Chapter Six
My eyes snapped open, and I sat up with a startled gasp.
Instead of being in the courtyard of the Eir Ruins or even back in the library, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. I glanced around the room, which was full of medical equipment, along with a monitor that hooked into the clip on my finger and steadily beep-beep-beeped out my heart rate.
I looked down at my hand, but all my burns and blisters were gone, replaced by whole, healthy skin. The deep, ugly gashes in my arm had vanished as well, and I was wearing a fresh white T-shirt and a pair of matching pajama pants. Someone had healed me and cleaned me up, and I seemed to be in some sort of infirmary. I looked around again. This wasn’t the regular school infirmary. The walls there were painted a soft blue, not made of dark gray stone like these.
Where was I?
Worry tightened my stomach, and I ripped off the finger clip, threw back the covers, and surged to my feet, determined to figure out where I was and what was going on—
Someone cleared her throat, and I whirled around in that direction.
Babs, the talking sword from the library, was propped up in a chair in the corner. I couldn’t see the sword’s blade, since it was encased in a black leather scabbard, but she stared at me with her emerald-green eye.
The sword was here, with me, which meant that I hadn’t imagined my talk with Sigyn. The goddess really had given me a weapon and wanted me to fight some great evil. Once again, I didn’t know whether to be honored or frightened.
“Rory, right?” Babs said in her Irish accent. “That’s what everyone kept calling you when they brought you in here.”
“Who is everyone?”
She shrugged. Well, as much as she could shrug with half a face. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before.”
Well, that didn’t tell me anything. I glanced around the infirmary again. I spotted my clothes lying on another chair in the opposite corner, so I walked over to them.
I picked up my green T-shirt, which was ruined, given all the blood and gashes in the fabric, so I wadded it up and threw it into a nearby trash can. My jeans, socks, and boots were all still in one piece, if a bit bloody, so I left the white T-shirt on and slid back into the rest of my regular clothes. I held up my green leather jacket, examining it with a critical eye. I had taken it off in the library earlier, and it had survived the chimera attack unscathed. I shrugged into it as well.
Babs looked at me the whole time. The sword opened and closed her mouth half a dozen times, as though she wanted to ask me something. Finally, she worked up her nerve.
“Are you a Valkyrie?” she asked in a hopeful voice.
I snorted and waved my hand around, but of course nothing happened. “Do I look like I have princess-pink sparks of magic streaming out of my fingertips? Of course I’m not a Valkyrie.”
Her face fell, as though she was disappointed, but she perked right back up again a second later. “So you’re an Amazon, then? A nice, quiet Amazon who just happened to be studying late in the library when those chimeras attacked?”
“Oh, I was studying in the library, but I’m not an Amazon either.” I lifted my chin. “I’m a Spartan.”
Her green eye widened with shock. “A Spartan? No! No! You can’t be a Spartan!” Her voice dissolved into a bitter wail.
I slapped my hands on my hips. “And what, exactly, is wrong with me being a Spartan?”
She winced at my sharp tone. “Well, nothing, on the face of it. It’s just…”
“What?”
She sighed. “Spartans have a tendency to be exceptionally reckless. Always charging into battle without thinking things through. Always taking on more enemies than any sane warrior would ever dream of. Always believing that your fighting skills and killer instincts are going to be enough for you to win, no matter how badly the odds are stacked against you.”
“Why do you have a problem with that?” I asked. “Because that’s what Spartans do. We fight the battles that others don’t or can’t. That’s why we’re the best warriors in the Mythos world.”
Babs sighed again. “Yes, yes, and you die at an exceptionally alarming rate because of it. Which doesn’t work out so well for me.”
I frowned. “What does that mean? What does Spartans dying have to do with you? What kind of sword are you, anyway? What kind of sword doesn’t want to be picked up and used in battle?”
Babs’s mouth opened and closed and opened and closed again.
“Well?” I demanded.
So far, all I had were a whole lot of questions and no answers. Somebody needed to tell me what was going on, even if that somebody was a talking sword.
Babs sighed for a third time. “Never mind. Forget that I said anything. It doesn’t matter anyway. It never does in the end.”
She was talking in riddles like Sigyn had, but since I didn’t know who or what might be waiting outside this room, I went over, grabbed the scabbard, and hooked it to my black leather belt. Then I practiced pulling the sword out of the scabbard, getting a feel for the weapon like I had in the library earlier.
Babs’s hilt fit perfectly in my fingers, like she had been made just for me. Her nose hooked over my hand, forming a sort of wrist guard, with her eye clearly visible above. Sure, it was a little odd, feeling Babs’s lips against my palm, but I quickly grew used to it. Once I was sure that I could pull out the sword and use it with ease, I slid Babs back into her scabbard, opened the door, and left the infirmary.
