Chapter Four
The first reference book was very dry, long-winded, and boring, and so were all the others. I tried to concentrate and take notes, really I did, but after a while, the words swam together before my eyes, and my pen and notepad slowly slipped from my hands…
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was sprawled against Sigyn’s statue, my face mashed up against the cold, smooth white marble.
I gently peeled my face off the stone, yawned, and sat up. The lights were still on, but the library was eerily silent. I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and checked the time. Just after nine o’clock, which meant the library had closed a few minutes ago. I slid my phone back into my pocket and peered down at the first floor through the stone slats in the balcony railing.
All the kids who’d been sitting in the chairs and couches around the fireplace were gone, along with the ones who’d been at the study tables. The coffee cart had been closed up, and I didn’t even see a librarian at the checkout counter, shelving a few last books before leaving. But I wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the first time I’d been in here alone at night.
In the weeks after my parents were murdered, I had spent hours and hours in the library. Maybe it was weird and morbid, since this was where they had died, but roaming through the stacks and looking at the books and artifacts actually made me feel a little closer to my parents. But I hadn’t been wandering around aimlessly—I had been searching for clues.
My parents had had so many secrets, and part of me had hoped that they’d left something behind in the library for me to find, since this was the last place they’d been. A letter, a diary, an artifact. Something, anything, that would answer my questions about why they had done all those horrible things.
I hadn’t found anything, not here at the library or at our old house, not so much as a scribbled note, but that didn’t keep me from looking, from hoping, even to this day. Maybe I wasn’t weird and morbid. Maybe I was just foolish for thinking that my parents were anything other than the evil Reapers they appeared to be.
The other reason I had spent so much time in the library was that it was the one place on campus where I could find a quiet spot away from prying eyes and sit and think about everything that had happened. Sometimes, when the other kids’ stares and whispers got to be too much, I would play hooky from class and hide in the stacks until I felt I could face everyone again.
Ever since Loki and the Reapers were defeated, the librarians had gotten really lax when it came to security, and they didn’t roam through the stacks and check on the books and artifacts nearly as much as they used to. Plus, one of the side doors had a flimsy lock that was easy to jiggle open with a paper clip, so I could come and go as I pleased without anyone even knowing I was in here.
Since it was so quiet, I wondered what had woken me up. Probably some faint noise, like a book falling off a shelf—
Something moved in the stacks on the first floor.
A black blob detached itself from the wall and crept through a pool of shadows before stopping at the end of one of the aisles. For a moment, I wondered if I was only imagining the inky shape, but then it moved again, sidling over to a glass display case, and I realized it was a person—wearing a black Reaper cloak.
My breath caught in my throat. A Reaper? In the library? They were all supposed to be either dead, in prison, or in hiding. So what was a Reaper doing here?
I studied the figure. Despite the black cloak that covered the Reaper from head to toe, I got the impression that it was a guy, judging from his tall frame and broad shoulders. My suspicion was confirmed a second later, when the Reaper reached out and started fiddling with the display case. Those were definitely a guy’s hands. I squinted at the Reaper, but the hood of his cloak covered his head and cast his face in shadow, and I couldn’t make out his features.
My gaze dropped to the display case, but the Reaper was blocking my view, and all I could see was a glimmer of gold. I thought back, trying to remember what artifact was in that particular case. Not a weapon or a piece of armor but something to do with some…creature, although I couldn’t remember anything more specific. But it didn’t matter. The Reaper wouldn’t be stealing that artifact or any others.
The Reapers had already taken far too much, especially from me. They weren’t getting anything else.
I got to my feet, tiptoed forward, and scanned the first floor below in case the Reaper had brought some friends with him—
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
The sound of footsteps whispered up from the first floor. The Reaper froze. Yeah, me too. Especially since the footsteps were coming from the opposite side of the library.
Someone else was in here.
I eased forward a little more and looked to my right toward the center aisle. A second later, Amanda, the girl from the dining hall, slipped out of the stacks on that side of the library. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, just like at lunch, and her black leather boots tapped softly against the floor as she walked. She wasn’t wearing a black Reaper cloak, but she was carrying a long staff, a weapon usually preferred by Amazons.
