Crimson Frost Part 21

All I had to do was touch the Spartan.

Easier said than done. I hadn't even managed to nick Logan with my sword the whole time we'd been fighting, much less get close enough to touch him with my bare hand. But that's what I needed-time to touch the Spartan, time to let my magic work, time to let my power wash over him. But Logan wasn't just going to stand still and let that happen. No, there was only one way this was going to work. I had to let the Spartan get close to me.

I had to let him hurt me.

I didn't know if my crazy plan would work, but it was the only chance Logan had left. So I drew in a breath and slowly sheathed Vic in the scabbard on my waist. Then, I held my arms out wide, an open invitation to the Spartan to do his worst. Logan stopped short, obviously thinking it was some kind of trick.

"Gwen, what are you doing?" Vic yelled. "He'll kill you where you stand!"

"I know," I said in a grim voice. "But it has to be this way, Vic. You'll see."

After a few seconds, when I made no move to attack him or defend myself, Logan let out a loud, wild, angry cry and charged at me. I waited until he was in range and then held out my right hand and jerked to the side, trying to sidestep him as much as I could, even as my fingers reached out for his. I felt his sword slice across my right palm and keep on going.

Then, with a final, fierce battle cry, Logan slammed his blade into my chest.

Chapter 28.

The pain of the sword skewering me was-it was-devastating. Just wave after wave of red-hot agony surging through my body one right after another. For a moment, my vision went completely black. I had to struggle to focus on what I was trying to do, but I slowly reached up and wrapped my b.l.o.o.d.y fingers around Logan's hand, which was clenched around the hilt of his sword-the sword that was still in my chest.

The Spartan frowned and tried to pull his hand away, but I tightened my grip, even though it jostled the sword in my chest and made everything hurt that much more. Through my growing haze of pain, I called up all the memories I had of Logan.

All the times he'd smiled at me. All the times he'd teased me. All the times he'd looked at me, his icy eyes glowing. All the times he'd kissed me, held me close, and whispered that everything was going to be all right, even if we both knew it wasn't true.

I focused on those images and all the feelings that went with them. All the longing I'd felt for Logan when I'd first been crushing on him, all the times he'd made me laugh, and finally that warm, soft, fizzy feeling that flooded my heart whenever he grinned at me.

Then, I showed the images to him.

It was hard-so freaking hard. So much harder than it had been with Nott and even the Maat asp. I didn't know if it was because Logan's mind was more complex than theirs or if it was because of the ritual Agrona had performed on him, the jeweled collar on his neck, and all the magic mumbo jumbo that was pumping through his veins right now. But I could almost see this wall in his mind-a Reaper-red wall that kept me from getting through to him.

But I wasn't giving up, even though I could feel the blood pouring out of the wound in my chest and my strength and magic fading with every pa.s.sing second. Instead, I focused on all my memories of Logan, shaping them into a giant fist in my mind, and then I started hammering at that d.a.m.n Reaper-red wall that separated us.

Let me in, let me in, let me in . . .

I started chanting the words in my mind, timing them to the blows of my fistful of memories, even as my heart slowed and sputtered.

Let me in, let me in, let me in . . .

I didn't know how long we stood there, locked together, Logan's sword in my chest, and my fingers digging into his hand, but slowly, tiny, tiny cracks started to form in the wall in his mind. My strength was almost gone, I was almost gone, so I pounded at the wall that much harder before it was too late-for both of us.

Let me in . . . Let Me In . . . LET ME IN . . .

More and more cracks appeared, zigzagging through the entire wall. I gathered up the remaining sc.r.a.ps of my strength and magic and hit the wall one final time, putting everything I had into the blow.

The wall shattered, dissolving into nothingness, and suddenly I was in Logan's head, deeper inside him than I'd ever been before, so deep that I could see that icy blue spark at the center of his being.

Remember, I whispered in my mind to him, even as I imagined cupping that beautiful blue spark in my hand. See. Feel. Remember who you really are.

And then I shoved my memories at him-every last one.

