Spartan Frost (5 page)

But at the last second, Dad clamped his lips shut. “Well, I'm glad you're okay,” he finally said in a stiff voice.

I looked at him in surprise. Before everything that had happened at the auditorium, I probably would have made some snide comment about not getting a lecture. But I could tell he was trying, so I decided to do the same.

Meanwhile, Sergei headed over to the desk, his gaze moving from the weapons to the jewelry and back again. He let out a low whistle. “Well, it looks like this was definitely the Reaper crew that was stealing artifacts.”

“I'm more worried about all of this,” Inari said, pointing to the remains of the chemistry set. “What do you think they were making over here?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. I didn't get a good look at it before the Reaper attacked me. I thought he was gone, but he must have doubled back and waited for me to lower my guard.”

I jerked my head at the dead man. “Whatever it was, though, he didn't like getting it all over his face. I think he might have swallowed some of it too. That's what killed him. Not me.”

“What do you think it is, Linus?” Inari asked, peering down at the dead Reaper. “Some sort of acid perhaps?”

Dad's mouth tightened. “I'm not sure, but I'll get some techs in here to see if they can figure it out. In the meantime, let's steer clear of that side of the room. Just because the Reapers are dead doesn't mean they didn't leave any nasty surprises behind.”

W
e moved through the study, carefully looking at everything, but we didn't find any traps or signs that the Reapers had been expecting us. Otherwise, they would have taken more pains to hide the artifacts. Steam started to wisp up from the broken beakers and various liquids that had been spilled on the floor, so Inari opened one of the study windows, letting some of the cold air inside to flush out the area and get rid of any potentially hazardous fumes.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting around until more members of the Protectorate showed up to go through the rest of the house and try to identify the dead Reapers.

While the others continued to examine the herbs and other debris on the floor, I moved over to the artifacts and looked at all of the items. Some of them I'd heard of before, like the shield of Ares, the Greek god of war, or a spear that had belonged to Sekhmet, an Egyptian war goddess. But some of the items were pretty obscure, like a set of tiny diamond rings that had supposedly belonged to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, or a half-used candle that had once been the possession of Sol, the Norse goddess of the sun.

I frowned. I could understand stealing the weapons, but what would the Reapers want with rings and a candle? I shook my head. Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good. At the time, I hadn't thought much about the Reapers stealing the Apate jewels from the Library of Antiquities, and Agrona had ended up using the rubies and other gems to try to turn me into a shell for Loki.

Still, despite my unease that the Reapers had been able to get their hands on so many artifacts and my concern about what they had been planning on using them for, I couldn't help but think of Gwen and how she would have loved this. She might grumble about working for Nickamedes in the library, but I knew that she secretly enjoyed being surrounded by the books and all of the strange and curious objects, artifacts and otherwise, that Nickamedes and the other librarians before him had collected over the years.

If she'd been here, Gwen would have moved from one object to the next, running her fingers across each one, her violet eyes bright with excitement as she used her psychometry to uncover all of the artifacts' secrets. Sometimes, listening to her talk about books and swords and bows, you would have thought that the objects were actually
alive,
the way she dreamily recounted all of the many ways they'd been used over the years.

Of course, I would have teased her for being so excited about a bunch of books, weapons, and jewelry. She would have scrunched her nose up in that cute way she has, rolled her eyes, punched me in the shoulder, and told me I was being a total killjoy for ruining her fun—

“What are you thinking about?” Dad said, coming over to stand beside me.

“Nothing. Just . . . nothing. Why do you ask?”

He hesitated. “Because you were smiling. That's the first time I've seen you smile in, well, in a while now.”

“Oh.”

I wasn't surprised. Thinking about Gwen always made me smile . . . until I remembered what I'd done to her.

I didn't say anything else. I expected Dad to drift away after a few seconds, but he stayed right by my side. We stood there in front of the desk, staring at the weapons and other objects instead of each other.