Amanda crept forward, both hands clutched around her staff, ready to use her speed to whip up the weapon and bring it crashing down on someone’s head. She moved slowly and cautiously, glancing around as though she was searching for something—or someone.
My eyes narrowed. Was she looking for the Reaper? Had she come here to stop him? I glanced back at the Reaper, but he’d gotten over his surprise and was now using a dagger to try to force open the lock on the display case. The more I looked at the Reaper, the more his tall frame and broad shoulders reminded me of Ian, the Viking that Amanda had been so cozy with at lunch. Maybe she was his lookout, making sure the library was clear so he could steal that artifact.
My hands clenched into fists. Well, I didn’t care what they were doing. Neither one of them was leaving with any artifacts. Not as long as I was here to stop them. Amanda might have a staff, and the Reaper might have a dagger, but I was a Spartan, and I could take both of them down with my bare hands if I had to.
But first things first. I had to text Aunt Rachel and tell her what was going on. Otherwise, I would probably get blamed for Amanda and the Reaper breaking into the library. Aunt Rachel would believe me. She was the only one who would believe me.
So I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and entered my message.
Aunt Rachel texted me back almost immediately. I’m on my way! DO NOT try to fight the Reapers by yourself!
I frowned. Of course I was going to stop the Reapers. I was a Spartan, and that was what we did. I had started to text her back when my phone lit up with another message.
I mean it! DON’T DO IT! Stay where you are! Stay safe!
I sighed. Aunt Rachel didn’t often tell me what to do, but the capital letters and the exclamation points told me she meant business. I still felt bad about snapping at her this morning, so I decided to do as she asked and keep watch on the Reapers instead of going downstairs and confronting them. Besides, I could always follow the Reapers if they left the library before she got here.
I texted her back. Okay. I’ll stay on the balcony.
I had just hit send when a soft noise caught my attention. I frowned. Was that…humming?
Bum. Da-bum-bum. Bum.
Yep, that was definitely humming, and it sounded like it was coming from this floor. This night kept getting stranger and stranger. How many people were in here? Had the librarians even bothered to lock the doors when they left?
I made sure that my text went through, then slid my phone into my jeans pocket and glanced back down at the first floor. Amanda was tiptoeing around the fireplace and peering at the chairs and couches, like she thought someone might be hiding under one of them, while the Reaper was still trying to open the display case on the opposite side of the library. Neither one of them seemed to be in a hurry, which gave me enough time to try to figure out where that weird humming was coming from. I had to protect my own back first. I didn’t need another Reaper sneaking up and attacking me from behind.
So I tilted my head, listening. The humming sounded like it was coming from behind me. I turned to the side and realized that a display case was standing directly across from me—the case with the silver sword that I had been looking at earlier.
A bit of uneasiness rippled through me. This was getting really weird, even by Mythos standards. My gaze flicked back and forth between the first floor and the display case. I should keep an eye on the Reapers, but I also wanted to know who—or what—was making that noise. Aunt Rachel had told me not to confront the Reapers, but she hadn’t said anything about checking out strange sounds on this floor.
So I pushed my worry aside and crept forward. The closer I got to the display case, the louder the humming became and the more the light, trilling babbles sharpened into distinct words.
“Aye, this case will do quite nicely,” a high, lilting, almost singsong voice murmured. “Look how clear and shiny the glass is. No one’s put their grubby hands on this case in ages. Perfect. Absolutely perfect! I wonder if the librarians use antibacterial window cleaner. I certainly hope so. I wouldn’t want to catch a cold. ’Tis a bit drafty up here…”
I frowned again. Antibacterial window cleaner? Was that even a real thing?
“And I even have a balcony view. It’s terrific being able to look out and see so much of the library,” the voice continued. “Aye! This is so much better than being stuck in that moldy storage room for another decade. This will do quite nicely…”
The longer I listened to the voice, the more I realized that it belonged to a woman, one with a lovely Irish accent.
