Metis squeezed my hand, and I felt another wave of understanding and faith surge through her and into me. “Being a Champion is never easy, Gwen. But Nike believes in you, and so do I. She wouldn’t have made you her Champion if she didn’t think you could somehow defeat Loki.”
“But all she ever talks about when she appears to me is free will and things happening because they’re supposed to and other stupid riddles,” I muttered. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all of it. Sometimes, I just wish that it was over—one way or the other.”
“I know,” she said. “Your mom said the same thing to me so many times.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Metis looked at me, her green gaze somehow sympathetic and stern at the same time. “That you’re a Champion. That it’s your duty to do the best you can do and to keep going, to keep fighting, as hard as you can for as long as you can. Because that’s what Champions do.”
“Now you sound like Nike,” I muttered again.
She shrugged, as if she didn’t know what to say to my comparison. Sometimes, I forgot that Metis was a Champion herself, one who served Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. So she definitely knew what she was talking about, especially since she’d been fighting Reapers ever since she was my age. Still, despite my own doubts, talking with her made me feel better, the way it always did. Or at least it gave me the strength to keep on going, to keep on fighting, for a little while longer. Just like she said. Just like she always did.
“Well,” I said. “You’re right about one thing.” “What’s that?”
I sighed, then got to my feet. “We might as well go on inside. Duty calls, and all that.”
Metis nodded and got to her feet as well. She started to head up the stairs, but I put my hand on her arm, stopping her.
“But promise me you’ll tell Nickamedes how you feel,” I said. “No matter what happens. My mom would want that. Because you deserve to be happy, and so does he.”
I grinned. “Even if he always gets way too grumpy when I’m late for work.”
Metis laughed, her face a little lighter. She nodded and looped her arm through mine. Together, we went up the steps and headed into the library.
Metis led me through the library, through the door in the wall, and down the stairs to the basement. We moved past the stacks to find Nickamedes and Linus standing at the conference table we’d all gathered around yesterday.
Only now, the table was covered with artifacts.
The shield of Ares, the spear of Sekhmet, the diamond rings of Aphrodite. They were the same artifacts that were in the photos Linus had given me yesterday, the same artifacts I’d seen and touched earlier today at the airport. Weapons, jewelry, armor, garments, and other miscellaneous objects. All just sitting there, glinting dully underneath the lights, and looking perfectly innocent, perfectly ordinary, and not at all like the powerful objects they really were.
Linus and Nickamedes stopped their conversation and turned at the sound of our soft footsteps on the marble floor.
Nickamedes glanced at his watch, then arched his black eyebrows at me.
I sighed. “I know, I know. You were expecting me here ten minutes ago.”
The librarian sniffed. “More like fifteen, actually. Really, Gwendolyn. This is no time to dawdle. And Aurora, I expected you to hurry her along, at the very least.”
“Oh, it’s not Metis’s fault,” I said in a snarky tone. “She couldn’t wait to come down here and see you, Nickamedes.”
His eyebrows drew together, and he looked at Metis in confusion.
“What Gwen means is that I couldn’t wait for her to get started,” she said in a smooth voice. “The sooner she identifies the artifact, the sooner we can figure out what the Reapers want with it and how to keep it safe from them.”
It was a nice save, and I was the only one who noticed the faint blush that stained her bronze cheeks. Still, I wasn’t about to let her get off that easy. I nudged Metis with my shoulder, but she shook her head and moved away from me, going to stand next to Nickamedes.
“Tell him,” I mouthed. “Tell him now.”
She shook her head at me again. Linus looked back and forth between the two of us, obviously wondering what was going on, but he didn’t comment on it.
Nickamedes shuffled over to the far end of the table, his cane tap-tap-tapping on the floor again. He picked up a thick notebook and an ink pen, then pulled out a chair and sat down.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He peered up at me, his blue eyes bright with excitement. “Well, since you’re going to be using your magic to flash on the artifacts, I thought it would be an efficient use of time and resources to have you describe their properties to me in detail. It will save me a great deal of time researching them later on if you can tell me about them and what they do now.”
I eyed him. “That sounds suspiciously like research to me. And I’m not working today, remember? Um, hello, I battled a group of Reapers. I think I’ve been helpful enough for one day. For several days, actually.”
Nickamedes sat up straight in his chair and gave me a stern look that I knew all too well. “A librarian’s work is never done. You should know that by now, Gwendolyn.”
I rolled my eyes, but I knew there was nothing I could do but go along with him and his obsessive need to catalog every single thing in the entire freaking library. And not just because I still felt guilty that he had been poisoned instead of me. Once Nickamedes sank his teeth into something, he wouldn’t let go of it.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But this totally gets me out of one of my shifts this week.”
Nickamedes raised his eyes heavenward, as if asking all the gods and goddesses above for patience to deal with the likes of me. “Oh, very well. But just one.”
