My gaze landed on the photos of my mom propped up on my desk. One showed my mom when she was about my age, her arms around Metis's back when they'd both been Mythos students. The other was a more recent photo, one she'd had taken shortly before her death last year. I grabbed that photo, sat down on my bed, and pulled the picture out of the frame. As I ran my hands over the slick, glossy surface, images of my mom flooded my mind, along with my love for her-and all the love she'd had for me too.
Violet eyes are smiling eyes, my mom's voice whispered in my mind. It was something she'd always jokingly said, since she had the same strangely colored eyes that Grandma and I did. I focused on her voice, replaying her words over and over again, until all I could hear was the love and laughter in her tone, until all I could see was the light in her eyes and the soft, knowing curve of her smile.
I concentrated on those images and feelings, pulling them up and letting them fill my mind, my body, my heart, letting them wash away all the anger I'd felt surging off the other students. Those images of my mom, the love she'd had for me, made me feel just a smidge better and gave me the strength to face the rest of the day.
I sat on my bed holding her picture until it was time for my next class.
I put my head down and just tried to get through the rest of the day without drawing any more attention to myself, but of course my afternoon classes passed even slower than the morning ones had. Even Professor Metis's myth-history class, which was normally one of my favorites, was torturously long.
At least in that one, I didn't have to sit by myself. Carson kept his desk right where it was in front of mine, and the band geek glared back at all the kids staring at me, almost like he was shielding me from their accusing looks. I would have leaned forward and hugged him, if that wouldn't have made the other kids angrier at him than they already were for sticking up for me.
Finally, sixth period ended, and I schlepped back to my dorm. Normally, I would have snuck off campus to go see Grandma Frost, but the Protectorate had told me to stay put. I doubted Alexei would let me get within ten feet of the academy walls anyway, since he took his guard duty so seriously. Plus, the Protectorate had probably put some magic mumbo jumbo on the sphinxes at the gates just to make doubly sure I stayed on the grounds right where they wanted me.
Besides, Grandma would take one look at me and demand to know what was wrong, and I didn't feel like talking about it. All I wanted to do was forget that today had ever happened, even though I knew I never would.
I stayed in my room for a while, reading comic books, but the bright, colorful pages failed to cheer me up like usual. I couldn't really concentrate on the stories anyway, not today, so I got my things together and headed over to the Library of Antiquities.
Once again, Alexei was waiting outside, and he snapped to attention as soon as I opened the door. He'd been quiet all day long, barely speaking to me. Daphne was right. He was like a shadow-a very dark, dangerous, brooding shadow. I wondered what he would do if I tried to make a break for it. Probably chase me down, catch me, and drag me off to the academy prison. I had no false hopes that I could outrun or outfight the Bogatyr warrior. I'd seen Alexei working out in the gym this morning, so I knew how tough and strong he was. He'd probably gone through a bunch of superspecial Protectorate training to make him even harder to beat than he naturally was.
"I'm going to the library," I told him. "I work there a couple of afternoons a week as sort of an after-school job."
Alexei shrugged, like it was of no interest to him what I did or didn't do. I rolled my eyes, locked the door, and headed down the stairs.
I walked over to the library, with Alexei trailing along behind me. It was after four now, and students were moving back and forth across campus, going from the main quad down to their dorms and back again, as they went to whatever club meetings, sports, or after-school activities they were involved in. I spotted Carson rushing toward the gym, pages and pages of sheet music clutched in his hands as he headed to band practice.
Carson was a Celt, a warrior bard, which meant that he had an innate talent for music. He could play practically any instrument he picked up, and he was one of the leaders of the band. Ever since we'd come back from the holiday break, he'd been talking almost nonstop about all the preparations the group was making for its annual winter concert, something that was taking place Saturday in the Aoide Auditorium down in Asheville.
Carson waved at me, and I waved back-and then realized that I shouldn't have. The motion only drew more attention to me from the kids milling around on the quad.
"Traitor."
"Murderer."
"Reaper bitch."
Those were some of the nicer things the other students muttered as I walked past them. If Alexei heard the Greek chorus of mean, he gave no indication. I was beginning to wonder whether he ever did anything but look blankly at other people. Other than that soft smile he'd given Oliver this morning, his expression hadn't changed all day long. Or maybe that was just because I was public enemy number one at Mythos.
As I hurried toward the library, I realized that not all of the kids were going to be content with just cursing at me. A couple of guys broke away from their group of friends and started following me across the quad.
"Where are you off to, Reaper girl?" one of them called out. "Got some more of our friends to kill? Going to run through some more kids with your sword?"
Anger surged through me at his words, and my steps slowed. For a moment, I thought about turning around and confronting the guys, but there was no point in it. They would believe what they wanted to about me, and nothing I said would change their minds. Besides, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another guy moving off to my left, flanking me. I didn't want a repeat of what had happened in the dining hall this morning-especially since Logan wasn't around to help me.
I quickened my pace, and the guys following me did as well, their hoots and hollers growing louder and louder the faster I walked. I'd just reached the library steps when the guy on my left threw his soda at me. I managed to jump back before the can hit me, but the liquid inside still splattered all over my jeans. I was so surprised that I just stood there, staring down at my soaked pants.
Of course, the guys who'd been following me thought this was the funniest thing ever. A second later, another can of soda came my way. I managed to avoid this one too, and it sailed through the air and hit one of the gryphon statues that were planted on either side of the library steps.
Eagle heads; lion bodies; wings tucked in against their sides; razor-sharp beaks; long, curved claws that glinted in the weak winter sun. The gryphons were some of the fiercest-looking statues at Mythos. For months, I'd found all of the statues to be sinister and creepy with their all-seeing eyes, but the gryphons had especially freaked me out since it seemed like they were always watching me, more so than any of the other statues, even the sphinxes. But ever since I'd learned that my mom had hidden the Helheim Dagger in a secret compartment in the base of one of the statues, I'd come to admire the gryphons and think of them as protectors of the entire academy-including me.