That uneasiness welled up in me again, along with an eerie sense of déjà vu. This sounded almost exactly like a story Gwen had once told me. So much so that I glanced over my shoulder at Sigyn’s statue, but the goddess was as still and stone-faced as before, and so were all the other statues around her.
That feminine voice kept chattering away in that lilting Irish accent, talking about the view, the balcony, and more. My curiosity propelled me forward, and I crept closer to the display case. And closer still…and closer still…
I looked down at the case and the same sword I had seen before, the one with the woman’s face inlaid in the hilt. Eyebrow, cheekbone, nose, lips, chin. The sword’s features were the same as before, with one notable difference.
Her eye was now wide open.
It was a beautiful color, a deep, dark green that gleamed under the lights, as though a polished emerald had been set into the sword’s hilt, instead of an actual eye. But it was an eye, and it swiveled left and right, admiring the so-called balcony view, and the sword’s lips twitched as it—she—started happily humming and talking to herself again.
“Aye! This is so much better than being stuck on the shelf next to that grumpy battle ax. All he ever did was reminisce about chopping off people’s heads. Why, he about talked my bloody ear off, he did, and I only have one of them to start with. What a crotchety old blade he was…”
The sword kept babbling to herself, completely unaware that I was standing right next to her. So I did what anyone would do in this situation. I rapped my knuckles on the glass like I was knocking on a fishbowl.
The voice immediately cut off, and the eye swiveled around to me. The sword looked at me, and I stared right back at her. I knew that I should go back over to the balcony and see what the Reapers were doing, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sword. Her strong features, her intense green eye, her sharp silver blade. She was one of the most beautiful swords I had ever seen, a metallic work of art, and I itched to open the case and pick her up. The urge was so strong that I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from reaching for the case.
I shouldn’t have been so mesmerized. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a talking sword before. I’d had plenty of conversations with Vic, Gwen’s weapon. Vic loved crowing about how awesome he was and how many Reapers he’d helped cut down over the years. He was so proud of his battle prowess that I sometimes thought he should have been a Spartan’s weapon instead of Gwen’s. Not that I was jealous of her or anything. Okay, okay, so maybe I was a teeny, tiny bit jealous. I mean, c’mon. Gwen had a talking sword. How freaking cool was that?
But now that I was face to face with another talking sword, I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.
“You—you—you—” I sputtered, but I couldn’t get out the words that were stuck in my throat.
The sword’s eye widened. “What are you doing here? The library is supposed to be closed for the night.”
Her incredulous tone finally snapped me out of my fangirl stupor. “Of course the library is closed for the night. I fell asleep studying and just woke up a few minutes ago.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but her eye widened even more. If it grew any bigger, it was liable to pop right off her face.
“Oh, no,” the sword whispered. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I just got taken out of storage by that nice old lady this morning! And put in this shiny new case! No. Oh, no, no, no…”
She repeated those same words over and over again, as if my looking at her was the worst thing that could have possibly happened. This was not going the way I’d expected. Not at all. Vic might be bloodthirsty, but this sword seemed downright paranoid.
I softly rapped my knuckles on the glass again, trying to interrupt her chatter and get her to quiet down. I didn’t need the Reapers on the first floor to hear her and realize that someone else was in the library and spying on them. “It’s no big deal. You’re not the first talking sword I’ve seen, and you probably won’t be the last. Everything’s cool.”
Her green eye narrowed. “Wait a second. What other talking swords have you seen? Where? Are they here in the library?”
“Um, no. His name is Vic, and he’s with my cousin, Gwen, in North Carolina. He’s her sword. Or she’s his Champion. Or however that really works.”
“Vic? That old blowhard?” The sword scoffed. “He’s a braggart. Likes to make promises that his blade can’t keep. I can’t believe he’s still around. I would have thought someone would have cleaved him in two by now. Or melted him down for scrap metal. Or…”
Instead of quieting down like I had hoped, she revved right back up again, listing all the things she thought would have happened to Vic by now. As far as incessant talking went, I thought she could give the other sword a run for his money, but I kept that to myself.
