Six Reapers was bad enough, but add chimeras to the mix, and they could easily kill us, along with all the other kids partying downstairs. So I bit back a curse and held my position, with Babs still clutched in my hand.
The Reapers brandished their swords at Ian and Zoe and shoved them to the middle of the office, several feet away from where I was standing. I had been so focused on Lance that I hadn’t paid attention to the noises echoing through my earbud, but the fight had not gone Ian and Zoe’s way.
Blood dripped out of Ian’s broken nose, and his knuckles were red and swollen from where he’d hit the Reapers. Zoe had a nasty bruise on her right cheek, and a long bloody gash sliced along her right arm from where a Reaper had cut her with a sword.
Ian stood absolutely still, his hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his neck and shoulders stiff with anger and tension. Zoe winced and cradled her injured arm up against her chest, along with her purse, as if the enormous bag would shield her from further harm. Pain glimmered in her hazel eyes, and blue sparks of magic oozed out of her fingertips and spattered like raindrops onto the thick rugs underfoot.
The two of them were battered but still breathing, so I turned my attention to the Reapers. Like every other Reaper I had ever seen, all six of them were wearing long black cloaks with the hoods pulled up. But to my surprise, they weren’t wearing the usual rubber masks of Loki’s melted face. Instead, these Reapers sported black harlequin masks with large blood-red diamond shapes over their eyes. New masks for a new group of evil. Terrific. Just terrific.
“Good,” Lance drawled. “I’m so glad that Ian and Zoe could join our party.”
Ian drew back his fist and surged forward like he was going to hit Lance, but one of the Reapers grabbed Ian’s shoulder and pressed a dagger up against his throat, making him stop short. The Reaper dug the blade into Ian’s neck, breaking the skin and causing blood to trickle down his throat. The message was clear: quit fighting or get your throat cut. Ian didn’t have a choice, so he quit fighting. For now.
“Good,” Lance repeated. “Now that the Viking has decided to be reasonable, we can continue our conversation.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Ian snarled.
Lance smirked. “Oh, I think you’ll be very interested in what I have to say. Especially since it involves your beloved big brother.”
Ian jerked back, as though he’d been punched in the gut. “What do you mean? What do you know about Drake?”
Lance smirked at him again and started pacing back and forth from one side of the office to the other. He was still clutching the chimera scepter, and he slashed it through the air in time to his movements. I held my breath, wondering if he might accidentally summon a chimera, but nothing happened.
“Guys,” Takeda whispered in an urgent voice through my earbud. “The Protectorate reinforcements will be here in five minutes. Mateo and I are calling in the guards around the mansion and leaving the van right now. Just stay alive until we can get there and help you.”
I kept my face blank, not giving any indication that I’d heard him, but Zoe shifted on her feet, and more blue sparks of magic dripped out of her fingertips. She gave me a worried look. She had heard Takeda too, but she knew as well as I did that it would take him, Mateo, and the guards several minutes to shove their way through all the kids in the mansion and make it up to the office. We could be dead long before they reached us.
Ian didn’t show any sign that he had heard Takeda. Instead, he glared at Lance, still focused on what the other boy had said.
“What do you know about Drake?” Ian demanded again.
Lance stopped pacing, leaned back against the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest. The gold chimera scepter glimmered in his left hand—the hand that was closest to me. Once again, I thought about lunging forward and snatching the scepter away from Lance, but I couldn’t do that. Not while that Reaper still had a dagger at Ian’s throat.
“Drake? Why, he and my dad both worked at the same Protectorate warehouse in New York. My dad got transferred there earlier this year after the battle at the North Carolina academy.” Lance grinned. “My dad and Drake really hit it off. Did you know that it was Drake’s idea to start stealing weapons and artifacts from the warehouse and sell them to Sisyphus and the rest of Drake’s Reaper friends?”
Ian’s hands balled into fists again, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Zoe winced in sympathy. Yeah, me too. It was one thing to know that your brother was a Reaper. It was another to have someone rub your face in it the way Lance was doing.
