But I didn’t have any weapons. I didn’t need them, since I could pick up any object and automatically know how to kill someone with it.
Seriously. I could kill someone with a toothpick if I wanted to. A plastic fork, a paper clip, an ink pen. Whatever was handy. Not that I would ever actually do that, as it would be difficult, even for me, especially when it would be much easier to take away my enemy’s sword and use their own weapon against them. But if I had to, I could defend myself with whatever was lying around, no matter how small and innocuous it might be.
I didn’t know how it worked for other Spartans, how their magic manifested itself, but anytime I was in a fight, I could see what the other person was going to do before they did it. How they were going to move their feet, how they were going to shift their weight, even how hard they were going to swing their sword at me. It was like we were both part of the same movie, only I was three steps ahead of the other person.
And the same thing happened when it came to weapons, whether it was a traditional sword or something as flimsy as a toothpick. As soon as I touched a sword, I could tell how well made it was, how balanced, how strong, and I intuitively adjusted my feet, my grip, and my swings to maximize the damage I could do with the weapon. Ditto for the toothpick, the plastic fork, the paper clip, the ink pen, and anything else I could get my hands on.
And it wasn’t just that I instinctively knew how to hurt people. Something about my Spartan blood made it seem natural, like it was something that I was supposed to do. Holding a sword or a staff or drawing back a bowstring seemed as right and easy as breathing to me.
Sometimes that scared me a little.
I didn’t want to be like my parents. I didn’t want to hurt innocent people. I didn’t want to be a bad person.
I didn’t want to be a Reaper.
I wanted to be…well, I wasn’t quite sure yet. I wanted to do something with my life the way Gwen had. I wanted to do something important. Something that mattered. Something that would aid other people.
And maybe, just maybe, something that would help make up for all my parents’ mistakes.
But I couldn’t do any of that standing here, so I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out onto the main quad.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered.
I walked along one of the cobblestone paths, winding my way toward the English-history building, since that’s where myth-history was, my first class of the day. I loved myth-history and learning about all the gods, goddesses, warriors, and creatures, and I wondered what new things the professor would talk about this year, especially given the recent battle and Loki’s imprisonment—
“Look!” a voice hissed. “It’s Rory Forseti!”
I was halfway across the quad when I heard my name.
I froze and looked over to my right, dreading what I would see. Sure enough, a group of Valkyries wearing designer boots, jeans, and matching plaid jackets were gathered around one of the iron benches that dotted the quad. They were all quite pretty, with perfect hair and makeup, and their phones and purses were even more expensive than their clothes.
Dezi, Harley, Kylie… I recognized several of the girls, since they were all second-year students like me. None of them had liked me when we started school last fall, and they had outright hated me after it came out that my parents were Reapers.
The Valkyries realized that I was staring at them. But instead of turning away and pretending they hadn’t said my name, they all pointed at me, making pink, green, and blue sparks of magic crackle in the air around them. My heart sank. I knew what was coming next.
“I can’t believe she came back here this year.”
“Did she really think that just because she helped out in North Carolina, we would forget what her parents did? Or what they were?”
“They were Reapers, through and through, and rotten to the core. And she’s probably even worse than they were…”
The snarky comments went on and on, each one sharper, crueler, and more vicious and hurtful than the last. Even worse, the Valkyries’ loud voices drowned out everyone else’s conversations, causing the other students to turn and stare at me as well. In less than a minute, I was the center of everyone’s attention, and they were all talking, texting, and whispering about me.
All I could do was stand there frozen in place with my mouth gaping open, looking like a clueless fool. I’d actually gotten my hopes up. I’d actually thought that this year would be different, better, normal. That I’d done enough good things to change everyone’s opinions of me. But I’d been wrong—dead wrong.
I was such a freaking idiot.
Of course the other kids wouldn’t forget that my parents were Reapers—not for one lousy second. How could they when Reapers had terrorized them all for so long? When they had lived in fear of Reapers their whole lives? When Reapers had killed their friends and family members for generations on end? One battle wasn’t going to change all of that history, all of that bad blood, all of that fear, anger, and hate.
Nothing could ever change that.
But the worst part was that I had hoped it would. I had hoped for the fresh start that Aunt Rachel had said we would have. I had wanted it more than anything.
My first class hadn’t even started yet, and my school year was already ruined, soaked in blood and burned to ash by my parents’ evil actions, like so many other things in my life.
In many ways, my feelings about Mythos Academy mirrored those about my parents. I loved so many things about the academy—the scenery, the statues, the sense of being home—just as I had loved my mom’s quiet strength and my dad’s unending patience. But part of me also hated the academy, especially all the other students knowing about my Reaper parents. Sometimes I felt like I had a big red bull’s-eye strapped to my chest, one that gave all the other kids permission to mock me.
The cruel comments, snarky whispers, and hateful stares continued. A hot, embarrassed blush flooded my cheeks, and my anger bubbled up to the surface again. But I knew from past experience that there was no point in fighting back against the other kids. It would only make me even more of a target than I already was. Besides, they had just as much right to their anger as I had to mine. So I gritted my teeth, ducked my head, and hurried forward, determined to get inside the English-history building as quickly as possible—
A shoulder slammed into mine, making me stagger to one side of the cobblestone path.