I stepped into a stone hallway. No windows were set into the walls, and the cool, still air gave me the impression that I was deep underground. Instead of regular lights, the ceiling featured smooth stones that cast out a warm, golden glow. Each stone was shaped like a different mythological creature, from Nemean prowlers to Fenrir wolves to Eir gryphons. Not only that, but each stone seemed to burn a little brighter as I passed below it, almost as if the creatures were following me down the hallway. I shivered, dropped my hand to Babs’s hilt, and walked on.
A few twists and turns later, the hallway opened up into an enormous square room with more corridors branching off it. A long rectangular table squatted in the center of the area, with all the seats turned to face several monitors hanging on one of the walls. Several desks were spread throughout the room, each one seeming to have a different purpose and personality.
One desk boasted a high-end laptop, two keyboards, and three monitors. Several small foam footballs, soccer balls, and tennis balls emblazoned with various sports team logos and autographs were nestled among the computer equipment.
Tools, wires, daggers, arrows, and odd pieces of metal covered a second desk, along with a blowtorch and several pairs of goggles and gloves. Scissors, fabric swatches, rolls of ribbons, and small boxes full of sparkly plastic jewels also sat on the desk, as though whoever worked there made either really cool weapons or really cool clothes, or both, depending on their mood.
A battle ax was laid out on a third desk, surrounded by daggers, short swords, and other weapons. Several history books about ancient battles, warriors, creatures, and artifacts were neatly stacked in one corner, with colored sticky notes marking certain sections for easy reference.
A fourth and final desk was completely empty.
My gaze moved to the back half of the room, which featured several rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves. Books crowded together on many of the shelves, old, thick, worn-out tomes that looked like they hadn’t been cracked open in years, given the dust coating them. Several shelves also housed armor and weapons, everything from gold gauntlets to bows boasting silver strings to bronze-tipped spears that were taller than I was. Other objects were on the shelves as well, including jeweled necklaces, crystal figurines, and small stone statues.
All put together, the room was an odd mix of modern high-tech gear and ancient artifacts.
As much as I would have liked to wander around and look at all the computers, tools, and weapons, I still had no idea where I was or who had brought me here, and I wanted to leave before they came back. So I stepped deeper into the room and peered down the various hallways, searching for a way out—
A loud bang sounded in the distance, as though someone had thrown open a door and it had slammed into a wall. The sharp noise was quickly followed by an even louder voice.
“Absolutely not,” the voice said, drawing closer and closer. “I don’t want her on the team.”
Since I didn’t know who or what was coming my way, I ducked into the shadows behind the closest shelf and peered around a couple of silver jewelry boxes.
Footsteps scuffed against the floor, and Ian stormed into the room, followed by a man who was much calmer and walking far more slowly: Coach Takeda.
My eyes narrowed. What was he doing here? What was going on?
What was this place?
Two other kids who looked about my age—seventeen or so—entered the room behind Ian and Takeda. One of them was a petite girl with beautiful mocha skin, hazel eyes, and wavy black hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders. She wore a bright blue crop top, black leggings, and black ankle boots with chunky heels. A blue-plaid designer bag that was big enough to double as a suitcase dangled from her left arm.
The girl went over to the desk covered with tools. She nudged a couple of hammers aside to make room for her enormous purse, then plopped down in the chair. She rooted around inside her purse for several seconds before pulling out a large notebook and an ink pen, which she set off to one side on the desk. Then she picked up a piece of wire and started bending it with her bare hands. Pale blue sparks of magic shot out of her fingertips and flickered in the air all around her. So she was a Valkyrie.
The other kid—a guy—sat down at the computer desk and flipped on all three of the monitors. He was a couple of inches under six feet tall, with a runner’s thin build and lean muscles. His dark brown hair was cut short, and the light from the monitors made his dark brown eyes and bronze skin gleam. He wore black jeans, along with a gray T-shirt that read Bigtime Barracudas, a popular football team in Bigtime, New York.
He hit the power button on the laptop, then leaned back in his chair and propped his black running shoes up on the desk. While he waited for the laptop to boot up, the guy pulled out a candy bar from one of the desk drawers, ripped off the wrapper, and sank his teeth into the chocolate. He grunted with happiness. A guy after my own sugar-addict heart.
He gulped down the candy bar, then dropped his feet and scooted his chair closer to the desk. With one hand, he typed on the laptop. With the other, he typed on another keyboard, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the laptop and the other three monitors the whole time. So he was a Roman. They were the only guys who could multitask that quickly.
Takeda moved over to the long table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest, but his face remained as calm and blank as it was in gym class. Ian stalked the length of the room, from the guy with the laptop, across the wide open space in front of the wall monitors, over to where the girl with the tools was sitting on the opposite side of the room, and back again.
“No,” Ian repeated. “I don’t want her on the team.”