“But of course the Protectorate found out what they were doing, and my dad was killed in that raid.” Lance’s face darkened again. “But they say that when one door closes, a window opens. In this case, my dad died, but I made a new friend.”
“What do you mean?” Ian snapped.
Instead of answering him, Lance gestured at the Reaper who was still holding that dagger on Ian. The Reaper lowered the dagger, slid the weapon into a holster on his belt, and strode over to where Lance was leaning against the desk.
The Reaper turned to face everyone. He pulled off his black gloves and threw them on top of the desk, then reached up and pushed back the hood of his black cloak, revealing his golden hair.
“Oh, no,” Zoe whispered.
I glanced at her, wondering what she meant, but her horrified gaze was focused on the Reaper. So was Ian’s.
The Reaper grabbed his black harlequin mask and drew it up and over his head, revealing his face. He was in his early twenties, a couple of years older than the rest of us. His eyes were a sharp, piercing blue, but the rest of his handsome features were shockingly familiar. Great cheekbones, straight nose, strong jaw. Even though I had never seen him before, I still knew exactly who he was.
Drake Hunter—Ian’s older brother.
Chapter Fourteen
Contrary to what the Protectorate and everyone else thought, Drake Hunter was very much alive.
At the sight of his older brother, all the color drained from Ian’s face, and he swayed on his feet, as though he were about to topple over and pass out from the complete and utter shock.
I glanced at Zoe, but she was still staring at Drake with wide eyes, so I concentrated on what I could hear through my earbud. Takeda and Mateo had made it from the van up to the mansion, although they were stuck somewhere downstairs, yelling at the kids to get out of their way. They didn’t realize what was happening yet.
Well, I didn’t know Drake, and I wasn’t as shocked as Ian and Zoe, so I did the smart thing and started sizing him up as a warrior. As a Viking, he would be strong, probably even stronger than Ian, given that he was two inches taller and much more heavily muscled than his younger brother. A long sword was belted to his waist, along with that dagger he’d brandished at Ian.
A large ruby flashed in the sword’s hilt, catching my eye, and I noticed a blood-red spark in the center of the gem. The longer I stared at that spark, the brighter it burned, like it was about to ignite into a raging fire. I didn’t know what that ruby was, but it was obvious that it was much more than a pretty decoration. I shivered and looked away from it.
“You—you—you’re here. How did you get here?” Ian sputtered, his face still white with shock. “I saw you die, Drake. I—I killed you.”
Drake raised his golden eyebrows. “You mean when you stabbed me in the chest and left me to be buried under tons of falling rubble when the warehouse exploded?”
Ian grimaced.
“Well, lucky for me, Sisyphus was there. He pulled me to safety, which is more than I can say for you,” Drake said. “You know, I never thought my own brother would leave me for dead. But you did, Ian. Just like that.”
He snapped his fingers. Ian flinched at the harsh sound and swayed on his feet again. Two of the Reapers stepped up beside him and latched onto his arms. Not so much to guard him as simply to hold him upright.
Drake walked over and stopped right in front of his brother. “Y
ou could have been a part of this. You could have been a part of our victory against the Protectorate. You could have fought alongside me the way you always did before. But you chose the Protectorate over me, your own brother. You’re a fool, Ian. Such a sad, stupid, shortsighted fool.”
That last insult roused Ian out of his shocked daze. His face hardened, his chin lifted, and his entire body straightened. Once again, he was the proud Viking warrior I’d come to know.
“You’re a Reaper, Drake,” Ian snarled. “You didn’t give me a choice. You told me to either join the Reapers or die. And then, when I refused, you attacked me. You say that I stabbed you in the chest? Well, at least I did it to your face. You killed Protectorate guards—innocent men and women you’d fought alongside. Who believed in you. Who trusted you. And how did you repay their trust? By stabbing them in the back in cold-blooded murder. And for what? A few lousy artifacts?”
