Remember . . . Remember . . . REMEMBER!
I chanted the words in my head again and again, hammering them into Logan's mind the same way I'd attacked the Reaper-red wall.
Just when I thought I couldn't hang on to his fingers another second, I felt something crack open inside his head, like a glass that had been dropped on the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. Everything just . . . splintered.
Suddenly, Logan was himself again, and I could feel his growing confusion and horror at what he'd done-to me.
The last of my strength left me, and I blinked, realizing that I'd lost my grip on Logan and that I was standing on the stage in the middle of the battle. He'd pulled the sword out of my chest, and more and more blood poured out of the wound. I looked at the Spartan, almost dreading what I'd see when I peered into his face.
"Gypsy girl?" Logan asked.
His voice was uncertain and confused, but it was his voice again. His face still looked vaguely blank, as if he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened, but I could tell it was Logan in there and not someone else. Just Logan-only Logan. And then, there was the most important thing-the fact that his eyes were blue once more instead of that awful Reaper red.
I smiled, thinking it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen-and that it would be the last thing I ever saw.
The pain exploded in my chest, even greater than before. I tried to open my mouth to say his name, but nothing came out, not even a whimper of hurt. My legs buckled, and I had one last thought before everything went dark.
Logan Quinn had killed me.
Chapter 29
I woke with a start. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself staring up at one of the most amazing images I'd ever seen-an elaborate fresco that gleamed with gold, silver, and sparkling jewels. It was hundreds of feet overhead, stretching all the way across the domed ceiling, but somehow I could see it as clearly as if it was right above me. It showed the image of a great mythological battle. No surprise there. This was Mythos Academy, after all. But the strange thing was that I was in the fresco-and so were all of my friends.
Logan, Daphne, Carson, Oliver, even Alexei, all holding weapons and fighting just like I was. And there were other people pictured as well, folks I didn't know, creatures I'd seen only in the pages of my myth-history book, but I got the sense that they were all somehow important. That this was important. My gaze zoomed right, then left, up, then down, until I'd seen the entire fresco-
I blinked, and the image was gone, cloaked by shadows once more. I sat up and realized that I was lying on the marble floor in the middle of the Library of Antiquities, right in front of the checkout counter. I looked down. I was wearing the same clothes I'd had on in the auditorium, but my T-shirt and hoodie were smooth and not torn and bloody like they should have been since Logan had stabbed me-
"Hello, Gwendolyn," a soft, familiar voice called out.
I raised my head, and there she was-Nike, the Greek goddess of victory.
The goddess looked as beautiful as ever. A white, toga-like gown wrapped around her lean, strong body, while soft, feathery wings arched up over her back. A crown of silver laurels rested on top of her bronze hair, but it was her eyes that always fascinated me the most-eyes that were a swirling mix of violet and gray, silver and lavender, and all the other soft shades of twilight.
I got to my feet, only mildly surprised when I didn't feel any pain. I pressed my hand to my chest, but all I felt was a thin line slashing over my heart, instead of the deep, mortal wound Logan had given me. I looked at the goddess and sighed.
"So am I dead this time?" I asked. "Is that why I can't really feel the stab wound in my chest? Are you here to take me to the Elysian Fields or Valhalla or someplace where warriors go when they die in battle?"
Nike gave me a sad smile. "Close, but not quite. Your friends are working very hard right now to save your life. Focus, and you'll see."
I concentrated and felt a soothing warmth flowing through my body. I looked down and realized that a familiar, rosy golden glow covered my chest, centered over my heart.
Come on, Gwen! I thought I heard Daphne scream, although her voice sounded faint and far away. Suck it up! Don't you dare die on me!
"Daphne's trying to heal me," I whispered.
Nike nodded. "And your Professor Metis too."
The goddess walked over and sat down on top of the checkout counter. No, that wasn't quite right. She didn't seem to walk or even glide as much as float, as if there were some force all around her propelling her movements with easy, precise grace. Still, seeing her perched on the counter and swinging her legs back and forth like a kid made me smile.
"You know, Nickamedes would have a fit you if he saw you sitting on the checkout counter. I did it once, and he yelled at me for five minutes."
Nike smiled back at me. "I won't tell him if you won't."
She patted the counter beside her, and I walked over and hopped up onto it, my movements far less graceful and effortless than hers had been. Sitting next to the goddess made me aware of the power that rolled off her in continuous waves. That cold, beautiful, terrible power that made the goddess who and what she was-victory itself.
We sat there in silence for several minutes, although I kept sneaking looks at the goddess.
"Did I-did I save Logan?" I finally asked, unable to bear the quiet any longer.
Nike nodded. "Yes, you broke the spell the Reapers had placed on the Spartan boy. He is himself once more. Physically, he should be fine in a few days."
"And otherwise?"
She shrugged. "It is a very extreme thing, forcing a soul into another body, especially one as foul and rotten as Loki's. The god himself might not have been in the auditorium, but the Spartan boy was still linked to Loki. No doubt he saw and felt things that he wished he didn't-horrible things. He will have to deal with that. Plus, the boy hurt you. He will have more guilt and pain over that than anything else."
"But Logan didn't mean to do it," I protested. "He didn't mean to hurt me. He just wasn't . . . himself."
Nike nodded. "I imagine he'll come to see that-in time."
The way she paused before she said the last two words made me shiver. In time? What did that mean? The warmth in my chest dimmed, and I hugged my arms around myself to ward off the chill I felt creeping up my spine.
"So what happens now?" I asked. "Will the Reapers try the transformation again on someone else?"
She shook her head. "The ritual can only be attempted once on a person, and Logan was the best candidate the Reapers had-the only candidate, really. The Reapers knew they only had one shot at him, which was why they had his stepmother watch over him all these years. Besides, they've used up almost all of Apate's jewels from the library, and there aren't enough left to attempt the ritual again. So you don't have to worry about that. Loki is trapped in his own ruined body-for now."