Part 21 (1/2)

All I had to do was touch the Spartan.

Easier said than done. I hadn't even managed to nick Logan with my sword the whole time we'd been fighting, much less get close enough to touch him with my bare hand. But that's what I needed-time to touch the Spartan, time to let my magic work, time to let my power wash over him. But Logan wasn't just going to stand still and let that happen. No, there was only one way this was going to work. I had to let the Spartan get close to me.

I had to let him hurt me.

I didn't know if my crazy plan would work, but it was the only chance Logan had left. So I drew in a breath and slowly sheathed Vic in the scabbard on my waist. Then, I held my arms out wide, an open invitation to the Spartan to do his worst. Logan stopped short, obviously thinking it was some kind of trick.

”Gwen, what are you doing?” Vic yelled. ”He'll kill you where you stand!”

”I know,” I said in a grim voice. ”But it has to be this way, Vic. You'll see.”

After a few seconds, when I made no move to attack him or defend myself, Logan let out a loud, wild, angry cry and charged at me. I waited until he was in range and then held out my right hand and jerked to the side, trying to sidestep him as much as I could, even as my fingers reached out for his. I felt his sword slice across my right palm and keep on going.

Then, with a final, fierce battle cry, Logan slammed his blade into my chest.

Chapter 28.

The pain of the sword skewering me was-it was-devastating. Just wave after wave of red-hot agony surging through my body one right after another. For a moment, my vision went completely black. I had to struggle to focus on what I was trying to do, but I slowly reached up and wrapped my b.l.o.o.d.y fingers around Logan's hand, which was clenched around the hilt of his sword-the sword that was still in my chest.

The Spartan frowned and tried to pull his hand away, but I tightened my grip, even though it jostled the sword in my chest and made everything hurt that much more. Through my growing haze of pain, I called up all the memories I had of Logan.

All the times he'd smiled at me. All the times he'd teased me. All the times he'd looked at me, his icy eyes glowing. All the times he'd kissed me, held me close, and whispered that everything was going to be all right, even if we both knew it wasn't true.

I focused on those images and all the feelings that went with them. All the longing I'd felt for Logan when I'd first been crus.h.i.+ng on him, all the times he'd made me laugh, and finally that warm, soft, fizzy feeling that flooded my heart whenever he grinned at me.

Then, I showed the images to him.

It was hard-so freaking hard. So much harder than it had been with Nott and even the Maat asp. I didn't know if it was because Logan's mind was more complex than theirs or if it was because of the ritual Agrona had performed on him, the jeweled collar on his neck, and all the magic mumbo jumbo that was pumping through his veins right now. But I could almost see this wall in his mind-a Reaper-red wall that kept me from getting through to him.

But I wasn't giving up, even though I could feel the blood pouring out of the wound in my chest and my strength and magic fading with every pa.s.sing second. Instead, I focused on all my memories of Logan, shaping them into a giant fist in my mind, and then I started hammering at that d.a.m.n Reaper-red wall that separated us.

Let me in, let me in, let me in . . .

I started chanting the words in my mind, timing them to the blows of my fistful of memories, even as my heart slowed and sputtered.

Let me in, let me in, let me in . . .

I didn't know how long we stood there, locked together, Logan's sword in my chest, and my fingers digging into his hand, but slowly, tiny, tiny cracks started to form in the wall in his mind. My strength was almost gone, I was almost gone, so I pounded at the wall that much harder before it was too late-for both of us.

Let me in . . . Let Me In . . . LET ME IN . . .

More and more cracks appeared, zigzagging through the entire wall. I gathered up the remaining sc.r.a.ps of my strength and magic and hit the wall one final time, putting everything I had into the blow.

The wall shattered, dissolving into nothingness, and suddenly I was in Logan's head, deeper inside him than I'd ever been before, so deep that I could see that icy blue spark at the center of his being.

Remember, I whispered in my mind to him, even as I imagined cupping that beautiful blue spark in my hand. See. Feel. Remember who you really are.

And then I shoved my memories at him-every last one.

