The gryphon didn't say anything, but its lidless eyes seemed to narrow in the faint golden glow cast by the lights that lined the library balcony. For the first time, the faint motion didn't unnerve me. Instead, it comforted me, like the gryphon knew it was time for the dagger to be moved, like it somehow recognized me as being connected to the girl who had hidden it here in the first place. After a moment, the gryphon dropped its eyes, and its head seemed to dip ever so slightly, almost like it was giving me permission.
Fingers trembling, I stretched my hand forward and twisted the end of the gryphon's tail.
It moved just as smoothly as it had for my mom, and the secret compartment slid open with the barest whisper. My hand shook so badly that I had to stop and curl it into a fist for a moment before I felt steady enough to open it back up and reach inside the hollow chamber. My fingers touched something soft and silky in the darkness, and another image filled my mind-my mom slipping the cloth into the same spot I was now pulling it out of.
I drew out the black cloth, then twisted the gryphon's tail again, hiding the secret compartment from sight. Fingers still trembling, I unwrapped one corner of the cloth, then the other-slowly revealing the Helheim Dagger.
The dagger was lighter than I'd thought it would be-much, much lighter. It barely weighed more than the silk it had been wrapped in. Instead of metal, the dagger was made out of black marble that glimmered with tiny bronze flecks. A single ruby was set into the hilt, but the gem was dark, like the light that had once been inside it had been extinguished. It took me a moment to realize that the gem was shaped like a single, narrowed eye. I wondered if the gem was Loki's portal to this realm, a window from his mythological prison. I wondered if the evil god could somehow look through the ruby and see me holding the dagger right now. I shivered at the thought and quickly covered the weapon back up with the black cloth.
For a moment, I just stood there, not quite believing I'd done it, that I'd actually found the dagger. A grin spread across my face, and I wanted to let out a wild whoop of triumph, but I clamped my lips together and pushed those thoughts away. I had other things to focus on, like what to do with the dagger now that I actually had it.
Nickamedes, I thought. I'd go back into the library and show the weapon to Nickamedes. He'd call Metis and Ajax, and then, we could figure out how to hide it again-
"Well, Gypsy," a low voice said behind me. "Thank you so much for finding the dagger for me. I was starting to wonder if you were up to the task."
Something rustled behind me, and I spotted a shadow sliding over the frost, rushing toward me. I whirled around, but it was already too late. The Reaper girl's fist connected with my face, and the world went black.
The first thing I was aware of was the throbbing ache in my cheek.
Pulse, pulse, pulse. It was a slow, steady pain, keeping perfect time to the beat of my heart. It hurt so much, but I focused on the pain, moving past it, shoving it into the back of my mind. Even though things were still fuzzy in my brain, I knew that I was in Big, Big Trouble. I could feel the hate emanating from the other people around me. The ugly emotion pressed down on my chest like a lead weight, suffocating me. I couldn't tell how many of them there were, but they all despised me. My stomach twisted at the rage that just kept flowing off them like waves slamming into the shore.
"Well," a familiar voice said. "I think the Gypsy is finally waking up."
I knew that voice, I thought, still feeling a little dazed, but I couldn't quite believe it was her. She'd seemed so nice, so much like me, but she was a Reaper, and she'd used me to help her find the Helheim Dagger. That much I knew, even if I didn't know exactly how she'd tricked me into doing her bidding.
I opened my eyes to find Vivian Holler perched on the desk in front of me.
"Hello, Gypsy," Vivian said. "Surprised to see me?"
I shook my head, but that just made my face ache even more. I wiggled my jaw, trying to get the worst of the pain over with. Slowly, the sharp, pulsing throbs faded into softer, more manageable twinges, and I was able to look around without a haze of white stars blurring my vision.
I was tied to a chair in an opulent living room filled with dark wooden furniture, antique sofas, and crystal vases full of roses. The overpowering scent of the black and blood-red petals permeated the air, making me gag, but I kept scanning the area. I turned my head and found myself staring at a gold statue shaped like a bird, its wings spread wide. An enormous painting featuring the same sort of bird with the same wings hung on the wall behind it. I realized where I was-in the living room I'd seen when I'd first touched the Reaper girl's-Vivian's-map of the Library of Antiquities.
"Wings," I mumbled, eyeing the statue next to me. "What's with all the wings?"
Vivian arched an eyebrow. "That's what you want to know? Not how I tricked you into finding the dagger for me? Really, Gypsy, I thought you'd say something more interesting than that. But if you absolutely must know, I'll be happy to show you."
Vivian let out a low, sharp whistle and turned toward a set of doors that led out onto a balcony. Even though it was dark outside, I could still see the black shape of something drop from the sky and land on the balcony. Vivian walked over, opened the doors, and stepped back.
A second later, a Black roc hopped inside the room.
The roc was enormous, easily as big as Nott-if not bigger. Its wings were a slick, shiny black, shot through with glossy streaks of red that gleamed like rivers of blood, and the roc's black, curved talons looked like they were almost as long as my arm. In myth-history class, Metis had once said that rocs were Arabian creatures that were strong enough to grab people and fly away with them. I'd thought the idea was ridiculous then, but now, I totally believed it. The roc definitely looked like it could eat me with two snaps of its sharp, pointed beak.
The roc's eyes were a bright, shiny black as well, but that ominous, Reaper red spark burned in the inky orbs. I shivered and looked away from the creature.
"You don't like my pet?" Vivian asked. "What a shame. My family has been raising them for generations, you know. Practically all the Reapers get their rocs from us. We're quite famous for breeding them to be especially vicious."
She let out another whistle and pointed at the balcony. The Black roc hopped outside, its talons scraping against the floor. Vivian shut the door behind it, although I could still see the roc lurking outside, peering in through the doors like it wanted to peck its way through the glass to get to me.
Footsteps whispered behind me, and a few seconds later, Preston stepped into view. Vivian resumed her perch on the desk, and Preston went over to stand beside her. Preston's orange jumpsuit was gone, and he was dressed in expensive clothes once more. Boots, designer jeans, a luxurious cashmere sweater, a leather jacket. All black, of course. Just like his rotting soul.