Chapter 22
Another Reaper came into the living room—the man I’d seen when I’d first touched the fake map. He cut through the ropes that tied me to the chair, then he and Preston hauled me through the balcony doors and outside.
I started to fight back, but Preston held a sword against my ribs and told me that he would shove it through my heart if I so much as breathed wrong. So I decided not to breathe wrong.
Vivian led the way, while Preston and the man forced me down a set of stone steps and then out into the forest that lay beyond the mansion. I couldn’t see much of the landscape in the darkness, but I got the sense that we were still in the mountains, still in North Carolina, still close to the academy. I don’t know why that comforted me, but it did. If I was going to die, well, at least it would be close to home. Maybe the members of the Pantheon would at least find my body and bury it.
We trudged deeper and deeper into the woods, the frosted leaves crunching like brittle bones under our feet. The lights from the mansion behind us slowly disappeared, but they were replaced with new ones up ahead. The lights flickered and danced in the darkness, and I realized they were torches burning in the night.
We stepped through the trees and into a large clearing. An enormous circle made out of black marble had been set into the middle of the forest, with the trees rising up on all sides like the pillars of a great coliseum. Tall, skinny torches had been placed into small holes cut into the stone, and their crackling red flames leaped up into the air, like they were straining to set fire to the trees around them.
We hadn’t passed anyone in the forest, but thirteen people had already gathered inside the stone circle, one standing by each torch—and every single one of them wore a Reaper mask and a black robe.
I stared out into the circle of people, my eyes going from one twisted Loki face to the next. I couldn’t see who was behind the masks, but I thought I probably knew some of them, that they were kids or professors at Mythos. A sense of familiarity radiated off them, along with hate—so much hate. Every single Reaper in the circle would have been more than happy to step forward and kill me. I bit my lip and tried not to show just how terrified I was of them and what they were about to do to me.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“This,” Vivian said in a satisfied voice, “is a Garm gate, one of hundreds located all over the world. It serves as a portal to other gates and even other realms—including Helheim.”
“Helheim?” I whispered.
From researching the dagger, I knew that the weapon was named for Helheim, which was the Norse world of the dead—and the prison realm where Loki was trapped. Supposedly, it was a place that no one—god or mortal alike—could ever escape, but I had a sick, sick feeling that wasn’t going to be true tonight.
Vivian looked at me, a mocking expression on her face. “Just putting it together now, are you, Gwen? Although I have to say I love that dawning look of horror on your face.”
I wanted to ask her more questions, but I didn’t get the chance as Preston and the man dragged me to the center of the stone circle. Something had been carved into the marble under my feet, and it took me a few seconds to realize what it was—a hand holding a set of balanced scales. The exact same hand and the exact same scales that adorned the roof of the academy prison.
Vivian strode into the middle of the circle as well. She stopped and looked out at the other Reapers who had gathered around.
“We’ve all waited a very, very long time for this moment,” she said. “For centuries, our ancestors have served Loki faithfully, preparing for the day when we could finally free our god from the prison he’s been trapped in for so long. Well, that time has finally come.”
Yeah, I knew I was about to die, but I still couldn’t help rolling my eyes at her formal, grandiose words. Practice in front of the mirror much, Viv?
“You all know what to do,” Vivian said. “So let’s get started.”
Softly at first, very, very softly, the Reapers began to chant. I didn’t know what magic mumbo jumbo they were spouting, but the sound of their low, guttural words sent chills up my spine. Slowly, their words grew sharper and sharper, until the air felt like it was full of cold knives that were pressing against my skin, ready to cut me open if I dared do more than breathe.
Vivian turned her attention back to me, twirling the Helheim Dagger in her hand like it was a cheerleader’s baton instead of the powerful, dangerous artifact it was.
“I know you’re wondering why I didn’t just kill you in the academy prison when I had the chance or even when you first came to Mythos back in the fall,” Vivian said. “The answer is simple—we needed you to find the dagger for us, and we needed your blood. Fresh blood and not what had already been spilt. Of course, Jasmine almost ruined that and so did her big brother Preston.”
Beside me, Preston stiffened at her words, but he didn’t say anything. I’d thought he couldn’t despise anyone more than he did me, but even standing here among all the other Reapers, I could feel the special, jealous hate Preston had for Vivian.
Preston and the man held me still while Vivian approached me, the dagger glinting in her hand. My stomach twisted, and suddenly, I realized what she was going to do—Vivian was going to sacrifice me to free Loki from his prison.
Grandma Frost had said being a Champion made you a target for the Reapers. Nike had said the same thing, except she’d added that a Champion’s blood had power—enormous power—since that person had been chosen by a god. It made sense, I supposed. Nike had helped imprison Loki in the first place, and now, Vivian was going to use my bloody death to free the evil god.
And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.
