More worry surged through me. My friends were sick, and Covington and Drake were still out there somewhere with Fafnir’s Dagger, Serket’s Pen, and the red narcissus seeds. Things couldn’t get any worse…could they?
I quickly forced the thought away, but I couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in my chest that I had just jinxed us all.
Chapter Nine
I made sure that Ian got to his next class, then headed to my own.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, except for a text from Takeda, saying that the daily briefing would take place immediately after the last class period. He wanted to get it out of the way so that everyone could go home and rest, given how bad they were all still feeling.
As soon as my final class was over, I went to the Library of Antiquities and rode the secret elevator down to the Bunker. The others weren’t here yet, so I set my bag on my desk, next to Minerva’s Spear, and went back into the artifact shelves.
I did my usual patrol, making sure that the artifacts were in their proper places, before ending up in front of the white and black Chloris boxes. I studied them both, but they looked the same as always. I still didn’t have any ideas about how to open the white box, so I headed back to my desk.
I started to unhook Babs’s scabbard from my belt so I could prop her up in her usual chair at the briefing table, but I decided not to. I wanted to have the sword on me. At least until my friends had fully recovered from the smoke. I was the only one in fighting shape, and I wanted to be ready in case something happened and the Reapers struck again.
The elevator pinged at the end of the hallway, and my friends shuffled into the briefing room and took their seats at the table.
Zoe, Aunt Rachel, Takeda, and Professor Dalaja all still had red eyes, and they seemed even more tired than before. Mateo’s eyes weren’t as red as everyone else’s, but even he seemed to be dragging, and his fingers barely twitched on his laptop instead of flying over the keys like normal.
I looked toward the hallway, but the elevator didn’t ping again, and no one else appeared. “Where’s Ian?”
Mateo shrugged. “We had chemistry together this afternoon, and he said he was feeling even worse than he did at lunch. Maybe he headed back to the infirmary. Or maybe he went to his room to take a nap and just lost track of time.”
I pulled out my phone to see if Ian had sent me a message, but he hadn’t texted me all day, which wasn’t like him. Usually, he sent me at least one text, even if it was just a goofy cupcake emoji or a cute cat picture. Worry swirled through me, and I texted him.
Are you okay? We’re in the Bunker for the briefing.
I waited, but he didn’t text me back, which also wasn’t like him. Usually, Ian responded almost immediately.
“Any response?” Takeda asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s okay. We’ll start the briefing without him. Maybe Ian will see your message and come join us if he feels like it.”
I nodded, and we all turned our attention to Takeda.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much to report, since the Protectorate guards hadn’t had any luck tracking down Covington and Drake. Takeda then turned the briefing over to Professor Dalaja, who also didn’t have much to report, since she hadn’t figured out how to open the white Chloris box. Frustration filled me, along with more than a little anger, but our lack of progress wasn’t Takeda’s or Dalaja’s fault.
It was mine.
I was the one who had insisted that we take Fafnir’s Dagger out of its case, and I was the one who had let Covington escape with it. I could have accepted the fact that he had gotten away from us yet again if only he hadn’t taken the artifact too. All I had done last night was make him even more dangerous and powerful.
The briefing dragged on, but none of us had any answers, and silence fell over the table. Plus, my friends kept blinking and dabbing tissues at their red, watery eyes, as if all the uncertainties about the Reapers, the white Chloris box, and everything else were making them feel even worse.
“All right, guys,” Takeda said. “That’s enough for today. The Protectorate guards will keep searching for Covington and Drake. In the meantime, I want everyone to go home and get some rest. I hope we’ll all feel better and be back to full strength tomorrow. Then we can focus on finding the Reapers again.”
We all nodded, pushed back from the table, and got to our feet. Well, I got to my feet. It took the others several seconds to stand up. Everyone was moving even more slowly than before, even Mateo.
In the distance, I heard the elevator ping again. Ian must have finally read my text. I wanted to see him and make sure he was okay, but I felt bad that he had dragged himself all the way over here right when we were finishing up. No one else seemed to hear the elevator’s ping, though, so I turned toward the hallway.
Footsteps sounded, growing louder and closer, and Ian strode into view. He kept his head down as he moved to the center of the briefing room, but he must have been feeling better, given his quick stride.
I smiled. “There you are—”
Ian raised his head and looked at me, and my words died on my lips.
His eyes were completely, utterly, sickeningly red.
When I had walked him to class after lunch, Ian’s eyes had been extremely red, watery, and irritated, but they had still been his eyes—his lovely, lovely gray eyes.
But now all of the gray was gone, and both of his irises were a bright, eerie red around his black pupils. He looked like he was wearing monster contact lenses for a Halloween party. Not only that, but red and black streaks also spread out from the corners of his eyes, as though he had on some sort of bizarre face paint.
“Ian?” I whispered.
He kept staring at me, but he had this blank look on his face, like he wasn’t really seeing me. His flat expression filled me with even more horror than his red eyes did.
It was a lot like being an artifact. Logan Quinn’s voice whispered in my mind. For the most part, I still had all of my own thoughts, feelings, and memories. But it felt like everything that was really, truly me was trapped inside a glass case, and that the person who was in control was this other me, this other Logan… I fought as hard as I could, but no matter what I tried or how much I struggled, I just couldn’t break free of that damned glass case.
