"You're always playing some sort of game, aren't you?" I couldn't hide the bitterness in my voice.
"What do you mean?"
I threw my hands wide. "I mean - this. All of this. Me. My friends. Coming here. The Reapers poisoning Nickamedes. You planned it all, didn't you? So I would come here, and Eir would give me the laurels and mistletoe."
She shook her head. "I did not plan anything, Gwendolyn. The Spartan librarian being poisoned was what was always going to happen. You and your friends made your own choices, and you used your own free will, just the way you always do."
I didn't understand how some things could seemingly be predetermined, while my friends and I still had free will about others. Trying to puzzle it out made my head hurt, like always. Still, I kept staring at the goddess. There was more to all of this than she was telling me, and I let her see the questions and suspicions in my eyes.
After a moment, she nodded her head.
"I admit that I had . . . hopes you would prove yourself to Eir, that you would show her the goodness in your heart," Nike said. "She had been . . . undecided about getting involved in the Pantheon's fight against Loki. But you convinced her to give us a weapon that we needed, that you needed."
I stared down at the silver laurels once more. "A weapon? So is this how I'm supposed to kill Loki then? With these? I thought I had to find a spear or something - that mysterious shadowy thing that's on the fresco on the ceiling of the Library of Antiquities that you showed me."
Nike shook her head. "You know I cannot tell you that, Gwendolyn. I can only give you the tools you need to fight Loki and his Reapers. How you use them is up to you."
"Of course you can't," I sniped. "Because that would just be too freaking easy. Because that would just make too much sense."
She kept staring at me.
"Call it whatever you want," I finally muttered. "It just sounds like gods and their games to me."
"War is nothing but a game, Gwendolyn," she replied. "One with a winner - and a loser."
I didn't tell her I was tired of being part of her games - and most especially the Reapers' tricks. If Nike didn't know that by now, well, she wasn't as smart as she seemed to be - or as powerful. But there was nothing I could do but tuck the bracelet under the sleeve of my snowsuit. I would have to add it to my list of things to research. Sometimes I thought I spent more time in the library looking through books these days than Nickamedes did. My heart twinged at the thought of him. I wondered how he was doing - and whether he was even still alive.
"I know you are upset with me, Gwendolyn," Nike said. "But it is not easy, trying to win a war, especially against an enemy as foul as Loki."
I sighed. "I know. I just hate that I'm caught in the middle of it all. I never wanted this, you know?"
"I know," she replied. "I never wanted it for you either. But it is what must be done."
I frowned, wondering what she meant, but the goddess leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, the way she always did whenever our time together was coming to an end. It was a brief touch, just a whisper of her lips against my skin, but once again, the cold, fierce waves of her power washed over me, giving me the strength I needed to continue. And this time, the cold didn't seem to vanish - instead, I felt it seep into the silver laurel bracelet, until it felt as if a string of snowflakes was encircling my wrist. But the sensation wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it was a reminder of the goddess - and her faith in me.
Nike straightened up and stepped back, and the snow began to swirl around her once more. "Be well, Gwendolyn."
She bowed her head and clasped her hands together once more. She stood in front of me for a moment longer. Then, she was gone, swallowed up by the snow, as if she'd never even been there to start with.
Chapter 33
I woke with a start.
One second, I was outside by myself in the snow. The next, I was in the middle of the gryphons' cavern. I sat up, yawned, and rubbed the crusty sleep out of the corners of my eyes. I glanced to my left to see that Logan was sitting up and staring at me.
"You're awake," I said in a soft voice so I wouldn't disturb the still-sleeping gryphons.
He gave me a wan smile. "You didn't think I'd miss the rest of our trip, did you, Gypsy girl?"
I snorted. "Oh no. Why should I get to have all the fun?"
He laughed, then gestured at the creatures that were sprawled around us. "You, um, want to tell me how we wound up here? And why we're both not a pile of bones yet?"
I told him how Daphne, Rory, and I had helped the baby gryphon on our way up the mountain and how the creatures had returned the favor by saving us from the storm.
When I finished, Logan nodded, but then his face turned serious. "Well, gryphons or not, I want to thank you - for taking care of me. I know it would have been easier if you'd left me behind on the trail."
"I couldn't leave you behind. I would never do that."
His mouth flattened out. "Maybe you should have."
I stared at him. Ink-black hair, ice-blue eyes, muscled body. On the outside, Logan looked the same as always, but I could see the difference in him - in the droop of his shoulders, in the shadows that haunted his eyes, and most especially in his smile. It wasn't the fun, confident, teasing grin I remembered. No, now his smile just seemed . . . sad. The same sort of sad smile that Rory's parents had had in their photos - and my dad in his. I was so sick of seeing those sad, defeated smiles.
I knew Logan was hurting, but I was too. Maybe it was my frustrating conversation with Nike, maybe it was all the nightmares, or maybe it was simply everything that had happened over the past few weeks, but once again, that mix of hurt and anger bubbled up inside me - and this time the anger won.
"Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself."
Logan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I said, my voice growing harsh. "Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Yeah, something horrible happened to you, and the Reapers tried to turn you into Loki's little soul puppet. But you know what, Spartan? Horrible things have happened to all of us now - and more terrible things are in store. So suck it up and get back in the fight."
"I don't understand," Logan said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "I thought you weren't mad at me."
I let out a breath. "I'm not mad at you because you attacked me. I'm mad at you because you're giving up - because you're quitting. I thought Spartans never quit."
Logan sighed. "But you don't understand. I could be a danger to you and the others. Loki . . . I could still be connected to him. I don't want to risk hurting you again."