If I tried to get away, Preston would stab me with his sword. If I held still, Vivian would gut me with the dagger. Either way, I was dead, dead, dead.
Vivian stopped in front of me, a cold, satisfied look on her face. How had I ever thought her sweet and shy? As I watched her, that red spark already flickering in the depths of her gaze began to burn brighter and brighter until her eyes gleamed with the same crimson fire as the torches.
“Hold out her hand,” Vivian said.
My hand? What did she want with my hand? Why wasn’t she going for my heart?
Preston forced my hand open and shoved it in front of me. Vivian slashed down with the dagger, opening up a deep cut on my right palm. I hissed with pain, but Vivian sawed the dagger deeper and deeper into my skin, until I thought she was going to cut my hand in half. I bit back a scream and tried not to vomit.
Blood poured out of my palm, coating the dagger in a sticky glaze. For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then, a red spark flared to life in the eye-shaped ruby set into the dagger’s hilt—a hot, eerie, crimson light that I knew all too well.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
Vivian shoved the dagger back into the cut, turning it over and over until it was completely covered in my blood. She pulled back, and I realized that instead of blood dripping off the end, the dagger was actually
absorbing
my blood, sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. The last drop of blood vanished into the stone, and the eerie crimson light spread out from the ruby. In seconds, the whole weapon was burning the same blistering red as Vivian’s eyes.
Vivian carefully placed the dagger in a slot in the middle of the stone circle, right in the center of the hand holding the balanced scales, piercing it in the same place where she’d cut my palm. She stepped back to the edge of the circle, and Preston and the other man hauled me over there as well, Preston’s sword still pressing into my side.
As I watched, the Helheim Dagger started to burn even brighter, giving off wisps of acrid black smoke, before it just ...
melted
into the stone. One second the dagger was whole and solid; the next it was gone. The instant the hilt of the dagger disappeared, the ground started trembling, as if we were standing at the epicenter of the most violent earthquake ever. One by one, the torches went out before abruptly flaming to life again. The black stone under our feet began to buck and heave, like someone was pounding at it from below with a giant fist.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
A few seconds later, the stone Garm gate gave way to whatever was hammering at it, and the circle splintered down the middle. The stone heaved again and split the other way, forming a giant X. A crimson cloud of smoke erupted from the giant fissure and spewed up like lava, burning even brighter and hotter than the torches, until it scalded my face with its intense heat. An acrid stench filled the air, like sulfur mixed with some sort of flowery perfume.
Then, as suddenly as it had all started, the trembling and the shaking stopped, and the smoke vanished. I blinked, trying to get my bearings, and that’s when I realized that a figure had appeared in the middle of the stone circle right beside the center of the X.
He wore a long black robe, and he huddled on his knees. His body was cramped and twisted, his chest almost touching the ground, his neck cocked to the point of breaking, his right arm flung up at an awkward angle behind the rest of him. He clutched the Helheim Dagger in his right hand, the point turned up, like he’d used the weapon to stab through the stone above him.
I could just see the edge of his face, but it seemed sleek and shiny, like it was made of wax. Even more than that, I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves—anger, rage, and the absolute blackest sort of hate.
“Loki,” I whispered in fear.
Chapter 23
The Norse god of chaos stayed still and frozen in the middle of the stone circle. Slowly, his fingers twitched, and his muscles spasmed, as though he’d been trapped in that one, agonizing position for a long, long time and was having trouble getting to his feet. His arm came down, his neck twisted back into the appropriate place, and his chest lifted as he got to his feet. His bones cracked and popped with every movement, matching the crackle of the torches. Each and every sound made me grind my teeth together and cower a little more in fear. I’d been face-to-face with a god before. Nike had come to me twice now, but this—this was different.
Because this was Loki, and he radiated pure evil.
Finally, the god straightened up to his full height—almost seven feet tall. He had his back to me, but his head pivoted left, then right, his bones snapping into place as he stared at the circle of Reapers in front of him. Then, the god lifted his hands into the air and let out a scream—a wild, wild scream full of all the hate and rage that had sustained him over the centuries he’d been trapped. A scream full of all the bloody chaos and harsh promises of death his Reapers had whispered about over the years.
It was the most awful sound I’d ever heard.
Just the faintest whisper of it would have been enough to make my head pound. Hearing the full force of it caused hot tears to slide down my cheeks and my whole body to ache, as though the god’s scream was enough to peel my flesh from my bones. Maybe it was. Either way, I didn’t think things could get any worse—until the god turned around and I got my first good look at him.
It was—he was—
horrible
.
Loki was the most horrible thing I’d ever seen and worse than anything I could have ever imagined. I’d seen drawings of him in my myth-history books, but they’d failed to show the god’s true self. A piercing blue eye, a strong chin, a great cheekbone, an aquiline nose, alabaster skin. Half of his face was perfect, beautiful, gorgeous even, like he was one of the marble statues in the Library of Antiquities come to life. His hair flowed down like a river of gold, just brushing the top of his right shoulder.
