The guy recovered quickly and came at me again. I heard the faint zip of a weapon slicing through the air, and I raised Babs up into a defensive position.
Clang!
Our two weapons crashed together, drowning out everything else, and that was when the fight truly began.
Back and forth, we battled through the tunnel. With every strike and counterstrike, I cataloged everything I learned about the guy. He was tall and fast, but he didn’t have a Roman’s superspeed. Instead, he was exceptionally strong, telling me that he was a Viking. Given the dark, murky gloom, I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of weapon he was using, but it seemed big and heavy. Probably an ax. Vikings usually preferred to use those instead of swords.
Despite the fact that the guy was trying to hack me to pieces, I grinned as we whirled around and around and our blades crashed together time and time again. That was another, slightly freaky thing about being a Spartan. Fighting for my life seemed natural, like it was something I was supposed to do, like it was such a big part of who and what I was that I could never be anything other than a warrior.
That worried me more than I cared to admit. Spartan or not, I didn’t want to spend my whole life fighting Reapers. Even warriors needed a break, and even the best warrior could die on the battlefield. One lucky strike, one moment of hesitation or distraction, was all it took to send you to your grave. But I pushed my worries aside, because I needed to focus if I wanted to win this fight.
This guy was good, a worthy opponent for my Spartan fighting skills, and it was taking all my training to keep him from slicing me to ribbons. I hadn’t battled someone as skilled as him in a long time, and it was going to make beating him that much more satisfying. I smiled again, even happier than before, but then a nagging thought filled my mind.
A tall, strong Viking who used an ax and was a great warrior? Could I be fighting—
The lights snapped on, making me freeze in surprise. The guy I was battling froze as well, and we both blinked and blinked, trying to get our eyes to adjust to the bright glare now flooding the tunnels. I stared at the guy in front of me, and he looked right back at me.
He was tall and muscled and was wielding a large ax that he had raised over his shoulder for another strike. He was wearing black jeans and boots, and his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his dark gray henley as he slowly lowered the weapon to his side.
The tunnel lights brought out the honey-colored strands in his rumpled dark blond hair, along with his perfect cheekbones, straight nose, and strong jaw. Combine his muscled body with his good looks, and he was absolutely gorgeous, but I focused on his eyes, the way I always did. They were a light, piercing gray and gleamed as brightly as the sharp edge of his ax. I’d always loved his eyes from the first moment I met him…
Ian Hunter looked back at me with a mixture of surprise, relief, and amusement. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and pointedly glanced down. At first, I wondered what he was staring at, but then I realized that I was holding Babs’s blade an inch away from his throat.
“Hey, Rory,” Ian said in a deep, rumbling voice. “Do you think you could lower your sword now, please?”
Chapter Three
I stood there, eyes wide, frozen in place, trying to process the fact that I had just attacked Ian Hunter, another member of the Midgard.
Attacking my teammate was bad enough, but what made it so much worse was the fact that I had a serious, serious crush on Ian. And I hadn’t merely attacked him. Oh, no. I had almost taken off his bloody head because I had mistakenly thought he was a Reaper.
Way to go, Rory. Way to go.
A hot blush erupted on my cheeks, and I could feel my face burning, despite the cool air. Not to mention the horror and embarrassment pounding in my heart. But at least no one could see or feel that but me.
“Rory?” Ian asked. “Are you okay? You have a really weird look on your face.”
I scrambled back and away from him and dropped my sword to my side. “Yeah, sure,” I mumbled. “Sorry. I thought you were a Reaper.”
Ian grinned, which only made him look more gorgeous. “No worries.” He reached out and lightly punched my shoulder. Well, lightly for a Viking. “Mistaken identities and sneak attacks are all fun and games between teammates, right?”
“Teammates,” I muttered, massaging my shoulder, even as my heart sank. “Right.”
“I’m just glad that Rory attacked you and not me,” another voice called out.
