"He's right," Logan said, picking up his sword again. "We need to make sure this room is secure before we go see about the others."
The Spartan went one way, and I went the other, both of us moving through the room, swords in hand, checking on the Reapers lying on the floor.
They were all dead. I could tell by the weird angles of their arms and legs, the absolute stillness of their bodies, and the way their sightless eyes dully glinted through the slits in their rubber masks.
I looked around the room a final time to make sure I hadn't overlooked any of the bodies, and my gaze caught on something small and white lying in the middle of the glass and blood. I walked over and crouched down to get a better look at it.
A piece of paper folded into a thick square rested on the floor. So that was what had fallen out of the Reaper girl's robe while we'd been fighting. Weird. I would have expected her to have a dagger or two tucked into her pockets instead.
Since I wasn't sure what vibes were attached to the paper and what I might see if I touched it with my bare hand, I pulled my hoodie sleeve down and used the edge of the fabric to pick up the square. I couldn't open it, not without touching it with my fingers, so I settled for sliding the paper into my jeans pocket.
"What's that?" Vic asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "But I'm guessing it's important since I almost took the Reaper girl's head off while she was reaching for it."
Vic sniffed. "And more's the pity you didn't."
Once the bodies were checked, I met Logan in the middle of the room. Daphne and Carson were still lying on the dais, but since there wasn't another door that led in here, they'd be safe enough while we figured out what was going on in the rest of the museum.
"You ready for this, Gypsy girl?" Logan asked in a soft voice. "Because it's not going to be pretty out there."
It wasn't pretty in here, but I didn't have to tell him that. He could see the blood and bodies as well as I could.
"I don't know that I'll ever be ready, but if there are people out there we can help, we have to try."
Logan stared at me, his eyes locking with mine. He put his arm around me and held me close. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart under my fingers. I could have stood there and listened to that sound forever.
"We're fine," he whispered. "We survived."
A sob rose in my throat at the thought of the horrible things that had happened, the horrible things that we'd all done, but I swallowed it down.
"I know," I whispered back. "I know."
Logan held me for another second. Then, he let me go, raised his sword, and eased over to the doorway. I tightened my grip on Vic and followed him. Together, we peered out into the main part of the coliseum.
Bodies sprawled across the floor, looking like larger pieces of debris next to the smashed artifacts. Glass, pottery, metal, and wood covered the marble like a ragged carpet. Everything that could have been broken was, and even the paintings had been torn off the walls and trampled. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the museum-it was just utter, bloody chaos.
But there were some survivors. A few students had pushed themselves up into sitting positions, holding their hands over their wounds to try and slow the blood loss. Others slumped against the tall pillars, dazed, vacant looks in their eyes. Still more lay where they had fallen and quietly cried, their shoulders shaking and the tears slipping down their faces and mixing with the bloody debris on the floor.
"You check on the kids in here," Logan said in a low voice. "I'm going to the other rooms to see if there are any other survivors-and hopefully to find Nickamedes."
I nodded. The Spartan headed down one of the corridors while I stepped back into the main museum space. A few feet away, I spotted Morgan McDougall crouching over a body. Since she was the closest student to me, I headed in her direction, holding Vic and keeping an eye out for any Reapers who might still be lurking in the coliseum.
"Morgan?" I asked in a low voice. "Are you okay?"
The Valkyrie looked up at the sound of my voice, and I realized who she was crouching over-Samson Sorensen. The Viking was one of the cutest guys at the academy, but now he was dead, his handsome face pinched with pain, his empty eyes staring up at the ceiling and reflecting back the sheen of the metal discs there.
"It's okay," I whispered. "I'm here to help. Are the Reapers gone?"
"Yes," Morgan said in a shaky voice. "One of them ran out of the room you were in. A girl, I think. She shouted something at the others, and they all ran down one of the hallways. They left. They just left. Like they'd finally gotten whatever it was they'd come for."
I frowned. I hadn't seen Loki's Champion pick up any weapons or artifacts, and the other Reapers who'd come into the room were dead, so they wouldn't be taking anything out with them. Had the Helheim Dagger been in another part of the coliseum? Was that why the Reaper girl and her friends had gone in such a hurry? My head started to ache from all the questions that I just didn't know the answers to.
Morgan turned back to Samson, smoothing the Viking's sandy hair back from his bloody face. "I really did love him, you know? Even though he was Jasmine's boyfriend and we were sneaking around behind her back, I loved him the whole time."
Back in the fall, Morgan had been hooking up with Samson even though he'd been dating Morgan's best friend, Jasmine Ashton. What no one had known was that Jasmine was really a Reaper. Jasmine had been so upset when she found out Morgan was sneaking around with her boyfriend that Jasmine had tried to sacrifice Morgan to Loki. She would have, too-if I hadn't stopped her that night in the Library of Antiquities.
I started to answer Morgan, to tell her it was okay, that I understood how she felt about Samson, when I noticed a shadow on the floor beside us-one that was creeping closer and closer. Maybe the Reapers hadn't left after all. Fear flooded my body at the thought.
I waited a second, letting the shadow get in range, then I tightened my grip on Vic, whirled around, and raised the sword over my head, ready to bring the blade down on whoever was lurking behind me.
"Gwendolyn! Stop!" Nickamedes barked, taking a step back and holding up his hand. "It's just me."
It took me a second to focus on the librarian-and another one to notice all the blood on his clothes and the sword in his hand. Nickamedes's suit jacket was ripped and torn, his shirt was untucked, and his tie had been sliced in two, leaving only the knot hanging around his throat. Cuts and scrapes crisscrossed his hands like Xs and Os, and the right side of his face had puffed up with the beginning of a black eye.