Spartan Frost (4 page)

F
or a moment, we just stood there, all of us surprised to see each other. Maybe it was the anger still pulsing through my body, but I recovered quicker than anyone else did. I let out a loud battle cry, raised my sword high, and threw myself at the Reapers.

The three men were warriors, just like I was, and instinct took over, causing them to leap back out of the way of my whistling blade.

“The Protectorate!” one of the men screamed out. “The Protectorate has breached the perimeter!”

The men kept backing away from me, even as they pulled their own swords out of the scabbards belted around their waists. By this point, Inari, Sergei, and Dad were right beside me. Together, the four of us advanced on the other men.

“Lay down your weapons and surrender peacefully,” Dad said in a grim voice, “and we'll take you into custody. No one has to get hurt, and no one has to die today.”

One of the Reapers snorted, a tall guy with a beefy build and blond hair that had been shaved close to his head.

“Forget it. We'd rather die than end up in one of your Protectorate prisons.” He grinned, his pale blue eyes taking on a sinister light. “Actually, we'd rather kill all of you instead.”

I tensed, thinking that he might raise his sword and attack us, but instead, the Reaper put his finger to his lips and let out a fierce whistle. I tensed again, my head snapping left and right, half expecting a Black roc, Nemean prowler, or some other fierce mythological creature to come charging out of one of the rooms down the hallway or smash through the glass wall and try to rip us to shreds on the Reaper's orders. But it must have just been a signal between the three of them because the men turned and ran away. We chased after them.

The men raced down almost to the end of the hallway before veering left into a large room.

“Logan! Wait!” Dad called out behind me.

By this point, I was in the lead, and I ignored him and hurried after the Reapers. One good burst of speed, and I could catch them—I
would
catch them. I wasn't about to let them get away. And not just because they were Reapers. If Agrona wasn't here, then maybe one of the Reapers knew where she was hiding. Vivian Holler too. I couldn't bear to face Gwen right now, but I could help her by killing them. I
would
do everything I could to keep her safe—from a distance.

So I sucked in a breath and kicked into high speed, storming into the room right behind the three men. I was in the center of the enormous area before I realized it was a dining hall—one that was full of Reapers.

A dozen Reapers were gathered around a table, eating a late breakfast of ham, eggs, pancakes, bacon, and orange juice, just like Dad and I had eaten earlier that morning. I hadn't imagined that bacon smell after all.

“Didn't you hear my yell? Or my whistle?” the blond Reaper leader hissed. “Get them, you fools!”

With one thought, the Reapers pushed their chairs back from the table, fumbled for the swords belted to their waists, and headed in my direction.

I twirled my sword in my hand, familiarizing myself with the weight, length, and heft of the weapon. The hilt settled back into my palm, and I tightened my fingers around the smooth metal grip the way I had a thousand times before. Then, I grinned and charged at the incoming Reapers.

I whirled this way and that, moving deeper and deeper into the fray, my sword slicing into every single Reaper I could reach. Screams and shouts tore through the air, and blood spattered over the still-steaming food on the table.

I kept grinning through the whole thing.

The feel of the sword in my hand, the starry flash of silver as the weapon sliced through the air, the satisfaction when the blade went exactly where I wanted it to. This—
this
was what Spartans did. We fought. We battled. We raged. And I loved every single second of it.

I'd been so weak, so useless, so damn
helpless
when Agrona had snapped that jeweled Apate collar around my neck. No matter how hard I'd tried, no matter how hard I'd fought, I hadn't been able to stop Loki from taking control of me. Well, the evil god wasn't here now, and I was going to make the most of it.

One Reaper fell beneath my sword. Then another, then another. Inari, Sergei, and Dad had also waded into the fight, and I could hear them yelling back and forth, darting here and there, protecting each other's backs as they battled their way over to my location in the middle of the dining hall. Sergei, in particular, twirled from one enemy to the next, his movements absolute grace, almost like he was dancing through the fight, his Bogatyr magic at work—

A Reaper came up on my blind side and plowed his fist into the side of my face, making me stagger back against the table. I brought my sword up, but he slammed his weapon into mine, knocking my blade out of my hand and sending the weapon skittering across the floor. I shook my head, trying to banish the white stars winking on and off in my vision. Through the haze, I could see the Reaper grinning and raising his sword for the killing blow.

My hand bumped against something on the table. Instinct took over. I grabbed a bowl full of scrambled eggs, stepped up, and smashed the whole thing into his face. The Reaper screamed in pain and surprise, but he followed through with his blow. I jerked to one side, and the sword sank into the top of the wooden table instead of cleaving through my skull. The Reaper grunted and tried to pull his weapon free, but I stepped up and slammed the dish into the side of his head.

This time, the bowl broke apart in my hands, and I grabbed hold of a sharp, curved, pie-shaped piece before it clattered to the floor with the rest of the mess. The Reaper turned and lashed out with his fist, but I caught his hand in mine. We seesawed back and forth for a moment before I brought the broken bowl up and stabbed him in the throat with it. The Reaper died with a bloody gurgle.

I shoved him away, pulled his sword out of the tabletop, and turned to face the next Reaper, but there was no one left to fight. Inari, Sergei, and Dad were all engaged with a Reaper apiece, while all the others lay on the floor, dead or bleeding out from the wounds they'd received.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the final Reaper—the blond guy who had whistled and signaled the others—running out an open doorway on the far side of the dining hall. I immediately headed in that direction.