“More than a few artifacts,” Drake replied. “As you’ll soon see for yourself.”
Ian glared at his brother again, but Drake smiled back at him.
“Although I have to admit that I was touched by how much you cried at my funeral. I stood in the shadows at the cemetery and watched the whole thing. I didn’t expect so many tears from you, but I supposed you felt guilty about leaving me to die.” Drake shook his head. “You always were a sentimental fool that way.”
Anger and embarrassment stained Ian’s cheeks a dark red, but it didn’t hide the deep, agonizing hurt that filled his eyes at his brother’s cruel words. My heart ached for the Viking. At this moment, Ian’s pain was even greater than my own. At least I’d never had to confront my parents about their being Reapers the way he was hearing his own brother gloat about it right now.
Drake kept smirking at Ian, who raised his fists and surged forward again. But the two Reapers held him in place and lifted their swords in warning, stopping Ian from attacking his brother.
Lance cleared his throat. “As touching as this little reunion is, we do have a schedule to keep. You know as well as I do that Sisyphus doesn’t like to be kept waiting. We need to get what he wants and get out of here.”
Drake opened his mouth like he was going to snipe at the younger guy, but he closed his lips, apparently thinking better of it. After a moment, he nodded his agreement.
My eyes narrowed. So Lance and Drake were both working for the mysterious Sisyphus, and Lance had stolen the chimera scepter on Sisyphus’s orders. Lance and Drake had to realize that Protectorate warriors were on their way to the mansion right now, so why didn’t they go ahead, kill us, and leave? What were they waiting for? What else did Sisyphus want besides the chimera scepter?
“You’re not going to get away with this.” Ian spat out the words. “Neither one of you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Lance laughed. “Get away with it? We’ve already gotten away with it.” He looked at Drake. “You didn’t tell me that your brother was such a clueless idiot.”
Drake shrugged.
Ian’s hands clenched into fists again, and this time, he surged toward Lance. The two Reapers tightened their grips and brandished their swords, stopping him. Ian glared at the Reapers, then at Lance, who laughed again, amused by his struggles.
“Temper, temper,” Lance said in a mocking tone. “That’s going to get you into trouble someday.”
Ian growled, but he couldn’t attack Lance, not without those two Reapers cutting him to pieces with their swords.
Lance looked at Ian another moment, making sure that he was going to stay put. Then he winked at Zoe, who glared back at him.
“And now,” he murmured. “To bring Sisyphus what he really wants.”
Lance turned to face me, his lips curving up into another wide grin. “That would be you, Rory.”
* * *
This time, I was the one who staggered back and swayed on my feet. I couldn’t have been more shocked if Lance had whipped out a sword and stabbed me in the heart with it.
“What?” I asked. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know Sisyphus. What could he possibly want with me?”
“Plenty. Let’s talk facts. Vikings, Romans, Valkyries, Amazons. They’re all good warriors. But Spartans? Spartans are great warriors, the best warriors.” Lance pointed at me. “Spartans like you, Rory. That’s why I threw this party tonight. So I could get you away from the academy, bring you here, and tell you how great a warrior you are—and how much you’re going to help Sisyphus and the rest of us.”
Ian and Zoe both stared at me, surprise flashing in their eyes. A sick, sick feeling filled my stomach. This whole thing—Lance coming up to me on the quad, flirting with me, asking me to his party—I had thought it might be a trap. I had just never expected it to be a trap for me.
“What do you mean?” My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “What are you talking about?”
“Your parents were legends among the Reapers,” Lance said. “Did you know that?”
I shook my head. “No. I told you that I didn’t know anything about them being Reapers. Not until Covington murdered them in the Library of Antiquities.”
“It’s too bad they never told you anything,” Drake chimed in. “All the people they killed, all the members of the Protectorate they eliminated, all the artifacts they stole. Rebecca and Tyson Forseti were truly two of the best Reapers ever.”
