Chapter 26
Metis used her magic to heal me, and I woke up a few minutes later, still lying close to Nott. The next few hours passed in a haze of tears. Despite my demands to stay away from me, my friends put me on a stretcher and carried me out of the woods. They did the same for Nott, too, without my even asking.
They took me to Grandma Frost’s house. I told my grandma the same thing I had the others—not to touch me. But of course, she didn’t listen.
“You’re my granddaughter,” she said in a sharp voice. “You would never hurt me.”
Then, Grandma cradled my bloody face in her hands, and I felt the warmth of her love wash over me, stronger than ever before. And I wept again.
Finally, I went upstairs to the bathroom, but instead of getting in the shower, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. My brown hair was matted and snarled, my clothes were ripped, and black smudges of exhaustion ringed my haunted violet eyes. Even my snowflake necklace seemed dull and tarnished around my throat. There was blood all over the silver strands—my blood, Nott’s blood. I took it off and left it on the bathroom counter. I’d been so happy when Logan had given me the necklace, but right now, I couldn’t stand to look at it. I couldn’t stand to look at myself.
I took a hot shower and cleaned up, but really, I was just going through the motions. I sat at the table in Grandma Frost’s kitchen, listening to the story of how the others had found me. Apparently, I had Morgan McDougall to thank for my rescue. She’d been skirting around the edge of the quad, going back to her dorm room for the night, and had seen the Reaper girl carrying my body away. Morgan had followed the Reaper girl all the way to one of the academy gates, where she had removed her mask, showing Morgan who she really was. When Morgan realized that Vivian was taking me off campus, she’d called Professor Metis and raised the alarm. Metis and the others had eventually realized that Vivian had taken me to her family’s nearby estate and had fought their way through dozens of Reapers who had gathered in the mansion and on the grounds.
After Metis finished the story about Morgan, the professor and I went into the bathroom, and Metis once again examined my hand and chest where I’d been stabbed. But both wounds were completely healed, except for the thin white lines that marred my skin. Metis tried to get rid of those as well, but no matter how much of her healing energy she poured into me, the marks didn’t fade away. She thought it was because they’d been made with the Helheim Dagger. Metis said that powerful artifacts like that could sometimes leave behind scars that would never heal.
Just like my heart would never, ever heal. I didn’t need the scars to remind me of what had happened. I’d never forget it, and I’d never stop blaming myself for everything, for all my many miserable failures.
Late that morning, we buried Nott in my grandma’s backyard, right next to a lilac bush that was bare and brown for the winter. Logan and Oliver volunteered to dig the grave, and I insisted on helping, even though I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and never come out again. Metis, Ajax, Nickamedes, and Grandma Frost came outside to pay their respects to Nott, along with Daphne, Carson, and Kenzie.
“Should we say something?” Oliver asked me in a quiet voice when we were through.
I stared down at the mound of loose, turned earth and shook my head. I would have liked to have said something, to talk about how gentle Nott was deep down inside, but my throat closed up, and I just couldn’t get the words out. Grandma Frost squeezed my hand, and everyone else gave me sympathetic looks and said how sorry they were. Then, one by one, the adults and my friends went back inside, until only Logan, Grandma Frost, and I were left outside.
“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Grandma finally said, squeezing my hand again before she headed into the house.
Logan and I stood there next to Nott’s grave. The Spartan raised his arm like he wanted to put it around me but dropped it to his side instead. Besides Metis and Grandma Frost, no one else had touched me, and I didn’t want them to.
I never wanted anyone to touch me again. Not after what I’d done to Preston. Not when I finally knew exactly what I was capable of.
I don’t know how long we stood there, but the air turned colder, and fat flakes of snow started drifting down from the winter-white sky. The flakes gathered in my hair and mixed with the tears trickling down my cheeks. They still weren’t as cold as my heart was, though.
“I’m a coward, Gwen,” Logan said, breaking the silence.
That was the last thing I’d expected him to say, and I turned to stare at him.
“You’re not a coward,” I said. “I saw how you fought the Reapers in the clearing, and Ajax told me how you led everyone into battle against the ones at the mansion. He’s so proud of you for that. So is Nickamedes.”
Logan sighed. “I didn’t mean today. I meant when I was a kid—the day my mom and older sister were murdered. That’s my big secret, Gwen. That’s what I never wanted you to find out. How much of a coward I was that day.”
He hesitated, then stepped forward. I tried to jerk away, but Logan gently captured my face in his hands. He stared into my eyes, and the memory washed over me.
Logan as a young boy, hiding in a closet, clutching a sword, terrified by the screams and curses he heard outside the door. Then, the Spartan standing over the dead, bloody bodies of his mother and older sister. Logan lying in between them as the tears and grief overwhelmed him.
I’d seen these same images once before when I’d kissed Logan, but he kept his hands on my face, letting me go deeper into the memory, letting me feel his emotions, finally showing me his secret.
I saw it all through his eyes. Him playing outside with his toy sword, pretending that he was battling Reapers. Then, Logan actually seeing a group of black-robed Reapers climb over the stone wall at the edge of the woods. Logan running inside and yelling out a warning to his mom and older sister. His mom screaming back at Logan and his sister to hide. Then, the Reapers storming into the house, his mom and sister stepping up to fight them, even though they knew they couldn’t win. Logan wanting to help his family but instead turning and running deeper into the house ...
Logan hated himself because he’d been scared that day. Spartans were the best fighters, the toughest warriors. They weren’t supposed to be scared or run away from a battle—ever.
