I stepped into a stone hallway. No windows were set into the walls, and the cool, still air gave me the impression that I was deep underground. Instead of regular lights, the ceiling featured smooth stones that cast out a warm, golden glow. Each stone was shaped like a different mythological creature, from Nemean prowlers to Fenrir wolves to Eir gryphons. Not only that, but each stone seemed to burn a little brighter as I passed below it, almost as if the creatures were following me down the hallway. I shivered, dropped my hand to Babs’s hilt, and walked on.
A few twists and turns later, the hallway opened up into an enormous square room with more corridors branching off it. A long rectangular table squatted in the center of the area, with all the seats turned to face several monitors hanging on one of the walls. Several desks were spread throughout the room, each one seeming to have a different purpose and personality.
One desk boasted a high-end laptop, two keyboards, and three monitors. Several small foam footballs, soccer balls, and tennis balls emblazoned with various sports team logos and autographs were nestled among the computer equipment.
Tools, wires, daggers, arrows, and odd pieces of metal covered a second desk, along with a blowtorch and several pairs of goggles and gloves. Scissors, fabric swatches, rolls of ribbons, and small boxes full of sparkly plastic jewels also sat on the desk, as though whoever worked there made either really cool weapons or really cool clothes, or both, depending on their mood.
A battle ax was laid out on a third desk, surrounded by daggers, short swords, and other weapons. Several history books about ancient battles, warriors, creatures, and artifacts were neatly stacked in one corner, with colored sticky notes marking certain sections for easy reference.
A fourth and final desk was completely empty.
My gaze moved to the back half of the room, which featured several rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves. Books crowded together on many of the shelves, old, thick, worn-out tomes that looked like they hadn’t been cracked open in years, given the dust coating them. Several shelves also housed armor and weapons, everything from gold gauntlets to bows boasting silver strings to bronze-tipped spears that were taller than I was. Other objects were on the shelves as well, including jeweled necklaces, crystal figurines, and small stone statues.
All put together, the room was an odd mix of modern high-tech gear and ancient artifacts.
As much as I would have liked to wander around and look at all the computers, tools, and weapons, I still had no idea where I was or who had brought me here, and I wanted to leave before they came back. So I stepped deeper into the room and peered down the various hallways, searching for a way out—
A loud bang sounded in the distance, as though someone had thrown open a door and it had slammed into a wall. The sharp noise was quickly followed by an even louder voice.
“Absolutely not,” the voice said, drawing closer and closer. “I don’t want her on the team.”
Since I didn’t know who or what was coming my way, I ducked into the shadows behind the closest shelf and peered around a couple of silver jewelry boxes.
Footsteps scuffed against the floor, and Ian stormed into the room, followed by a man who was much calmer and walking far more slowly: Coach Takeda.
My eyes narrowed. What was he doing here? What was going on?
What was this place?
Two other kids who looked about my age—seventeen or so—entered the room behind Ian and Takeda. One of them was a petite girl with beautiful mocha skin, hazel eyes, and wavy black hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders. She wore a bright blue crop top, black leggings, and black ankle boots with chunky heels. A blue-plaid designer bag that was big enough to double as a suitcase dangled from her left arm.
The girl went over to the desk covered with tools. She nudged a couple of hammers aside to make room for her enormous purse, then plopped down in the chair. She rooted around inside her purse for several seconds before pulling out a large notebook and an ink pen, which she set off to one side on the desk. Then she picked up a piece of wire and started bending it with her bare hands. Pale blue sparks of magic shot out of her fingertips and flickered in the air all around her. So she was a Valkyrie.
The other kid—a guy—sat down at the computer desk and flipped on all three of the monitors. He was a couple of inches under six feet tall, with a runner’s thin build and lean muscles. His dark brown hair was cut short, and the light from the monitors made his dark brown eyes and bronze skin gleam. He wore black jeans, along with a gray T-shirt that read Bigtime Barracudas, a popular football team in Bigtime, New York.
He hit the power button on the laptop, then leaned back in his chair and propped his black running shoes up on the desk. While he waited for the laptop to boot up, the guy pulled out a candy bar from one of the desk drawers, ripped off the wrapper, and sank his teeth into the chocolate. He grunted with happiness. A guy after my own sugar-addict heart.
He gulped down the candy bar, then dropped his feet and scooted his chair closer to the desk. With one hand, he typed on the laptop. With the other, he typed on another keyboard, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the laptop and the other three monitors the whole time. So he was a Roman. They were the only guys who could multitask that quickly.
Takeda moved over to the long table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest, but his face remained as calm and blank as it was in gym class. Ian stalked the length of the room, from the guy with the laptop, across the wide open space in front of the wall monitors, over to where the girl with the tools was sitting on the opposite side of the room, and back again.
“No,” Ian repeated. “I don’t want her on the team.”
“You saw what she did to those chimeras,” Takeda said. “She killed both of them all by herself. Not many Spartans could do that. Not many warriors could do that, period.”
I blinked. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that they were talking about me, given how strange this entire day had been. Chimeras in the library, meeting with Sigyn, and now this…whatever this was. What sort of team were they talking about? And why did Takeda want me to join it? Somehow I didn’t think it had anything to do with sports.
“So she’s a good fighter. So what?” Ian said. “You’ve read her file. You know about her parents. You know they were Reapers. And not regular Reapers but Reaper assassins. Rebecca and Tyson Forseti were responsible for the deaths of dozens of people, including several members of the Protectorate.”
My heart clenched, and my stomach twisted with guilt, shame, and embarrassment. Every word he said was like a dagger stabbing into my gut—because they were all true. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified, and for a moment, I thought I was going to vomit. But I swallowed down the hot, sour bile rising in my throat and focused on that cold frost coating my heart, letting the chill numb my turbulent emotions.
“All of that is true,” Takeda said. “But perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge Miss Forseti, especially not based on the sins of her Reaper parents.”