The Reaper lifted his sword and charged at me, wanting to take me down while I was still dazed, but I used his own moves against him. I whirled out of the way, then kicked out with my boot and sent a chair flying in his direction, just like he had done to Zoe. That made him pull up short and gave me enough time to shake off the rest of my daze.
I twirled my sword around in my hand, and the Reaper and I circled each other in the open space in front of the counter. Zoe and Ian lay silent on the floor, as did the first Reaper I had attacked. He still had that rope wrapped around his neck, like a puppet whose string had been cut.
Using my Spartan instincts, I examined this second Reaper just as I had the first one. This guy was around my age and much younger, stronger, and faster than the first Reaper, who had been an older man. This second Reaper was also much more dangerous. He never lowered his sword, and he never took his gaze off me, not even for an instant. I wouldn’t be able to take him by surprise like I had the first Reaper, so I didn’t even try to. Instead, I lifted Babs and rushed at him again.
Back and forth, we fought through the center of the room, skirting around tables, leaping over fallen chairs, and doing our best to hack each other to pieces with our swords. The longer the battle went on, the more my heart thrummed with happiness. That was the slightly freaky thing about being a Spartan. It made fighting seem natural, normal. Like it was something that I was supposed to do on a regular basis.
Even more than that, it made me happy.
And what made this fight even better than most was the fact that the Reaper was a worthy opponent. Smart, strong, skilled, and ruthless, just like me. I couldn’t get a clear advantage over him, but he couldn’t get one over me either, so we kept fighting, our swords crashing together time and time again. The sharp clang-clang-clangs of metal hitting metal drowned out everything else, from the steady smack of my boots on the floor, to my quick, raspy breaths, to the rapid beat of my heart.
The fight raged on…and on…and on…
Until the Reaper finally made a mistake—or, rather, his cloak made it for him.
He must not have been used to wearing a cloak while fighting, because he tried to maneuver around the silver cart, and the end of his black cloak snagged on one of the cart’s sharp metal edges. The Reaper growled and yanked the fabric free, but the jerking motion threw him off-balance. Before he could recover, I darted forward and went low, sweeping out with my leg and knocking his feet out from under him.
The Reaper landed flat on his back on the floor. He was still holding his sword, but before he could raise it, much less get to his feet, I rushed forward and pressed the tip of my own blade up against his throat.
“You’re finished.” Pride and satisfaction filled my voice.
Instead of being angry, the Reaper smiled at me again. “And so are you, Spartan.”
I frowned, wondering what he was talking about and why his voice sounded so familiar, but then I spotted a shadow out of the corner of my eye—one that was rapidly heading in my direction. Even worse, the shadow was accompanied by those strange click-click-click-clicks that I had heard earlier.
I whirled around to face this new threat, but I was too late. A gray blur slammed into my chest, and I landed flat on my back on the floor, right next to the Reaper. I kept my grip on Babs, but before I could lift the sword, something hopped up onto my body, and a weight pressed down on my chest and stomach. I froze.
A Fenrir wolf stood on top of me.
Ash-gray fur. Pointed ears. Purple eyes. And plenty of teeth and claws. This wolf was young, little more than a pup, but it could still rip out my throat. The wolf let out a low, sinister growl, leaned down, and showed me its teeth. And then…
It licked my cheek.
I laughed in surprise. The pup took it as a sign of encouragement and licked me again. I reached up, grabbed the pup, and gently set it down on the floor.
I sat up, and so did the Reaper next to me. He pulled off his mask and tossed it aside, then scrubbed his hand through his black hair. His blue eyes warmed, and a smile creased his handsome, familiar face.
I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t known who I was battling, but I should have realized that it was him, given how well he had fought. After all, he was one of the few people who was just as good a warrior as I was.
“Congrats, Rory,” he said. “You beat me fair and square.”
“And then you beat me with your secret weapon,” I said, returning the compliment. “Her cuteness alone is enough to slay me.”
