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No, that's not quite right. I saw lots of black cars-I just couldn't tel if the person who'd nearly plowed into me was driving any of them.
But what worried me most was the fact that I couldn't figure out whether or not it had been an accident.
The bus final y reached the top of Cypress Mountain and rumbled to a stop across from Mythos Academy. I got off, sprinted across the street, and slipped through the academy's iron gates, which were stil closed and locked.
For once, I was glad the sphinxes were there, perched on top of the wal and glaring down at me. Sure, the statues made me uneasy, but they were also supposed to keep the academy safe from Reapers. The sphinxes would keep whomever was after me from fol owing me onto campus. At
least, I hoped they would. But even that hope was better than nothing.
I stood there inside the gate, breathing hard and staring out at the street, wondering if I'd see a black SUV rol by.
But the only vehicle in sight was the bus, which slowly lumbered away from the curb to start its trip back down to the city.
Maybe it had just been a careless driver after al . I hoped so
-oh, how I hoped so.
"Come on, Gwen," I whispered to myself. "Get a grip." It might have just been my imagination, but it seemed like the dul , brown, dried-up leaves in the trees above my head whispered back, even though I knew it was just the winter wind whipping through the branches.
Right?
Stil nervous, I stuck my hands into my jacket pockets and hurried past the dorms and up the hil . If Mythos Academy had a black, beating heart, it would be the upper quad. Five main buildings ringed the area-English-history, math-science, the dining hal , the gym, and the library-al sitting at the edges of the quad, like the five points of a star.
Normal y, in between and after the day's classes, students gathered on the quad to gossip, text on their cel phones, and see who was hooking up with whom. Not now, though. Since it was so cold, everyone was inside already, studying in the library, hanging out in their dorm rooms, or eating dinner in the dining hal
. Usual y, the emptiness of the quad wouldn't have bothered me, but tonight, it did.
The sun had already vanished for the day, letting the night's shadows ooze over everything, like black pools of blood. The trees on the quad were bare, except for a few stubborn leaves that rattled together like bones every time the wind touched them, and the swaying tangles of branches reminded me of skeletons strung together.
Maybe I was stil a little shaken up from almost getting run over. That had to be the reason I was thinking about things like blood, bones, and skeletons.
I shivered, tucked my head down into the col ar of my jacket, and walked on.
The Library of Antiquities was the largest structure at the academy and took up a good chunk of the upper part of the quad, serving as the top point in the star of buildings. The library simply had the most of everything-the most floors, the most balconies, the most towers, the most parapets. Al put together, the building reminded me of a sinister castle.
But the thing that creeped me out the most were the statues.
They could be found on al of the buildings at Mythos, but there were more of them on, around, and in the Library of Antiquities than on the rest of campus put together.
Gryphons, gargoyles, Gorgons, dragons, a Minotaur, and other mythological creatures that I didn't even know the names for. The statues covered the library from the bottom balcony, which wrapped al the way around the building, to the top of the roof, with its towers and their swordlike points. And they weren't just simple stone figures. No, the statues al looked, wel , violent, with big eyes, bigger teeth, and razor-sharp claws.
Maybe it was my Gypsy gift, but I always felt like the statues were watching me and tracking my steps with their open, angry eyes, just like the sphinxes at the front gate.
That if I so much as brushed them with my fingertips, the cold monsters would somehow spring to life, leap out of their stone shel s, and rip me to pieces.
It wasn't a good feeling.
I pul ed my gaze away from the two gryphons positioned on either side of the gray stone steps and hurried into the building, through a short hal way, and past the open double doors that led into the library itself. Instead of walking down the wide, main aisle toward the study tables and offices, I turned and headed for a quiet area in the back.
My spot, as I'd come to think of it, wasn't much to look at.
Just another patch of floor in between the tal bookshelves that fil ed the library's many levels. Once, there had been a glass case here, one of hundreds that were scattered throughout the library and ful of artifacts-weapons, jewelry, clothing, armor, and more
-that had been used or worn over the years by various mythological gods, goddesses, heroes, vil ains, and monsters.
