In another second, it was over. Preston lay sprawled flat on his back on the floor, and I had Vic up against his throat.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Vic crowed, his eye glowing like a purple moon in the shadows.
Vic's voice brought me back to myself, and I blinked a few times. I felt a little dazed and disoriented. Maybe it was because I'd been concentrating so hard on Logan's memories, but even though I'd just been fighting Preston, it was hard for me to remember exactly what had happened, exactly how I'd beaten him.
Preston glared up at me. That eerie, flashing, fiery hate still burned in his crimson eyes, even though his face was bloody and bruised, and his nose broken. "Go ahead, Gypsy. Kill me. I dare you to."
I moved Vic a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to break the skin on Preston's neck. A single drop of blood rolled down his throat.
"Do it," he hissed. "Kill me!"
I wanted to-I really,reallywanted to. For everything he'd done to me, for how he'd hurt Logan, Oliver, and even the Fenrir wolf. But Preston was injured and unarmed now. He wasn't a threat to me anymore, and killing him now would make me no better than he was. Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion of what he really wanted anyway.
"Why?" I asked. "So you can dedicate your death to Loki and make him stronger, right? That's what Reapers do. They sacrifice other people and even themselves to their god, trying to help him break out of that magical prison he's trapped in. Kind of a whacked out thing to do if you ask me. I wouldn't want to serve a god like that."
"And it'sworking," Preston hissed. "The seals are all but broken, and it won't be much longer before we find the key to unlock the last one. Soon, Loki will be free, and his Chaos will reign once more. And when that happens, you will rue the day you were ever born, Gypsy. You and Nike and all the other members of the pathetic Pantheon."
Seals? A key? I didn't know if Preston was spouting total bullshit or if he actually knew what he was talking about. Maybe it was his twisted face, or the red fire flickering where his eyes should be, but a cold shiver slithered up my spine.
"You'd better finish me now, Gypsy," Preston snarled. "Or I'll get free one day, and I'll go kill that doddering old grandmother you love so much."
I'd never known my dad, and I'd already lost my mom to a drunk driver. I couldn't lose my grandma, too. I just- couldn't. Rage exploded in my heart then-cold, black rage that the Reaper would dare to threaten my Grandma Frost — and sharp, bitter fear that he might somehow make good on his terrible promise. My whole body vibrated with the force of the two warring emotions. It took a few seconds, but the rage won out.
My hands tightened around Vic, and I pressed the sword deeper into Preston's neck, until his blood looked like crimson teardropsdrip-drip-dripping onto the concrete floor.
"Come on, Gypsy," Preston muttered. "Do it!"
Footsteps scuffed in the sawdust, and Logan limped over to stand beside me.
"Gwen," Logan said in a soft voice. "Gwen."
There was no judgment in his voice, no reproach, no condemnation, and I knew the Spartan would go along with whatever I decided to do. If I killed Preston, Logan would stand here and watch me do it. And I wanted to do it so badly. My hands trembled from the urge to just end Preston and the threats he'd made against my grandma.
But I didn't want Logan to see me as that kind of person — someone who could kill in cold blood-and I didn't want to be that kind of person myself. I didn't want to be a monster. For the first time, I truly understood what that was.
I let out a tense, ragged breath and pulled the sword away from Preston's throat.
"I'm okay now," I whispered. "I'm okay."
Logan reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad," he whispered back.
Chapter 23
Scarcely a minute had passed after I lowered the sword before shouts started echoing through the semidark construction site.
"Gwen! Logan! Oliver!"
"Over here!" Logan yelled back.
A few seconds later, a flashlight cut a bright path through
the gloom and landed on my face. I squinted against the harsh glare, keeping my sword and eyes trained on Preston, not daring to let myself be distracted by the fact that we were about to have company. I might not have killed Preston, but if the Reaper moved an inch now, I'd cut him and worry about the consequences later. He'd do the same to me, try to kill me any way he could, no matter what. Something else Daphne had been right about.
To my surprise, Nickamedes stepped out of the shadows, a sword clutched in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The librarian's black eyebrows shot up at the sight of me standing over Preston, the Reaper's blood covering both of us like we'd been playing paintball instead of fighting to the death.
"Are you two all right?" Nickamedes asked, looking at Logan.
"We're fine, more or less," Logan replied. "I've got a bad gash on my thigh, and Gypsy girl's got some bumps and bruises. What about Oliver?"
Oliver. My breath caught in my throat. I'd been so busy fighting Preston that I'd forgotten about the other injured Spartan-and the fact that we'd had to leave him behind at the mercy of the Reaper and the Fenrir wolf. Even though I knew it had been the only choice at the time, guilt and shame burned in my heart. If Preston had killed Oliver, I didn't know what I'd do.
"Ajax found Oliver and took him to Aurora in the infirmary," Nickamedes said. "He should be fine, once she gets that bolt out of his shoulder and stops the bleeding." I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding in. Relief filled Logan's face. "Good." He looked away from the librarian. "I didn't want to leave him. You have to believe me. I would never leave someone behind. Not again. I wanted to stand and fight."
Misery made Logan's shoulders sag, and his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it.
"I know you didn't, and so does Oliver." Nickamedes stepped closer to the Spartan and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried, Logan."
I'd thought I was done being surprised for the day, but I didn't expect the casual, easy familiarity the two of them seemed to have with each other. The way they were talking, you'd think they were actually… friends or something.
Family even,a small voice whispered from the back of my mind. For the first time, I noticed how similar the two of them looked-and how they both had the same black hair and ice blue eyes.
Logan and Nickamedes? Family? That was a little hard to wrap my brain around, especially since I'd never heard one mention anything about the other. Besides, Nickamedes was just too prissy to be related to someone as easygoing as Logan.
As if to prove my point, Nickamedes turned to glare at me, his eyes sharp and narrowed in his pale face. "Two students severely injured, you yourself covered in blood, a Reaper on the premises, a Fenrir wolf running around loose somewhere, and extensive property damage to the resort. Well?" Nickamedes snapped. "What do you have to say for yourself, Gwendolyn?"
I thought for a second, then grinned at him. "I followed your directions exactly. I never set one foot outside the hotel."
I thought the librarian was going to reach over and strangle me right then and there.
An hour later, I sat on a bed in the resort infirmary watching Professor Metis finish healing Oliver. Metis had already fixed the gash in Logan's leg, and the Spartan was in the next room, telling Coach Ajax and Nickamedes what had happened for the tenth time. Like Logan had said, I'd only gotten a few bumps and bruises, and my injuries weren't severe enough to require healing. But I'd stayed behind in the infirmary anyway. I needed to talk to Oliver- about a lot of things.