As fascinating as the sword was, I really needed to get back to watching the Reapers, so I rapped my knuckles on the glass a third time, interrupting her rant. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, um…”
“Babs,” the sword said. “You can call me Babs.”
“Okay, Babs. My name is Rory. I’ve gotta go now, but I’ll see you around—”
A scream tore through the air, cutting me off.
Before I had time to blink, another scream sounded, echoing through the library. I winced at the sharp, screeching howls, and my breath caught in my throat.
Those weren’t human screams.
The scream came a third time, and I rushed over to the balcony railing. Down below, Amanda was standing in the open space in front of the checkout counter, her staff up and at the ready. In front of her was a large…creature. I didn’t know what else to call it.
In many ways, the creature reminded me of a Nemean prowler—pantherlike body, burning red eyes, midnight-black fur shot through with crimson strands. But its paws were much bigger than a normal prowler’s, as if they belonged to some larger creature and had been glued onto this one by accident. Its razor-sharp claws were longer than my fingers and gleamed a glossy crimson, as though each claw had been dipped in blood. As the creature padded back and forth, it left smoking paw prints behind on the stone floor.
But the truly terrifying part was its head. Oh, the creature had the pantherlike head of a Nemean prowler, but its teeth were much longer and sharper than a regular prowler’s and gleamed like jagged rows of diamonds in its mouth. Enormous black ram’s horns sprouted up from the creature’s head, each curled into a tight, hard knot with a daggerlike point on the end, while a scorpion’s stinger tipped its long black tail.
The crimson claws, the jagged teeth, the horns, the stinger. It looked like someone had taken bits and pieces of various mythological creatures and mashed them all together to create this one truly terrifying being.
The creature hissed at Amanda, and noxious clouds of black smoke spewed out of its mouth. Of course it could breathe smoke. Because all those claws, teeth, and horns didn’t make it dangerous enough already.
Amanda scrambled around a study table, putting it between her and the creature, but the creature hissed at her again, and black smoke washed over the top of the table, charring the wood the same way the creature’s paws were scorching the floor. So not only did the smoke stink of sulfur, but it also had some sort of burning, caustic property.
I stood there, frozen in place, my mouth gaping in shock. I had seen a lot of bad things, especially during the final battle with Loki, but I had never encountered a creature like this before. No, not a creature, a monster, in every sense of the word, a twisted, evil thing right out of every warrior’s deepest, darkest nightmare.
“Chimera,” Babs whispered, still sitting in the glass case behind me. “That’s a Typhon chimera.”
I kept staring at the monster. Chimeras were the stuff of fairy tales, even to Spartans like me. I had thought they were just a legend, just, well, a myth. Some scary old story that warrior parents told their kids in order to get them to behave, the way regular mortals made up tales about spooky bogeymen for their own children.
But I had been wrong—very, very wrong.
The chimera hissed out another cloud of black smoke, further charring the table between it and Amanda. A grim look filled her face, and she gripped her staff tighter, shifting the weapon into an attack position. The chimera crouched down, and its tail lashed back and forth over its head, the stinger on the end pointed at Amanda, as it got ready to leap over the table and launch itself at her.
“I have to help her,” I muttered. “No way can she kill that thing on her own.”
I still didn’t know what Amanda was doing in the library, but she had been nice to me at lunch and had treated me like an actual person instead of a villain like all the other kids did. I wasn’t going to let her get clawed to death, even if she might be a Reaper.
“Are you crazy?” Babs hissed. “You need to get out of here. Run! Go! Now! While you still can!”
The sword babbled on and on about how I needed to leave and save myself, but I ignored her frantic words and scanned the rest of the library below. My gaze cut to the left, but the Reaper was gone, along with whatever artifact had been in that display case he’d broken into. So he hadn’t been working with Amanda after all. Otherwise, the two of them would have left the library together. So what was Amanda doing here? Had she been trying to stop him from stealing?
