"Or something," Metis agreed, a grim note creeping into her voice. "I don't know how, maybe from another student, but Jasmine's family found out that you were there that night. The Ashtons aren't the kind of people to let their daughter's death slide. They might come after you."
"But I didn't kill her," I protested. "Logan did, and only to save me. As for everything else, I didn't really do much of anything that night. All I did was run around and be afraid and try not to get killed."
"You did a little more than that, Gwen. You destroyed the Bowl of Tears, one of the Thirteen Artifacts, one that many Reapers, many of Loki's followers, desperately wanted to get their hands on. And you stopped Jasmine from sacrificing Morgan, a sacrifice that would have increased Loki's power and possibly further weakened his prison. That makes you a target for all of the Reapers and their revenge."
I stuck my hands deeper into the pockets on my purple hoodie and shivered. I knew her words were true. Before at Mythos, I'd been nobody, just like Jasmine had said. That Gypsy girl who saw things. But now, I was that Gypsy girl, the one with secrets of her own.
"Normally, this wouldn't be a huge problem, as that's what students here at Mythos are trained for-how to use their magic, how to fight, and especially how to defend themselves against Reapers," Metis said. "But you've only been at Mythos a few months, and you haven't had any of the training the other students have been exposed to their whole lives. That's why I let you keep that sword from the library, because you're going to learn how to use it. As soon as possible. May I see it please? The sword?"
I reached down and picked up Vic from where I'd put him on the floor when I'd first come into the office. Since that night in the library, I'd been carrying the sword around with me everywhere I went, just like all the other kids did with their weapons of choice. But Vic never opened his eye or talked to anyone but me. Truth be told, he still creeped me out a little bit. So yeah, now I believed in gods and goddesses and Chaos and stuff. But a talking sword was still a little much for me to handle.
I passed Vic over to Metis, who drew the sword out of the black leather scabbard that Coach Ajax had given me for him. I held my breath, wondering if Vic would open his eye and glare at the professor for interrupting his nap. That's what he always did to me when I tried to talk to him when he didn't want me to. Vic was kind of a pain that way, always wanting to do things on his schedule instead of mine.
"It's a beautiful sword," Metis said, admiring the silver blade. "One that is certainly fit for Nike's Champion."
It took a second for her words to sink in. "How did you-" I bit my lip.
Metis smiled. "How did I know that Nike picked you to be her Champion?"
She'd totally busted me. Because seeing Nike and all the things that the goddess had said to me was something that I hadn't told anyone else about, besides Grandma Frost.
Metis slid Vic back into his scabbard and handed him to me. Then, she walked over to the rack of weapons against the wall and pulled a staff from the top slot. The professor brought the weapon over to me so I could see it. The staff was made out of a thick polished golden wood. It was completely smooth and plain, although I could see that some sort of writing had been carved down the front of it.
"Every Champion is given a special weapon by her god or goddess to help her in her various battles," Metis said. "And Champions can always recognize other Champions."
"How? How can you tell if someone is a Champion?"
The professor shrugged. "Most of the time, it's just a feeling you get; you just know someone is a Champion. We're all sort of ... drawn to each other. Like magnets continually attracting and repelling each other. Especially those on opposite sites, those who serve opposing gods. For example, it wouldn't surprise me if you one day encountered Loki's Champion, since you serve Nike. The two gods have been fighting for centuries now-and so have their Champions."
Loki had a Champion? Just like Nike did? I hadn't forgotten about seeing the evil god's red, red eyes that night in the Library of Antiquities. That hate-filled stare had haunted my nightmares ever since, even though I knew Loki was locked up where he couldn't hurt me. I doubted the same could be said about his Champion, though.
Determined to think about something else, I stared at the letters on Metis's staff. "What does your weapon say? And why can't I read them?"
Metis smiled. "Only a Champion can see the runes, the message, on her weapon. Mine says: 'In wisdom, there is great strength.' "
Wisdom? My eyes flicked back to the statue on the edge of Metis's desk. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom, which meant that Metis had to be her Champion. Daphne had told me that the professor was a Champion, but I hadn't really believed her. I so needed to start believing Daphne more.
"But if you're a Champion, why are you here at the academy?" I asked. "Why aren't you out fighting Reapers or something?"
Metis put the staff on the rack with the rest of the weapons, walked back to her desk, and sat down. "Because my job as a Champion is to be here and watch over the students. To teach them wisdom and everything that they need to know to fight Reapers. And now, I'm here to teach you, Gwen."
She hesitated. "Just the way Grace would have wanted me to."
For a moment, I was stunned. Just ... stunned. Then, my brain kicked back into gear. "Grace? My-my mom? What do you know about her? Why would she want you to teach me how to be a Champion?" The questions spilled out of my mouth one after another.
"Your mother and I were friends," Metis said. "Best friends, actually. Back when we went to Mythos."
Professor Metis put her silver glasses back on and picked up a picture frame from the corner of her desk, the one that she'd looked at a few minutes ago. She turned it out so that I could see it. Two people stood in the photo, two girls with their arms slung around each other and wide grins on their faces. One of them was a younger version of Metis, taken when she was about my age.
The other girl in the photo was my mom.
Brown hair, violet eyes, pale skin, wonderful smile. Grace Frost had been beautiful even back then. My mom had hated having her picture taken, so I didn't have many photos of her, especially when she was young. But this one-I knew that this one was something special.
"Can I-can I touch it?" I whispered. "Please?"
Metis slipped the photo out of the frame and held it out to me. Hand trembling, I reached for it. My fingers latched onto the soft, slick edge, and I closed my eyes and let the memories sweep me away.
