The image abruptly shifted and bled into another memory. Logan stood over two bodies, a woman and a girl who was a few years older than he was.His mother and his sister,a voice whispered in my mind. They were dead, their throats cut, and blood covered the floor all around
them, coating their faces. So much blood. Logan still clutched his sword in his hand. Angry, he threw it away, then lay down in between his mother and sister, not caring that he was getting their blood all over him. Tears streaked over his small, pale face, and then, he started to scream. Logan drew back, breaking the kiss, breaking our connection. I would have fallen over, if he hadn't caught me and cradled me in his arms.
"Gwen?" Logan whispered against my cheek. "Are you okay? What did you see?"
I saw why part of you is so sad,I thought.Why you won't let me get close to you, because you once lost the people you cared about the most.But I didn't say the words. I just… couldn't. Not now. Later. We'd… talk about it later. If we had a later.
I shook my head and drew back, looking into his rugged face. "I'll give you this, Spartan. You sure can kiss. Feel free to lay one on me anytime you want to." For a second relief flashed in his eyes-relief that I hadn't discovered his secret. That I hadn't seen the blood and bodies that haunted him so. Then Logan grinned. "Well, I do aim to please," he drawled. "You should see what I can do with my hands. And other parts of my body." I rolled my eyes. "Seriously? You've been cut open like a fish, there's a psycho-killer Reaper after us, and you're still hitting me up for sex?"
Logan shrugged, but the devilish light didn't fade from his gaze. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."
"Right. We'll talk about that later. Now, come on," I said. "I have an idea."
I stood behind the doorway and waited for Preston Ashton to come and kill me.
I didn't have long to wait. I'd barely gotten into position when footsteps scuffled, and a shadow appeared at the far end of the half-finished hallway.
"Gypsy…" Preston's voice echoed through the semidark construction site. "Oh, Gypsy… I'm coming to kill you… "
I gritted my teeth and gripped Vic tighter. I knew Preston was trying to scare me, but I could still hear the crazy in his voice, loud and clear. How had I ever thought he was cute? H eso needed to be locked up in an insane asylum somewhere. Too bad Batman wasn't here to come and drag his ass off to Arkham.
I looked over at Logan, who leaned against one of the walls, hidden in the shadows. The Spartan clutched a loose brick in his hand, the only weapon we'd been able to find in the construction debris, since I'd dropped the hammer earlier. I nodded at him, and he nodded back. Showtime.
"Here goes nothing," I whispered.
"Cut him to bits!" Vic crowed. "And feed me the pieces! It's been a long time since I've dined on Reaper blood." Underneath my palm, the sword's lips smacked together in anticipation.
"Let's just hope I win. Now, shut up, Vic. I need to concentrate."
I drew in a breath and stepped out into the hallway, so Preston could see me.
The Reaper spotted me at once, and a mocking smile curved his lips.
"Coming out in hopes that I'll kill you quick? I hate to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen, Gypsy. Not now."
He stepped closer, and I realized that blood covered the lower half of his face. I must have done more damage with that hammer than I'd thought. Preston's nose had swelled up to twice its normal size, and black and purple streaks radiated out from it like sunbeams.
But his eyes were what really creeped me out. They glowed a wicked, wicked red. It looked like someone had filled Preston's eyes with dozens of matches and then lit them all at once. Crimson flames danced in his gaze, burning so hot and bright I thought he might just shoot fire out of his eyeballs and fry me where I stood.
Jasmine's eyes had looked exactly the same way when she'd tried to kill me in the Library of Antiquities. Preston must be channeling Loki, tapping into the evil god's magic or whatever Reapers of Chaos did when they were intent on killing their enemies.
But I had Logan to channel and all his fighting memories to tap into. It would be enough to save us both. It was going to have to be.
"You want a fight?" I called out. "Then come and get it, you arrogant, snot-nosed punk."
I didn't have to taunt him twice. Preston screamed with rage and raced down the hallway toward me. I turned and ran to the far end and into an open area, drawing him out past Logan's hiding spot. The plan was simple. I'd keep Preston busy, and as soon as Logan got the chance, the Spartan would lurch up behind the Reaper and brain him with the brick he was holding until Preston was unconscious. All I had to do was not get killed in the meantime.
I whirled around, moved Vic into position, and summoned up all of the memories of Logan that I had. Preston broke free of the hallway, raised his sword over his head, and brought it down at me.
CLANG!
Preston had struck with all his Viking strength and skill, trying to split my skull in two with one blow. The force of his vicious attack rocked me back, but I thought of Logan, called up my memories of him, and managed to hang on to Vic.
And so we fought.
Back and forth we moved in the chaos of the construction site.
Screaming, snarling, and trying to hack each other into bloody pieces, just like Vic wanted. Preston was in afrenzy now, his eyes getting redder, brighter, and angrier with every passing second. Even with my memories of Logan, it was all I could do to keep the Reaper from shoving his sword through my heart. And Preston and I were locked so close together that Logan couldn't jump into the mix with his cut leg-not without getting sliced to ribbons by one of us. If I was going to beat the Reaper, I was going to have to do it myself.
I reached for my Gypsy gift again, and I thought about Logan. I focused on how fierce he was, how strong, how he never gave up no matter what. I flipped through my memories of all the battles he'd ever been in, and I concentrated on that sweet, electric thrill of victory he felt every time he won. I called up image after image of Logan until the Spartan's face was all I could see, and his emotions were all I could feel-until Logan was all that I was.
And then I attacked.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
I stepped forward, swinging my sword in a rapid series of moves.
Thrust, thrust, thrust.
Preston managed to block my blows, but he did something he hadn't done before: He stepped back instead of forward.
For the first time worry flickered in his gaze, right along with his burning hate for me. "How did you suddenly get so much better with that sword?"
"I'm a Gypsy," I snarled. "Nike's freakingChampion. Blessed and gifted with magic by the goddess herself. And Nike is victory itself, remember? That's who and what she is."
"So what?" Preston muttered.
"So I found a way to beat you, dumbass. I found a way to win."
Okay, so maybe I was only winning because I was tapping into Logan's memories and fighting skills, but the smack talk was all me.
Preston opened his mouth to say something else, but I didn't give him the chance. I pressed my advantage, going at him with everything I had, with every sneaky trick Logan knew and a couple of even dirtier ones I'd thought of myself.
On my first blow, I nicked his arm.
On the second, I sliced Vic across his stomach.
And on the third, I knocked Preston's sword from his hand.
Preston bent down, scrambling for his weapon, but I didn't stop my attack. I drew my leg back and slammed my foot into his face. Something crunched underneath my sneaker, and the Reaper screamed.