Logan freaking Quinn, as some people called him, smiled at me again, then reached out and scratched the wolf pup’s head, since she was sitting between us. “Nyx! You were supposed to kill Rory, not lick her cheek like she’s your best friend. What kind of fearsome Fenrir wolf are you?”
Nyx let out a squeaky little howl and wagged her tail. I laughed again and rubbed her ears. Nyx belonged to Gwen Frost, my cousin and Logan’s girlfriend, although I hadn’t realized the wolf pup was here either. I was glad to see Nyx, even if she had just mock-killed me.
“Can we sit up now?” another voice called out. “Lying on this hard floor is putting a crick in my neck.”
The first Reaper, who was still slumped on the floor, straightened up and unwrapped the rope from around his neck. Then he took off his mask, revealing another surprising but familiar face.
He had blond hair, but his blue eyes and features were the same as Logan’s, and it was easy to tell that they were related. Linus Quinn was Logan’s dad and the head of the Protectorate, the police force for the mythological world.
“All right, guys,” Linus called out. “The training mission is officially over.”
“Finally,” the first voice muttered again.
Zoe sat up and tilted her head from side to side, trying to crack her neck. A few feet away, Ian sat up as well. Linus got to his feet, went over, and hit one of the switches on the wall, flooding the area with light.
We were in the Library of Antiquities on the campus of Mythos Academy in Snowline Ridge, Colorado. The library looked the same as always, although tonight, Team Midgard had turned the lights down low and pretended that it was a museum the Reapers were breaking into as part of our training mission.
Takeda had given us our objective—protecting the artifact from the Reapers—a few days ago. After that, my friends and I had made our own plans to accomplish our mission, while Takeda had schemed against us.
I’d thought Takeda might get a few Protectorate guards to pose as Reapers, but I hadn’t realized that he’d recruited Logan and Linus Quinn, along with Nyx. I should have expected something like this, though. Takeda had told us to treat tonight like it was a real mission from start to finish, complete with unexpected surprises, and having the head of the Protectorate and one of the best warriors in all the mythological world take part in our training was definitely a surprise.
I had thrown myself completely into the training and had forced myself to see things tonight with a critical, objective eye. In my mind, the library had become a strange new building and not someplace I came to every day after classes. The Reapers crawling out of the fireplace had been a clever trick, just like the unexpected moves the real Reapers so often executed in real life. And I’d fought just as fiercely against Linus and Logan as I would have against genuine Reapers who wanted me dead.
Perhaps it was some quirk of my Spartan magic, but putting myself in that sort of mission mind-set had made everything seem extremely realistic, right down to how enraged I had been when Ian and Zoe had supposedly fallen in battle. Even now, I was still having trouble shoving the image of them lying on the floor out of my mind. Or perhaps that wasn’t my Spartan magic as much as it was my own constant fear and worry that I wouldn’t be able to protect my friends from the Reapers in real life.
Zoe finally cracked her neck, then got to her feet, walked over, and started petting Nyx, who happily flopped down onto the floor for a belly rub. Linus pulled his phone out of his pocket and texte
d someone, while Logan and I stood up. I was still holding Babs, so I slid the sword into her scabbard. Logan sheathed his sword as well, then went over to where Ian was still sitting on the floor.
“You fought well.” Logan grinned. “You almost got me with that bloody ax of yours.”
Ian grinned back at him. “Next time, I will get you.”
A fierce, competitive light sparked in Logan’s eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
He leaned down and held out his hand. Ian grabbed the Spartan’s forearm and let Logan help him to his feet. Then the two of them put their heads together and started talking about their battle.
I watched them for a moment, but instead of two guys, a different and far more disturbing image filled my mind: a man and a woman lying dead on the library floor.