But the left side of the god’s face was just—melted. Like hot candle wax that had run together and mushed all the original, clean, straight lines of his features into something dark, ugly, and utterly twisted. Instead of being blue, the god’s eye on that side of his face was red—Reaper red. His cheekbone was nothing more than a smushed piece of putty, and his nose looked like a hooked beak that was trying to dig its way into his chin. The part of his skin that wasn’t smooth and shiny was pitted with pockmarks, and the hair on that side of his head was black, with crimson strands glinting among the thin, matted, singed locks.
Loki was the most horrific thing I’d ever seen, and now, the god was finally free of his prison. And it was my fault—all my fault. People were going to die, and it was all my fault for being stupid enough to let the Reaper girl use me to find the Helheim Dagger. Somehow I swallowed down the hot, sour, bitter bile that rose up in my throat.
Vivian stepped forward and dropped to one knee before him. “My lord,” she said in an awe-filled tone. “We have finally succeeded in freeing you, and now, after so many years, we await your instructions.”
Loki looked at the Reaper girl on the ground before him. “Rise, my Champion, for you have served me well. And together, we will make sure that Chaos reigns once more here in the mortal realm.”
Despite the god’s twisted features, his voice was rich and smooth, with a low, throaty timbre. A soft, seductive voice, the kind of voice that could convince a person to do almost anything. Even though I knew how evil he was, even though I knew all the horrible things he’d instructed his Reapers to do, his voice was still beautiful, sweet, and pure, and I could feel the hypnotic pull of his words wrapping around me and trying to dig into my brain just like Vivian had done with her telepathy magic. I ground my teeth together and shoved the feeling away as hard as I could.
Vivian got to her feet, her eyes glowing an even brighter red. The god handed her the Helheim Dagger, presenting it like it was a gift. Vivian bowed her head again to Loki, then lifted the weapon high.
“To Chaos!” she screamed.
“To Chaos!” the other Reapers shouted over and over again, their screams sealing not only my fate, but that of the world as well.
Finally, the wild echoes of the Reapers’ screams faded away, and Loki looked at Vivian once more.
“Now,” the god said. “I want to see the sacrifice you’ve brought me.”
Vivian jerked her head in my direction. The god looked over his shoulder, staring at me with the beautiful half of his face. Loki’s blue eye focused on me and narrowed, and the god turned and began striding in my direction. His bones snapped and popped with every step he took, and I realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes underneath his long robe. The splintered marble didn’t seem to bother him, although I knew the sharp shards had to be digging into his feet with every step he took.
Still, I got the feeling the god was not entirely well. There was a rigid stiffness in the way he moved, and he kept wincing, as if it pained him to be here in the mortal realm. Or perhaps he’d spent all these centuries being tortured, like he had been the first time the other gods had imprisoned him.
Loki stopped a few feet away. Preston and the other man dragged me forward into the flickering torchlight, and the god examined me.
“Another Frost girl,” he said, his smooth voice dripping with hate. “I see Nike hasn’t changed her tactics, despite all the centuries that have passed.”
I had no idea what the god was talking about, and I didn’t really care right now. I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and whimper at his feet, but I wasn’t going to be cowed or frightened, not even by the evil god. I would meet my death bravely, if nothing else—just like my mom had.
It took me a moment to summon up my courage, but I finally looked up and raised my eyes to his. It was bizarre staring into his face, with one side so perfect and the other side so completely ruined. I decided to focus on the ruined side. After all, that’s what Loki really was—ruined in every way possible.
“You may have gotten free,” I said in the bravest, boldest voice I could muster. “But you haven’t won yet. Nike and the other members of the Pantheon will rise up and defeat you just like they did before. They’ll put you back down there where you belong—for good this time.”
Loki stared at me, and I felt the seconds of my life slowly tick away as the god thought about what to do to me, how to make me suffer just like he had.
Tick-tick-tock
.
Instead of smiting me with his burning red eye or whatever kind of evil magic mumbo jumbo he could do, the god threw back his head and laughed. I sucked in a breath and tried to keep from doubling over in pain. The mocking sound had the same effect as a vicious punch to the stomach. I’d felt Nike’s cold, raw power before when the goddess had appeared to me, but it was nothing like Loki’s evil. The god practically oozed malevolence, hate, and rage. I’d thought Nike was the strongest being I’d ever encountered, but now, I was wondering if I was wrong.
“Oh, Gypsy, poor, pitiful Gypsy,” Loki murmured. “Having such misguided faith in your goddess, just like all your other ancestors have over the years.”
The god leaned forward and stared at me, his face inches away from mine, his one red eye burning into both of my violet ones. “Don’t you realize that I’ve already won? I’m free, and I’ve got you here. That’s all I need to achieve my ultimate victory.”