Ian and I turned to find Mateo Solis, another member of the Midgard, standing in the tunnel behind us. Mateo was shorter than Ian, a couple of inches under six feet tall, and much thinner, with a runner’s lean build. His dark brown hair and eyes gleamed under the lights, which also made his skin look like polished bronze.
Mateo was wearing dark blue running shoes and khakis, along with a dark blue T-shirt bearing the words Lochness Pride, which I assumed was some football team in Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia, since the town name stretched across the bottom of the fabric. The shirt also featured an image of a lochness monster—or at least one of its tentacles—throwing a football over a bridge. I would never understand all the strange sports names and team logos. Why would a lochness ever play football?
Mateo grinned at Ian and me, then shook his head. “I’m lucky that Zoe recognized us and pulled me out of the way of your epic duel.”
Zoe snorted. “And Rory and Ian are both lucky that I found the light switch before they hacked each other to pieces.”
“We were just having a little fun. It’s what Vikings and Spartans do. Right, Rory?” Ian winked, telling me that it was okay and that he would have done the same thing if our positions had been reversed.
Some of my embarrassment faded, and I grinned back at him. “It’s exactly what Vikings and Spartans do.”
Zoe slapped her hands on her hips. Blue sparks of magic hissed out of her fingertips and dripped down onto the floor. “Well, now that we’re all friends again, why don’t you tell us why you thought it was a good idea to sneak up on us?”
“We weren’t sneaking up on you,” Mateo protested. “You told me that you and Rory were going to map the tunnels. It wasn’t a secret. You’ve been complaining about it for days now.”
I looked at Zoe. She hadn’t said anything to me about not wanting to explore the tunnels. At least, not until earlier this afternoon. She kept her gaze fixed on Mateo, but she winced, and more sparks of magic spewed out of her fingertips. Guilty as charged.
“We called out to you,” Ian said. “Didn’t you hear us?”
“All we heard were garbled words and footsteps, so we didn’t know who you were,” I said. “Why did you come after us? We were on our way back to the library.”
Ian’s face grew serious. “Takeda sent us. He has a new mission, and he wants everyone in the Bunker.”
I tensed. “Is it Covington? Has the Protectorate finally found him?”
Ian gave me a sympathetic look. He knew how much I wanted to find Covington, but he shook his head. “Takeda didn’t say, but it seemed important. So come on. We need to get back and find out what’s going on.”
* * *
I grabbed my bag and the rest of my things from the floor. Then the four of us hurried through the library tunnel and back into the Bunker.
Ten minutes later, we were sitting in our usual spots at the briefing table, with Ian and Mateo on one side and Zoe and me on the other. Babs was back in her scabbard and propped up in a chair beside me.
Footsteps sounded in one of the hallways, and two adults stepped into the room. One of them was a man in his early thirties with black hair, dark brown eyes, and a lean frame who was wearing a charcoal-gray tracksuit and matching sneakers. A silver whistle hung around his neck, completing his gym-coach attire.
The other adult was a woman in her late twenties with the same long, glossy black hair and green eyes that I had, although I’d always thought that she was much prettier than me. She wore a white chef’s jacket o
ver white pants and sneakers, marking her as a member of the dining-hall staff.
Hiro Takeda, a Samurai and the leader of Team Midgard, murmured something to Rachel Maddox, a Spartan and my aunt, who let out a soft, happy laugh.
It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh like that.
Aunt Rachel was my mother’s younger sister and had taken me in after my parents’ deaths. She had been horrified to learn that Rebecca and Tyson Forseti were Reapers, and she had suffered all the ugly consequences of my parents’ actions right along with me. The heartbreak, the unanswered questions, the angry glares and hateful remarks from the Mythos students, professors, and staff members. Aunt Rachel had shouldered all of that and much, much more.
