"I'l give you this, Spartan. You sure can kiss. Feel free to lay one on me anytime you want to."

For a second relief flashed in his eyes-relief that I hadn't discovered his secret. That I hadn't seen the blood and bodies that haunted him so. Then Logan grinned.

"Wel , I do aim to please," he drawled. "You should see what I can do with my hands. And other parts of my body." I rol ed my eyes. "Seriously? You've been cut open like a fish, there's a psycho-kil er Reaper after us, and you're stil hitting me up for sex?"

Logan shrugged, but the devilish light didn't fade from his gaze. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."

"Right. We'l talk about that later. Now, come on," I said. "I have an idea."

I stood behind the doorway and waited for Preston Ashton to come and kil me.

I didn't have long to wait. I'd barely gotten into position when footsteps scuffled, and a shadow appeared at the far end of the half-finished hAll way.

"Gypsy ..." Preston's voice echoed through the semidark construction site. "Oh, Gypsy ... I'm coming to kil you... ." I gritted my teeth and gripped Vic tighter. I knew Preston was trying to scare me, but I could stil hear the crazy in his voice, loud and clear. How had I ever thought he was cute?

H e so needed to be locked up in an insane asylum somewhere. Too bad Batman wasn't here to come and drag his ass off to Arkham.

I looked over at Logan, who leaned against one of the wAll s, hidden in the shadows. The Spartan clutched a loose brick in his hand, the only weapon we'd been able to find in the construction debris, since I'd dropped the hammer earlier. I nodded at him, and he nodded back. Showtime.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered.

"Cut him to bits!" Vic crowed. "And feed me the pieces!

It's been a long time since I've dined on Reaper blood."

Underneath my palm, the sword's lips smacked together in anticipation.

"Let's just hope I win. Now, shut up, Vic. I need to concentrate."

I drew in a breath and stepped out into the hAll way, so Preston could see me.

The Reaper spotted me at once, and a mocking smile curved his lips. "Coming out in hopes that I'l kil you quick? I hate to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen, Gypsy. Not now."

He stepped closer, and I realized that blood covered the lower half of his face. I must have done more damage with that hammer than I'd thought. Preston's nose had swel ed up to twice its normAll size, and black and purple streaks radiated out from it like sunbeams.

But his eyes were what reAll y creeped me out. They glowed a wicked, wicked red. It looked like someone had fil ed Preston's eyes with dozens of matches and then lit them All at once. Crimson flames danced in his gaze, burning so hot and bright I thought he might just shoot fire out of his eyebAll s and fry me where I stood.

Jasmine's eyes had looked exactly the same way when she'd tried to kil me in the Library of Antiquities. Preston must be channeling Loki, tapping into the evil god's magic or whatever Reapers of Chaos did when they were intent on kil ing their enemies.

But I had Logan to channel and All his fighting memories to tap into. It would be enough to save us both. It was going to have to be.

"You want a fight?" I cAll ed out. "Then come and get it, you arrogant, snot-nosed punk."

I didn't have to taunt him twice. Preston screamed with rage and raced down the hAll way toward me. I turned and ran to the far end and into an open area, drawing him out past Logan's hiding spot. The plan was simple. I'd keep Preston busy, and as soon as Logan got the chance, the Spartan would lurch up behind the Reaper and brain him with the brick he was holding until Preston was unconscious. All I had to do was not get kil ed in the meantime.

I whirled around, moved Vic into position, and summoned up All of the memories of Logan that I had.

Preston broke free of the hAll way, raised his sword over his head, and brought it down at me.

CLANG!

Preston had struck with All his Viking strength and skil , trying to split my skul in two with one blow. The force of his vicious attack rocked me back, but I thought of Logan, cAll ed up my memories of him, and managed to hang on to Vic.

And so we fought.