That sick, sick feeling spread through my entire body, and I had to swallow down the hot, sour bile rising in my throat. But now was not the time to give in to my feelings about my parents. Otherwise, I would start screaming with rage and guilt and grief and never, ever stop. So I pushed those feelings down—deep, deep down—into the bottom of my broken heart and coated them with that cold frost, freezing them out the way I had been doing for months now, ever since I’d found out the awful truth.
“I know what my parents did.” I ground out the words. “You don’t have to keep reminding me how horrible they were.”
Lance frowned. “Horrible? They weren’t horrible. They were amazing warriors. And you’re just like them. Why, you’re an even better warrior than they were. Your dad used to brag about you all the time to my dad. About how you were the best Spartan he’d ever seen and how you were going to be one of the greatest warriors of your generation, maybe even better than Logan Quinn.”
“So?”
“So we’re asking you to put those skills to good use,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I snapped, tired of all his word and mind games.
“I mean join me—join me and Drake and Sisyphus. Forget about the Protectorate and whatever deal you’ve made with them. Come with me, and fight for us, fight for the Reapers. Be the warrior your parents always wanted you to be.” Lance flashed me a smile. “Become a Reaper.”
His words bounced around inside my head, but I couldn’t make sense of them. It was like he was speaking some foreign language that I didn’t understand—one that I didn’t want to understand.
“Come on, Rory,” Lance crooned. “You know you want to say yes. Why should you fight for the Protectorate? For all the kids at the academy who hate you? Why should you do anything for them? No matter what you do, you’ll always be the girl with the Reaper parents, and the other kids will always hate you for it. So you might as well give in and become what they all already think you are.”
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. Everyone at Mythos Academy thought I was a bad guy, and they all went out of their way to let me know how much they despised me. I told myself over and over again that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care what the other kids thought of me, but every angry look, harsh whisper, and mocking laugh cut into my heart like a razor-sharp sword.
Now all that was left behind were the thin ribbons of myself that I had tried to braid together into some sort of armor. But that armor was thin, weak, and flimsy, and it didn’t protect me from anything. Not the other kids’ taunts, not my parents’ betrayal, and especially not my own pain. I had never done anything wron
g—not one single thing—but I was still paying for all the sins of my parents, and I was still suffering for all the hurt they’d caused. And there was nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I could do to escape it.
“Don’t listen to him, Rory,” Ian said. “Your parents might have been Reapers, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one too.”
“Says the guy with the Reaper brother,” Drake replied in a snide tone.
Ian ignored him and looked at me. “Don’t listen to them,” he repeated. “Do what you want to do. Be what you want to be—not what someone else wants you to be.”
“Ian’s right,” Zoe said. “You’re a good person, Rory. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Shut them up,” Drake growled.
This time, all five of the Reapers pointed their swords at Ian and Zoe. They both opened their mouths like they were going to keep talking to me, but one of the Reapers shoved his sword up against Zoe’s side in a clear warning to keep quiet—or else.
Zoe bit back her words, and so did Ian.
Lance stepped in front of me, blocking my view of Ian and Zoe. “Forget about your parents and everything else. Think about us.”
I blinked. “Us?”
He nodded. “Us. You and me, Rory. I could tell that you had a crush on me last year. The way you looked at me, the way you smiled at me, the way you laughed at all my jokes.”
A hot, embarrassed blush scalded my cheeks. I hadn’t realized that I’d been so obvious, and now everyone knew my secret. Could this night get any worse?
Lance gave me a sly look. “And I liked you too. I really did. I was even going to ask you out, but I never got the chance to before your parents were killed. But now…”
“Now what?” I muttered.
“Now I can,” he said. “All you have to do is come with me, and we can finally be together, Rory. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Lance smiled, showing off his perfect dimples and being supersmooth, suave, and charming. But the sight of his smug face made white-hot rage roar through me. First he threw my parents in my face, then my crush on him. Now he was promising to be my boyfriend if only I would be a good little girl and join the Reapers like he wanted me to.