Even though it was just a memory, I could still see the couple as clearly as if they were sprawled across the floor at Logan’s and Ian’s feet. The man and the woman wrapped in their black Reaper cloaks, their mouths frozen open in silent screams of pain and surprise, their wide, sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling, and of course, the blood dripping from their mortal wounds and oozing across the stone. So much blood…
Twin knives of grief stabbed into my chest, ripping my heart to shreds. Tyson and Rebecca Forseti, my parents, had died in the spot where Logan and Ian were standing, and being in the library always brought the horrible memories of finding their bodies rushing to the surface of my mind. The memories and the equally horrible feelings that went along with them weren’t quite as sharp as they used to be, but they still cut me to the bone. My hands curled into fists, my chest tightened, and my breath caught in my throat, choking me, right along with my loss, grief, and heartache.
I wanted to get my emotions under control before the others noticed my distress, so I lifted my gaze from that awful spot on the floor and focused on the ceiling, which was made of brightly colored bits of stained glass joined together with gleaming silver seams.
Sapphire-blue, emerald-green, ruby-red, opal-white, amethyst-purple. The jewel-toned colors and small, delicate shapes reminded me of the wildflowers at the Eir Ruins on top of Snowline Ridge Mountain. The longer I stared up at the stained-glass flowers, the more they seemed to move, shift, and sway, as though a phantom breeze was blowing over them the same way the wind whistled over the real flowers in the main courtyard at the ruins.
I concentrated on the stained-glass flowers, especially the small winterblooms with their white petals and heart-shaped, emerald-green centers. Slowly, my hands loosened, my chest relaxed, and my breathing eased, if not the pain in my heart. After about a minute, I was able to drop my gaze back down to the library floor.
I couldn’t change what had happened to my parents. All I could do now was get my revenge on Covington, the Reaper leader and evil librarian who’d murdered them.
And I would get my revenge on him—no matter what I had to do.
Logan and Ian finished their battle recap and walked over to where I was still standing with Zoe and Nyx. The Valkyrie petted the wolf pup a final time, then we all looked at Linus, who shook his head.
“I don’t know who won our training mission,” he said. “Since everyone ended up dead.”
Nyx let out a chiding bark.
“Well, everyone except Nyx,” Linus corrected.
“Not everyone,” another voice called out. “I also managed to survive. I would say that makes me the winner, along with Nyx.”
I looked over at the double doors. The voice belonged to a thin man with black hair and dark brown eyes who was dressed in a black Reaper cloak. Hiro Takeda was a Samurai and the leader of Team Midgard, and he had joined Logan and Linus in pretending to be Reapers.
“And on my way into the library, I also managed to take out the final member of your team,” Takeda said.
He moved to one side of the doors so that Mateo could step into the library.
Mateo gave us all a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, guys. Takeda snuck up on me outside.”
So that was why Mateo hadn’t answered when I’d spoken to him through our comms. Of course, Takeda had mock-killed him. The Samurai was a fierce warrior in his own right.
“And while the rest of you were busy battling one another, I managed to sneak past you all, disable Zoe’s electrolock, and steal the artifact.” Takeda smiled and lifted his hand, showing off a wide gold cuff. “To the victor go the spoils.” His smile faded, and his face turned serious. “Or in this case, the Reaper gets the artifact.”
Disappointment surged through me, along with more than a little frustration. The same mix of emotions filled Zoe’s, Ian’s, and Mateo’s faces as well.
“Well, the action part of our training mission is finished, but we still have work to do,” Linus said. “Let’s go down to the Bunker and review the footage, so that we can learn from our mistakes and do better next time.”
* * *
Logan picked up Nyx and cradled her in the crook of his elbow, while my friends and I grabbed our bags from behind the checkout counter. We had stowed our regular gear in the library during the training mission.
Once everyone had gathered up their things, Linus stepped into the stairwell, and we followed him up to the second floor, which featured white marble statues of gods and goddesses from all the cultures of the world.
Like Venus, the Roman goddess of love, who was holding a stone heart in the palm of her hand. Or Horus, the Egyptian war god, who had a falcon perched on his shoulder. Or Skadi, the Norse goddess of winter, who was wearing a necklace made of stone snowflakes. We passed all those gods and goddesses and dozens more.