Frustration filled me. I should have gone downstairs and confronted the Reaper the moment I saw him, instead of waiting up here like Aunt Rachel had asked me to. Now Amanda was in danger. But I could fix that. I could save her from that chimera.
I looked at first one case, then another, searching for a ranged weapon to use against the chimera. A spear, maybe, or a bow and a quiver full of arrows. I had zero desire to get close enough to the creature to stab it with a sword—
Babs sucked in a startled breath. “Watch out!”
A shadow moved across the floor, springing toward me. That and Babs’s cry were all the warning I had, but my Spartan instincts kicked in, and I whirled around and threw myself forward, sliding across the slick stone floor. My left shoulder slammed into the bottom of Babs’s display case, rattling the entire thing and making the sword shriek in surprise. Pain jolted through my shoulder, and I grunted at the hard, bruising impact.
Behind me, I heard the scrape-scrape-scrape-scrape of claws against stone, and I knew what was coming next. I grabbed the top of the case and pulled myself up and onto my feet.
Babs’s green eye widened. “Look out!”
I pushed off the case, whirled around, and threw myself down and forward again, doing another slide across the floor and going back in the opposite direction. And not a moment too soon.
Crash!
Something slammed into the spot where I’d been standing, shattering the glass display case and sending Babs flying. Emerald-green sparks shot out from the sword’s blade and hilt as she tumbled end over end along the floor. I hit Sigyn’s statue with my left shoulder and bounced off. More pain radiated from my shoulder, but I ignored it, gritted my teeth, scrambled onto my feet, and whipped around to face this new danger.
A Typhon chimera stood in front of me, its teeth bared, black smoke dripping from the corners of its mouth. The monster’s eyes burned a bright crimson, and its black tail snaked back and forth in the air above its head, the scorpion’s stinger on the end pointed at me like an arrow seeking a target.
I stared at the creature, studying every single thing about it, from the way its crimson claws dug into the floor to the ripple of the muscles in its broad, powerful back to its long, sinuous strides as it paced back and forth in front of me. My Spartan instincts took over, and that movie started unspooling in my head as I thought about and discarded various plans of attack.
I had to stay away from the chimera’s teeth and claws, or the fight would be over in seconds. The same thing went for that stinger attached to its tail, and forget about bashing it in the head. Those ram’s horns were much too hard for that.
I had to go for one of the chimera’s weak spots, like its stomach. If I could get underneath the creature, then I could cut open its belly. I didn’t know if that would be enough to kill it, but it would be a good start.
Another inhuman scream ripped through the air, and I glanced over the balcony railing. Down below, Amanda was running around, putting more and more study tables between herself and the first chimera, which was yelling out its frustration at not having killed her yet. The Amazon would have to take care of herself right now.
I couldn’t help her if I was dead.
I looked at the creature again, which was still stalking back and forth in front of me. My gaze moved past the chimera, and I scanned the balcony for something I could use as a weapon. I could try to topple one of the statues on top of it, but I doubted I had the necessary strength to move the heavy stone, and the chimera could easily claw me to death while I tried. The flimsy ink pens in my messenger bag wouldn’t even scratch through the creature’s thick fur and skin. Even the heavy reference book I’d been reading earlier wouldn’t so much as stun the monster if I threw it at the chimera’s face.
That left me with only one option: Babs.
The sword was lying off to my right, closer to the chimera than to me. Her eye frantically swiveled around as she looked from me to the creature and back again.
“Hey, Babs!” I called out. “I hope whoever put you in that case remembered to sharpen your blade.”
“Oh, no!” she called out. “Don’t you even think about using me!”
“Sorry. Not a lot of other weapons lying around here.”
“Why?” she wailed. “Why does this always happen to me? All I want is a nice, quiet life in a museum somewhere. Is that too much to ask? Is it?”
The chimera grew tired of waiting for me to run, and it hissed and sprang through the air, its claws outstretched, ready to pin me to the ground and rip me to pieces. I darted forward, running straight at it.