Logan gasped and staggered back, jostling the sword in my chest. I screamed with pain, but somehow I managed to keep my b.l.o.o.d.y fingertips on his hand. Once again, I poured all my memories of him into his mind, just the way he'd stabbed me-quickly, brutally, effectively.

Remember . . . Remember . . . REMEMBER!

I chanted the words in my head again and again, hammering them into Logan's mind the same way I'd attacked the Reaper-red wall.

Just when I thought I couldn't hang on to his fingers another second, I felt something crack open inside his head, like a gla.s.s that had been dropped on the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. Everything just . . . splintered.

Suddenly, Logan was himself again, and I could feel his growing confusion and horror at what he'd done-to me.

The last of my strength left me, and I blinked, realizing that I'd lost my grip on Logan and that I was standing on the stage in the middle of the battle. He'd pulled the sword out of my chest, and more and more blood poured out of the wound. I looked at the Spartan, almost dreading what I'd see when I peered into his face.

"Gypsy girl?" Logan asked.

His voice was uncertain and confused, but it was his voice again. His face still looked vaguely blank, as if he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened, but I could tell it was Logan in there and not someone else. Just Logan-only Logan. And then, there was the most important thing-the fact that his eyes were blue once more instead of that awful Reaper red.

I smiled, thinking it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen-and that it would be the last thing I ever saw.

The pain exploded in my chest, even greater than before. I tried to open my mouth to say his name, but nothing came out, not even a whimper of hurt. My legs buckled, and I had one last thought before everything went dark.

Logan Quinn had killed me.

Chapter 29.

I woke with a start. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself staring up at one of the most amazing images I'd ever seen-an elaborate fresco that gleamed with gold, silver, and sparkling jewels. It was hundreds of feet overhead, stretching all the way across the domed ceiling, but somehow I could see it as clearly as if it was right above me. It showed the image of a great mythological battle. No surprise there. This was Mythos Academy, after all. But the strange thing was that I was in the fresco-and so were all of my friends.

Logan, Daphne, Carson, Oliver, even Alexei, all holding weapons and fighting just like I was. And there were other people pictured as well, folks I didn't know, creatures I'd seen only in the pages of my myth-history book, but I got the sense that they were all somehow important. That this was important. My gaze zoomed right, then left, up, then down, until I'd seen the entire fresco- I blinked, and the image was gone, cloaked by shadows once more. I sat up and realized that I was lying on the marble floor in the middle of the Library of Antiquities, right in front of the checkout counter. I looked down. I was wearing the same clothes I'd had on in the auditorium, but my T-shirt and hoodie were smooth and not torn and b.l.o.o.d.y like they should have been since Logan had stabbed me- "h.e.l.lo, Gwendolyn," a soft, familiar voice called out.

I raised my head, and there she was-Nike, the Greek G.o.ddess of victory.

The G.o.ddess looked as beautiful as ever. A white, toga-like gown wrapped around her lean, strong body, while soft, feathery wings arched up over her back. A crown of silver laurels rested on top of her bronze hair, but it was her eyes that always fascinated me the most-eyes that were a swirling mix of violet and gray, silver and lavender, and all the other soft shades of twilight.

I got to my feet, only mildly surprised when I didn't feel any pain. I pressed my hand to my chest, but all I felt was a thin line slashing over my heart, instead of the deep, mortal wound Logan had given me. I looked at the G.o.ddess and sighed.

"So am I dead this time?" I asked. "Is that why I can't really feel the stab wound in my chest? Are you here to take me to the Elysian Fields or Valhalla or someplace where warriors go when they die in battle?"

Nike gave me a sad smile. "Close, but not quite. Your friends are working very hard right now to save your life. Focus, and you'll see."

I concentrated and felt a soothing warmth flowing through my body. I looked down and realized that a familiar, rosy golden glow covered my chest, centered over my heart.

Come on, Gwen! I thought I heard Daphne scream, although her voice sounded faint and far away. Suck it up! Don't you dare die on me!