“Watch it!” I snapped.
“Why don’t you watch it?” a low voice growled right back at me.
Normally, I would have kept on going, since this wasn’t the first time someone had accidentally-on-purpose rammed into me while I was walking across the quad, thinking that it was hilarious to pick on the girl with the dead Reaper parents. All the taunts, whispers, and stares had filled me with a familiar, sickening mixture of guilt, shame, and embarrassment, but those emotions quickly morphed into a cold, hard knot of anger in my chest. Dirty looks and whispers were one thing, but actually plowing into me was something else, especially when I was already struggling with my emotions.
Once again, I felt that need to lash out, and I decided to give in to it, since my day was already ruined. Someone wanted to mess with me? Well, I was tired of taking everyone else’s crap, and I could give as good as I got.
I whirled around to confront the person who’d run into me and realized that it wasn’t one of the snotty Valkyrie girls like I’d expected. It was a guy—and he was gorgeous.
Seriously, he was tall and muscled and just plain gorgeous in his black boots, black jeans, dark gray henley, and black leather jacket. Rich honey highlights ran through his dark blond hair, which stuck up at odd angles, as though he constantly ran his fingers through it, but the slightly messy, unkempt look totally suited him. He had the kind of great cheekbones, perfect straight nose, and strong jaw that you’d see on a movie star. But his eyes…his eyes were simply amazing—a light, bright, piercing gray. I’d never seen eye
s like that before, and I tried to figure out what their color reminded me of. Rain-soaked clouds, maybe, or the gleaming edge of a freshly sharpened sword…
The guy glared at me, breaking the spell. I blinked and forced myself to ignore how cute he was. Instead, I studied him again, and I realized I’d never seen him before. Last year, after all that mess with my parents had happened, I had made it a point to know every single student at the academy, especially the ones I should avoid. But this guy? He was new.
Oh, I was sure there was a perfectly logical explanation. Lots of students transferred from one academy to another, especially at the start of the school year and especially at the start of this school year, since the North Carolina academy was still undergoing repairs from the earlier battle.
Still, I kept studying the guy, this time trying to figure out what kind of warrior he was. He couldn’t be a Roman, since his magic would have made him fast enough to avoid running into me. My gaze dropped to the black duffel bag dangling from his hand. The bag’s long, distinctive shape was meant to hold a battle ax, and a couple of smaller axes were hooked to the outside of the bag as well. So he was a Viking. They were the only warriors who used axes like that. No wonder he’d almost knocked me down. His Viking strength would have let him knock me into next week if he’d wanted. Maybe he hadn’t slammed into me on purpose after all.
The guy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you staring at?”
Embarrassment spurted through me that he had caught me gaping at him. But I ignored the fresh, hot blush stinging my cheeks, crossed my arms over my chest, and glared back at him.
“What are you staring at?” I snapped. “I was walking along, minding my own business, when bam! You plowed right into me. And now you’re not even apologizing for almost knocking me down.”
Anger sparked in his eyes, turning them a darker storm-cloud gray, which, of course, only made him look that much more handsome. “I didn’t plow into you. You weren’t watching where you were going. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s you, cupcake.”
My arms dropped to my sides, and my hands clenched into fists. “You did not just call me cupcake.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What? You don’t like that nickname? Well, it’s true. Look at you, with your designer clothes and expensive bag and perky little ponytail. You’re a cute little cupcake of a warrior, just like the rest of the girls here.”
More anger surged through my body, and I stepped up so that I was standing inches away from him. “I am a Spartan,” I hissed. “One who is perfectly capable of kicking your ass, right here, right now, Viking.”
He arched his eyebrow at me again. “A threat? Aw, that’s so cute. Maybe some other time. Right now, I’ve got to get to class, and so do you. Unless you want to be late on the first day of school.”
“I—”
I started to snap back at him, but a series of bells rang out across the quad, cutting me off and signaling that we had five minutes to get to class.
“And that’s my cue to leave. Later, cupcake.” The Viking snapped his hand up to his forehead in a mock salute. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder, making all the small battle axes hooked to the outside clank-clank-clank together, and moved past me.
“But—”
I whirled around, but he was moving fast, heading for the gym on the opposite side of the quad. He was already out of earshot, unless I wanted to scream insults at him. I was still so angry that I opened my mouth to let loose, but then I realized that everyone was staring at me again, including the Valkyries who’d been mocking me earlier. The girls all rolled their eyes and snickered, adding to my humiliation. Everyone had seen my confrontation with the Viking, and they were already gossiping about it.
Great. Just great. I had wanted things to be different this year, but I was right back where I’d started, with everyone talking about me, the supposed Reaper girl in their midst. And it was all his fault.
I glared at the Viking’s back, but there was nothing I could do about him now. So I sighed, turned around, and trudged across the quad toward the English-history building.
As I walked along, one thought kept running through my mind. I had been absolutely right before.
The first day of school is always the worst.
Especially at Mythos Academy.
Chapter Two
The rest of my day didn’t get any better.