Linus strode over to a bookcase against the wall and pressed a small silver button on the side. A green light flashed, scanning his thumb, and a moment later, the bookcase detached itself from the wall and swung open, revealing a secret elevator. My friends gathered around the elevator, but I hung back, staring at a nearby statue, the one I had crouched down beside earlier.
Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion, looked the same as before. Long hair trailing down past her shoulders, a serious expression on her face, and old, faded scars crisscrossing her hands and arms.
And once again, I felt like I had totally let her down.
A couple of months ago, Sigyn had asked me to be her Champion, the person who worked for her here in the mortal realm. My mission? Defeat Covington and stop him from using the Narcissus Heart, a powerful artifact, to turn people into his mindless minions. I had confronted Covington a couple of times now, along with Drake Hunter, his right-hand man and Ian’s evil older brother, and Team Midgard had actually found the Narcissus Heart.
We had won some of the battles, but I still felt like we were losing the war.
It was only a matter of time before Covington and Drake struck again, and I had no idea how to stop them. A few weeks ago, Covington had used a red narcissus seed to try to turn me into a Reaper, and he would have succeeded if I hadn’t managed to cut the seed out of my hand to keep it from fully poisoning me. Ever since then, I’d had nightmares about that seed stabbing its black thorn deep into my palm, crawling around under my skin, and releasing its burning venom into my veins over and over again.
Put me in a fight with a Reaper wielding a sword, and I could easily cut him down. But I had no idea how to protect my friends from the red narcissus seeds, much less the Narcissus Heart itself, which was even more powerful.
Sigyn must have sensed my turbulent thoughts, because her head slowly dipped, as though she was giving me an encouraging nod. I nodded back to her, then walked over and stepped into the elevator with my friends.
It was a tight fit, but we all squeezed inside and rode the elevator down, down, down. A minute later, the door slid back, revealing a small room with gray Protectorate cloaks hanging on metal hooks on the walls. We stepped out of the elevator and walked down a long hallway past several different rooms with glass windows—a kitchen, an armory, even an area filled with blinking servers and other computer equipment.<
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Finally, we stepped into the briefing room, a large area that served as the heart of the Bunker, the supersecret headquarters of Team Midgard. More hallways branched off from this area, leading to other parts of the Bunker. A large wooden table took up a good chunk of the room, with the seats turned to face several monitors attached to one of the walls.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves took up the other side of the room, but they held far more than just books. Swords, daggers, shields, and spears gleamed on the shelves, along with other weapons, armor, jewelry, and clothing that had belonged to various gods, goddesses, warriors, and creatures. All of the items were artifacts with unique, powerful magic, and each one was more beautiful and dangerous than the last.
Mateo broke away from the group and hurried over to a desk against the wall that featured several monitors and keyboards, along with foam footballs, soccer balls, and tennis balls, each one sporting some team name and logo. Mateo slung his bag onto the desk, pulled out his laptop, and took it over to the briefing table. Then he sat down and started typing, calling up the security-camera footage from the training mission.
Ian headed over to a desk beside Mateo’s and laid his Viking battle ax on the wood, lining it up with the swords, daggers, and other weapons that covered the surface, along with stacks of myth-history books.
Zoe skirted around the briefing table and went over to her desk on the far side of the room. Hammers, pliers, and other tools covered half of the desk, along with twisted bits of metal and wires, while the other half boasted scissors, bolts of cloth, and plastic boxes full of sparkling, colorful crystals. The Valkyrie liked making clothes and jewelry just as much as she did weapons and gadgets.
I walked over to the fourth and final desk, which was next to Zoe’s. Unlike the others, my desk was bare, except for a single white winterbloom perched in a small green flowerpot filled with dark soil. I laid my green messenger bag on the desk, then pulled out a bottle of water, cracked it open, and gave the winterbloom a healthy drink. The white petals quivered in thanks as the flower’s roots soaked up the moisture.
Spartan Destiny Page 3
