Gwen!
Panic filled me, and I cursed myself. I had to get out of here—now. Before Oliver found me and sicced his killer puppy dog on me again. I wouldn’t escape, not again, not from both of them, not down here in the dark.
I hurried through the construction zone as fast as I could, hurtling over all the tools, boards, and bags of cement, not caring how much noise I made. Escape was the only thing on my mind, burning away everything else.
Finally, just when I wanted to scream with frustration that I was never getting out of the maze, I realized it was getting lighter—and that there was the outline of a door up ahead.
Relief cooled my panic, and I let out a tense breath. As soon as I stepped through that door, I’d be safe. I’d run around the hotel, back to the lobby; find Professor Metis, Coach Ajax, or even Nickamedes; and tell them what was going on. Then they would track down the Reaper and deal with him.
My eyes fixed on the door, I stepped around a wheelbarrow and ran right into Oliver.
Chapter 20
I hit the Spartan’s chest and bounced off, shrieking. And I kept right on back-back-backing up until my body was flat against one of the plywood-covered windows.
My hand dropped to my waist, pushing up the bottom of my hoodie and fumbling for the scabbard that was strapped there. After a second my fingers curled around Vic’s hilt. If the Spartan tried anything, anything at all, I’d pull the sword and defend myself with it—or at least try to.
Oliver held out his hands and stepped toward me. “Gwen, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to talk to you.”
“Talk?” I snapped, keeping my back to the wall, one hand on Vic’s hilt as I edged away from him. “Talk about what? How you tried to mow me down with your SUV earlier this week? Or maybe you’d like to talk about how you took a shot at me with your bow and arrow in the Library of Antiquities?”
Guilt filled his face. “Look, I can explain all that.”
“Really? Like you can explain the avalanche you caused yesterday? The one that almost buried me on this damn mountain forever? Because I’d really, really like to hear you explain that one.”
Oliver frowned. “Avalanche? I didn’t cause the avalanche, Gwen.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth. You’re a Reaper of Chaos, and you’re trying to kill me. That’s all I need to know.”
Oliver stared at me, worry etching deep lines into his forehead. “I’m not a Reaper! Why would you even think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve tried to kill me four times now.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Oliver said. “Not with my car and not in the library. I was just trying to scare you a little.”
My eyebrows shot up in my face. “Scare me? Why?”
“Because of Kenzie,” Oliver growled in a frustrated tone. “And what you saw when you touched my notebook. Logan told us about your psychometry magic and how you can learn people’s secrets just by touching stuff that belongs to them. You said something about my crush, and I knew that you knew about Kenzie. I didn’t want you telling anyone, so I did all that other stuff to distract you. I wasn’t really trying to hurt you, Gwen. I swear.”
His mouth twisted a little. “Logan would kill me if I ever hurt you on purpose. Hell, he’d kill me now if he realized what I’ve done so far.”
Oliver looked and sounded sincere, but I didn’t know if I believed him or not. A few weeks ago, I’d thought Jasmine had been brutally murdered, but it had all just been an illusion the crazy Valkyrie had created. Who was to say Oliver wasn’t playing me the same way Jasmine had?
I tiptoed along the wall, creeping closer to the door, until I was forced to step around another wheelbarrow. I put it between me and the Spartan. Now, my back was to the door, and I kept my gaze fixed on Oliver, just in case he tried to rush after me. I still had my hand on Vic’s hilt, although I doubted I would pull the sword now. I could run faster if I wasn’t carrying him in my hand.
“I’m going to walk out that door and find Professor Metis,” I told Oliver. “You can explain it all to her.”
I took one step back toward the door, then another, then another. More frustration filled the Spartan’s face, and his hands curled into fists, but he didn’t make a move to follow me. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he wasn’t a Reaper, but I couldn’t take a chance he wasn’t. Besides, he’d already copped to the fact that he’d come after me with his SUV and fired that arrow at my head. What kind of guy did stuff like that? Okay, okay, so maybe all the Mythos kids were a little twisted and violent that way, and maybe I was, too, since I’d just broken into the Spartan’s room on a hunch. But I certainly didn’t want to be trapped alone with him in the dark, with no one around to hear me scream.