Takeda smiled at Aunt Rachel, and her whole face lit up as she smiled back at him. Hmm. The two of them hadn’t liked each other very much when I had joined the Midgard a few weeks ago, but the ice had slowly thawed between them, and now they were… Well, I wasn’t quite sure what they were, but if they made each other happy, then I was happy too. Aunt Rachel deserved someone special after all the hurt, pain, and misery my parents had caused her.
Takeda nodded to us all and took his seat at the head of the table. Then he set down the stacks of folders he’d been carrying and started sorting through them.
Aunt Rachel slid into the chair next to Babs, then leaned forward and looked at me. “How were the tunnels? Did you find anything interesting?”
Her eyes were warm, and her voice was light and teasing. She knew how much I loved mysteries and how excited I had been about exploring the tunnels. She’d even surprised me this morning with a new Karma Girl notebook so I could map them.
“They were awesome. There are a lot more branches than I thought, and you won’t believe where some of them go. Did you know there’s a secret entrance in that broken freezer in the dining-hall kitchen?”
“Really? You’ll have to show me that one.” Aunt Rachel squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you had fun today.”
I squeezed her hand back. “Me too.”
Takeda set aside the last of his folders, signaling that it was time to get started. I squeezed Aunt Rachel’s hand again, and then we faced the Samurai.
He picked up a device that looked like a TV remote. “As you all know, ever since the Fall Costume Ball, the Protectorate has been trying to track down a new group of Reapers.”
The Protectorate was the police force for the mythological world, and its members hunted down and imprisoned Reapers of Chaos, as well as dealing with other crimes that impacted Mythos Academy students, their families, and other warriors around the world.
Takeda hit a button on the remote, and photos of various libraries, museums, and warehouses popped up on the wall monitors, including several shots of the Cormac Museum, where the Fall Costume Ball had been held.
“So far, the goal of this new group of Reapers has been to steal powerful artifacts. All of this has been done under the direction of Covington, the Reapers’ leader, and his right-hand man, Drake Hunter.”
Takeda hit another button, and two more photos appeared on the monitors.
The first photo showed a short, middle-aged man with light hazel-brown eyes and hair, along with a slightly darker brown goatee. Covington was smiling, and his teeth gleamed a bright white against his ruddy skin, but his eyes were narrowed, and his expression seemed more predatory than pleasant.
The second photo showed a tall, muscled guy with golden hair and blue eyes who was in his early twenties, a couple of years older than my friends and me, who were all seventeen. He had the same great cheekbones, straight nose, and strong jaw that Ian did, and the resemblance between them was unmistakable. Drake was talking on his phone and glaring off to the side.
I tensed, and so did Ian. I hated Covington for murdering my parents, but Ian’s situation was even worse than mine. Drake, his older brother, had tried to recruit him to become a Reaper, and when Ian refused, Drake had tried to kill him.
My parents might have lied about being Reapers, but at least I knew that they had loved me and that they had tried to leave the evil group. Plus, they had never betrayed me the way Drake had betrayed Ian. That kind of betrayal, that kind of cruelty, shattered your heart into a hundred jagged pieces that you could never quite put back together again, no matter how hard you tried.
“Has the Protectorate found where Drake and Covington are hiding?” Ian growled. His gray eyes practically glowed with rage, and his hands curled into fists on top of the table.
I knew exactly how he felt. My hands were clenched into fists too, although mine were out of sight under the table.
“Unfortunately not,” Takeda said in a sympathetic voice. “But we think we know where they might be tomorrow.”
Zoe frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We have a special guest who’s joining us via teleconference. I’ll let her explain things.” Takeda hit another button on the remote. The photos of Covington and Drake vanished, and the large center monitor went black. “Miss Cruz? Are you there?”
He kept pushing buttons, but nothing happened. After several seconds, Mateo pointedly cleared his throat and held out his hand. Takeda sighed and passed over the remote. Mateo punched a series of buttons, and a live feed of a girl appeared on the center monitor.
She was quite pretty, with blond hair, black eyes, and amber skin. She was wearing a pink sweater, and she must have been in her dorm room because the walls behind her were also pink, as was all of the furniture.