Now, the case was gone, smashed to bits in my fight with Jasmine Ashton, although Vic, the sword who'd been inside it, was safe in my dorm room.
But the empty spot where the case had been wasn't the only thing of interest. I tilted my head, looking up at the person I'd come back here to see: Nike, the Greek goddess of victory.
Wel , it wasn't real y her, of course-just a thirty-foot-tal statue carved out of white marble. Statues of al the gods and goddesses from al the cultures of the world ringed the second-floor balcony. They were separated from each other by slender, fluted columns and stared down at the first floor of the library and al the students studying below. Every god and goddess you could think of was here. Norse ones, like Sol, Thor, and Freya. Greek ones, like Ares, Zeus, and Apol o. Egyptian ones, like Anubis, Ra, and Bastet. And tons more gods and goddesses who I'd never heard of before I'd come to Mythos.
The only one who wasn't represented in the circular pantheon was Loki, the Norse trickster and chaos god, and there was an empty spot where his statue would have been.
Loki had done a lot of bad, bad stuff back in the day, like getting another god kil ed, trying to take over the world, and blah, blah, blah. They didn't build statues of you when you were the equivalent of a comic-book supervil ain.
I'd met Nike a few weeks back, during the whole Jasmine situation. The goddess had appeared to me in the library and asked me to be her Champion, to be her hero here in the mortal realm, to help her fight Reapers of Chaos and other assorted bad guys.
The statue looked the same as Nike had the night she'd shown herself to me-hair fal ing past her shoulders; a long, flowing gown covering her strong, slender body; a crown of laurels resting on top of her head; feathery wings attached to her back. The goddess was the embodiment of victory, and she was cold, hard, fierce, and beautiful, al at the same time.
"Hi, Nike," I said in a low voice. "Hope you're having a good day up there on Mount Olympus or wherever you are.
You know, eating lots of ambrosia, playing harps-things like that. Whatever goddesses do to have fun." The statue didn't do or say anything, and I didn't real y expect it to. Stil , every time I came into the library, I stopped a moment to speak to the goddess. I didn't know if she actual y heard me or not, but it made me feel a little better . Like maybe Nike was up there watching over me.
Like maybe I was real y worthy of the magic and trust she'd given to me.
Like maybe I real y could do some good as her Champion.
I turned and headed for the center of the library. A long checkout counter split the main floor into two and separated one side of the enormous domed room from the other. A series of glassed-in offices lied behind the counter, while the open floor in front of it featured long tables for students to sit and study at.
There was also a freestanding cart that sold coffee drinks, fruit smoothies, and sugary snacks. I breathed in, enjoying the warm, rich smel of the coffee mixing with the dry, slightly musty odor of the books.
The curved ceiling of the library arched high overhead, and it always seemed to me like the building was much tal er than its seven floors, like the library just kept going up and up and up until it touched the clouds. Other students claimed there were amazing frescoes painted on the ceiling, ones that depicted various mythological battles and gleamed with gold, silver, and jewels, but I'd never been up to the top floor to look for myself. From down here, al I could see were shadows.
I'd barely put my messenger bag in a slot underneath the checkout counter when a door opened in the office complex behind me, and Nickamedes appeared.
"You're late, Gwendolyn," Nickamedes snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "As usual." Nickamedes was the head honcho at the Library of Antiquities. If you were just looking at him, you'd think that he was cute, handsome even, with his black hair and blue eyes. For a fortysomething-year-old guy, anyway.
But then he opened his mouth, and you realized just how uptight, prissy, and snobby he real y was. The library was Nickamedes's whole world, and he loved everything in here with an intense, devoted, detailed obsession. Wel , everything but the students.
Nickamedes didn't real y like anyone touching his precious books and artifacts, not even for class assignments.
But the librarian was sort of stuck with me. Back when I'd first started going to the academy, Professor Metis had thought that working in the library would help me meet other kids and make friends. Not so much. Basical y, I was Nickamedes's free slave labor-and there was nothing he enjoyed more than bossing me around.
Nickamedes had never real y liked me and my smart mouth, but he'd come to actively hate me a few weeks ago.
