Lance and Drake both bowed their heads to the other man, further confirming my suspicion about who he was.
“Sisyphus.” I spat out the name.
The mystery man tilted his head in agreement. Then he did the last thing I expected. He reached up, pushed the red hood off his head, and removed his mask, revealing his true identity.
He was on the short side, and his billowing cloak swallowed up much of his thin frame. His hair and eyes were both a light hazel-brown, although the goatee that clung to his chin was a few shades darker. His skin was a bit paler than I remembered, but he still had the ruddy look of someone who’d spent years in the sun and now had a permanent tan as a result.
I recognized him at once, this horrible, horrible man who had caused me so much pain. Cold shock flooded my body, as though I were drowning in an icy tidal wave. For a moment, everything inside me felt numb and frozen, and I struggled to breathe. But in the next instant, the cold shock burned away, replaced by sizzling anger, and my heart started beating so hard and fast that I thought it might explode right out of my chest.
Sisyphus wasn’t some anonymous bad guy. I knew exactly who he was, and the sight of his smug face made me sick to my stomach.
Covington, the former head librarian at the academy and the Reaper who’d murdered my parents.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I staggered back and clutched my chest, sucking down breath after breath and trying to get my pounding heart under control.
“You—you—you’re supposed to be in prison,” I sputtered. “How did you get out?”
Covington tossed his mask down onto the floor and let out a low, amused laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. “Did you really think I was going to let myself rot in some silly Protectorate prison? You should know me better than that, Rory.” He shook his head, as though he were disappointed in me. “Despite Loki’s defeat, Reapers are still everywhere, even right under their family’s noses in the precious Protectorate. Ask your friend. He would know.”
He smirked at Ian, who glared back at him.
“I never thought I’d say this, but Gwen Frost actually did me a favor,” Covington said. “When Loki attacked the North Carolina academy, many of the Protectorate members dropped everything and rushed to campus to join the battle. That made it so much easier for the Reapers working at my prison to free me. They snuck me out of my cell just like that.”
He snapped his fingers, making me flinch. Out of all the bad things that had happened with my parents, I’d thought that I had at least captured their killer. That the evil librarian was locked away in some dark cell where he could never hurt anyone ever again.
But I’d been wrong about that—so very, very wrong.
“Who is this guy?” Ian asked.
Covington arched an eyebrow. “Rory hasn’t told you about me? About how I worked with her parents all the years they were Reapers?”
“You murdered my parents,” I snarled. “Cut them down from behind like the coward you are. You knew you could never beat them in a fair fight, so you stabbed them both in the back.”
Sympathy flashed in Ian’s eyes, and he stepped up so that he was standing right beside me in a silent show of support. Knowing that he was here calmed me, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.
Covington shrugged. “Fighting fair is overrated. You heroes never seem to understand that. It’s why you always lose.”
I opened my mouth to snap that he was the only one who was losing tonight, but Covington started pacing back and forth, and the loud tap-tap-tap-tap of his wing tips on the marble drowned me out before I could get started. The sharp motions made his red cloak billow out around him as though he were wrapped in a cloud of blood.
Lance and Drake moved back out of their boss’s way, while the two chimeras sat down on their haunches, waiting for someone to give the order to attack.
Finally, Covington stopped pacing. His hazel gaze flicked past me to the jewelry box still sitting in its case. Then he focused on me again.
“In addition to making it easier for me to escape from prison, your dear cousin Gwen actually did all of us a huge service, especially the Reapers.”
I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“For centuries, the Reapers tried to bring Loki back. Generation upon generation worked so hard and fought so long to make it happen.” Covington shook his head. “They were grand fools. All of them.”
“And why is that?” Ian asked.
“We didn’t need a god to come here and rule us. We didn’t need a god to help us defeat the Protectorate. We were doing just fine on our own.”
“Really?” I snarked. “Living in the shadows? Lying to everyone? Worried that you’d be discovered as an evil monster and put in prison at any moment? Yeah, you Reapers have really been living the high life.”
Covington ignored my mocking tone. “I tried to convince Agrona and the other Reaper leaders that they were being fools. That Loki wouldn’t care about us and all our hard work to free him. That he was a god and would expect us to bow down to him, just like he’d wanted the entire world to bow down to him when he first tried to conquer it. But Agrona and the others didn’t listen to me, and now they’re all either dead or in prison.” He shrugged again. “Their loss was my gain. I always was smarter than Agrona. I realized something a long time ago that she never did.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, even though part of me didn’t want to know the answer.
Covington’s face twisted into a sneer, and a bright, fanatical light burned in his hazel eyes. “Why should people bow down to Loki when they can just as easily bow down to me?”
My heart dropped like a stone in my chest. Takeda had told me that Sisyphus—Covington—was the leader of the Reapers. That was bad enough, but that wasn’t all the evil librarian wanted. Not even close. No, he wanted to rule the world, just like Loki had, and he would do whatever it took in order to make that happen—hurt, lie, cheat, steal, kill.
