"Me?" I squeaked.
Nike nodded. "You, Gwendolyn Frost. For thousands of years, the women of your family have served me, acting as my Champions, helping me keep the order of things, helping me keep the world balanced between good and evil, between victory and defeat."
I remembered what Daphne had said about Champions, how they were people chosen by the gods. To help other people.
To be heroes.
I thought of the images that I'd just seen of all the women and all the battles over the years. I was a part of that? It didn't seem possible. It just didn't seem right, much less real. Sure, my Grandma Frost was the strongest person I knew, and my mom had been the same way before she'd died. But me? Not so much. I couldn't even make any friends at Mythos, and I wasn't some great warrior like the other kids were.
"Why me?" I asked. "I'm not like the other kids here. I'm nobody."
I winced as I repeated what Jasmine had said to me moments ago in the library, the real library. Or wait, maybe this was the real library now? My head definitely hurt.
"You're not nobody," Nike said in a sharp tone. "You are Gwendolyn Frost, and you are my Champion."
Eyes wide, I stared at her, wondering what I'd done to make her angry. After a moment, the goddess's face softened once more.
"When everyone else ignored Jasmine's death, you were the only one who cared, Gwendolyn," she said in a serious tone, as if that was something of great importance.
"But I didn't do anything," I protested. "Not really. Nothing important anyway. I just kind of fumbled around and followed people and used my Gypsy gift to pick up vibes. It wasn't anything that anyone else couldn't have done."
"No," Nike agreed. "But you at least cared enough to try. That was something. Just like when you told your mother how that other girl was being abused."
"You saw that, too?" I whispered.
She nodded. "I see many things, but most of all, I see the strength and the goodness in your heart. But I can't make you do anything you don't want to, Gwendolyn. This has to be your choice."
I stood there, thinking about things. I didn't believe I was Champion material at all. But who was I to argue with a goddess? Especially the goddess of victory? But I wasn't just going to go into this blindly either.
"What happens if I say no?" I asked. "In the library right now?"
"You mean to the Spartan boy?" Nike asked.
"Why, he'll die, of course," Vic, the sword snapped, staring at me with his one eye. "If the prowler doesn't kill him, the Valkyrie surely will. What do you think will happen?"
Grief filled me, and my knees trembled. Logan. I lurched over to one of the library tables and leaned on it for support.
"That won't be your fault, Gwendolyn," Nike said. "The Spartan boy made his own choice to come into the library. It was what was always going to happen to him."
What was always going to happen to him? What did that mean? That it had all been fated or something from the very beginning? I wondered if the goddess knew that this was what was always going to happen to me, too, but I didn't ask.
Now that I knew Logan would die, my choice had been made for me. Yeah, I was still totally pissed at him for-for everything. But he'd come after me tonight, had followed me to the library for whatever reason. I couldn't ignore that or the feelings I had for him. I just ... couldn't.
"All right," I said. "I'll be your Champion, Nike."
A smile spread across the goddess's beautiful face, and her wings twitched behind her back. "Then hold out your hands, Gwendolyn Frost, and accept all the gifts that I can give to you."
I did as she asked. Nike placed Vic, the sword, into my hands. The weapon stared up at me with his one eye.
"All right then," he said in a slightly more satisfied tone. "Can we get on with killing things then?"
"Um, I don't actually know how to kill things," I said.
"She doesn't even know how to kill things properlike? What kind of girl have you given me to, goddess?" Vic protested, fixing his eye on Nike once more.
Nike let out a laugh. "Vic is a little bloodthirsty. You'll get used to it."
I kind of doubted that.
Nike stared at me another moment, then did a most curious thing. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
Immediately I felt a cold power flow through me, as though my blood had turned to ice. I braced myself, waiting for the flashes to kick in, although I had no idea what I would see by touching a freaking goddess. But the icy sensation vanished, and I didn't get any vibes off her. Still, I felt different, like something inside me had shifted into a new place, like a switch had been turned on. I exhaled, and my breath frosted in the air in front of me, even though I didn't feel cold anymore.
Nike reached out and put her hands over mine. I stared up into her eyes-eyes that were neither purple nor gray but instead the soft color of twilight. And I felt that power in her gaze envelop me again. A cold, hard power, but one that was not unpleasant.
"Now, go," Nike said. "Save the Spartan boy."
I looked up at her. "But how am I supposed to do that? I don't even know how to fight-"
The goddess smiled at me and stepped back, her body suddenly shimmering and melting the way that twilight always did as it gave way to true night-or the approaching dawn.
"Wait!" I said. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do-"
But Nike had already vanished, taking her wisdom along with her.
With a gasp, I snapped back to reality. I stood in the same spot I had before, right in front of the glass case that had held the sword-the sword that I was still holding in my hand.
"Can we get on with killing things then?" Vic repeated in a slightly petulant tone, and I noticed that he had a really cool British accent. "It's been so long since I've tasted blood. I'm famished."
I blanched and not just because it was totally freaky how the sword's mouth moved underneath my palm. "You actually like the taste of blood-"
A sharp whistling sound behind me made me throw myself to the side. A sword slammed down onto The Case, cleaving it in two and sending glass and bits of wood everywhere. I scrambled to my feet to find Jasmine already turning toward me, her sword held high once more.
Jasmine smirked at the weapon in my hand. "That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy."
"Toothpick?" Vic muttered in an indignant voice. "Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!"
"If you've got any tips on how to do that, I would be more than happy to listen to them," I snapped, raising Vic up in response. "Because I totally suck at this sort of stuff in gym class."