“Anytime you’re ready, Miss Frost,” Linus chimed in. I took off my jacket and scarf, pushed up the sleeves
of my sweater, and got to work. Once again, I went down the two rows on the table, picking up and touching each one of the artifacts in turn. I started with the weapons I’d already examined at the airport, doublechecking to see if I might have missed anything, but the vibes I got off them were the same as before. Images of battles, warriors, and blood everywhere. Not the most wonderful memories, but sadly, nothing that I hadn’t felt before with my psychometry or experienced in real life, given all the fights I’d been in recently. Vic, on the other hand, would have enjoyed seeing and feeling all of the memories, all of the harsh victories and brutal defeats. The sword would have probably demanded that I get him some popcorn and a giant soda, so he could experience a right proper show, as he would put it.
After I finished with an artifact, Nickamedes would ask me about what I’d seen and felt, and I dutifully answered all of his many questions. He scribbled down page after page of notes, his face creased with concentration and his eyes bright with pleasure. Nothing made him happier than research, even if I was the one who was doing all the hard work. But I knew he would put his extensive notes to good use. No doubt some of the information he was recording would be used to make the identification cards that would be placed with the artifacts once they were put on display on the main library floor.
Minutes passed, then turned into an hour. And still, all I did was touch artifacts, get sucked into memories of the past, and then regurgitate everything for Nickamedes.
I’d gone through about half of the artifacts when I stopped and looked over at Linus. “Are you sure that what the Reapers want is on this table? That nothing was left behind at the airport? Or lost somewhere along the way? Because there is nothing here that justifies the sort of massive, full-scale attack they launched this afternoon.”
Linus’s thoughtful gaze moved from one artifact to another. “This is everything we recovered from the Reaper ski lodge in New York, as well as a few more items that we discovered and confiscated from other hiding places. It has to be here somewhere.”
I nodded, sighed again, and reached for
the next artifact.
Another hour passed, and I still didn’t have any luck. I put down the latest sword I’d flashed on and looked down. Five more objects lay on the table. I sighed, a little louder and deeper this time. The way my luck was going right now, the mystery object would be the very last thing I picked up. Naturally.
So I shuffled forward and grabbed the next artifact, a small, slender, half-used candle made out of white beeswax that had belonged to Sol, the Norse goddess of the sun—
And I immediately knew that I had finally found what the Reapers were after.
For a moment, my vision went absolutely, blazingly, blindingly white, as if I were staring straight into a star. Then, heat blasted over me, so hot, searing, and scorching that I felt like I was holding the sun itself in the palm of my hand. The intense light dimmed down to a single spark—white-hot and beating steadily, almost like a heart. In fact, it seemed as if that single, solitary spark contained all of the candle’s magic, condensed down to one bright, glistening point. But it wasn’t only heat and light that the candle offered. It was power, it was strength.
It was life.
All I could do was stand there, clutching the candle, and let the intense rush of power wash over me again and again, each wave a little hotter and brighter than the one before, and sweeping more and more of me away with it, as though the violet spark at the center of my being was melting like the white wax of the candle should have been. It took my breath away. Still, try as I might, I couldn’t make myself let go of the candle, I couldn’t unwrap my fingers from the smooth wax, and I knew that I was in serious danger of falling so far down into the artifact and the immense power it contained that I might never come back to myself again. I felt like I was drowning in the heat, being burned alive from the inside out . . .
A cool bit of metal pressed into my palm, and I realized that I was clutching the silver laurel and mistletoe bracelet with my free hand. The sharp tip of one of the leaves had pricked my palm, drawing a drop of blood. Somehow, despite the intense heat, light, and power that the candle was giving off, the bracelet remained strangely cool and untouched by the other artifact’s magic . . .
But the sharp prick cut through the waves of power and helped me come back to myself. I shuddered out a breath and managed to open my eyes. Sure enough, I was clutching the candle in my right hand, but my left hand had wrapped around the laurel bracelet on my wrist. I kept one hand on the bracelet, letting the feel of the cool metal ground me, as I carefully set the candle back down onto the table. It took me several more seconds before I managed to uncurl my fingers from around the white wax and step back, out of reach of the candle. Because right now, I wanted nothing more than to pick it up again, to feel all of that heat and power and life coursing through me.
“Well, Gwendolyn?” Nickamedes asked. “What did you see?”
“This,” I said, pointing at the candle and not daring to touch it again with my bare hands. “This is what the Reapers are after.”
Chapter 7
Linus, Metis, and Nickamedes all leaned forward, peering at the candle. It looked the same as before, a slender taper of snow-white wax that had burned halfway down. I shuddered and averted my gaze from it, not even wanting to look at it right now. I’d held a lot of powerful objects since coming to Mythos, but the candle was one of the strongest—and most dangerous.
“Are you sure, Miss Frost?” Linus said. “It doesn’t look like much.”
“Trust me, looks can be deceiving, especially in this case.”
I shivered again, thinking of the immense power that had flowed through me, that steady, white, burning spark of strength. If not for the laurel leaf on my bracelet digging into my palm, I might have drowned in that intense heat, in that sense of absolute, utter, unstoppable power. I might have been lost forever, my mind trapped by the candle’s overwhelming sensations, and never been able to find my way back to myself.
