Spartan Promise

by Jennifer Estep

  I was in the Eir Ruins, or at least a dreamscape version of them—and Sigyn was here.

  The Norse goddess of devotion was perched on the lip of the broken fountain that stood in the middle of the courtyard. She was wearing a white dress that gleamed in the moonlight, although her feet were bare. Her long, thick, wavy black hair trailed down over her shoulders, and her eyes glimmered like two black pearls in her luminous face. Old, faded scars crisscrossed her hands and arms, but the imperfections only added to the goddess’s beauty.

  Sigyn was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, as if she had wandered around and picked them while she waited for me to wake up and enter this weird dream realm that we always met in whenever she wanted to talk to me. Or whenever, you know, I almost died.

  She smiled at me. “Hello, Rory.”

  “Um, hello.”

  I got to my feet. I was still wearing the same clothes I’d had on in the cemetery, complete with blood and grass stains, but the ugly puncture wound in my side was gone, and the basilisk poison wasn’t scorching through my veins anymore. Looked like my healing magic had finally kicked in and saved me after all. Good. That was good.

  What wasn’t so good was the fact that I had no idea why I was here. I hadn’t exactly been a smashing success as Sigyn’s Champion so far. More like an epic failure. Especially now that Covington had escaped with Serket’s Pen. Maybe the goddess had brought me here to tell me that she didn’t want me to be her Champion anymore. My heart ached at the thought, but I forced myself to smile back at her, as though everything was fine.

  “So…” I trailed off, not quite sure what to say. “How have you been?”

  Sigyn arched a black eyebrow, amused by my attempt to make normal conversation. Yeah, that probably seemed silly to her. “I’ve been well. And yourself?”

  “Oh, you know. Just trying to protect artifacts, track down Reapers, and not get killed by basilisks. Stuff like that.”

  Her smile widened, and she let out a soft, pleased laugh. The sound eased some of my worry. “Come. Walk with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Still holding her wildflower bouquet, she got to her feet. I fell in step beside her, and we left the courtyard and headed deeper into the ruins.

  Aunt Rachel and I regularly hiked up to the Eir Ruins, and I had spent hours exploring them, especially after my parents died last year. I thought I knew every single part of the ruins, but Sigyn led me around a crumbled wall and into an open-air courtyard that I had never seen before. Or perhaps this courtyard only existed here in the goddess’s dream realm.

  Unlike the main courtyard with its beautiful rainbow of blossoms, only two colors and two kinds of flowers were growing here: crimson-red and snow-white.

  And they didn’t seem to like each other very much.

  The vast majority of the flowers were large red blossoms that were as big as my palm, two crimson petals joined by a thorny black center that led down to an equally thorny black stem. They looked more like hearts skewered on sticks than flowers, and I half expected them to start dripping blood. Of course, they didn’t do that, but just looking at the flowers made me shiver.

  The red flowers clustered together in the center, and every single one of them was facing outward, almost as if they were glaring at the sparser patches of small white flowers that ringed the edges of the courtyard. Wide swatches of bare brown dirt divided the two sets of flowers, like trenches in a battlefield.

  I crouched down, reached out, and touched one of the flowers. White petals with a dark emerald-green heart in the center. It was a winterbloom, like the potted one Ian had given me that was sitting on my desk in the Bunker.

  I got to my feet and pointed at the red flowers. “What are those? I’ve never seen them before.”

  “That flower is called a red narcissus,” Sigyn said. “It’s named after Narcissus, the mortal man who loved himself more than anything else. They are very rare and quite dangerous.”

  I frowned. “How could a flower possibly be dangerous?”

  “Watch.”

  Sigyn lifted her bouquet to her nose, breathing in the sweet scent. Then, with a regretful sigh, she tossed the flowers into the center of the red narcissi.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the red narcissus flowers started quivering. Slowly, they all turned toward the new blossoms in their midst. One of them leaned over and touched its petals to those of a violet that had landed next to it.

  The violet’s cheerful purple petals immediately turned an ugly crimson.

  I gasped and stepped back.

  For another moment, nothing happened.

  Then all of the red narcissi began moving at once, swiftly touching their petals to those of the other flowers. One by one, the blues, greens, reds, whites, and purples of the wildflowers vanished, replaced by that unrelenting crimson of the red narcissi. Not only that, but the actual shapes of the flowers changed as well, their petals writhing and growing until they looked exactly the same as the red narcissi—two petals forming a heart with a thorny black center.

  It was fascinating and horrifying and disgusting all at the same time.

  In less than two minutes, it was over, and the original wildflowers were gone, transformed into red narccisi. A deceptively light, sweet perfume rose up from all the narcissus flowers, old and new alike, filling the entire courtyard. The scent made me sick to my stomach.

  “Sometimes the simplest things can be the most dangerous,” Sigyn murmured, sadness rippling through her voice.

  “But what about the winterblooms? Why are they here? Why don’t the red narcissi reach out and…transform them too?”

  “Winterblooms have remarkable healing properties,” the goddess replied. “They are the only flowers that can resist the venom in the red narcissi.”