Finally, Dad cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. “You fought well today,” he said. “Although you shouldn't have run off like you did. You didn't know how many more Reapers might have been in the resort. If there had been more of them, they could have cut you off from the rest of us and killed you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not a kid, Dad. I haven't been for a long time now. What I am is a Spartan, and Spartans like to fight. You know that because you're a Spartan too. I saw that Reaper, and I knew I couldn't let him get away. I didn't go after him to piss you off. I did it because you and the others had the rest of them under control. It was the right thing to do, going after the Reaper, especially since he led me straight back here to the artifacts. Who knows how many hours it would have taken us to find them otherwise? Besides, you wouldn't be giving Sergei or Inari this lecture, if they'd done what I did.”

For a moment, anger shimmered in his eyes, and his jaw clenched tight. I tensed, thinking we were going to get into yet another fight, which was all we ever seemed to do. Which was all we'd ever done since my mom and sister had been killed.

“I know,” he said. “And you're right. I wouldn't be questioning Sergei or Inari's judgment if they'd done what you did. But that's because they are members of the Protectorate. They're trained for situations like these, and they know the risks. Not only that, but they willingly accepted those risks by joining the Protectorate in the first place.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I knew the risks too, but he held up his hand, and I swallowed my words—for now.

“It's just . . . I've already lost your mom and your sister to the Reapers. Because of Agrona and . . . everything she did.”

Dad's voice was rough and hoarse, as though it hurt him to say the words, to finally give voice to Agrona's cruel, wicked betrayal. Despite everything that had happened at the auditorium, he hadn't uttered her name since then. At least not to me, although I was sure he'd talked to Sergei and Inari about her, about how best to find Agrona and stop her for good.

Dad cleared his throat again. “I don't want to lose you too, Logan. I've already lost too much to the Reapers. We all have. Especially you.”

Dad stared at me, pain and weariness etching faint lines around his mouth. For the first time, I noticed the threads of gray around his temples, the faint slump in his shoulders, and the way he held his bloody sword down by his side, as if the weight of the weapon was suddenly too much to bear. All my life, my dad had been this larger-than-life authority figure that nothing ever seemed to bother or touch, not even the murders of his wife and daughter. But now, I realized that he was mortal, just like the rest of us—and that he was hurting, just like I was.

“I know, and I'm sorry,” I said. “And I don't want to lose you either. But you're the head of the Protectorate, and I'm your son. We're both targets for the Reapers. But more than that, we're both Spartans. We're always going to be in the thick of the fight. That's just who we are, and there's nothing that we can do to change that. But how about we make a deal to both be a little more careful in the future. Okay?”

He gave me a stiff nod and blinked a few times, as though he had something in his eyes. Yeah. Me too.

I put my own bloody sword down on the desk, stepped forward, and wrapped my arms around him. Dad stiffened, and my breath caught in my throat, wondering if I'd done the wrong thing, thinking that he might not return the gesture, that he might actually be afraid of me like everyone else had been at the auditorium, despite all his words to the contrary.

But after a moment, he reached up and hugged me back just as tight.

A hug was about as emotional as my dad and I ever got with each other, and we quickly dropped our arms and stepped back. Dad nodded at me, then moved off to talk to Sergei and Inari on the other side of the study. I nodded back and watched him go.

After a moment, I realized that I was smiling again—and feeling better about things than I had in days now.

 

 

Thirty minutes later, several other members of the Protectorate arrived, men and women wearing the same sorts of gray robes that Dad, Inari, and Sergei sported. There were also a couple wearing hazmat suits, since my dad had told them about the spilled chemicals and all of the weird bags of herbs and plants in the study.

I stood off to one side out of the way and watched everyone work. Dad stood in the middle of everything, directing the other warriors, listening to what they told him, and typing notes and more into his smartphone. Pride filled me as I watched him work. He really was a good guy and doing his best to keep everyone safe from the Reapers.

Eventually, though, the artifacts were examined, samples were taken from the broken beakers, the Reapers' bodies were packed up, and everything was done that could be done. Dad, Sergei, Inari, and I left the ski resort late that evening and headed back to the mansion. By this point, the sun had gone down, and the flurries had picked up again, until it seemed like we were living inside a giant snow globe.