I fingered one of the leaves, wondering why the bracelet had remained cool against my skin when every other part of me had felt like I was burning alive.
Maybe because Eir had told me that the silver laurels could be used to destroy as well as to heal? I wondered if whatever magic the leaves contained was enough to overcome the power flowing through the candle. Or at least counteract it in some way. That was the only explanation I could think of.
“Hmm,” Nickamedes said, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table.
He shuffled off into another part of the basement, and I could hear his cane tap-tap-tapping as he moved from one aisle and one shelf to the next. A few minutes later, the librarian reappeared, cradling a thick, slightly dusty book in one hand. He put the book down onto the table, then started flipping through it. The old, worn pages crackled as he slowly turned them, and a faint, musty odor drifted up from the book, one that reminded me of the soft scent that always seemed to cling to the corners of the deepest part of the stacks on the main library floor.
“Where is it . . . where is it . . .” Nickamedes muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages. “Yes . . . yes. Here it is.”
He cleared his throat and began to read.
“The Curing Candle of Sol, the Norse goddess of the sun, is thought to be one of the most powerful artifacts in existence, one of the Thirteen Artifacts that helped the Pantheon win the Chaos War centuries ago, since its magic was used to heal many warriors on the field during the final battle. However, after that battle, it disappeared and was thought to be lost forever. Many reproductions have surfaced over the years, but none have been the genuine article.”
Metis stared at the candle. “So how do we know this one isn’t a fake as well?”
I thought of the great, burning, terrible power that had filled me the second I had touched the smooth wax. “Trust me. That one is the real deal.”
Nickamedes cleared his throat again and continued with his reading.
“What makes the candle unique is that it is filled with the healing power of both the sun and the goddess Sol herself. Whoever holds the candle will reap those benefits—finding strength, health, and vitality. It is thought that the power of the candle is so strong, it can heal any wound, no matter how severe. There are some who believe that the candle can even bring the dead back to life . . .”
Nickamedes’s voice trailed off. He read a bit more to himself, then shook his head and looked up from the book. “That’s the most important passage. The rest speculates on the history of the artifact, and some of the people who may or may not have used it over the years.”
We all stared at the candle again. Not for the first time, I wondered how something so small and innocentlooking could contain such great power. How had the Reapers found it? Where had they uncovered it? Did they even realize what it was before the Pantheon had seized it, along with the other artifacts at the ski lodge up in New York? I didn’t know the answers to my questions, and I supposed they didn’t really matter. What did was that we had the candle—and that the Reapers wanted it. And now, we all knew exactly what they planned to do with it.
“So the Reapers think the candle will return Loki to his full strength.” I spat out the words. “They failed in trying to put his soul into Logan’s body, and they didn’t get their hands on the Chloris ambrosia flower to heal him. So now, they’re coming after the candle and hoping it will finally do the job.”
Silence. No one said anything, but we all knew how bad it would be if the Reapers ever got their hands on the candle.
Finally, Linus cleared his throat and turned to Nickamedes. “How soon can you put the candle on display in the library?” he asked. “Out in the middle of the main floor, someplace where everyone can see it.”
Nickamedes frowned. “But why would you . . .” Understanding flared in his blue eyes.
He, Metis, and Linus all looked at each other, grim expressions on their faces.
“Are you out of your mind?” I hissed, finishing the librarian’s thought. “Why in the world would you want
to put the candle on display? Um, hello, there are Reapers everywhere at Mythos, despite all the statues and other magic that is supposed to keep them out. You put that candle on view, and you are just asking for it to get stolen . . .”
My gaze zoomed over to the candle, which was still sitting on the table. Then, I looked at Linus, finally understanding what he was really up to. “You want to use the candle as a trap. That’s why you want to put it on display. So the Reapers will come after it.”
He nodded. “Exactly right, Miss Frost. If what you and Nickamedes say is true, then the Reapers will have no choice but to try to steal the candle from the library. As you’ve said, they’ve run out of options trying to heal Loki from his time spent in Helheim. So they’ll come after the candle, and we’ll be waiting for them when they do.”
I shook my head. “No. No way. It will backfire on you. Things always do when the Reapers are involved. Vivian and Agrona will find some way to get their hands on the candle, no matter how many guards you put around it or how clever your trap is.”
Linus’s face darkened, and anger shimmered in his pale blue eyes. “And Agrona and Vivian are precisely the reasons I’m doing this. The two of them are the leaders of the Reapers. If we manage to capture or kill them, then we can stop the second Chaos War before it ever really gets started.”
Loki’s face loomed up in my mind the way it had so many times over the past few weeks. One side of his face so smooth and perfect with its rippling golden hair, chiseled cheekbone, and piercing blue eye. The other side so ruined and melted with its limp strings of black hair, smushed skin, and burning red orb. All put together, his features were horrible and twisted, the stuff of nightmares. But they weren’t nearly as rotten as his soul—and the evil god’s burning desire to kill or enslave every single member of the Pantheon, starting with me.