"Daphne's trying to heal me," I whispered.

Nike nodded. "And your Professor Metis too."

The G.o.ddess walked over and sat down on top of the checkout counter. No, that wasn't quite right. She didn't seem to walk or even glide as much as float, as if there were some force all around her propelling her movements with easy, precise grace. Still, seeing her perched on the counter and swinging her legs back and forth like a kid made me smile.

"You know, Nickamedes would have a fit you if he saw you sitting on the checkout counter. I did it once, and he yelled at me for five minutes."

Nike smiled back at me. "I won't tell him if you won't."

She patted the counter beside her, and I walked over and hopped up onto it, my movements far less graceful and effortless than hers had been. Sitting next to the G.o.ddess made me aware of the power that rolled off her in continuous waves. That cold, beautiful, terrible power that made the G.o.ddess who and what she was-victory itself.

We sat there in silence for several minutes, although I kept sneaking looks at the G.o.ddess.

"Did I-did I save Logan?" I finally asked, unable to bear the quiet any longer.

Nike nodded. "Yes, you broke the spell the Reapers had placed on the Spartan boy. He is himself once more. Physically, he should be fine in a few days."

"And otherwise?"

She shrugged. "It is a very extreme thing, forcing a soul into another body, especially one as foul and rotten as Loki's. The G.o.d himself might not have been in the auditorium, but the Spartan boy was still linked to Loki. No doubt he saw and felt things that he wished he didn't-horrible things. He will have to deal with that. Plus, the boy hurt you. He will have more guilt and pain over that than anything else."

"But Logan didn't mean to do it," I protested. "He didn't mean to hurt me. He just wasn't . . . himself."

Nike nodded. "I imagine he'll come to see that-in time."

The way she paused before she said the last two words made me shiver. In time? What did that mean? The warmth in my chest dimmed, and I hugged my arms around myself to ward off the chill I felt creeping up my spine.

"So what happens now?" I asked. "Will the Reapers try the transformation again on someone else?"

She shook her head. "The ritual can only be attempted once on a person, and Logan was the best candidate the Reapers had-the only candidate, really. The Reapers knew they only had one shot at him, which was why they had his stepmother watch over him all these years. Besides, they've used up almost all of Apate's jewels from the library, and there aren't enough left to attempt the ritual again. So you don't have to worry about that. Loki is trapped in his own ruined body-for now."

The way she said that made me shiver as well, but I focused on the other questions I wanted answers to.

"Why wasn't Loki there today? At the auditorium?"

"The Reapers didn't want to risk bringing him out of hiding if there was a chance that the ritual might fail-or that you might find a way to save your friends," Nike said. "I'm proud of you, Gwendolyn. You saved many lives today, and you kept Loki from gaining more power. You did well, my Champion."

I thought of the dead bodies that had been piled on the stage, and all the others who would have been hurt or killed during the battle. I didn't know that I deserved Nike's praise, but at least I'd saved Logan. Still, I knew the G.o.ddess wouldn't have come to me without a reason.

"So what happens next?" I asked. "What will the Reapers do now that the transformation ritual has failed?"

Nike looked out across the library, her eyes distant and far away. In that moment, she reminded me of Grandma Frost, having one of her visions of the future.

"Since Loki is still trapped in his own body, he and his Reapers will move on to the next part of his plan," she said. "They will go after objects that they think will help them win the coming war. Weapons, armor, and other artifacts with a variety of magic. Some with obvious power, and some without. We need to prevent that from happening, Gwendolyn."

The G.o.ddess turned her gaze to me once more. "You need to prevent that from happening."

I'd figured as much since stopping the Reapers from doing Bad, Bad Things was sort of becoming a regular gig of mine. I just hoped I was up to the task once again.

"Okay," I said. "So tell me what artifacts you want me to find and where they are."

She shook her head. "You know I can't tell you that. I can only guide you."

