My magic let me know people's secrets-let me see and feel al the things they kept hidden from others and even themselves sometimes. Al their conflicting emotions, al the sly things they'd done, al the things they only dreamed about doing in the deepest, blackest parts of their hearts.
Maybe it was dark and twisted of me, but I liked knowing other people's secrets. I liked the power that the knowledge gave me, especial y since I didn't have any of the wicked cool fighting skil s the other kids at Mythos did. Knowing other people's secrets was sort of an obsession of mine-
one that had almost led to me getting kil ed a few weeks ago.
It was also the reason I held on to Oliver's notebook now.
I'd total y expected the boredom and the frustration I'd sensed. Those were both emotions I'd felt many times before when I'd touched other kids' notebooks, computers, pens, and al the other ordinary, everyday objects they used to do their schoolwork.
But that warm, soft, fizzy feeling? Not so much. I knew what it was though: love. Or at least like- serious like.
Oliver had a major, major crush on someone, enough to write about that person in his notebook, and I wanted to know who it was. Since, you know, secrets were my own form of crack.
I concentrated on the notebook again, on that soft, fizzy, hopeful feeling, and a hazy image started to form in my mind, someone with dark hair, black hair-
"I said that was mine," Oliver growled, yanking the notebook out of my hand and breaking my connection to it.
The half-formed image abruptly vanished, along with that warm, fizzy sensation. My fingers grabbed for the notebook, but I only came up with empty air. Another second, and I would have seen who Oliver's mystery crush was. But the Spartan held the notebook up out of my reach, then grabbed his bag and shoved the notebook inside it. He was in such a hurry that he ripped the side of the bag's fabric. Oliver glanced up at me to see if I'd noticed.
I smirked at him in the same cocky, knowing way he had smirked at me a few minutes ago, when he'd been making fun of my T-shirt. Oliver's face darkened.
"What are you two doing?" Kenzie asked, coming out of one of the side doors and drinking from a bottle of water in his hand.
"Nothing," Oliver muttered, shooting me another cold look.
I rol ed my eyes and ignored him. Since coming to Mythos, I'd almost been run through with a sword and mauled to death by a kil er kitty cat. Dirty looks didn't faze me anymore.
"Where's Logan?" I asked.
"He'l be back in a minute. He said to get started without him," Kenzie said, his black eyes flicking back and forth between me and Oliver, wondering what was going on.
Oliver turned and stalked down to the other end of the bleachers, taking his bag along with him. Kenzie gave me another curious look, then went over to Oliver. The two of them started talking in low voices, with Oliver stil glaring in my direction.
The Spartan was clearly angry at me for touching his precious notebook and teasing him about who his mystery crush might be. Whatever. I didn't care what Oliver thought about me.
Besides, he'd started it by making fun of my T-shirt. I might not know how to sling a sword, but I could throw verbal daggers with the best of them.
After about a minute of talking, Kenzie and Oliver broke apart. They both headed toward the archery target, and Kenzie gestured for me to fol ow them. Apparently, I hadn't pissed them off enough to make them forget about the rest of our training session. Too bad.
Sighing, I got to my feet, ready to show the Spartans that I sucked just as much at using a bow as I did at swinging a sword.
Chapter 2
Thwang!
For the fifth time in as many tries, my arrow weakly thumped against the target, then bounced off and fel to the gym floor.
"No, no, no," Kenzie said, shaking his head. "How many times do I have to tel you? Using a bow is just like using a sword.
You can't be timid about it, Gwen. You have to pul back the string and let the arrow go like you real y mean it.
Otherwise, you're not going to get enough power to make your arrow go through your target."
"Yeah, Gwen," Oliver sniped. "You want to kil Reapers, not make them die laughing at you."
I ignored Oliver's snide comment, focused on Kenzie's advice, and blew a loose strand of hair off my face. "Power.
Mean it. Right."
I'd been practicing for the last fifteen minutes with a long, curved bow, while the Spartans had looked on and cal ed out advice. Surprisingly, my aim was decent enough to let me hit the outer rim of the target, but I had yet to actual y have an arrow stick in it. They al kept bouncing off. Kenzie claimed it was because I wasn't pul ing the string back far enough and giving the arrow enough force to penetrate the target. I thought it was because I was just as bad at archery as I was at swordplay. I got good grades.
Why did I have to be coordinated, too?
"Here," Kenzie said, handing me another arrow. "Let's try again."
Kenzie shook his head at Oliver, who snickered. I sighed and nocked the arrow.
One of the gym doors squeaked open, and Logan stepped back inside. But he wasn't alone-Savannah Warren was with him.
Savannah was a gorgeous Amazon, with intense green eyes and a mane of red hair that blazed down her back in a sunset of ringlets. She also happened to be Logan's current squeeze-one in a long, long line if you believed the gossip around campus.
Logan had a reputation for being one of the resident man-whores at Mythos Academy-the kind of guy that girls just couldn't resist and didn't real y want to anyway. He certainly looked the part with his piercing, ice blue eyes; thick, ink black hair; and muscled body. He practical y oozed bad-boy charm, even when wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants like he was now. One of the rumors that had gone around campus back in the fal was that Logan signed the mattress of every girl that he slept with at Mythos, just so he could keep them al straight.
Logan stood in the gym doorway, smiling down at Savannah.
The Amazon toyed with his shirt, sliding her hand back and forth across his sculpted chest. My fingers tightened around the bow, and ugly, jealous anger burned in the pit of my stomach.
Logan and I had almost had a-a- thing a few weeks back.
A freaking moment. Okay, several moments. The Spartan had gotten into the habit of saving my life, first when a Nemean prowler had tried to turn me into catnip, and then later on when a Valkyrie had wanted to kil me for messing up her evil plans. Bad-boy charm I could deal with, but saving my life? Twice? That was a little tougher to forget. I'd fal en hard for Logan as a result, even going so far as to ask him out.
He'd turned me down flat.
Logan had claimed that I didn't know what Spartans were real y capable of, that I didn't know what he was capable of, and that he wasn't the hero I thought he was.