At the last possible moment, I threw myself headfirst, diving across the floor for the third time. The slick stone helped me slide right on past the creature, which hit Sigyn’s statue and bounced off, much the same way I had done earlier.
As I slid, I stretched my hand out toward Babs’s gleaming silver hilt. The sword’s eye widened.
“No!” she yelled. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Don’t pick me up! Don’t pick me up! Don’t pick me up!”
I frowned. What kind of talking sword didn’t want you to use her in battle? But I didn’t have time to puzzle it out. My hand closed over the sword’s hilt, right over her mouth, muffling her frantic cries.
The chimera bellowed out a loud scream that made the hair stand up on my arms. I knew what was coming next. I flipped over so that I was lying on my back on the floor and snapped up the point of the sword. A shadow fell over me, blotting out the overhead lights, and all I could see were the chimera’s crimson claws, zooming toward my throat—
Crunch.
The chimera landed beside me just as I shoved the sword upward—straight into the creature’s stomach.
The chimera threw back its head, snarling and screaming with pain, and it stretched a giant paw up, as though it were going to swipe it down and lay my throat open with its claws. I gritted my teeth, locked both hands around the sword’s hilt, and shoved the weapon even deeper into the creature’s belly. The chimera might kill me with its claws, but I was taking it with me the way a true Spartan would—
Poof!
Just before the chimera’s claws would have cut into me, the creature dissolved into a cloud of smoke. I coughed and coughed, trying to get the sulfur stench out of my lungs, and waved my hand in front of my face, trying to clear away the smoke, which stung my skin with its intense heat.
Babs slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. The second the sword stopped rattling around, her eye snapped open, as though she had it shut tight during the fight with the chimera.
“Okay, that wasn’t so bad.” Her high, nervous tone made her Irish accent far more pronounced. “At least there was no blood to dirty up my blade. Now, if you’ll just do me a favor and find me a new display case, we can forget that this whole thing ever happened…”
Babs babbled on and on about how all she’d ever wanted was to live in a case with a nice view, but I tuned her out, got to my feet, and lurched over to the balcony.
Down on the first floor, Amanda was still running circles around the other chimera, which was taking great pleasure in leaping from table to table and swatting at her like a cat playing with a mouse. It wouldn’t be long before the creature moved in for the kill. Amanda knew it too, and she was trying to get to the exit doors. But every time she moved toward the main aisle, the chimera would leap onto the table in front of her, cut her off, and force her back to the center of the library. Amanda swung her staff at the chimera over and over again, landing several solid hits, but she couldn’t do enough damage to slip past the monster.
She was dead—if I didn’t save her.
I had already killed one chimera. I could kill another one. Even more than that, I wanted to do it. My Spartan instincts screamed at me to wade back into the fight, to hack and slash until all my enemies were dead, dead, dead.
The chimera leaped closer and closer to Amanda. In seconds, it would launch itself at her one final time, knock her to the ground, and tear her throat open with its teeth. I didn’t have time to run over to the door and rush down the stairs, and there was only one other way to get down to the first floor. I looked over the balcony railing, judging where I was in the library and the distance down to the ground. This was going to hurt, but there was no other way. But first, I still needed a weapon, so I whipped around and sprinted over to where I’d dropped Babs.
“Oh, no! Not again! Don’t pick me up!” Babs yelled. “Don’t pick me up! Don’t pick me up—”
Too late. Once again, I ignored her frantic cries and scooped the sword up off the floor. Then I ran forward, took hold of the stone railing, and leaped up and over the side of the balcony.
For an instant, I had the weightless sensation of free-falling, but all too quickly, the ground rushed up to meet me. Or in this case, a library table.
My boots slammed into the top of the table, and the jarring impact shot all the way up my legs, spread out into my hips, and wrapped around my back. I lost my balance, staggered forward, and fell off the table, landing hard on my left side on the floor. A low groan escaped my lips, but I pushed the pain away and scrambled back onto my feet, ready to stab this chimera the same way I had the one upstairs.
