"You listen to me, Gwendolyn Cassandra Frost," Nickamedes said in a sharp tone.
I blinked, wondering how the librarian knew my middle name, but I decided not to ask him since he was glaring at me-again.
"You're Nike's Champion just like your mother was before you," the librarian snapped. "And I will not have Grace Frost's good name dragged through the mud because you're too busy moping and brooding to do what needs to be done. There's a war coming, and we're going to do our best to win it, which means you need to start polishing up that talking sword of yours. Do you understand me?"
Maybe it was Nickamedes's prissy tone or the fierce look on his face. Or maybe it was because I'd felt all the same things he did for my mom-all the love and all the aching regret. But for this moment, this one instant, he gave me a flicker of hope that maybe it wasn't too late. That maybe we could figure out a way to defeat Loki after all.
That maybe I could actually kill the god, like I was supposed to.
"I understand," I said.
"Good," Nickamedes said.
Our talk was over. I got to my feet, and Nickamedes did the same. I told him good night, then turned and headed out of the library.
"And don't be late for your shift tomorrow!" the librarian called out just as I stepped through the double doors.
Instead of annoying me, his words actually made me smile. It was comforting to know that no matter how bad things got, some things would never, ever change.
Chapter 28
I left the library and walked down the steps. I stopped a moment to stare at the gryphon statue, the one that had protected the Helheim Dagger for so long.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I failed you."
Maybe it was just a trick of the moonlight, but it seemed that the gryphon dipped its head in disappointment. I sighed once more. Despite Nickamedes's pep talk, there was no getting over the fact that things had not gone well the past twenty-four hours. Not well at all.
I turned to look back at the library a final time-and that's when I saw her.
She stood at the top of the library stairs, perfectly framed by a slice of moonlight. Bronze hair flowed down past her shoulders, the thick waves matching the folds of the white, toga-like gown that covered her lean, strong body. Her face was as beautiful as ever, although her features looked as cold as marble in the darkness. I focused on her eyes-eyes that weren't quite purple but not really gray either. Even now, here, they reminded me of the color of twilight.
"Nike," I whispered.
"Hello, Gwendolyn," the goddess said.
The Greek goddess of victory glided down the steps to me, her feet barely seeming to touch the stone. Her wings arced up over her back like the two halves of a heart, the feathers ruffling with her elegant, graceful movements. As the goddess neared me, I once again felt her power-the cold, beautiful, terrible power that rolled off her body in unending, unstoppable waves.
"Hello, Gwendolyn," Nike said again, giving me a soft smile.
The goddess's serene expression didn't comfort me. Not at all. Not after I'd failed her so miserably.
I swallowed. "I suppose you're here to take back Vic and that you'll take my magic away, too, while you're at it and give it to someone else. Someone who deserves it."
She frowned. "Why ever would I do that?"
I swallowed again, but I just couldn't seem to get rid of the tight knot that clogged my throat. "Because I failed you," I whispered. "Because I wasn't able to hide the dagger again. Because Vivian used it and my blood to free Loki. Because now, he's going to plunge the world into a second Chaos War. Because people are going to die, and it's all my fault."
I couldn't stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks again. "All my fault."
"Oh, Gwendolyn," Nike said, moving forward. "It's not your fault. This was what was always going to happen."
I frowned. "I don't understand. How is Loki's getting free what was always going to happen? Did you-did you know about all this? That the Reapers would find the dagger and free him in the end?"
The goddess slowly nodded her head, her eyes steady on mine.
Confusion filled me. "But-but why? Why would you let that happen? If you knew that I was going to fail, then why would you tell me to look for the dagger? Why not let it stay hidden? If you knew I wouldn't succeed, why didn't you pick someone else to be your Champion?"
Instead of answering my questions, Nike settled herself on the stone steps, right in between the two gryphon statues. She arranged her gown over her knees, then patted the step beside her, her fingers leaving faint marks in the dark frost that had already gathered there. Bewildered, I sank down next to the goddess, careful not to touch her. Nike might claim that she wasn't going to strip me of my magic or incinerate me on the spot, but she could always change her mind.
"What your myth-history books don't tell you is that Loki's prison was always meant to be a temporary solution," Nike said. "But time has a different meaning to mortals than it does to gods, and as the centuries passed, and Loki remained imprisoned, most members of the Pantheon thought that meant he was gone for good-that he would stay imprisoned until the end of time itself."
"Okay," I said, trying to understand. "So the other gods' trapping Loki wasn't meant to last forever but was more like putting duct tape on something until you can get it fixed for good. But why tell me to find the dagger? What good did that do?"
"It was a necessary part of the chain of events," Nike said.
I stared at the goddess. "Necessary? What was necessary about all this? I almost died, and I killed someone in the process, using the magic you gave me. And Samson and the other kids at the coliseum and Nott did die. What was the point of all that? Of all that pain?"
Nike gave me a sad look. "Pain is a part of life, Gwendolyn, for mortals and gods alike."
"We're all just game pieces to you, aren't we?" I muttered in a bitter voice. "Little dolls you can move around and play with however you like."
Suddenly, I knew why my mom had quit being Nike's Champion. I could imagine exactly how she felt, day after day, year after year, fighting against the Reapers, trying to do the right thing but having no clue as to what the gods where really up to behind her back or how it would impact her. No wonder my mom had left Mythos Academy and the mythological world it represented far behind. No freaking wonder.
"Your mother felt that way, too," Nike said, almost like she could hear my thoughts. "She felt as though I was using her to reach certain ends."