Yeah, yeah, the G.o.ds weren't supposed to meddle in mortal affairs, but that didn't stop them from getting their Champions to do it for them. I sighed again. I'd figured she'd say something like that, but hey, it didn't hurt to try.

"You know, we really need to find a way around you only being able to tell me certain things. There's a loophole for everything else when it comes to magic. Why not this? Because, honestly, I would love a map or a list or a picture or whatever you had in mind . . ."

My voice trailed off. Wait a second. I had seen a picture-the fresco on the ceiling-the one with all the people, weapons, and creatures on it. The one that was always cloaked with shadows, the one I'd never been able to see before.

I eyed the G.o.ddess, but she just smiled, her face calm and serene. Stupid magic loopholes. I was really starting to hate them. Still, I persisted.

"Okay, okay, I get it. At least, I think I do. But in case you've forgotten, I didn't do such a great job protecting the Helheim Dagger," I said. "I don't want to find the artifacts only to let the Reapers take them away from me like Vivian did with the dagger."

"That is always a risk," Nike replied. "And it is not just a matter of finding and protecting the artifacts. It's making sure they get into the right hands as well. In a way, that's more important than whether or not the Reapers find the artifacts first. Weapons and armor may have power, may have magic, but in the end, that is all they are-weapons and armor. It is the people and creatures who wield them and their intentions that really matter. It is their free will that makes the ultimate difference."

I sighed. There she went speaking in riddles about free will again, something Metis always talked about in myth-history cla.s.s. I had free will, and I made my own choices, which was what the Reapers wanted to take away from me by enslaving us all. I got it. Really, I did. Lesson learned.

Still, all the talk about artifacts and people made me think about my friends and the items they'd picked up in the Crius Coliseum a few weeks ago.

"Is that why Daphne has Sigyn's bow?" I asked."And why Carson has the Horn of Roland? They tried to give the artifacts back to Metis, but they just keep reappearing in their dorm rooms. The bow seems pretty straightforward, but Carson doesn't have a clue what the horn does. He's played it and played it, and nothing much has happened, except for him giving Loki a headache that night at the Garm gate."

"The Celt will know what to do with the horn when the time comes, and so will the Valkyrie with the bow," Nike said. "Just as you will know what to do with the artifacts you find, who to give them to and when."

"And what about Loki?" I asked. "I'm a.s.suming I'm still supposed to find some way to kill him. Is there an artifact for that too?"

I'd meant my words as a joke, but Nike just stared at me, her twilight gaze steady and serious.

"There is," I whispered. "There's an artifact that can actually kill Loki. What? What is it? Where is it? How can I use it to kill him? Please, you have to tell me-"

Nike arched her eyebrows and tipped up her head. I followed her gaze and realized that I could see the fresco again. A shimmer of silver caught my eye, centered on the image of, well, me. With one hand, I was holding Vic, but there was something in my other hand, something silver, something that looked like an arrow, or maybe a small spear- I blinked, and shadows covered the ceiling once more. "But what is it? You have to tell me what that is-"

Nike held up her hand, cutting me off, and c.o.c.ked her head to one side, as if she was listening to something. I didn't hear anything, but the G.o.ddess slid off the counter and turned so that she was standing in front of me.

"And now, it's time for me to go," she said. "And for you to return to your friends. Can't you feel it? They've done an excellent job of healing you."

I pressed my hand to my chest. That thin line still slashed over my heart, but I realized I no longer felt cold. I looked down and realized my whole body was glowing the same warm, rosy color as Daphne's magic, mixed with the golden tinge of Metis's healing power.

"So I'm going to make it after all?"

Nike smiled. "There was never any doubt of that, Gwendolyn. Self-sacrifice is a very powerful thing, especially if you do it of your own free will. Remember that."

The G.o.ddess leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, as was her custom whenever she said good-bye to me. As always, a wave of her power blasted over me, even stronger than before, one so cold and fierce it made my breath frost in the air between us.

"Good-bye, Gwendolyn," Nike said, stepping back, her body melting into this bright, silvery light. "Be well and brave until we meet again."