“You saw what she did to those chimeras,” Takeda said. “She killed both of them all by herself. Not many Spartans could do that. Not many warriors could do that, period.”
I blinked. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that they were talking about me, given how strange this entire day had been. Chimeras in the library, meeting with Sigyn, and now this…whatever this was. What sort of team were they talking about? And why did Takeda want me to join it? Somehow I didn’t think it had anything to do with sports.
“So she’s a good fighter. So what?” Ian said. “You’ve read her file. You know about her parents. You know they were Reapers. And not regular Reapers but Reaper assassins. Rebecca and Tyson Forseti were responsible for the deaths of dozens of people, including several members of the Protectorate.”
My heart clenched, and my stomach twisted with guilt, shame, and embarrassment. Every word he said was like a dagger stabbing into my gut—because they were all true. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified, and for a moment, I thought I was going to vomit. But I swallowed down the hot, sour bile rising in my throat and focused on that cold frost coating my heart, letting the chill numb my turbulent emotions.
“All of that is true,” Takeda said. “But perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge Miss Forseti, especially not based on the sins of her Reaper parents.”
His soft, chiding words made Ian jerk to a stop, and something very similar to my own guilt, shame, and embarrassment flashed in the Viking’s gray eyes. But he shook off the emotions and started pacing again.
“Forget about Rory Forseti for a second,” Ian said. “Amanda Ersa was only on the team for two days. She didn’t even have time to unpack any of her stuff.”
He looked over at the empty desk against the wall. So did the guy with the laptop and the girl with the tools. Sadness filled all three of their faces.
“We might not have known Amanda all that well, but she was still one of us,” Ian said. “She hasn’t been dead three hours yet, and you’re already talking about replacing her with someone else.”
“I feel Amanda’s loss just as deeply as you all do,” Takeda said. “More so, because she was my responsibility.”
His voice was as soft and calm as before, but I could hear the regret rippling through his words. Like all warriors, Takeda had seen his share of death, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with, especially not when the victim was a teenage girl.
The Roman guy sighed, quit typing, and pushed his laptop away. He asked the inevitable question. “But?”
Takeda squared his shoulders. “But the mission comes first, before any of us. You know that. You all know that, along with the risks. This is what you signed up for, Mateo. You too, Zoe.”
Zoe snorted. “Speak for yourself.”
Takeda stared at her, his face still that calm, emotionless mask. Zoe scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, causing more blue sparks of magic to shimmer in the air around her.
“Well, I agree with Ian,” Mateo said. “Amanda might not have been here long, but she was still our friend.”
“She was your friend,” Zoe muttered. “She didn’t like me.”
Mateo shook his head. “She liked you just fine.”
Zoe snorted again. “No, she didn’t. Amanda knew that I wasn’t nearly as gung-ho about this little operation as she was.” She slouched down in her seat. “Coming here wasn’t my idea, remember?”
“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” Ian growled. “Only that Amanda is dead. You were supposed to watch out for her.”
“I did watch out for her!” Zoe snapped back. “I used my lockpick gun to open that library door so we could go inside like we planned. It’s not my fault that I had to leave her, run around the building, and let you in through another door. I’m not a magician. I can’t be in two places at once. Besides, Amanda is the one who decided to forget about the plan and head into the library all by herself without waiting for backup.”
Ian’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line. Takeda remained expressionless, while Mateo looked back and forth between everyone.
“And let’s face facts,” Zoe snapped again. “I’m not a great warrior. Even if I had been there, I couldn’t have done anything to save Amanda. Not against a freaking chimera. I didn’t even think those things were real.”
She threw her hands up into the air, and blue sparks streaked out of her fingers like fireworks exploding over and over again. Valkyries always gave off more magic when they were upset or emotional. Zoe shot an angry glare at Ian, then one at Takeda, as though the two of them were responsible for her being here. Maybe they were. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what all of them were up to and why Takeda thought I should be part of it.
But I didn’t want to stick around and find out.
Once again, I glanced around the room, wondering which hallway might lead to an exit, but I didn’t have any better idea than before. Besides, I couldn’t leave my hiding spot without them seeing me. They had gone to a lot of trouble to bring me here and heal me, and they probably wouldn’t let me leave without a fight. I had no doubt that I could take out Zoe and Mateo, but I wasn’t so sure about Ian, since his Viking battle ax was lying on that desk, along with all those other weapons. Not to mention Takeda. Who knew what fighting skills and magic the Samurai might have?
I might be a Spartan, but I wasn’t reckless, and I was in no hurry to die, no matter what Babs claimed. Part of being a warrior was knowing when to fight—and now was not that time. Not when I was outnumbered four to one and had no idea how to escape. Besides, the other warriors couldn’t stay down here forever. I’d wait for them to leave and then slip away quietly.