“No, Logan!” I heard my dad shout. “Wait!”

But I didn't want to wait, and I wasn't about to let the last Reaper get away. So I tightened my grip on my sword and chased after him.

The Reaper zigzagged through the ski resort, racing from one hallway and room to the next. He had to be a Roman, given how fast he was moving, and it was all I could do to keep him in sight. The sounds of the fight in the dining hall quickly faded away, and I had no idea where we were in the resort. But I didn't care. I'd ask the Reaper when I caught up with him—if I let him live that long.

Finally, the Reaper came to the end of the hallway we were in and darted into a room, vanishing from my line of sight. I sucked down another breath and forced myself to move even faster. Because if there was another exit from that room, and he got out of it before I saw which way he went, he could easily disappear into some other part of the resort—or worse, double back and attack Dad, Sergei, and Inari again. So I ran into the room, my sword up and ready to counter any attack the Reaper might make.

But he wasn't there.

I whirled around and around, but I didn't see the Reaper anywhere. After a moment, my eyes locked on an open doorway at the back of the room. I listened, but I didn't hear any footsteps scurrying away. He must have gone through there and into the hallway beyond, which meant I'd lost him after all.

I let out a loud curse and whirled around, ready to try to find my way back to the dining hall to warn the others the Reaper had gotten away. I took five steps back toward the door I'd come through before I realized I was in a large study—one filled with artifacts.

They were all lined up in a row on top of a desk on the right side of the study. A spear, a shield, a half-used candle, even a few rings and bracelets. I recognized the items as the ones that had been stolen from various museums in the area. They were the same objects that were in the photos Dad had left on the kitchen table this morning. But the weird thing was that they were all just sitting there, some of them with their ID tags still attached, as if someone had laid them out on the desk and had then promptly forgotten all about them.

I frowned, wondering why the Reapers would leave the artifacts lying around like that, but at least we'd found them, even if the last Reaper had gotten away. So, once more, I headed toward the door to go find the others. This time, a gleam of glass on the other side of the study caught my eye. I turned in that direction and spotted a table in the corner filled with books. But what really caught my attention was the table next to that one—and the chemistry lab that had been set up there.

Glass tubes, beakers, and eyedroppers crowded together on the table, along with several burners and small bags filled with green herbs and plants. I frowned again, then walked over to the table so I could get a better look at things. Had the Reapers suddenly developed some fascination with pot? Because that's what it looked like they were messing with in here.

One of the beakers held a dark green liquid that was still bubbling, as though it had recently been taken off one of the burners. Steam escaped from the top of the beaker, and I cautiously leaned over it and drew in a quick breath. Whatever was inside the beaker smelled sharp and slightly tangy, almost like some sort of pine sap that had been boiled down. Strange. Even for the Reapers.

I had started to reach for one of the open books to see if I could figure out what this chemistry experiment was all about when I heard a faint rustle behind me and felt a swirl of air against the back of my neck.

I leaped to one side, and the Reaper's sword missed my head by an inch.

I'd been standing in front of the chemistry set, and his weapon smashed right in the middle of all the beakers, bags, and burners. Glasses broke, sending liquid arching through the air, while a burst of flame erupted from a lit burner.

The Reaper screamed. At first, I thought it was in frustration that he hadn't been able to kill me. But then, he turned, and I realized that some sort of liquid from the beakers had spattered onto his face. I didn't know what it was, but it had already raised red welts and blisters on his skin, including around his nose and mouth. I wondered if he'd accidentally swallowed any of the liquid. Even worse, it had gotten into his eyes, puffing them up and making them almost as red as Loki's one burning eye.

The Reaper screamed again. “It burns! It burns! It burns!”

He flailed around blindly, his sword whipping from one side to the other as he tried to see through whatever was eating into his skin and eyes so he could attack me. I kept away from him, not wanting to get whatever was on him on me too.

He raised his sword overhead, and I sidestepped him once more. But instead of trying to kill me again, the Reaper let out a choking gurgle, then dropped to the floor. He convulsed for several seconds before his body went slack and still, and a bit of white foam trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

Dead—the Reaper was dead.

I loomed over him, my sword up and ready, in case this was some sort of trick, but the Reaper's red-rimmed eyes had already taken on the sightless gaze of death. I leaned over him and cautiously drew in another breath. That sharp, tangy scent seemed much stronger than before. I glanced at the table, but the beaker with the bubbling green liquid had been destroyed, along with everything else. I wondered if that was what had spattered all over the Reaper, but I had no way of knowing.

“Logan!” I heard my dad call out. “Where are you?”

“In here!” I yelled back. “This way!”

A few seconds later, Dad ran into the room, followed by Inari and Sergei. They drew up short at the sight of me standing over the dead Reaper. They looked around the room, searching for more enemies. When they realized I was alone, their gazes became more speculative, taking in the artifacts, the books, the smashed beakers, and all of the bags of green herbs and plants that lay scattered on the floor.

After a moment, Dad walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

A stern look flashed in his eyes, and Dad opened his mouth like he was going to lecture me, probably about being reckless, running off, and chasing after the last Reaper the way I had. I sighed and got ready to have my ears blasted off by his usual acidic tone. Gwen thought Nickamedes could give a good lecture, but he had nothing on my dad.