Logan’s self-loathing poured into me, making me feel sick to my stomach. Guilt, shame, disgust, fear. The Spartan felt all of those things because he’d run away and hidden in a closet instead of fighting the Reapers like his mom and sister had, like he was training to, like he wanted to. Part of him felt things would have been better if he’d at least tried to protect his family, even if he would have died along with them.
“Do you see?” Logan whispered. “Do you finally see what a coward I was? How I let my family die just to save myself?”
I shook my head and stepped back. His hands fell away from my face, breaking our connection. “You’re not a coward. You were five years old when it happened. If you’d tried to fight them, they would have killed you, too, Logan. You have to know that. Your mom knew it. That’s why she yelled at you and your sister to hide. She wanted you to be safe, even if it meant your leaving her behind. No doubt your sister felt the same way, that she had to help your mom protect you.”
The Spartan gave me a sad smile. “Maybe that’s true, but that’s not how it feels to me. I feel like I let them down, like I let myself down. On that day, I vowed that I’d become the very best fighter I could be so I could protect other people. So I could stop the Reapers from killing someone else’s family and the people I care about. The people I love.”
The words hung in the air between us, seeming to drift up and down on the wind, along with the crystalline snowflakes. My heart soared at the Spartan’s words, breaking free of my chest and swirling up into the sky. Logan cared about me just as much as I did him. He loved me just as much as I did him. For a moment, everything was bright and beautiful and perfect.
Then I realized that I didn’t deserve Logan’s love—not anymore.
Logan looked at me with such hope in his eyes, such intense longing. It took all the strength I had to turn away from him and shut out the happiness I felt at his confession.
The Spartan sighed. “I thought that’s what you had realized when you told me you’d seen me standing over my mom and sister. That you’d seen just what a coward I really was. What you think about me matters—it matters a lot. That’s why I was so upset that night in the library. That’s why I said all those horrible things to you. Do you think you can forgive me, Gypsy girl?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I said. “I don’t think you’re a coward, Logan. I think you’re one of the strongest, bravest people I know.”
The Spartan put his arms around me, and I felt his breath kiss my cheek. But even that wasn’t enough to drive away the cold that had seized my body, especially when I realized that his hands were perilously close to touching mine again. The image of Preston’s dead face filled my mind, and my chest tightened with panic.
“Let go of me,” I said. “Let go!”
Logan immediately dropped his arms and stepped back. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
I shook my head, trying to slow the rapid, painful beat of my heart. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. It’s always been me and my stupid psychometry magic.”
The Spartan frowned, confusion filling his eyes. He didn’t understand, and I didn’t know how to explain that I was scared of hurting him just like I had Preston. Logan would insist that it wasn’t possible, but the Spartan hadn’t seen what I’d done to Preston; he hadn’t felt Preston’s panic and fear like I had. He didn’t know that I’d ignored Preston’s fear, and worse, that part of me had actually
liked
the way it had felt, that part of me had actually
enjoyed
the power I had over the other boy in that moment. Logan just didn’t realize what I was capable of, and I never wanted him to find out.
Maybe that made me the real coward with my own secret to hide now.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” I finally said. “Just—leave me alone. Please?”
I turned and ran back into the house before he could reach for me again.
Soon after that, everyone left to go back to the academy. I wanted to stay with Grandma Frost, but Metis insisted that I return to the academy, too, until she and the other members of the Pantheon could figure out how Loki’s escape was going to affect us all.
“It’s the safest place right now for you, Gwen,” Metis said in a gentle voice. “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for some members of the Pantheon to come here and guard Geraldine.”
So I went, even though I didn’t really want to. I was back on campus by three o’clock. I stood outside the door that led to my dorm room, thinking how normal it looked, how normal everything looked. I wondered if I would ever feel normal again, if I would ever feel safe or happy again. The door was open, probably from where Nott had left my room to come find me. My heart ached at the thought of the wolf. I wondered if it would ever quit hurting, if I would ever quit hurting over everything that had happened.
“Gwen?” Daphne asked. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
The Valkyrie’s words penetrated my daze. Daphne had walked up to my room with me, even though I’d insisted that I could make it by myself.
I shook my head. “I just need to be alone right now. Okay?”
Daphne didn’t like it, but she nodded and bit her lip. My friend carefully put her arms around me and gave me a hug, just like the others had done. They’d all hugged or touched me before we’d left Grandma Frost’s house, as if that would convince me I wasn’t a threat to them. But nothing would do that—not now.
Daphne tried to be gentle with her hug, but her great Valkyrie strength still cracked my back. I stood absolutely still, careful not to let any part of my bare skin touch hers. Finally, she dropped her arms and stepped back.
“Call me later, okay?” Daphne asked in a worried voice.
I nodded, although I had no intention of doing that. I had no intention of doing anything. What was the point? I’d made such a mess of everything. Loki was free, and soon, he and his Reapers of Chaos would take over the world and kill and enslave the rest of us. What was the point in trying anymore?
I’d never felt so miserable in my entire life, and I knew I deserved to. This was my fault—all my fault. If only I’d realized what Vivian was up to, if I’d just left the dagger hidden where it was, it would have been safe, and Loki would still be trapped in his prison. Instead, I’d unleashed the evil god on the entire world. I wasn’t Gwen Frost, that Gypsy girl who saw things. Not anymore. Now, I was just Gwen Frost, epic, epic failure.
Daphne left, and I stepped into my room and slung my messenger bag down on the floor. For the second time this week, Metis had brought the bag to Grandma Frost’s house. I reached into the bag and drew out Vic, who was still sheathed in his black leather scabbard. I’d never even had a chance to use him against Vivian and the other Reapers. Some warrior whiz kid I was.