All the other students were lounging around the fireplace, so it was much quieter up here, and I was the only one on this floor. I sighed with relief. Now that no one was watching me, maybe I could relax and focus on my homework. Besides, up here, I didn’t have to keep walking by the spot where I had seen my parents’ bodies.
A few minutes later, I finally found one of the myth-history books on my list and slid it out of its spot on the shelf along one of the walls. I grabbed a couple of other volumes, enough to get started on my outline, and headed toward the exit so that I could go downstairs, check out the books, and take them home.
I was almost to the door when a bright gleam of metal caught my eye.
A glass display case sat at the end of one of the bookcases along the wall. The case was one of hundreds in the Library of Antiquities, which got its name from all the, well, antiquities that were housed inside. Weapons, armor, jewelry, clothing, and more were displayed throughout the library, all of them used and worn by gods, goddesses, warriors, and creatures over the centuries, many of them possessing magical powers and properties.
I had spent a lot of time in the library over the past year, and I didn’t remember seeing this case before. Curious, I walked over and peered through the glass.
A silver sword that glimmered like it had been freshly polished lay on a bed of dark green velvet inside the case, along with a black leather scabbard. I glanced around, but I didn’t spot an identification card inside the case or a metal plaque attached to the outside that would tell me whom the weapon had belonged to, what battles she had fought with it, and what magic it might have.
Swords were a dime a dozen in the library, and I had started to turn away from it when another gleam of metal caught my eye. I stepped forward, peered through the glass again, and took a closer look at the sword.
Was that…a face…engraved in the metal?
For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren’t. A round bulge of an eye, a pointed cheekbone, a sharp, hooked nose, a curved chin. All those things joined on the sword’s hilt to form a face—a woman’s face, judging from her heart-shaped lips and the delicate eyebrow etched into the metal. Surprise jolted through me, and I held my breath, wondering if the sword’s eye might pop open and the woman inside the metal might look up or maybe even talk to me.
Nothing happened.
The sword didn’t talk, blink, yawn—nothing. It was like the weapon was, well, just a weapon, albeit one with a very pretty face. Disappointment filled me. Gwen had a talking sword named Vic, who was totally bloodthirsty. Ever since I’d met Vic, I had thought it would be so cool to have a talking sword of my own, but of course, something that amazing could never happen to me.
Sometimes I felt like nothing good ever happened to me.
Sighing, I hoisted the heavy library books a little higher into the crook of my elbow, turned away from the sword, and looked up—and found myself staring at a goddess.
I was standing directly across from Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion and the former wife of Loki. Unlike all the other statues, who were standing proud, straight, and tall, Sigyn had her head bowed, and her hair trailed over her shoulders, almost as if she were trying to hide her face behind the long locks. And her expression…it was so sad and mournful and full of regret that it made my own heart ache in response.
Loki had tricked Sigyn into freeing him from the prison the other gods had placed him in long ago, and countless people had suffered—died—because of her mistake. Gwen had told me about Sigyn, how she’d masqueraded as Raven, an old woman who did odd jobs around the North Carolina academy, and how she’d spent years watching over the students there and shielding them from all the evil things the Reapers did on Loki’s behalf. Sigyn seemed to be one of the few goddesses, perhaps even the only goddess, who fought her own battles here in the mortal realm, instead of asking a Champion to do it for her.
I admired the goddess for trying to make things right, for trying to clean up the mess she’d made, for trying to help and protect the people who’d been hurt by her mistake. Those were some of the reasons I’d decided to write my term paper on her.
But the main reason was that I knew exactly how she felt.
I had trusted my parents, believed in them, loved them, and they’d still done all these horrible things. My parents had always told me to help people, to be a good warrior, to fight against the Reapers, when they had done the exact opposite. I just didn’t understand why my mom and dad had been Reapers, why they had thought it was okay to bring pain, death, destruction, and suffering to so many innocent people. I felt like I didn’t know them at all—that I’d never known who they truly were.
And now they were dead, murdered, and I would never know the answers to my questions. Why my parents had been Reapers, why they had tried to leave the group, what kind of future they had really wanted for me. Not knowing made me sadder than anything else. All the questions, all the doubts, had cracked deep down into my heart, splintering away my love and respect for my parents and leaving this jagged, hollow crater behind, this aching emptiness that I could never fill, no matter what I did—
The door to the stairs banged open. I whirled around, expecting an attack, but a Valkyrie and a Roman stumbled through the opening, giggling like crazy. They lurched to a stop, and the Valkyrie looped her arms around the Roman’s neck, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a loud, smacking kiss to his lips. Gold sparks of magic streamed out of her fingertips and flashed in the air all around them, making them look like a fairy-tale couple experiencing true love’s kiss.
I rolled my eyes. More like true lust’s kiss. In addition to being a place to hang out and gossip, the library was also a popular spot for kids to make out. Couples would often sneak away from the fireplace and the study tables, find a shadowy spot back in the stacks, and play tonsil hockey for hours on end. These two must have had the bright idea to come up to the second floor, where it was even darker and more private.
I had zero desire to witness their make-out session, and I was a little annoyed that they had interrupted my peace and quiet. So I loudly cleared my throat, letting the Valkyrie and the Roman know they weren’t alone. The two of them yelped in surprise and jerked apart, their heads snapping in my direction.
“Isn’t it a little early to be sucking face?” I sniped. “It’s still the first day of school. Usually, people don’t start hooking up until at least day two.”
The Valkyrie slapped her hands on her hips, gold sparks of magic hissing all around her fingertips. “Well, at least I have someone to make out with. You, Rory Forseti? You’d be lucky to get a prowler to kiss you. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
She grabbed the guy’s hand, and they both turned around, went back through the door, and clomped down the stairs. I grimaced, trying not to let the Valkyrie’s words get to me, but she was right. Everybody hated me, guys included. I didn’t have any friends here, much less an actual boyfriend, and I never would.
An arrow of hurt shot through my heart, but I ignored the sting, went over to the balcony railing, and looked down. On the first floor below, kids laughed, talked, and texted in the chairs by the fireplace, while others stood in line in front of the coffee cart, nibbling on cinnamon rolls, cheese Danish, and other pastries while they waited for their espressos and cappuccinos. A few truly dedicated students hunched over their laptops and textbooks at the study tables, concentrating on their homework. They all looked so relaxed and carefree. The tension, worry, and threat of Loki and his Reapers had finally been lifted, and everyone was happier than they had ever been.
Everyone except me.
Now that I had the reference books for my term paper, I should go downstairs, check them out, and leave the library. But the second I set foot on the first floor, all the kids would start watching me again like they had before. My breath escaped in a long, weary sigh. I couldn’t take any more harsh, accusing glares. Not right now, anyway.
I would much rather
stay up here by myself than listen to the other students’ snarky whispers and cruel snickers. So I set my books aside and plopped down on the floor in front of Sigyn’s statue.
“I guess it’s just you and me now,” I said.
I stared up at Sigyn, hoping that she would open her eyes, nod her head, or give me some other indication that she knew what I was going through. That she would give me some small sign of hope, friendship, or at least encouragement like the animal statues outside had with their winks earlier. But Sigyn remained utterly still, her face frozen in the same sorrowful expression as before. I waited one minute, then two, then three, but the goddess didn’t respond, so I sighed again as I cracked open the first reference book and pulled a pen and a notepad out of my messenger bag.
The first day wasn’t even over yet, but I could already tell it was going to be a long, long school year.
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 bef
ore 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…”