Daphne Cruz was friends with my cousin Gwen Frost, and the fierce Valkyrie had helped Gwen and the rest of their friends defeat Loki at the Battle of Mythos Academy at the Cypress Mountain campus in North Carolina.
“Hello?” Daphne said. “Hello? Hellooo?”
I leaned forward and waved my hand. “Hey, Daphne. Can you see us now?”
She smiled. “Ah, there you are. Hey, Rory. Rachel. Other people I don’t know.”
Everyone murmured their hellos, and Daphne focused on the center of her screen. “Takeda, right?”
He nodded. “That’s me. Thanks for meeting with us. Why don’t you tell the others what you’ve discovered?”
She leaned back in her chair, which was also pink. “Well, ever since Gwen came back from Colorado a few weeks ago and told us what was going on with Covington, we’ve been working on things from our end, trying to figure out where he might strike next. Since the Reapers have been stealing artifacts, Gwen asked me to create a database of all known artifacts.”
“I’ve been doing something similar, but it’s been pretty overwhelming,” Mateo said. “Do you know how many artifacts are out there? Hundreds, if not thousands.”
“Exactly,” Daphne replied. “Which is why I decided to narrow things down. So I wrote a program that searches for and analyzes all known information on artifacts to determine which ones are the most dangerous and powerful and might be on the Reapers’ wish list. It’s all very technical and boring.”
“I don’t think it’s boring,” Mateo said in an excited voice. “I think it’s amazing, and you are a tech goddess.”
Daphne smiled and shrugged like it was no big deal, but a few princess-pink sparks of magic crackled around her, telling me that she appreciated the compliment.
But she wasn’t the only one giving off magic. A few blue sparks sizzled in the air next to me, thanks to Zoe, who was tapping her fingers on the table in a quick, annoyed rhythm. Zoe was frowning at Mateo, who had his chin propped in his hand and was staring at the monitor—and Daphne—with a rapt, dreamy expression. Weird. It almost seemed like Zoe was jealous of Mateo’s fascination with the other girl.
“Anyway,” Daphne continued, “I found some artifacts housed at libraries and museums near Snowline Ridge that might be of interest to the Reapers. I’ve already emailed a list of those items to Takeda.”
He nodded, indicating that he had the information.
“But there’s one artifact that seems like it would be right up Covin
gton’s alley. It’s called Serket’s Pen.”
Daphne punched a button on her laptop. Photos appeared on the other wall monitors, all showing the same thing: an old-fashioned ink pen topped with a large, glossy black feather.
“Is that feather from a Black roc?” Aunt Rachel asked.
Black rocs were enormous mythological birds that the Reapers often used in battle and to fly from one place to another. I studied the feather. It certainly looked like it could have come from one of the birds, especially since small crimson streaks ringed the black feather, as though the edges had been dipped in blood. Roc feathers had the same eerie pattern.
Takeda shook his head. “Unfortunately, that is not a roc feather. It is from something far, far worse.”
Daphne punched some more buttons, and several close-up shots of the pen appeared.
Ian squinted at the screens. “Wait a second. What’s on the bottom of the pen? The nib, the part you write with, it looks like some sort of…creature.”
A sick, sick feeling filled my stomach, and I leaned forward to get a better look at the photos. Ian was right. The black feather tapered down to a large silver nib shaped like a mythological creature.
It had the same general birdlike shape and wings as a Black roc, but this creature’s head was more like a rooster’s, complete with a comb that featured sharp spikes. Instead of being made of feathers, the creature’s tail looked like a rattlesnake’s, and it ended in a single spike, which was where the ink came out at the bottom of the pen. A small ruby glinted in the creature’s eye, and its beak was wide open, as though it was about to gobble up something.
I shivered. Not a creature—this was a monster.
“That’s a Serket basilisk,” Aunt Rachel whispered.
Spartan Promise Page 3