“What are you up to?” Ian demanded. “What do you plan to do with the artifacts you’ve stolen?”
Covington let out a soft laugh. “I could tell you, but it’s none of your concern. Besides, you’ll soon be too dead to care.”
Drake stepped up beside the librarian and stared at his brother. “This is your last chance, Ian. Join us, and be on the winning side.”
“Never,” Ian snarled, raising his battle ax. “I will never join the Reapers, and I will never join you.”
Drake shook his head. “You always were more stubborn than smart. You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” Ian snarled again. “The fact that you don’t even care about your own brother? Oh, I think I’ve gotten that message loud and clear.”
“You don’t get how the world really works, little brother. The only things that truly matter are magic, power, and money. Love? Family? Friends? Honor? Those are distractions.” Drake sneered. “They make you weak. They make you vulnerable.”
Ian stared at his brother like he was a stranger he’d never seen before. I knew that horrified look and all the turbulent feelings that went along with it. “If family makes you weak, then why do you want me to join you?”
“Because you’re a great warrior and would be a valuable asset to the Reapers,” Drake said. “Nothing more, nothing less. This is your last chance, Ian. Join us—or die.”
Ian looked at his brother, then at Lance and Covington, and finally at the two chimeras sitting on the floor waiting to attack. His face hardened, and anger sparked in his eyes, turning them that beautiful storm-cloud gray.
“I’ll take my chances with my friends,” Ian said. “With Rory.”
Drake shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He looked at Covington, who nodded and stepped forward again.
“Well, just because the Viking has turned down our generous offer doesn’t mean you have to, Rory,” Covington said.
That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “What are you
talking about?”
“Your parents and I did great things together, so naturally, I took an interest in their daughter. I’ve been watching you ever since you first started attending the academy last year. And of course I heard the reports about how well you fought during the battle in North Carolina.” Covington smiled at me. “You’re an even better warrior than your parents were. Smarter, stronger, faster, more cunning and vicious. With you at my side, the Protectorate doesn’t stand a chance. So join us, Rory. Join me, and become a Reaper. Become the Reaper you were always meant to be, the Reaper your parents always wanted you to be.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to forget it, that I would never join him, the man who’d murdered my parents. But then the strangest thing happened. Covington’s words echoed from one side of the rotunda to the other, reverberating back to me time and time again, until they were all I could hear, blocking out everything else.
Ian shifting on his feet beside me, Lance and Drake sneering at me, the chimeras idly scraping their claws against the floor. All of that faded away, and all I could see was Covington, and all I could hear was his sly voice whispering to me.
Become a Reaper… Become a Reaper… Become a Reaper…
My vision clouded over, and a dull roar filled my ears, as though I were underwater. But Covington’s voice remained sharp and clear, like a knife digging deeper and deeper into my brain. I blinked, and my vision cleared, although the librarian’s words continued to echo in my mind. There was something almost…hypnotic about Covington’s voice, and I actually found myself wanting to say yes to him, even though I knew how wrong it was.
Become a Reaper? Could I really do that? Turn my back on the Protectorate? On Gwen and everything she stood for? On everything I stood for?
I’d never wanted to be a Reaper, I’d never wanted to be like my parents, and I’d especially never wanted to do all the horrible things they had done. At least, not until right now…
“Come on, Rory,” Covington said, his voice stabbing into my brain again. “Think about it. Think about how things really are. Why should you fight for the Protectorate? Linus Quinn and Hiro Takeda are just using you for your fighting skills. And once they’re done with you, once you’ve died for them like a good Spartan, they’ll find someone to replace you without a second thought. Just like that.”
He snapped his fingers, making me flinch again, although this time, I nodded in agreement. It was more or less the same thing Lance had said to me in his mansion a few days ago, but for some reason, it made so much more sense coming from Covington. The Protectorate would replace me like I’d replaced Amanda. It was the way of the warrior.
“Don’t do it, Rory!” Ian said. “Don’t listen to him!”
Ian stepped forward and reached out, like he was going to grab my shoulder, but Lance waved the gold scepter, and the two chimeras surged to their feet and snarled at the Viking. Ian froze, looking back and forth between me and the creatures. I stared at Ian, but he seemed far away, as though he were under the same water I was and slipping farther and farther away with every breath I took.
Covington walked forward, slowly moving past the chimeras, and stretched his arm out to me. And I found myself shuffling toward him and this amazing new future that he was offering me. One where I would be accepted and appreciated for who and what I truly was—a fierce Spartan warrior—instead of constantly being ridiculed for trying to do the right thing, for trying to be a good person, for trying to be a better person than my parents had been.
Covington was right. Why should I fight so hard for people who didn’t appreciate it? Who thought I was a bad guy? Who automatically condemned me for being the daughter of Reaper assassins? And those were just the other students at the academy.
He was right about Linus and Takeda too. The members of the Protectorate would be happy to let me fight for them, and they wouldn’t bat an eye at my death, whenever it might happen. In a way, that was worse. At least the Mythos kids were honest about hating me. I would much rather be hated than used.
