I was determined to find the dagger before the Reapers did, so during the holidays I'd read everything I could get my hands on about the weapon. Who might have made it, how it might have been used during the Chaos War, even what powers it might have. But all the books and articles I'd read didn't tell me what I really wanted to know: where my mom, Grace, had hidden the dagger before she'd been murdered-or how I was supposed to find it before the Reapers did.
Of course, I couldn't tell Nickamedes all that. He wouldn't believe I'd been doing something useful, something important, during the holiday break. No doubt Nickamedes thought I'd just been sitting around reading comic books and eating cookies like I did so many nights when I was working for him in the Library of Antiquities. Yeah, yeah, so maybe I wasn't all that dedicated when it came to my after-school job. Sue me for wanting to goof off and have a little fun before I had to face down another crazy Reaper who thought I was more powerful and important than I really was.
Still, despite the librarian's frosty attitude, I couldn't help glancing around the room, hoping I'd see a guy my age with him-a guy with the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen and a sly, teasing grin to match.
"Is Logan here with you?" I couldn't keep the hope out of my voice.
Nickamedes had opened his mouth when a voice interrupted him.
"Right here, Gypsy girl." A low voice sent chills down my spine.
My heart pounding, I slowly turned around. Logan Quinn stood behind me.
Thick, wavy, ink black hair, intense ice blue eyes, a confident smile. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at Logan, and my heart sped up, beating with such force that I was sure he could hear it.
Logan wore jeans and a dark blue sweater topped by a black leather jacket. The clothes were designer, of course, since the Spartan was just as rich as all the other academy kids. But even if he'd been dressed in rags, I still would have noticed the lean strength of his body and his broad, muscled shoulders. Yeah, Logan totally rocked the bad-boy look, and he had the man-whore reputation to match. One of the rumors that kept going around the academy was that Logan signed the mattresses of every girl he slept with, just so he could keep track of them all.
I'd never quite figured out if the rumors were true or not, or how Logan would even manage to do that in the first place. Sure, I'd touched the Spartan and flashed on him with my psychometry, but I'd mostly seen his fighting skills, since that's what Logan had been thinking about and what I had needed to tap into at the time. I didn't know how many girls Logan had dated, but the rumors didn't matter that much to me because the Spartan was just a really, really great guy. Smart, strong, funny, charming, caring. Then, of course, there was the whole saving-my-life-multiple-times thing. Kind of hard not to like a guy when he kept you from getting killed by Reapers and eaten by Nemean prowlers.
Logan's eyes dropped to my throat and the necklace I wore there-the one he'd given me before school had let out for Christmas. Six silver strands wrapped around my throat, creating the necklace, while the diamond-tipped points joined together to form a simple, yet elegant snowflake in the center of the strands. The beautiful necklace looked like something a goddess would wear. I thought it was far too pretty and delicate for me, but I loved it just the same.
"You're wearing the necklace," the Spartan said in a low voice.
"Every day since you gave it to me," I said. "I hardly ever take it off."
Logan smiled at me, and it was like the sun had erupted from a sky full of storm clouds. For a moment everything was just-perfect.
Then Nickamedes cleared his throat, popping the bubble of happiness I'd been about to float away on. A sour expression twisted the librarian's face as he looked back and forth between his nephew and me.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, the museum's closing soon, and I need to make sure the staff is ready to start packing up the items for transport back to the academy in the morning."
Nickamedes pivoted on his wingtips and strode out of the weapons room without another word. I sighed. Yeah, I might not be the most dedicated worker, but I always felt like there was another reason that Nickamedes hated me. He'd pretty much disliked me on sight, and I had no idea why.
I put the librarian and his bad attitude out of mind and focused on Logan. He'd texted me a few times over the holiday break, but I'd still missed him like crazy-especially since I had no idea what was going on between us. Not too long ago, we'd shared what I thought was the kiss to end all kisses, but he hadn't exactly declared his love for me in the meantime-or even asked me out on a real date. Instead, we'd been in this weird holding pattern for weeks-one that I was determined to end.
I drew in a breath, ready to ask Logan how his winter break had been and what was going to happen between us now. "Logan, I-"
Shouts and screams ripped through the air, drowning out my words.
I froze, wondering if I'd only imagined the harsh, jarring sounds. Why would someone be shouting in the museum? A second later, more screams sounded, followed by several loud crashes and the heavy thump-thump-thump of footsteps.
Logan and I looked at each other, then bolted for the door. Daphne and Carson had also heard the screams, and they raced along right behind us.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Daphne hissed.
She managed to grab my arm and the back of Logan's leather jacket just before the Spartan sprinted out of the room. With her great Valkyrie strength, she was easily able to yank both of us back.
"You don't know what's going on-or who might be out there," Daphne warned.
Logan glared at her, but after a moment, he reluctantly nodded. I did the same, and Daphne loosened her grip on us. Together in a tight knot, the four of us crept up to the doorway and peeked through to the other side.
The Crius Coliseum was shaped like a giant wheel, with one main space in the middle and the hallways and rooms branching off like spokes. The doorway we stood in opened up into the center section of the museum. When Daphne, Carson, and I had walked through it a few minutes ago, folks had been milling around the exhibits, looking at the artifacts and browsing through the expensive replica jewelry, armor, and weapons in the gift shop. Besides the staff, most of the other people here had been second-year Mythos students, trying to get their homework assignment done, just like the three of us.
Not anymore.
Now, figures wearing long, black, hooded robes stormed through the coliseum-and they all carried sharp, curved swords. The figures swarmed over everyone in their path, their blades slashing into the students who'd been staring at the artifacts just a few seconds before. More screams and shouts tore through the air, echoing as loud as gunshots, as people realized what was happening.