Logan gasped and staggered back, jostling the sword in my chest. I screamed with pain, but somehow I managed to keep my b.l.o.o.d.y fingertips on his hand. Once again, I poured all my memories of him into his mind, just the way he'd stabbed me-quickly, brutally, effectively.

Remember . . . Remember . . . REMEMBER!

I chanted the words in my head again and again, hammering them into Logan's mind the same way I'd attacked the Reaper-red wall.

Just when I thought I couldn't hang on to his fingers another second, I felt something crack open inside his head, like a gla.s.s that had been dropped on the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. Everything just . . . splintered.

Suddenly, Logan was himself again, and I could feel his growing confusion and horror at what he'd done-to me.

The last of my strength left me, and I blinked, realizing that I'd lost my grip on Logan and that I was standing on the stage in the middle of the battle. He'd pulled the sword out of my chest, and more and more blood poured out of the wound. I looked at the Spartan, almost dreading what I'd see when I peered into his face.

”Gypsy girl?” Logan asked.

His voice was uncertain and confused, but it was his voice again. His face still looked vaguely blank, as if he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened, but I could tell it was Logan in there and not someone else. Just Logan-only Logan. And then, there was the most important thing-the fact that his eyes were blue once more instead of that awful Reaper red.

I smiled, thinking it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen-and that it would be the last thing I ever saw.

The pain exploded in my chest, even greater than before. I tried to open my mouth to say his name, but nothing came out, not even a whimper of hurt. My legs buckled, and I had one last thought before everything went dark.

Logan Quinn had killed me.

Chapter 29.

I woke with a start. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself staring up at one of the most amazing images I'd ever seen-an elaborate fresco that gleamed with gold, silver, and sparkling jewels. It was hundreds of feet overhead, stretching all the way across the domed ceiling, but somehow I could see it as clearly as if it was right above me. It showed the image of a great mythological battle. No surprise there. This was Mythos Academy, after all. But the strange thing was that I was in the fresco-and so were all of my friends.

Logan, Daphne, Carson, Oliver, even Alexei, all holding weapons and fighting just like I was. And there were other people pictured as well, folks I didn't know, creatures I'd seen only in the pages of my myth-history book, but I got the sense that they were all somehow important. That this was important. My gaze zoomed right, then left, up, then down, until I'd seen the entire fresco- I blinked, and the image was gone, cloaked by shadows once more. I sat up and realized that I was lying on the marble floor in the middle of the Library of Antiquities, right in front of the checkout counter. I looked down. I was wearing the same clothes I'd had on in the auditorium, but my T-s.h.i.+rt and hoodie were smooth and not torn and b.l.o.o.d.y like they should have been since Logan had stabbed me- ”h.e.l.lo, Gwendolyn,” a soft, familiar voice called out.

I raised my head, and there she was-Nike, the Greek G.o.ddess of victory.

The G.o.ddess looked as beautiful as ever. A white, toga-like gown wrapped around her lean, strong body, while soft, feathery wings arched up over her back. A crown of silver laurels rested on top of her bronze hair, but it was her eyes that always fascinated me the most-eyes that were a swirling mix of violet and gray, silver and lavender, and all the other soft shades of twilight.

I got to my feet, only mildly surprised when I didn't feel any pain. I pressed my hand to my chest, but all I felt was a thin line slas.h.i.+ng over my heart, instead of the deep, mortal wound Logan had given me. I looked at the G.o.ddess and sighed.

”So am I dead this time?” I asked. ”Is that why I can't really feel the stab wound in my chest? Are you here to take me to the Elysian Fields or Valhalla or someplace where warriors go when they die in battle?”

Nike gave me a sad smile. ”Close, but not quite. Your friends are working very hard right now to save your life. Focus, and you'll see.”

I concentrated and felt a soothing warmth flowing through my body. I looked down and realized that a familiar, rosy golden glow covered my chest, centered over my heart.

Come on, Gwen! I thought I heard Daphne scream, although her voice sounded faint and far away. Suck it up! Don't you dare die on me!

”Daphne's trying to heal me,” I whispered.

Nike nodded. ”And your Professor Metis too.”