"Vic!" I shouted.
"Here! Over here!"
I scrambled to my feet and fol owed the sound of the sword's voice. I plucked Vic out of the pile of sawdust he'd landed in. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a hammer lying on one of the sawhorses, so I grabbed it, too, then turned and ran back the other way, so I could help Logan.
The Reaper and the Spartan had both gotten back on their feet and were slowly circling each other. Eyes narrow, faces tight, lips drawn back in silent snarls. Logan had his fists up, while Preston was doing that annoying, wavy-wavy thing with his sword again.
Smack! Smack! Clang!
The two of them clashed together. Logan landed two solid punches to Preston's face, but the Reaper lashed out with his sword, making Logan jump back. And on it went.
The more I watched, the more worried I got. Preston had his Viking strength to rely on, and he was a good fighter, almost as good as Logan. I hadn't been at Mythos Academy long, but even I could tel that.
Plus, Preston had a sword and Logan didn't. That was what was tipping the scales in the Reaper's favor. Logan just couldn't get in close enough to do much damage to Preston, not without getting cut up in the process. I stood there and bit my lip, swAll owing my screams, not daring to do or say anything that would distract Logan.
Smack! Smack! Clang!
The two of them came together again, and Preston sliced his sword through the air. This time, Logan wasn't quite quick enough, and the blade cut across his left leg, opening up a deep, deep wound. He stumbled back, and Preston raised his sword for the kil ing strike.
"Logan!" I screamed.
Adrenaline, concern, and fear for Logan surged through my veins, blocking out everything else. I didn't think-I just acted. I charged in between them, raised my sword, and swung it at Preston. Of course, he blocked my clumsy blow.
Preston laughed at me. "Sorry, Gypsy. I'm going to kil your boyfriend, and then I'm going to kil you-and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"Shut up, Reaper," I snarled.
And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed. Preston screamed and stumbled back. I fol owed him and hit him again, cracking the hammer across his skul as hard as I could. He tripped over a couple of two-by-fours and fel face-first onto a pile of cement bags.
I didn't look to see how badly I'd hurt him before I dropped the hammer and raced back to Logan's side. He had dropped to a knee on the floor beside Oliver. Logan put his hand under Oliver's shoulder, trying to help his friend get to his feet, but Logan was just too weak to do it with the deep cut in his leg.
"Leave me," Oliver whispered, his face white, the tendons in his neck tight with pain. "Go. Save yourselves."
"Spartans never leave each other behind," Logan rasped, and tried to lift his friend again. "Never, remember?"
Once more, he failed. In the middle of the pile of cement bags, Preston let out a low groan. The Fenrir wolf stayed where it was in front of the door, blocking our escape and watching All of us with its glowing red eyes.
"Make him go, Gwen," Oliver said, pleading with me. "Or the Reaper wil kil us All ."
Logan grabbed for his friend again, but Oliver slapped his hands away and flopped back down onto the floor. He shut his eyes and let his head lol to one side. Playing dead, which was the only thing he could do right now, the only way he could protect himself.
Preston groaned again. The Reaper got up onto his hands and knees.
"Come on! Come on! Come on!" I shouted at Logan.
I put my arm under Logan's shoulder and got him on his feet.
Then I dragged the Spartan away from Oliver, Preston, and the wolf, heading back into the gloom of the construction site.
I didn't know how long we hurried through the site, navigating around All the piles of tools and lumber and moving from one half-finished hAll way to the next. All I could think about was getting Logan away from Preston before the Reaper kil ed him or sicced the Fenrir wolf on both of us. The Spartan limped along beside me, and I took as much of his weight as I could on my left shoulder. I carried Vic in my other hand.
"Stop, Gwen, stop!" Logan finAll y said. "I have to stop and tie off the wound. I'm losing too much blood." I didn't want to stop for anything, but I knew that he was right. So I helped him sit down on a couple of bags of cement that had been stacked up on top of each other. I unzipped my hoodie and took it off, passing it over to him.
Logan grabbed the jacket and used Vic to tear the fabric into a couple of long strips. He quickly wrapped them around his leg, tying them off with a series of tight knots.
Blood from the gash had already soaked his jeans, turning them more black than blue. My stomach twisted. So much blood.
"Can you go on?" I whispered. "We have to get out of here."
"I think so."
Logan tried to stand and immediately sat down again, biting back a scream of pain. Sweat rol ed down his forehead, and his lips were a thin white stain in his face.
The fabric strips he'd just tied around his leg were already turning an ugly brown as the blood seeped into them.
"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I don't think I can walk any farther.
Go on, Gwen. Get out of here. Run. Before he finds us both."
I shook my head. "We already left Oliver behind. I'm not leaving you, too."
Logan grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Listen to me!
This isn't like that night in the Library of Antiquities. I had weapons then. All we have now is your sword, and I'm stuck with a bum leg. There's no way I can beat Preston like this. He's almost as good as I am, and we All know it."
"Listen to the Spartan, Gwen," Vic chimed in. "Go and get help. I'l stay here with him. We'l give you time to get away."
"Shut up, Vic," I snapped. "I'm not going anywhere. Be quiet and let me think a second."
Logan frowned and looked around, probably wondering who I was talking to since he didn't know about Vic. I ignored the Spartan and his confusion. Instead, I paced back and forth, my sneakers sending up puffs of sawdust into the shadows. Thinking.
Logan couldn't beat Preston, not now, not with his leg cut up, and I simply didn't have the skil s to go toe-to-toe with the Reaper and win. Preston had said that I was like a five-year-old with a toy sword, and he was right.
So what were we going to do? If only I'd been the one that Preston had injured instead of Logan. I could have just given Vic to Logan and let the Spartan use All of his years of training, knowledge, and fighting skil s to beat the Reaper. If I'd had more training, if I knew how to actuAll y use a sword myself, then I would have taken on Preston in a heartbeat. But I didn't, and there was just no getting around that.