So many images flickered through my mind, all of my mom and Metis. Laughing, talking, walking across campus together, eating lunch in the dining hall, practicing in the gym, and doing all the other things that Mythos students did. There were other images, other feelings, associated with the photo, too. The complete faith they'd had in each other, the trust between them, all the whispered secrets and heartaches they'd shared. But through it all, Metis and my mom had loved each other-like sisters. That was the emotion I felt the most-love. It was ... nice to know that someone had cared about my mom just as much as I did. That someone else missed her just as fiercely as I did.
I opened my eyes and swiped away a couple of tears.
"You can keep it, if you want," Metis said in a low voice. "I have another copy."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. Instead, I carefully ran my fingers over the photo, feeling the emotions ripple out of it and into me.
We didn't speak for the better part of a minute, but finally Metis cleared her throat.
"Anyway," Professor Metis said. "Your mother and I were friends. She saved my life more times than I can remember, and I plan on doing the same for you, Gwen. To help with that, I've rearranged your schedule a bit. Now, in addition to your regular gym class, you're also going to be getting private lessons every day from your combat tutor to bring you up to speed on how to use your sword."
Combat tutor? I wasn't sure that I liked the sound of that.
Metis looked toward the frosted glass door. "Come in now, please."
A second later, the knob turned, the door opened, and Logan Quinn stepped inside the office.
"I believe that you and Mr. Quinn already know each other," Metis said. "He seemed to be the most logical choice to be your tutor, given what happened in the library."
I hadn't really talked to Logan since that night. Afterward, he'd gone over to Carson's dorm with Daphne and me, but he hadn't hung out with us, instead saying he was tired and was going back to his own room. I'd looked for him ever since, but I never seemed to spot him in the halls or out on the quad, and he never glanced my way in gym class or came into the library while I was working.
I smiled at Logan, thinking that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all, but he only gave me an icy stare with his eyes. I frowned. What was that all about? I'd thought we were at least friends now, maybe even something more. I'd certainly hoped so, anyway.
"Logan will work with you every morning before classes start," Metis repeated. "You're to learn every single thing that you can from him, Gwen. Because this is not a joke, and the danger that you are in is very, very real. Do you understand?"
I shivered and nodded. Then, another thought occurred to me. "Um, what about . . ."
I gestured at Vic. It might be kind of hard to learn how to fight with a sword that was alive. And what would I tell Logan about what Vic was and who had given him to me?
Metis looked at the sword, then me. "It's your sword, Gwen. You'll learn how to use it. I'm sure it will behave for you, as my staff does for me. As for everything else, I'll leave that up to you."
Her staff must be a whole lot different from Vic, because I couldn't imagine Vic ever obeying me. But at least she was going to let me tell Logan about the weapon and everything else in my own time, in my own way.
"I think that covers things for now," Professor Metis said. "It's getting late. Go on and enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, you have another essay due next week."
"Yes, Professor," I said.
"Logan, Coach Ajax talked to you about this," Metis said. "You are to work Gwen as hard as you need to in order to train her fast, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
"Good. The two of you can go now."
Professor Metis grabbed a stack of papers and started shuffling through them. I slipped the photo of my mom that Metis had given me into my messenger bag, careful not to wrinkle it. Then, Logan and I left her office and walked outside the English-history building. It was after six now, and the quad was deserted except for a few students coming in and out of the dining hall and the Library of Antiquities. Twilight crept across the grass and trees, bathing them in soft shades of purple and gray.
The two of us stood at the edge of the quad, not quite looking at each other. Awkward.
"So," I finally said. "You're my combat tutor now?"
Logan nodded.
"Did Metis ask you? Or did she make you?"
I asked because I wanted to know, no, because I needed some kind of clue as to how Logan felt about me. Something that would tell me whether he was interested in me or had just been forced into all of this.
"No," Logan said in a quiet voice. "She didn't make me. She, Coach Ajax, and Nickamedes asked me, and I told them yes."
"Why?"
For the first time, Logan looked at me, his mouth curving up into a small, sexy grin. "Somebody's got to watch out for you, Gypsy girl. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go. We both know that you can't even walk around campus without running into people-literally."
His smile melted some of the ice in his eyes, and for a moment I felt like things had gone back to the way they were before the homecoming dance. That we were back to the teasing sort of flirting that had been going on between us. So I screwed up my courage and did something that I'd been thinking about ever since that night in the library.
"Well, maybe you'd like to talk about it some more. Over ... coffee or ... whatever."
Yeah, I was totally asking him out, and he knew it.
But he didn't like it, because Logan immediately stiffened. The warmth in his blue eyes snuffed out, and his mouth tightened. He took a step back and shook his head.
"That's not a good idea, Gwen."
Uh-oh. He'd used my name, which meant he was serious. My heart squeezed in on itself.
"Why not? I ... like you. A lot. And it seems like you might ... like me, too?" I winced. The words hadn't sounded so needy, so freaking desperate, in my head.
For a second, Logan's face softened. "I do like you, Gwen. A lot. I think there's something really special about you."
His features hardened once more. "But there are things that-that you just don't know about me. About Spartans and what we are. Things that you don't want to know. Especially about me. I'm not the guy you think I am. I'm not some sort of hero. Not at all."
Logan got that look in his eyes, that wild, hurt, desperate sort of look that Paige Forrest had had right before I'd picked up her hairbrush. Whatever secrets the Spartan had, they were biggies.
And all that I had to do to find out what they were was reach out and touch him.
Logan was the first boy I'd liked in, well, forever. And he was standing here telling me that, yes, he liked me, too, but that we couldn't even go have coffee together. Much less do anything else. I wanted to know what he was hiding from me, what secret he thought was so terrible that I wouldn't want to be with him.