Before I could think about the god’s words, Loki looked over at Vivian.
“Kill her,” the god said.
A smile spread across Vivian’s face. “With pleasure.” The Reaper girl walked toward me, slashing at the air with the Helheim Dagger, which she still had clutched in her fingers. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t close my eyes as she approached. I would look her in the face while she killed me, just like my mom had done. Gwen Frost, Gypsy girl and brave to the bitter, bitter end.
Vivian came closer and closer, the crimson fire in her eyes burning a little brighter and a little hotter with every step she took. Finally, she stopped in front of me.
“Too bad it’s over already, Gwen,” she said. “I had such fun playing with you these past few days.”
“Go to hell, bitch,” I said through clenched teeth.
Vivian let out a merry laugh. “I think I’ll send you there first.”
She raised the dagger high overhead. The black blade flashed for a second in the torchlight before it started its downward arc toward my heart—
A fierce growl sounded, and a large shadow leaped out of the trees and plowed into the Reaper girl, knocking her to the ground. The dagger skittered across the stone, and Vivian scrambled after it. But the creature wasn’t done. It barreled into the ring of Reapers, snapping its jaws and swiping its claws at everyone within reach. In five seconds, two Reapers were dead. In another five, two more had joined them.
The creature turned to face an attack by one of the Reapers, and I finally recognized it for who and what it was.
“Nott,” I whispered.
I didn’t know how the Fenrir wolf had found me out here in the middle of nowhere, but I was glad she had—so, so glad. For the first time, a bit of hope rose up in me.
“Nott!” I said in a stronger voice.
The wolf paused her latest attack for a moment to stop and give me a goofy grin. Then, she was sinking her teeth and claws into another Reaper. Preston was so surprised to see the wolf that he lowered his sword from my side. I started struggling against Preston and the other man who was holding me. If I could just get free of them, I could run off into the woods and escape. Nott was here, and she was ripping through the Reapers like they were paper dolls. In another minute, there wouldn’t be enough of them left to stop us from escaping—
A harsh
caw-caw-caw
rang through the treetops, sounding more like a scream than a bird’s cry. I barely had time to look up before the Black roc attacked. I hadn’t noticed the giant bird, but it must have been sitting in one of the trees during the whole creepy ritual, because it launched itself off a branch and down toward Nott’s back, its talons outstretched and ready to tear into her.
The wolf sensed the other creature’s attack and snapped her head around, taking a mouthful of feathers out of the roc, which let out another horrible
caw-caw-caw
before flapping up into the sky. Nott eyed the creature as it circled around for another attack. The wolf didn’t notice that Vivian had picked up the Helheim Dagger and was creeping around to her blind side.
“Nott!” I screamed, still fighting to break free. “Look out!”
But it was too late. Vivian stabbed the Fenrir wolf in the side with the dagger, then pulled it out and stabbed Nott again. The wolf staggered back, then fell to the stone. Blood was just—
everywhere
. Nott looked at me and let out a low, pain-filled whimper. Tears streamed down my face, and I struggled as hard as I could, but Preston and the other man held me tight.
“Nott!” I screamed. “No! Nott! No!”
The wolf’s eyes fluttered once then slowly closed. Blood continued to pour out of the ugly wounds in her side, matting in her dark fur. I kept crying and screaming and fighting, but it was no use. No matter what I did, no matter how I bucked and heaved and kicked and flailed, I couldn’t get free of Preston and the other man.
Loki’s lips twisted into a disgusted sneer at the sound of my screams. He turned to Vivian. “Shut her up—”
In the distance, a high, piercing note sounded. The bright, sharp sound echoed through the trees, like a clap of thunder rumbling over the land. It was just as loud as Loki’s laugh had been earlier, but for some reason, this sound didn’t scare me. It gave me—
hope
.
For a moment, all the Reapers froze, even the ones who were writhing and moaning in pain from the damage Nott had done to them.
“The members of the Pantheon!” one of the Reapers hissed. “They’ve found the safe house already!”
“Let them come,” Vivian said, sweeping the dagger back and forth in a vicious arc so that Nott’s blood slid off the end of it. “We’ll end this war—once and for all.”
The note sounded again, even louder and sharper this time. To my surprise, Loki staggered back at the sound, and the god clapped his hands over his ears.
Vivian stared at him, suddenly uncertain. “My lord?”
“It’s the Horn of Roland,” Loki rasped in a low voice. “After being trapped so long underground, the sound is like ... daggers in my head.”
The horn blasted a third time, and the god let out a shriek of utter agony, his body spasming with pain. One of the Reapers stepped up beside Vivian.
“Quickly,” the Reaper said. “Get him on the roc before they blow the horn again. He’s still weak, and we can’t let them capture him. Not now. Not before he’s ready for the transformation.”