But I was too late.
Amanda lashed out with her staff, but the chimera was faster, and it avoided the blow and slammed her to the floor. The creature raised its paw, then swiped it down, raking its claws all the way across Amanda’s stomach. She screamed and beat at the creature with her staff, but the chimera grinned back at her. More of that noxious black smoke boiled out of the creature’s mouth and dripped onto the horrible wounds in her stomach, adding to her agony. The coppery stink of her blood mixed with the smoke’s sulfur fumes.
The chimera drew its claws back for another strike.
“Hey!” I screamed. “Pick on someone your own size!”
It was a stupid, cliché thing to say, since the chimera was even longer than I was tall, but my shout got the creature’s attention. It hopped over Amanda and stalked toward me.
I shook off my hard landing and subsequent fall and slowly started twirling the sword around in my hand, getting a feel for the weapon, since I hadn’t had a chance to do that earlier when I’d been battling the first chimera.
Strong, durable, lightweight, perfectly balanced, with a razor-sharp blade. The sword truly was a beautiful weapon, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Well, maybe something a little more cooperative. All the while, I could feel Babs’s lips moving under my palm, and I could still hear her babbling at me.
“Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!”
But I didn’t have a choice, so I ignored the sword’s cries and kept twirling her around and around, until the weapon felt like an extension of my own hand rather than something separate from it. More of my Spartan instincts were kicking in and letting me use what was handy in order to do what was necessary.
Kill the chimera before it killed me.
The creature’s crimson eyes narrowed to slits, and it realized that I wouldn’t be as easy to take down as Amanda had been. I looked past the chimera.
Somehow Amanda had managed to sit up against one of the tables, and she was clutching her hands to her stomach, trying to keep pressure on her grievous wounds. Despite how tightly she was clamping down, more and more blood oozed out from between her fingers.
Amanda stared at me, tears of pain, fear, and agony welling up in her blue eyes and streaking down her pretty face. Her wounds were too deep, too severe, and we both knew that she couldn’t stop the blood loss. She opened her mouth to say something, but then she coughed, and only a thin trickle of blood came out instead.
Rage roared through me. I didn’t know what Amanda had been doing in here, but she hadn’t deserved to be ripped to shreds. I looked back at the chimera. I needed to end this fight and help her—now.
The chimera shifted onto its back haunches, gathering itself for one fierce, final strike. I tightened my grip on my sword, muffling Babs’s cries again, and did the same. Then, with a scream and a roar, the chimera and I charged at each other.
The creature sprang at me, smoke flowing out of its mouth in a hot, acrid wave. Even as I whipped to the side, the smoke washed over me, and I hissed as the clouds engulfed my right hand, burning my skin and making it painful for me to hold the sword. As much as I wanted to drop the sword and cradle my injured hand up against my chest, I couldn’t do that. If I didn’t have the weapon, the chimera would quickly claw me to death.
Even as my burns erupted into blisters, I whipped around and lashed out with my sword. The blade sliced deep into the chimera’s side, causing it to hiss with pain. The creature’s blood spattered against my face and neck, as hot as candle wax scalding my skin and adding to my misery.
The chimera landed on its feet, then whipped back around to me. I waited, expecting this one to disappear in a poof! of smoke like the other one had, but apparently, I hadn’t injured it badly enough for that.
My blistered fingers curled even tighter around my sword. A fresh wave of pain spurted through my body, but it was nothing compared with the rage burning in my heart. The chimera wasn’t dead yet, but I could fix that.
Spartans always finished the fight.
The creature circled around me, blood dripping from the ugly gash I’d opened up in its side. Every scarlet drop hissed against the stone floor and started smoking, just like the chimera’s paw prints did.
The chimera snarled at me, and I growled right back at it. I should have been worried. I should have been frightened. Maybe I would have been, if I were a normal person or any other kind of warrior. But I was a Spartan, and fighting was in our blood, just as the fire was in the chimera’s blood.
This was what I was—for better or worse.