Oliver opened his mouth, like he was going to say something. Then his eyes widened. “Look out—”
A crossbow bolt zipped by my ear and sank into the Spartan’s left shoulder. Blood sprayed through the air. Oliver screamed with pain and collapsed onto the concrete floor, clawing at the bolt. I whirled around.
A figure stood behind me. He must have slipped in through the door while I’d been talking to Oliver. Shadows cloaked his face, but I could clearly see the crossbow in his hand—the one that he’d just loaded with a fresh bolt. He gestured with the weapon, and I put my hands up and slowly backed around the wheelbarrow until I stood next to Oliver, who was writhing on the floor in pain.
“Stop,” the shadowy figure commanded.
I gasped. I recognized that voice, knew exactly who it belonged to. But why would he be here? And why would he shoot Oliver?
Preston stepped into a slice of sunlight and leveled his crossbow at me. “You’re not going anywhere, Gypsy.”
This time, my eyes were the ones that widened. “Preston?” I asked. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“I think it’s rather obvious. I’m here to kill you.” His handsome face twisted into a sneer. “Just like you killed my little sister. And my name’s not Preston. Well, not exactly. Preston’s my middle name, you see. Julian Preston Ashton.”
“Your sister?” I whispered, ice filling up my stomach. “Jasmine was your sister?”
Professor Metis had warned me that Jasmine’s family blamed me for her death, that they might come after me. Jasmine herself had told me that she and the rest of her family were Reapers. Now one of them had come to collect.
“Don’t you say her name!” Preston screamed. “Don’t you dare say her name, you Gypsy bitch!”
Preston leveled the crossbow at my face, and for a second I thought he was going to pull the trigger. But then he calmed down and lowered the weapon a few inches—aiming it at my heart instead. Not much of an improvement.
“Did you really think you could kill my sister—kill an Ashton, kill a Reaper—and get away with it?” Preston snarled.
I swallowed, but a hard lump of fear filled my throat. “Jasmine—Jasmine tried to kill me first. I just defended myself.”
I didn’t say anything about the fact that Logan was really the one who’d killed Jasmine, that the Spartan had been the one to put a spear through her chest. I didn’t want to put him in danger, too. Besides, Preston wouldn’t believe me anyway.
Preston laughed, and the harsh, mockin
g sound fluttered against the walls, somehow darkening the shadows all around us. “I don’t care what you did. You killed my sister, and now you’re going to pay for it.”
He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “All that’s left is to decide how much I want to make you suffer in the meantime.”
His words chilled me to the bone, because I knew he meant them. He was just as determined to kill me as Jasmine had been to sacrifice Morgan to Loki. I wondered if Preston would do the same thing to me. If he would stake me out down here in the sawdust and concrete, chant some magic mumbo jumbo, and dedicate my death to the evil god he served before he put a crossbow bolt through my skull.
The sick, horrid thought made me want to vomit, but I forced myself to just breathe—in and out, in and out, like my mom had taught me. I couldn’t give in to the panic. If I did that, I was already dead. Calm, I had to stay calm, and I had to think. That was the only way I was going to get out of this alive.
My eyes flicked down, but Oliver had quit screaming. Now, the Spartan lay quiet and still at my feet. A wide pool of blood had formed under his left shoulder, mixing with the sawdust on the floor. I didn’t know if the Spartan was dead or not, and I didn’t dare bend down to check. Not with Preston still aiming his crossbow at me.
“Don’t worry about him,” Preston sneered. “Like I told you before, archery’s not really my thing, but that’s a pretty nasty wound. If he’s not dead by the time I’m done with you, I’ll put another bolt through his skull and finish him off. Actually, this will work out even better than I’d planned. I’ll make it look like the two of you fought and killed each other. That way, no one will be chasing me after the fact.”
Think, Gwen, think!
Jennifer Estep Bundle Page 48