  I reached down and fingered the silver winterbloom charm on my bracelet. “So that’s why you gave me a winterbloom. It’s a symbol of the healing magic you gave to me.”

  She nodded. “Something like that.”

  I looked out over the winterblooms and how they circled the courtyard, a thin ring of snow-white containing all that bloody red. “The winterblooms are holding back the red narcissi, aren’t they? They’re keeping the narcissi from spreading out and destroying the other flowers in the ruins.”

  “Yes.”

  We both fell silent, lost in our thoughts. I stared at the winterblooms again. Even though they were much smaller than the red narcissi, the white flowers stood straight and tall, like tiny guards holding back a much larger, dangerous enemy. Never bowing, never bending, never wavering.

  I sighed. “Let me guess. This is a metaphor. Covington is a red narcissus, and I’m a winterbloom, right? You said before that I was the only one who could stop him.”

  Sigyn nodded again. “Something like that.”

  Something like that? What did that mean? I started to roll my eyes but thought better of it. Gwen had told me how Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, always talked to her in riddles. I supposed that was just the way of goddesses. Still, I was tired of riddles, so I decided to be direct about things.

  “Do you know what Covington’s up to?” I asked. “Why he wanted Serket’s Pen so badly? Why he’s been stealing artifacts? He told me it wasn’t just because he wants to start another Reaper war with the Protectorate. Something else is going on. And then there’s that weird black jewelry box that he tried to steal from the Cormac Museum. Do you know what that box does? Or what’s inside it?”

  The goddess looked at me, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Please,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “You have to tell me something. I don’t know what Covington is planning, which means I have no idea how to stop him. I feel like I don’t know anything right now.”

  She tilted her head to the side, making her wavy black hair fall over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  I sighed again. “I mean I don’t know what went wrong in the cemetery tonight. With
my healing magic. Sure, the basilisk stabbed and poisoned me, but my magic should have kicked in and healed me. But I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel my magic at all. Did I do something wrong? Did you…did you take my magic away for some reason? Maybe because I haven’t stopped Covington yet like you want me to?”

  My voice dropped to a whisper, and my heart squeezed tight with dread. I’d only had my healing magic for a few weeks, but I already considered it to be a part of me, and I had been counting on it to help me defeat Covington, Drake, and the other Reapers.

  Sigyn gently touched my shoulder. Even through my clothes, I could feel the cool power rippling through her fingertips. It soothed me the way my healing magic always did.

  “Of course I didn’t take away your magic,” she said. “I would never do that. Besides, once magic is given, it cannot be taken away. Not by anyone. Not even the gods themselves.”

  “So why didn’t my magic work? What went wrong? Do I need to concentrate harder or something?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rory. Basilisks are extremely dangerous. It just took a while for your magic to work and counteract the creature’s poison. The most important thing is that you kept fighting, despite the tremendous pain you were in.” She stared at me, her black gaze steady on mine. “You always need to keep fighting, even when it seems all hope is lost.”

  I felt like she was trying to tell me something important without actually saying the words, just like she had by bringing me here and showing me the flowers. And once again, I just didn’t understand her subtle message. But I had a bad, bad feeling that my life—and my friends’ lives—depended on my figuring out the answers.

  Sigyn touched my shoulder a moment longer, then dropped her hand and stepped back. “You’re right about one thing. Covington must be stopped, and he has far more sinister things in mind than simply starting another war.”

  “I’ll find a way to stop him,” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong and sure, even though I was as confused as ever. “No matter what I have to do.”

  I had vowed that Covington would never turn me into a Reaper, but the oath I was making to Sigyn right now seemed even more important, since it was about protecting other people, instead of just myself. My mom would have called it a Spartan promise, since I would have to use all my fighting skills, strength, and wits to keep it.

  The goddess smiled, although her expression was far more sad than hopeful. “Be careful what you wish for, Rory. Until we meet again.”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and her long white gown started rippling around her body, as though she were standing in the middle of an intense snowstorm. A silver light flared, so bright that I had to close my eyes against the glare. When I opened them again, Sigyn was gone, and I was alone in the courtyard, except for the narcissus and winterbloom flowers.

  Another bright silver light flared, and a moment later, the flowers disappeared as well.

  And so did I.

  * * *

  One moment, I was standing in that courtyard with the flowers. The next, I was listening to the steady beep-beep-beep of a monitor chirping out my heart rate.

  I opened my eyes. It took me a few seconds to focus on the ceiling, but I recognized it, along with the gray stone walls. I was in one of the infirmary rooms in the Bunker.

  I sighed with relief and slowly sat up. I was lying in a hospital bed, and someone had cleaned me up while I was unconscious, since I was now wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of matching pajama pants. I pulled up my T-shirt, staring at the spot in my side where the basilisk had stabbed me with its spiked tail, but my skin was smooth and whole again. No sign of the injury remained, and I didn’t feel the poison burning through my body anymore. Sigyn was right. My magic had kicked in and finally healed my injuries, although I still felt tired and lethargic.

  The constant, steady beeping of the heart-rate monitor was annoying me, so I slipped the plastic clip off my finger to silence it. A soft, breathy sound caught my ear, and I looked over to my right to find Babs propped up in a chair. The sword’s eye was closed, and she was snoring.