I suffered through all my morning classes, painfully aware that everyone was talking and texting about my confrontation with the Viking. I slumped down in my seat, keeping my gaze on my books, but I could still hear the other kids whispering about me. Well, at least they weren’t talking about my parents being Reapers anymore. I didn’t know if that was better or worse, but at least my misery was new and different—for today, anyway. The other students would remember my Reaper parents soon enough.
Lunchtime rolled around, and I trooped over to the dining hall with the other kids, all of whom kept a healthy distance from yours truly. Apparently, talking about me behind my back was just fine, but actually walking beside me on the cobblestone path was not. I gritted my teeth and plodded on toward the dining hall. I wasn’t hungry—not in the slightest—but I had to show up for lunch, or Aunt Rachel would start worrying.
I stepped into the dining hall, which looked exactly the same as it had last school year, right down to the open-air garden in the center of the room. Instead of pretty flowers, this garden featured evergreen trees that grew between dense boulder formations and perfumed the air with their sharp, tangy sap. A narrow creek curled through the garden and over to a tower of boulders, where it dropped down and created a small waterfall and a pool at the base of the rocks. Gray stone statues of bears, rabbits, ducks, and other animals ringed the pool, along with one of Coyote Trickster, the Native American god. Two more statues, both of them Eir gryphons, perched on the rocks at the top of the waterfall, as though they were keeping watch and protecting the animals below.
Lion bodies, eagle heads, broad wings, long tails. The two statues looked just like the real gryphons that lived in a cavern near the Eir Ruins. I stared at their stone faces a moment, getting my anger under control, then grabbed a plastic tray and got in line to get some lunch.
Unlike that of your typical school cafeteria, the dining-hall food was upscale all the way, in keeping with the wealth and expensive tastes of the students, professors, and other workers. No rubbery chicken nuggets, plastic cups of lumpy applesauce, or paper cartons of sour milk here. Instead, the chefs chopped, grilled, and whipped up everything from crisp garden salads to honey-apricot-glazed chicken to Parmesan-garlic mashed potatoes.
I breathed in, enjoying the delicious aromas and curls of steam that wisped through the air. Maybe Aunt Rachel’s cooking had spoiled me, but I loved all the fancy food, and I didn’t understand why Gwen always wanted to have plain old boring pizza and cheeseburgers. Gourmet was where it was at, baby.
Aunt Rachel was working the end of the lunch line today, dishing up sundaes made with vanilla-bean ice cream, warm chocolate sauce, and fresh sliced strawberries. My stomach rumbled in anticipation. Spartans didn’t have many weaknesses, but dessert was definitely one of mine. I had a massive sweet tooth, and sundaes were one of my favorite treats. I might not have been hungry before, but I could always eat ice cream.
Aunt Rachel knew all about my sugar addiction, and she fixed me an extra-large sundae with lots of chocolate sauce and strawberries, along with chopped toasted almonds sprinkled on top for some nutty crunch. She slid the sundae dish onto my tray, and I admired it. The dessert was almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
“How’s your first day going?” she asked.
I forced myself to smile. “Great. Just great. Except for all the homework.”
She frowned. “Homework already? On the first day?”
“Oh, yeah.”
That part was definitely true. My myth-history professor had already assigned us a lengthy term paper, and we had to have an outline ready for approval nex
t week, which meant that I would be spending some time in the library this afternoon, tracking down reference books.
“How about you?” I asked. “How’s your day going?”
Aunt Rachel smiled, but it seemed she was clenching her jaw to hold the expression in place. “Oh, great. Just great. Just…getting back into the groove of things.”
Unlike my parents, Aunt Rachel was a terrible liar, and I could tell that her day had been as bad as mine. I wondered if the other chefs had gossiped about her behind her back like all the kids had done with me. Probably.
But I forced myself to smile. She would be disappointed that things weren’t any better for me, and I wasn’t going to make her day any worse than it already was. “I’ve got to hit the library after classes and get started on a paper, so I’ll see you tonight at home. Okay?”
“Sure,” Aunt Rachel said. “Sounds good. I’ll fix us a special late-night snack to celebrate our first day.”
“Great.”
I nodded and smiled at her again, as though everything was fine and I really was having a terrific day. Then I dropped my head, moved past her, and paid for my food at the cash register. I stuffed my change into my jeans pocket, grabbed my tray, and turned to face a new dilemma.
Where to sit.
Since this was the first day of school, the dining hall was packed, just like the quad had been this morning, and I didn’t see any empty tables. I didn’t even see any empty seats. At least, none at a table where I thought I could sit and eat in peace without everyone else muttering snarky comments about me. Of course, I could always go outside and eat on the dining-hall steps. I had done that almost every single day last year, no matter how cold and snowy it was outside. Being by myself was better than being with people who hated me.
I started to head outside to find a quiet, deserted spot, but then I realized that Aunt Rachel was still watching me from her place at the end of the lunch line. If I left the dining hall, she would realize that something was wrong, so I clenched my jaw and forced myself to walk past the tables, searching for a seat, any seat, where I could sit for a minute until she went back to work and I could get up and sneak outside—