That was what Logan had said it felt like to be under the influence of the Apate jewels. I looked at Ian’s throat, expecting to see a gold collar studded with gems, like the one the Reapers had used on Logan, but his neck was bare. My gaze dropped to Ian’s hands, but his fingers were also bare, along with his wrists. The Viking wasn’t wearing any jewelry, and I didn’t see anything on his clothes that looked like it might be an Apate gem. So what had done this to him?
The others noticed my shocked silence, and they turned to stare at Ian as well.
Mateo frowned. “Ian, dude, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
He stepped forward, but I snapped out my arm, stopping him from moving any closer to Ian.
Because that wasn’t Ian right now.
The Viking tilted his head to the side, as though he was listening to a voice that only he could hear. That was creepy enough, but the whole time, he kept staring at me with those horrible, horrible red eyes that weren’t really his. After a few seconds, he raised his hand. I hadn’t noticed it before, but a metal canister gleamed in his fist.
Suddenly, I realized exactly what—or, rather, who—had done this to Ian. Even though I knew what was going to happen next, I was still too slow and too far away to stop it.
“Ian! No! Don’t!” I screamed, even as I rushed toward him, but it was no use.
Ian used his Viking strength to crush the canister in his fist as easily as I could smush a soda can. Then he tossed it down at my feet.
Thick clouds of red smoke spewed out of the cracked canister, engulfing me like a tidal wave.
Chapter Ten
The red smoke boiled up out of the canister and kept going
until it hit the ceiling, then it quickly spread out. Wispy tendrils slithered every which way, dragging larger clouds along behind them. Within seconds, the smoke had saturated the briefing room like an eerie fog.
This canister seemed to contain even more smoke than the ones at the Cormac Museum had, and the red clouds were much thicker and denser. The smoke stung my eyes like hundreds of minuscule bees. I drew in a breath, and it burned my nose before sliding down and scorching my throat like some foul poison.
That was because it was poison.
I hadn’t realized it at the museum last night, but I had experienced this same sort of horrible burning sensation before—when I had been poisoned with red narcissus venom at the Idun Estate.
The red narcissus seed had punched its black thorn deep into my skin and then pumped its venom into my veins, until I had finally cut the foul, wretched thing out of my hand. The burning in my eyes, nose, and throat right now felt like what the seed had done to me a few weeks ago, only worse.
Much, much worse.
Unlike at the Idun Estate, I couldn’t pry a single seed out of my hand to get rid of the agonizing sensations. The red smoke was everywhere, and every breath I took only added to my misery. Tears streamed down my face, and I coughed and coughed, but I couldn’t escape the smoke or the burning pain that went along with it.
And neither could my friends.
I couldn’t see them, given the thick red clouds, but I could hear them yelling, especially Professor Dalaja.
“Cover your nose and mouth! Don’t inhale the smoke!” she yelled.
But it was too late, and the others’ coughs quickly swallowed up her voice. A moment later, she was coughing too, along with everyone else.
For several seconds, all I could hear was my friends’ coughs mixing with my own, like we were all playing musical instruments in some raspy symphony. But I had one advantage that my friends didn’t: my healing magic.
My cool, soothing power kicked in, snuffing out the worst of the pain. The burning sensation in my nose and throat eased, and my coughing slowed, although tears kept streaming out of the corners of my eyes. I didn’t mind the tears, though. Their salty stings told me that I was still alive and, more important, that I was still myself.
Even though I couldn’t see anything through the smoke, I still drew Babs from her scabbard. The sword’s blade was glowing a bright silver, just like it had at the Cormac Museum, but this time, her light wasn’t enough to cut through the dense, eerie fog.
“Rory!” Babs shouted. “Rory!”
She kept shouting, although the others started coughing even more loudly and violently, and I couldn’t hear exactly what the sword was saying. It sounded like Babs was telling me to break free of the smoke, so I stumbled forward, trying to do that and get my bearings. I clutched Babs in my right hand and held my left hand out in front of me, so that I wouldn’t accidentally run into Ian or anyone else and hurt them with the blade—
My left hand slammed into something. I shrieked and jerked back, but then I realized that I had run into one of the artifact shelves. Somehow I had gotten completely turned around in the smoke and had ended up at the shelves in the back of the room. I started to head in the opposite direction to find the briefing table and my friends, but then I stopped.
The artifacts.
That was what this was really about. That was what this had always been about. My worst fear was coming true, and Covington was finally breaking into the Bunker and coming after the black Chloris box.
He must have used the red narcissus seeds that he’d stolen from the Idun Estate to create his smoke bombs. That was the only reason I could think of for why the smoke would have the same caustic burn to it as the red narcissus venom. That was also probably why Takeda and I hadn’t been able to heal the others. The venom had simply been stronger than our magic.
I might not have been able to heal Aunt Rachel earlier, but the venom didn’t seem to be stronger than my ability to heal myself. I could still sense the burn in the smoke around me, but my cool, soothing power kept the worst of it at bay.