We stopped along the way and grabbed several pizzas, since Sergei and Inari were staying for dinner. Then, we all washed up and gathered in the kitchen. Dad and the others talked about a few details that they planned to wrap up tomorrow, but I was starving so I opened one of the pizza boxes. Fighting always made me hungry. Steam curled up out of the cardboard, bringing the mouth-watering smells of melted mozzarella, pepperoni, ham, sausage, and onions with it. My stomach rumbled, and I quickly devoured one piece of pizza at the counter and reached for another, not even bothering to grab a plate.

I'd just finished my second piece when my phone beeped. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hands off before I pulled the phone out of my jeans pocket.

Whatcha doin?
The message was from Oliver.

Eating pizza with Dad, S & I. U?
I sent back.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after six now, which meant that it was time for Gwen to be working in the Library of Antiquities. I hesitated, then texted him back.
How is she?

The phone beeped back a few seconds later.
Come tell her yourself, Spartan.

I sighed. I couldn't do that, and Oliver knew it. Still, he asked me when I was coming back to the academy every time we texted. I sent him back a reply saying that I had to go, then stuffed my phone into my jeans pocket. Even though I'd lost much of my appetite, I made myself eat another piece of pizza, just so Dad and the others wouldn't realize that anything was wrong.

Dad, Sergei, and Inari grabbed some plates, napkins, and forks, along with their own slices of pizza and some sodas from the fridge. Sergei and Inari took seats in the middle of the long table, and I grabbed a fourth slice and sat across from them. Dad was the last one to come over, and he hesitated, his eyes once again flicking to his usual seat. But after a moment, he came around the table and took the chair next to mine. He gave me a tentative smile. I grinned back at him.

The mood was much lighter than it had been when the four of us had been in the kitchen this morning, and I soon found myself relaxing and talking and joking with the others. We all knew we'd beaten the Reapers—for today, at least.

For once, everything felt like it was finally getting back to normal—until Dad's cell phone rang about halfway through dinner. Then again, that was pretty normal too.

He leaned over, picked it up, glanced at the number, and frowned. He looked at me, then started to set it down like he wasn't going to take the call.

“It's okay, Dad,” I said in a quiet voice. “You should probably get that.”

“Are you sure? It can wait until after dinner. We were having . . . fun, and I don't want work to interrupt that,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Sergei and Inari kept eating, although they glanced back and forth between the two of us.

I nodded. “Yeah, I'm sure. And I'm okay with it too.”

The phone kept ringing, but he still didn't answer it.

“Take it, Dad,” I said. “Maybe the techs have some info about what the Reapers were doing in the study.”

He stared at me a few seconds longer, before finally nodding and raising the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

The person on the other end of the line started speaking, the words sharp, clipped, and hurried. Whatever was said couldn't have been good because my dad's mouth immediately flattened out into a stern line, and he started
tap-tap-tapping
his index finger on the table, a sure sign he was upset. Inari and Sergei exchanged a glance. They knew that tight, worried look on his face as well as I did.

“When?” he finally barked out. “And how exactly?”

Another flurry of words.

“Can you stop it?” he asked. “Or at least slow it down? What's your plan of attack?”

Silence. Then, more words, slower and lower this time.

“All right,” he finally said. “I'll call some other members of the Protectorate and see if there's any research on it. If we find anything, I'll let you know immediately. Keep me posted.”

He finally hung up. Dad stared at his phone for a few seconds before setting it off to one side of the table. He'd barely taken his fingers off it before my own phone started buzzing. I pulled it out of my jeans and glanced at the screen. Oliver was calling me about something, actually calling to talk to me. Weird. He usually preferred to text.

“Who's that?” Dad asked, his voice still sharp.

“Oliver.”

I started to answer the phone, but Dad shook his head.

“I know what he's calling about,” he finally said. “Something's happened. In North Carolina. At the academy. In the library, actually.”

Oliver had been in the library earlier—and so had Gwen.

“To Gwen?” An icy fist clutched my heart. “What? What happened? Is she okay?”

“Not exactly.”

Dad filled me in on what had happened, whom he'd been talking to, and what they'd told him about the incident at the academy. Every word he said only added to my anger at the Reapers, especially Agrona, who'd no doubt gleefully planned the whole thing.