Back and forth we moved in the chaos of the construction site. Screaming, snarling, and trying to hack each other into bloody pieces, just like Vic wanted. Preston was in a frenzy now, his eyes getting redder, brighter, and angrier with every passing second. Even with my memories of Logan, it was All I could do to keep the Reaper from shoving his sword through my heart. And Preston and I were locked so close together that Logan couldn't jump into the mix with his cut leg-not without getting sliced to ribbons by one of us. If I was going to beat the Reaper, I was going to have to do it myself.

I reached for my Gypsy gift again, and I thought about Logan. I focused on how fierce he was, how strong, how he never gave up no matter what. I flipped through my memories of All the battles he'd ever been in, and I concentrated on that sweet, electric thril of victory he felt every time he won. I cAll ed up image after image of Logan until the Spartan's face was All I could see, and his emotions were All I could feel-until Logan was All that I was.

And then I attacked.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

I stepped forward, swinging my sword in a rapid series of moves.

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

Preston managed to block my blows, but he did something he hadn't done before: He stepped back instead of forward.

For the first time worry flickered in his gaze, right along with his burning hate for me. "How did you suddenly get so much better with that sword?"

"I'm a Gypsy," I snarled. "Nike's freaking Champion.

Blessed and gifted with magic by the goddess herself. And Nike is victory itself, remember? That's who and what she is."

"So what?" Preston muttered.

"So I found a way to beat you, dumbass. I found a way to win."

Okay, so maybe I was only winning because I was tapping into Logan's memories and fighting skil s, but the smack talk was All me.

Preston opened his mouth to say something else, but I didn't give him the chance. I pressed my advantage, going at him with everything I had, with every sneaky trick Logan knew and a couple of even dirtier ones I'd thought of myself.

On my first blow, I nicked his arm.

On the second, I sliced Vic across his stomach.

And on the third, I knocked Preston's sword from his hand.

Preston bent down, scrambling for his weapon, but I didn't stop my attack. I drew my leg back and slammed my foot into his face. Something crunched underneath my sneaker, and the Reaper screamed.

In another second, it was over. Preston lay sprawled flat on his back on the floor, and I had Vic up against his throat.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Vic crowed, his eye glowing like a purple moon in the shadows.

Vic's voice brought me back to myself, and I blinked a few times. I felt a little dazed and disoriented. Maybe it was because I'd been concentrating so hard on Logan's memories, but even though I'd just been fighting Preston, it was hard for me to remember exactly what had happened, exactly how I'd beaten him.

Preston glared up at me. That eerie, flashing, fiery hate stil burned in his crimson eyes, even though his face was bloody and bruised, and his nose broken. "Go ahead, Gypsy. Kil me. I dare you to."

I moved Vic a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to break the skin on Preston's neck. A single drop of blood rol ed down his throat.

"Do it," he hissed. "Kil me!"

I wanted to-I reAll y, really wanted to. For everything he'd done to me, for how he'd hurt Logan, Oliver, and even the Fenrir wolf. But Preston was injured and unarmed now. He wasn't a threat to me anymore, and kil ing him now would make me no better than he was. Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion of what he reAll y wanted anyway.

"Why?" I asked. "So you can dedicate your death to Loki and make him stronger, right? That's what Reapers do.

They sacrifice other people and even themselves to their god, trying to help him break out of that magicAll prison he's trapped in.

Kind of a whacked out thing to do if you ask me.

I wouldn't want to serve a god like that."

"And it's working, " Preston hissed. "The seals are All but broken, and it won't be much longer before we find the key to unlock the last one. Soon, Loki wil be free, and his Chaos wil reign once more. And when that happens, you wil rue the day you were ever born, Gypsy. You and Nike and All the other members of the pathetic Pantheon." Seals? A key? I didn't know if Preston was spouting totAll bul shit or if he actuAll y knew what he was talking about.

Maybe it was his twisted face, or the red fire flickering where his eyes should be, but a cold shiver slithered up my spine.

"You'd better finish me now, Gypsy," Preston snarled. "Or I'l get free one day, and I'l go kil that doddering old grandmother you love so much."