But I could escape it. I could escape all the angry glares, rude remarks, and muttered accusations. All I had to do was quit fighting. All I had to do was give in. All I had to do was become the thing I’d always hated and feared: a Reaper assassin, just like my parents before me.
“Well, Rory?” Covington asked, moving even closer to me. “What do you say? Are you finally ready to embrace your destiny?”
“I—” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I never got the chance to finish my sentence.
“Don’t listen to him, Rory,” another voice cut in. “Don’t you dare listen to him. You aren’t your parents, and you certainly aren’t a Reaper. You’re a good person, one of the kindest, strongest souls I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare sully yourself and throw away all that goodness by listening to this—this smooth-talking fool.”
I blinked and looked around for the source of the sharp, biting voice. Covington stopped and glared at my hand, and I finally realized who was talking.
Babs.
I was still holding Babs in my right hand, and I glanced down. The motion made my charm bracelet slide down my wrist, and the heart locket clinked softly against Babs’s blade. The sword looked the same as always, but my bracelet and locket were glowing with a pure, bright silver light. I changed my grip on the sword, holding Babs’s blade in my hand, and slowly raised her up so I could see her face. She was also glowing, although not nearly as brightly as my bracelet.
I glanced around, but no one seemed to notice the strange glowing but me, so I looked back at the bracelet. The silver glow intensified, and that’s when I realized that everything else in my entire field of vision was tinged with red.
Reaper red.
“Rory,” Covington crooned again. “Don’t listen to that silly piece of metal. Listen to me. Just listen to me, and everything will be fine.”
The red haze intensified, making my head swim, and I stared at the librarian. Covington clenched his hand into a fist, making a large gold signet ring flash on his right index finger. A square ruby was set in the center of the ring, burning with the same blood-red haze that was clouding my vision.
And that’s when I remembered Gwen telling me how the Reapers had snapped a gold collar studded with Apate jewels around Logan Quinn’s neck to control him. Covington was trying to do the same thing to me now. That ring was more than just a ring—it was some artifact that let you bend other people to your will. Lance hadn’t been able to recruit me, and now Covington was using an artifact on me, trying to force me to become a Reaper whether I wanted to or not.
White-hot rage roared through me, searing through the thick fog that had crept into my mind. The red haze vanished from my vision, and everything snapped back into focus. Suddenly, I could think clearly again. More rage roared through me, and in an instant, I’d flipped Babs over in midair so that I was holding the sword by her hilt again. More than anything, I wanted to surge forward and attack, to cut Covington to pieces for daring to think he could control me and make me his Reaper puppet.
But such a reckless move would only get Ian and me killed, especially since those two chimeras were still standing by, waiting to attack. No, I had to be smart about this. So I kept my face blank and swayed on my feet, as though I were still under Covington’s spell, even though I was actually studying everyone and everything in the rotunda, getting ready for what was to come next.
Babs kept babbling at me to fight, fight, fight, but I didn’t need her to tell me that anymore, so I curled my hand around her hilt, muffling the sound of her voice, although I could still feel her lips moving frantically underneath my palm as she continued to shout her warnings. I clenched the sword as tightly as possible, letting the feel of the cold metal in my hand ground me. I also focused on my charm bracelet sliding along my skin and the heart locket swaying back and forth and kissing the inside of my wrist. The cool, soft touch of the jewelry further centered me.
“Come on, Rory.” Covingt
on clenched his hand into an even tighter fist, which made the ruby in his ring burn an even brighter, bloodier red. “You know you want to join us.”
I plastered a smile on my face and nodded, as though I were actually agreeing with him. Then I shuffled toward him again, as though I were still drifting along in that sickening red Reaper fog and was willing to do whatever he told me to. It was the same trick I’d used on Lance when he’d tried to recruit me, and I was betting that Covington would fall for it too, especially since he thought he was controlling me with his creepy ring.
“Wow,” Drake said in a snide voice. “Given everything I’ve heard about her, I didn’t think that artifact would actually work on her. Lance made her out to be a lot tougher than she really is.”
Covington shrugged. “No one can resist this kind of magic, this kind of power.”
The librarian glanced down at his gold signet ring and the embedded ruby, which was still glowing an eerie, sickening blood-red.
He smiled, then looked up, focusing all of his twisted attention on me again. “That’s it. Come here. All you have to do is say yes, and you’ll be a Reaper for the rest of your life. Don’t you want that, Rory? Don’t you want that more than anything?”
I smiled at him again, as though the thought made me happy. All the while, though, I kept clutching Babs’s hilt, focusing on the feel of her in my hand, along with my charm bracelet around my wrist. That was what was real, not the red Reaper fog that Covington wanted to drown me in forever.
I wasn’t a Reaper, and I never, ever would be—no matter what. Aunt Rachel was right. My parents had made their own choices, their own decisions, their own mistakes. But I was my own person, and I made my own decisions. And I knew exactly what I was going to do next: wipe that smug smirk off Covington’s face.