Jasmine Ashton had tried to kil me in the library, and, wel , we'd torn up a lot of stuff during our struggle. Nickamedes despised anything that damaged his precious books.
Seriously, the dude wouldn't even crack one of their spines.
I'd done far worse than that. I'd pretty much trashed the entire first floor. In fact, I was stil shelving books from where I'd shoved a case of them onto Jasmine to try to keep her from running me through with her sword.
"Wel , Gwendolyn?" Nickamedes barked, tapping one of his long, pale fingers against his opposite elbow. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
I rol ed my eyes. I couldn't exactly tel the librarian that I'd snuck off campus to go see my Grandma Frost, since that was against one of the Big Rules. But maybe I could sweeten up his sour mood. I rustled around in my bag, drew out the metal tin of cookies, popped off the top, and held it out to him. Surely the smel of chocolate would bring a smile to even his sharp, angular face.
"Cookie?" I asked in a hopeful voice.
Nickamedes's expression just darkened. "You brought unauthorized food into the library, Gwendolyn?" I sighed, knowing that I was going to get the mother of al lectures now. Ah, well, I thought, biting into a cookie while Nickamedes glared at me. It had been worth a shot.
Chapter 5
After a five-minute, ear-blistering lecture from Nickamedes about what food items could and could not be brought into the library, I got to work. Mostly, I sat behind the counter, checked out books, and looked up other ones in the computer system.
In addition to studying, the library was one of the main places on campus where students came to Hang Out and Be Seen. And that wasn't the only reason kids gathered here-lots of them liked to sneak off into the shadowy stacks to hook up. Occasional y, Nickamedes made me dust and clean the bookshelves, along with the glass artifact cases hidden back among the stacks. Every single time I'd find more used condoms than I did crumpled-up pieces of paper and lost pens. Yucko. I wouldn't want to do it in the library where anyone could walk by at any second, but at Mythos, it was considered some sort of thril .
Whatever.
Tonight, more kids than usual crowded into the library, since everyone was trying to get their homework done before taking off for the big weekend getaway. Al the gossip was about the Winter Carnival. I heard more than a few excited comments as I moved through the library shelving books. Everyone seemed excited about making the trek over to one of the area ski resorts-and al the fun they had planned for when they got there.
"Did you hear? Samson Sorensen is throwing another massive party, just like he always does. There'l be at least five kegs there, maybe more."
"I know a guy who says he can get his hands on some primo pot."
"I wonder how many guys Morgan McDougal wil sleep with during the weekend. Two? Twelve? Twenty?" That last comment was made by Helena Paxton, an Amazon from my English lit class with sleek, caramel-colored hair and eyes. It was fol owed by a round of vicious snickers and sharp, sly looks over at Morgan, who was studying by herself at a table close to the checkout counter.
With her black hair, hazel eyes, and curvy body, Morgan was one of the most gorgeous girls at Mythos-and she also happened to be the academy's most notorious slut.
Seriously. Everyone knew that Morgan had been sleeping with Samson, even though he'd been dating her best friend, Jasmine, at the time.
"Wel , my money's on twenty," Helena answered her own catty question. "Since Morgan likes to keep herself so busy."
More snickers fil ed the air. Morgan had her back to the group of Amazons, but I could see the anger and humiliation that flushed her face. She bent down over her books a little more, but she didn't give the other girls the satisfaction of turning around and glaring at them. Stil , I felt sorry for her. I knew what it was like to be an outcast.
Maybe it was almost getting run over by that SUV, but suddenly, I wasn't in the mood to be nice and quiet and blend into the background like I usual y did, especial y not when it came to the subject of Jasmine Ashton.
I stalked over to the table of giggling Amazons. "Hey," I snapped. "Why don't you guys shut up? Because you have no idea what Jasmine was real y like. How mean and twisted and evil she real y was. Trust me, Jasmine was not a sweet, innocent girl."
Jasmine might have been the prettiest, richest, and most popular girl in my second-year class, but the Valkyrie had also been a Reaper of Chaos. In fact, her whole family were Reapers, and Jasmine had faked her own death as part of a scheme to sacrifice Morgan to the evil god Loki.