I'd never known my dad, and I'd already lost my mom to a drunk driver. I couldn't lose my grandma, too. I just-

couldn't. Rage exploded in my heart then-cold, black rage that the Reaper would dare to threaten my Grandma Frost

-and sharp, bitter fear that he might somehow make good on his terrible promise. My whole body vibrated with the force of the two warring emotions. It took a few seconds, but the rage won out.

My hands tightened around Vic, and I pressed the sword deeper into Preston's neck, until his blood looked like crimson teardrops drip-drip-dripp ing onto the concrete floor.

"Come on, Gypsy," Preston muttered. "Do it!" Footsteps scuffed in the sawdust, and Logan limped over to stand beside me.

"Gwen," Logan said in a soft voice. "Gwen." There was no judgment in his voice, no reproach, no condemnation, and I knew the Spartan would go along with whatever I decided to do. If I kil ed Preston, Logan would stand here and watch me do it. And I wanted to do it so badly. My hands trembled from the urge to just end Preston and the threats he'd made against my grandma.

But I didn't want Logan to see me as that kind of person

-someone who could kil in cold blood-and I didn't want to be that kind of person myself. I didn't want to be a monster. For the first time, I truly understood what that was.

I let out a tense, ragged breath and pul ed the sword away from Preston's throat.

"I'm okay now," I whispered. "I'm okay."

Logan reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad," he whispered back.

Chapter 23

Scarcely a minute had passed after I lowered the sword before shouts started echoing through the semidark construction site.

"Gwen! Logan! Oliver!"

"Over here!" Logan yel ed back.

A few seconds later, a flashlight cut a bright path through the gloom and landed on my face. I squinted against the harsh glare, keeping my sword and eyes trained on Preston, not daring to let myself be distracted by the fact that we were about to have company. I might not have kil ed Preston, but if the Reaper moved an inch now, I'd cut him and worry about the consequences later.

He'd do the same to me, try to kil me any way he could, no matter what.

Something else Daphne had been right about.

To my surprise, Nickamedes stepped out of the shadows, a sword clutched in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The librarian's black eyebrows shot up at the sight of me standing over Preston, the Reaper's blood covering both of us like we'd been playing paintbAll instead of fighting to the death.

"Are you two All right?" Nickamedes asked, looking at Logan.

"We're fine, more or less," Logan replied. "I've got a bad gash on my thigh, and Gypsy girl's got some bumps and bruises.

What about Oliver?"

Oliver. My breath caught in my throat. I'd been so busy fighting Preston that I'd forgotten about the other injured Spartan

-and the fact that we'd had to leave him behind at the mercy of the Reaper and the Fenrir wolf. Even though I knew it had been the only choice at the time, guilt and shame burned in my heart. If Preston had kil ed Oliver, I didn't know what I'd do.

"Ajax found Oliver and took him to Aurora in the infirmary,"

Nickamedes said. "He should be fine, once she gets that bolt out of his shoulder and stops the bleeding." I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding in.

Relief fil ed Logan's face. "Good." He looked away from the librarian. "I didn't want to leave him. You have to believe me. I would never leave someone behind. Not again. I wanted to stand and fight."

Misery made Logan's shoulders sag, and his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it.

"I know you didn't, and so does Oliver." Nickamedes stepped closer to the Spartan and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried, Logan."

I'd thought I was done being surprised for the day, but I didn't expect the casual, easy familiarity the two of them seemed to have with each other. The way they were talking, you'd think they were actuAll y ... friends or something.

Family even, a smAll voice whispered from the back of my mind. For the first time, I noticed how similar the two of them looked-and how they both had the same black hair and ice blue eyes.

Logan and Nickamedes? Family? That was a little hard to wrap my brain around, especiAll y since I'd never heard one mention anything about the other. Besides, Nickamedes was just too prissy to be related to someone as easygoing as Logan.

As if to prove my point, Nickamedes turned to glare at me, his eyes sharp and narrowed in his pale face.

"Two students severely injured, you yourself covered in blood, a Reaper on the premises, a Fenrir wolf running around loose somewhere, and extensive property damage to the resort.