I picked my way through the semidarkness, trying to make as little noise as possible. I winced every time my sneakers scuffed up against something in the shadows. Sawdust puffed up with every step I took, making my nose twitch. I put my hoodie sleeve up against my nose, so I wouldn't sneeze and give myself away, just in case Oliver had followed me down here.
I don't know how long I wandered around, but it seemed like I was moving in circles. That, or the resort expansion was just much, much bigger than I realized, and I hadn't reached the end of it yet.
I stopped in front of one of the windows. This one hadn't been boarded up as tightly as the others, and a couple of cracks of sunlight slipped through, along with a blast of cold, wintry air. I put my back to the window and stood there a second, looking around and trying to get my bearings. Okay, this looked like it was one of the exterior walls, so if I just followed it, I should be able to get out of here sooner or later. That made sense, right?
Besides, tons of footprints marred the sawdust, probably from all the construction workers. I'd seen them, too, on Friday morning, although they must have quit work for the weekend, since I didn't hear any hammers banging or drills whining. I squatted down and peered at the faint marks, trying to see which direction the footprints went. Maybe I could pretend they were the Yellow Brick Road and follow them right out of here.
I froze, staring at one of the prints on the floor. It wasn't a boot print or even one made by a sneaker or some other kind of shoe. No, this print hadn't been made by anyone walking around down here. It was shaped like an animal's paw, one that was bigger than my hand, with four toe pads and four sharp claws on the ends of them. I might not be a nature-loving girl, but I'd seen that kind of paw print twice before: once in my myth-history book and yesterday in the snow after the avalanche had almost swept me away.
The Fenrir wolf had been down here. Recently, from the looks of it. And where the wolf was, the Reaper wouldn't be far behind.
Just as that chilling thought occurred to me, I noticed an odd shape out of the corner of my eye, something that didn't match the rest of the construction equipment. It took me a few seconds of squinting, but I finally realized what the shape was: a sleeping bag. And that wasn't all. A couple of flashlights rested on top of it, along some empty bottles of Perrier and crumpled bags that smelled of cold, greasy food. It wasn't hard to figure out that someone had been hiding down here with the wolf.
I thought I'd been so clever getting away from Oliver, but I'd walked right into the middle of his supersecret lair in the construction zone.
Stupid, stupid, stupid Gwen!
Panic filled me, and I cursed myself. I had to get out of here-now. Before Oliver found me and sicced his killer puppy dog on me again. I wouldn't escape, not again, not from both of them, not down here in the dark.
I hurried through the construction zone as fast as I could, hurtling over all the tools, boards, and bags of cement, not caring how much noise I made. Escape was the only thing on my mind, burning away everything else.
Finally, just when I wanted to scream with frustration that I was never getting out of the maze, I realized it was getting lighter-and that there was the outline of a door up ahead.
Relief cooled my panic, and I let out a tense breath. As soon as I stepped through that door, I'd be safe. I'd run around the hotel, back to the lobby; find Professor Metis, Coach Ajax, or even Nickamedes; and tell them what was going on. Then they would track down the Reaper and deal with him.
My eyes fixed on the door, I stepped around a wheelbarrow and ran right into Oliver.
Chapter 20
I hit the Spartan's chest and bounced off, shrieking. And I kept right on back-back-backing up until my body was flat against one of the plywood-covered windows.
My hand dropped to my waist, pushing up the bottom of my hoodie and fumbling for the scabbard that was strapped there. After a second my fingers curled around Vic's hilt. If the Spartan tried anything, anything at all, I'd pull the sword and defend myself with it-or at least try to.
Oliver held out his hands and stepped toward me. "Gwen, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to talk to you."
"Talk?" I snapped, keeping my back to the wall, one hand on Vic's hilt as I edged away from him. "Talk about what? How you tried to mow me down with your SUV earlier this week? Or maybe you'd like to talk about how you took a shot at me with your bow and arrow in the Library of Antiquities?"
Guilt filled his face. "Look, I can explain all that." "Really? Like you can explain the avalanche you caused yesterday? The one that almost buried me on this damn mountain forever? Because I'd really, really like to hear you explain that one."
Oliver frowned. "Avalanche? I didn't cause the avalanche, Gwen."
"I don't believe you. I don't believe a word that's coming out of your mouth. You're a Reaper of Chaos, and you're trying to kill me. That's all I need to know."
Oliver stared at me, worry etching deep lines into his forehead. "I'm not a Reaper! Why would you even think that?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said in a sarcastic tone. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you've tried to kill me four times now."
"I wasn't trying to kill you," Oliver said. "Not with my car and not in the library. I was just trying to scare you a little." My eyebrows shot up in my face. "Scare me? Why?" "Because of Kenzie," Oliver growled in a frustrated tone.
"And what you saw when you touched my notebook. Logan told us about your psychometry magic and how you can learn people's secrets just by touching stuff that belongs to them. You said something about my crush, and I knew that you knew about Kenzie. I didn't want you telling anyone, so I did all that other stuff to distract you. I wasn't really trying to hurt you, Gwen. I swear."
His mouth twisted a little. "Logan would kill me if I ever hurt you on purpose. Hell, he'd kill me now if he realized what I've done so far."
Oliver looked and sounded sincere, but I didn't know if I believed him or not. A few weeks ago, I'd thought Jasmine had been brutally murdered, but it had all just been an illusion the crazy Valkyrie had created. Who was to say Oliver wasn't playing me the same way Jasmine had? I tiptoed along the wall, creeping closer to the door, until I was forced to step around another wheelbarrow. I put it between me and the Spartan. Now, my back was to the door, and I kept my gaze fixed on Oliver, just in case he tried to rush after me. I still had my hand on Vic's hilt, although I doubted I would pull the sword now. I could run faster if I wasn't carrying him in my hand.
"I'm going to walk out that door and find Professor Metis," I told Oliver. "You can explain it all to her."
I took one step back toward the door, then another, then another. More frustration filled the Spartan's face, and his hands curled into fists, but he didn't make a move to follow me. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he wasn't a Reaper, but I couldn't take a chance he wasn't. Besides, he'd already copped to the fact that he'd come after me with his SUV and fired that arrow at my head. What kind of guy did stuff like that? Okay, okay, so maybe all the Mythos kids were a little twisted and violent that way, and maybe I was, too, since I'd just broken into the Spartan's room on a hunch. But I certainly didn't want to be trapped alone with him in the dark, with no one around to hear me scream. Oliver opened his mouth, like he was going to say something. Then his eyes widened. "Look out-" A crossbow bolt zipped by my ear and sank into the Spartan's left shoulder. Blood sprayed through the air.
Oliver screamed with pain and collapsed onto the concrete floor, clawing at the bolt. I whirled around.