I had thought that Covington had some ulterior motive, other than escaping, for using those smoke bombs on us at the museum. He’d wanted to weaken us so that we wouldn’t be able to fight back when he breached the Bunker, so that we wouldn’t be able to stop him from finally getting his hands on the Narcissus Heart. So that we wouldn’t be able to resist when he turned us into his Reaper puppets, just as he had already turned Ian.
A scream rose in my throat at the thought of Ian being Covington’s mindless minion, but I swallowed it down. I was going to save Ian. I had to save Ian. I didn’t know what I would do without him or the rest of my friends.
Too bad I had no idea how I was going to save them. I didn’t even know how I was going to save myself right now.
And the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me either. Over the past few weeks, I had stolen all those artifacts in preparation for just this sort of moment, but they were all tucked away in my bedroom, far, far out of reach. I might as well have hidden the artifacts on the moon for all the good they were doing me right now.
I had expected Covington to sneak into the Bunker like a thief in the middle of the night. I had never dreamed that he would storm in during the day when everyone in the Midgard was here. I should have known better, though. I should have realized that he would want to take us all down at once.
I still had Babs in my hand, and my own Spartan fighting skills and killer instincts, but I doubted that they would be enough. Not against Covington, Drake, and who knew how many other Reapers. At the very least, I needed another weapon to fight them with—
A bit of smoke wafted away from me, and I spotted a glimmer of gold out of the corner of my eye. My heart lifted. I might not have any of the artifacts that I had stolen, but I was still standing in front of shelves that were full of weapons, armor, jewelry, and more.
I staggered toward the glimmer, hoping that the gold was part of a sword, a dagger, or some other weapon. I peered through the red haze at the object sitting on the shelf, a necklace made of tiny gold claws that were hooked together. Given the smoke, I couldn’t read the white identification card inside the case, but I didn’t have to. I recognized the necklace. It had belonged to Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, and it supposedly let the wearer communicate with all sorts of cats, from your regular house cats to mythological creatures like Nemean prowlers.
I growled with frustration and started to turn away from the necklace, since it was absolutely useless in this situation, but the golden glimmer reminded me of another artifact stored back here. Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before?
I staggered forward again, running my hand along the shelf so that I wouldn’t lose sight of it in the smoke.
“Rory!” Babs yelled, her lips moving underneath my palm. “What are you doing? Where are you going? You need to get yourself and the others out of here! Away from the smoke! Right now!”
I sucked in a breath to answer her, but all that came out of my mouth was another cough. Still, I kept going.
A few seconds later, I reached the end of the shelf and stopped to orient myself. I had patrolled the shelves dozens of times over the past few weeks, and I had memorized the location of every single artifact, along with its magical properties. I had just passed Bastet’s Necklace, which meant that I was standing at the end of the first shelf, the one that faced out toward the rest of the briefing room. I needed to go deeper into the shelves to find the artifact I wanted, so I moved forward through the smoke, reaching out and silently counting the shelves as I passed them.
One, two, three, four…
When I reached the fifth shelf, I stopped, turned to my left, and walked down that aisle. I reached out again, this time counting the glass cases that were sitting on the shelf that was level with my chest.
One, two, three, four…
When I reached the spot where the fifth case would be, I stopped and turned toward it. I
stretched my hand out and patted the shelf, moving my fingers around, searching for the artifact. Where was it? Where was it?
There—right there.
My hand brushed up against a glass case, and I wrapped my fingers around the corner and dragged it over to the edge of the shelf. Once again, I saw a glimmer of gold through the red haze. This was definitely the right artifact.
“Rory!” Babs yelled again. “What are you doing?”
Thanks to my healing magic, I had finally quit coughing, but my throat still burned too badly for me to answer. Besides, she would figure it out in three, two, one…
I lifted the sword and smashed her blade into the case.
Babs let out a loud, startled cry, but she was a strong, sharp weapon, and the glass shattered and flew apart. A few pieces tink-tink-tinked against Babs’s blade, sounding like wind chimes, before they fell to the floor. Several shards stung my hand, although my healing magic quickly took away the worst of the pain.
I reached out with my left hand, grabbed the artifact, and slid it into the back pocket of my jeans. Then I turned around and headed back toward the end of the aisle.
Babs was right. Now that I had another weapon, I had to find my friends. I had to get them out of here before it was too late.
As I walked along the aisle, I realized that the red smoke had finally started to dissipate. Since I could sort of see where I was going now, I rounded the corner, left the shelves behind, and hurried over to the briefing table.
“Ian? Zoe? Mateo?”
I called out my friends’ names, but none of them responded, and I couldn’t see them through the thick smoke that still cloaked this side of the room. But even more worrisome was the fact that I didn’t hear them yelling or coughing anymore. So I tried again.
“Aunt Rachel? Takeda? Professor Dalaja?”
Still, no one responded, and the smoke soaked up the sound of my voice. The silence chilled me to the bone, but I crouched down, thinking that maybe they were unconscious on the floor. I moved forward and felt along the floor like I had felt along the artifact shelves, but all I encountered were the overturned chairs that had been scattered around the room from where my friends had run into them and sent them flying.
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