“It doesn’t matter who was supposed to be where,” Takeda said. “We can’t change what happened to Amanda or the fact that our mission isn’t over. Now that the Reaper has an artifact, the situation is even more dangerous, and we could use Rory Forseti on our side.”
Ian’s face hardened. “We don’t need her.”
Takeda stared at him. “If Rory had been working with us tonight, if she’d had some advance warning, if she’d known what was really going on, she might have been able to save Amanda.”
Ian’s lips pressed together again, and he didn’t say anything else. Neither did Takeda. Zoe kept glaring at the two of them, while Mateo drummed his fingers on his keyboard. Hello, dysfunctional dynamic. Whoever these people were, they might be on the same side, but they were most definitely not a team.
Takeda was the adult and obviously the boss, given his air of command and authority. Mateo seemed to be a computer guru, and Ian was definitely a fighter like me. But what did Zoe do with all those tools? And why were the four of them here? What artifact had the Reaper stolen from the Library of Antiquities?
More and more questions swirled around in my mind, but I had no way to get any answers. At least, not without revealing myself to them, which was something I didn’t want to do—
“I want to see my niece right now!” a familiar voice called out.
My heart lifted. Aunt Rachel was here.
A low voice murmured something to her in response, although I couldn’t make out the words. More footsteps scuffed against the floor, and Aunt Rachel stormed into the room. She glanced around, stalked over to Takeda, and slapped her hands on her hips.
“I want to see Rory right now!” she demanded.
“Ah, Ms. Maddox,” Takeda said in that same annoyingly calm voice. “I’ve been expecting you.”
She moved even closer to him, anger staining her cheeks a bright red. Aunt Rachel didn’t often get mad, but when she did, watch out. If I had been Takeda, I would have stepped away from her, but he didn’t know her like I did.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me before.” Her was voice lower and more dangerous this time. “I want to see Rory right now. And if I find out that you have harmed one single hair on her head, then I will break you into pieces.”
Takeda’s face remained blank, but he did step back and bow his head to her. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to your niece.”
“Um,” Mateo said. “One small problem. Rory’s not in her room.”
He hit a few buttons on his laptop, and a picture of the empty infirmary room popped up on one of the monitors on the wall.
Aunt Rachel whirled back around to Takeda. “Where is my niece?”
I winced at her sharp, demanding tone, the one that always told me I was in serious trouble. Aunt Rachel was about to blow. I had to stop her before she did something she might regret, so I stepped out from behind the shelves and walked forward where everyone could see me.
“I’m right here,” I called out.
Startled, everyone turned in my direction. Aunt Rachel ran over and swallowed me up in a tight hug, which I returned with one that was equally fierce.
“I was so worried about you,” she whispered in my ear. “I got your text and rushed over to the library, but when I got there, the place was surrounded by the Protectorate, and they wouldn’t let me inside. I tried texting you again, but you didn’t answer me, and I thought—I thought—” Her voice choked off, and her arms tightened around me, telling me how worried she had been.
Guilt rippled through me. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t even thought to check my phone after I’d woken up in the infirmary.
“I’m fine,” I whispered back. “They healed me, and I’m fine. Despite the chimeras.”
Aunt Rachel drew back, her green eyes wide. “Chimeras? What chimeras? I thought you were going to stay on the balcony, where it was safe!”
“I did stay on the balcony. At least until the chimeras showed up. They attacked me and killed Amanda, another girl, one of them.” I waved my hand at the others.
Aunt Rachel stared at me a second longer, then whirled around to Takeda again. “Chimeras? Typhon chimeras? In the Library of Antiquities? You told me that Rory had been attacked by a Nemean prowler.”
Takeda shrugged. “Well, chimeras are part prowler. I didn’t want to worry you any more than necessary. And as you can see, Rory is perfectly fine.” He paused. “In fact, I was just discussing her future with the rest of my team.”
Ian started shaking his head no-no-no, still not wanting me to be part of this mysterious group. Mateo looked from Takeda to Aunt Rachel and back again, his fingers tapping out a nervous, uneven pattern on his keyboard. Zoe leaned back in her chair and grinned, entertained by all the drama.
Aunt Rachel stabbed her finger at Takeda. “If you think for one second that my niece is going to be part of—of—of whatever this is, then you have another think coming, mister. Rory is coming home with me where she belongs.”
“We all know that there is only one place where Spartans truly belong: on the battlefield,” another voice cut into the conversation.
For the third time, footsteps sounded, and a shadowy figure appeared in the hallway. The shadow grew closer and closer, morphing into a tall, thin man wearing a gray cloak with a symbol stitched on it in white thread, a hand holding a set of balanced scales.
Blond hair, blue eyes, a sword belted to his waist. I recognized him. I had fought side by side with him during the Battle of Mythos Academy.
Linus Quinn, the head of the Protectorate.