  And she wasn’t the only one.

  Ian was sitting in a chair off to my left. His head was resting back against the wall, and deep, steady snores rumbled out of his chest. Takeda must have healed Ian, because no trace of the beating that Drake had given the Viking remained on his face. His black eyes, his busted lips, the cuts and bruises that had dotted his cheeks. They were all gone, and he looked like Ian again, right down to his rumpled blond hair.

  Babs murmured something incoherent, and Ian let out a louder, deeper snore in response, almost as if the two of them were having a conversation. I grinned. If I’d had my phone, I would have recorded both of them snoring and teased them about it later.

  Right now, though, I was just grateful to be alive.

  Ian must have heard me rustling the sheets, because he opened his eyes, blinked sleepily a few times, and looked over at me. When he realized that I was awake, he immediately got up, came over, and sat on the side of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “Why are you sitting up? You should be resting.”

  He reached out like he was going to help me lie back down, but I held my hand up, stopping him.

  “I’m fine. I can sit up. I want to sit up.”

  Concern glimmered in his eyes, but he nodded and leaned back. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Since, you know, I’m not dead.”

  I meant it as a joke, but Ian tensed, and his hands curled into fists on top of the sheets.

  “I’m so sorry that you got hurt. Zoe and I couldn’t get past the basilisk and the chimera in the crypt, and we had to wait for the two creatures to claw each other to death before we could follow you. We finally made it through the tunnel and up the stairs to the cemetery. We had just stepped outside when we heard you scream.” He paused, as if he were having trouble saying the words. “It was one of the most awful sounds I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s not your fault. I chose to attack the basilisk.”

  I told him how Covington had given me the choice between being drugged and kidnapped or fighting the basilisk.

  Ian’s jaw clenched, and he surged to his feet and paced back and forth, as if he had to do something to help relieve his anger. “I can’t believe Drake was going to drug you. What is wrong with him?”

  “It’s not your fault. Drake has free will, like we all do. You can’t control what he does, and you are not responsible for his actions.”

  Ian shook his head and kept pacing.

  I chewed on my lower lip, wondering if I should ask him about what had happened between him and his brother in the cemetery. But I had been direct with Sigyn in the Eir Ruins, and I decided to do the same thing with Ian now.

  “Why didn’t you fight back?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “In the cemetery. When Drake was punching you. Why did you let him beat you like that?”

  Ian winced. A guilty flush crept up his neck, and he finally stopped pacing. “I wanted to fight back. I really did. After seeing him at Lance Fuller’s house and then again at the Cormac Museum, I thought I was done with Drake. Done with him being my brother, and especially done with caring about him.”

  “But?”

  He sighed and sat back down on the side of the bed. “But whenever I see him, I think about all the time we spent together growing up. Drake was my freaking hero. It’s hard for me to ignore that, to ignore those memories, even when I know all the horrible things he’s done.” His voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “Even now, after he’s done horrible things to me and the people I care about.”

  Ian fell silent, and his gray gaze was distant, as if he was still thinking about the hero he thought his brother had been. After a moment, he shook his head, coming back to the here and now.

  “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore. Drake would have killed me tonight if you hadn’t stopped him. I’ve
learned my lesson, and now I know that he’s beyond saving.” Ian grabbed my hand. “He’s never going to hurt you again, Rory. I promise you that. No matter what I have to do.”

  Determination filled his face, and a dark, dangerous tone rippled through his voice. I shivered. No matter what I have to do. I had said those same words to Sigyn in the Eir Ruins, and Ian repeating them to me now felt like an awful jinx.

  I threaded my fingers through his. “The important thing is that we’re both okay.”

  Ian gave me a lopsided smile, but I could tell that he didn’t really believe my words. Yeah, I didn’t believe them either. Neither one of us was anything close to okay.

  “You always try to look on the bright side,” he said. “That’s one of the things I like most about you.”

  “Just one of the things?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Does that mean there are others?”

  A sexy, teasing grin spread across his face. “Oh, there are others. Too many to count.”

  He smiled at me, and I found myself grinning back at him. Suddenly, I realized how close he was sitting beside me, his fingers curling into mine, the heat of his skin soaking into mine. Ian realized it too. He started to pull back, but I gently tightened my grip on his hand. I didn’t want him to go anywhere.

  Ian glanced down at our linked hands, then back up at me. The smile slowly slipped from his face, and his eyes darkened to a beautiful storm-cloud gray. He wet his lips and leaned forward, as though he was going to kiss me. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breath caught in my throat. Ian leaned forward a little more, and my lips parted in anticipation. So did his, and his warm, soft breath brushed against my face—

  Babs smacked her lips and let out a loud snore, totally breaking the spell.

  I thought about leaning forward and kissing him anyway, but Ian sat back, and his hand slipped out of mine.

  He cleared his throat. “I have something for you. Something that you dropped in the club.”

  He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out Pan’s Whistle. With everything that had happened tonight, I had forgotten that it wasn’t on my bracelet like usual.