I was dimly aware of footsteps smacking against the floor and shouts filling the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ian, the Viking, race into the library, a large battle ax clutched in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw the chimera, and he headed in my direction. But Amanda let out another loud, bloody cough, and he stopped, obviously torn. I waved my hand, telling him to help her instead.
I had this under control.
The Viking jerked his head at me in what I assumed was a thank you, then went over to the other girl, still keeping an eye on me and the chimera the whole time.
“Help!” he said in a sharp voice. “I need some help in here! Amanda’s down! Repeat, Amanda’s down!”
I didn’t know who he was talking to, since we seemed to be the only three people in the library. It didn’t matter right now anyway, so I tuned him out and focused on the chimera.
The chimera snarled at me again, and I twirled my sword around in my hand, thinking about the quickest and easiest way I could kill the creature. It was leaning on its right side, given the gash I had put in its left flank, and it would overcompensate for its injury. The chimera would move that way, and I could turn the other way and raise my sword at the same time. The images filled my mind, and I could see exactly how the fight would go in three, two, one…
The chimera leaped at me exactly the way I’d thought it would. I wrapped both hands around my sword, pivoted to the side, and snapped up my weapon. This time, I drove the blade straight through its heart. The chimera screamed, then—
Poof!
It disappeared in a shower of smoke. I coughed, lurched away from the hot, stinging wisps, and looked over at the others.
Ian was crouching down by Amanda’s side, his hands on her stomach, trying to use his Viking strength to stop the bleeding. But her wounds were too deep, and she had already lost too much blood. Ian wasn’t going to be able to save her. From the grim set of his lips, he knew it too, although he kept murmuring words of encouragement, telling her to hold on and that help was on the way.
I hobbled over to them, even though every movement made more and more pain spiral out through my blistered fingers, burned skin, and bruised, battered body. Ian looked up as I staggered to a stop beside them.
His gray eyes narrowed. “You’re bleeding.”
I looked down. Blood had soaked into my T-shirt sleeve. I pulled the tattered fabric away from my right arm and peered at the long gashes that ran from my shoulder all the way down to my elbow. The chimera had clawed me as I’d killed it. Weird. I hadn’t even felt it strike me, and I should have, given how much blood was pouring out of the deep, ugly wounds. Or maybe that was because the hot, throbbing, pulsing feel of the burns on my skin was so much more painful.
But I forced the pain away, let go of my shirt sleeve, and dropped—well, more like fell—to my knees beside Amanda. “It’s nothing. Just a few scratches.”
Ian raised his eyebrows, knowing that I was lying, but he turned back to the other girl. “The others will be here any second. Hang on, Amanda. Just hang on.”
She looked up at him, pain and tears shimmering in her eyes. “I tried…” she rasped. “But I couldn’t find him… Whatever he took… I think he summoned…the chimeras with it…”
She coughed, causing more blood to bubble up out of her lips and trickle down her face. She shuddered out a breath, and her head lolled to one side. Amanda stared at me for a moment, and then her eyes went dark, distant, and blank.
Dead—she was dead.
“Amanda?” Ian said. “Amanda!”
He started shaking her, but of course it was far too late for that. He knew it too, and after a few seconds, he stopped, his face pinching tight with grief. This time, Ian shuddered out a breath and ran a hand through his blond hair. Then he reached out, gently closed Amanda’s eyes, and bowed his head.
The gentle, respectful motion of one warrior saluting a fallen comrade made my heart ache. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. At least I thought I did, but Ian’s and Amanda’s faces blurred together, and white spots winked on and off in front of my eyes. A second later, my sword slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. All the strength left my body, and I flopped down to the floor as well.
My face was right next to Babs’s, and the sword’s features twisted into a stricken expression.
“Don’t die!” she said. “You can’t die! Not so soon! It’s not time yet!”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn’t have a choice, given how badly the chimera had clawed and burned me, but the words got stuck in my throat, and the library started spinning around and around. One very troubling, ironic thought popped into my mind.
A talking sword and a dead girl in the library.
This was how it had all started for Gwen.