I whipped Babs back and forth, back and forth, parrying the hard, vicious blows dished out by the three Reapers in front of me. Behind me, Ian was fighting the other three Reapers, and I could hear his ax slamming into the men’s swords over and over again. I kept my back pressed up against his, and he did the same thing to me so that our enemies couldn’t overwhelm and attack both of us at once.
Adrenaline surged through my body, my Spartan instincts kicked in, and I started cataloging all the Reapers’ weaknesses. One raised his sword two inches too high, allowing me to knock his weapon aside, surge forward, and stab him in the heart with Babs. He screamed and tumbled to the floor. He rammed into his buddy on the way down, making the second Reaper curse and stumble forward, suddenly off balance.
I took advantage and swiped my sword all the way across his stomach. That Reaper screamed as well and landed right on top of his friend, both of them bleeding out from their wounds.
That left one Reaper standing in front of me. He’d hung back so far, but I could tell by the way he struggled to keep his sword up that the weapon was too big and heavy for his short, thin frame. The extra weight would make him a second slower than me, which was all the time I needed. I feinted like I was going to stab him in the chest, but at the last moment, I changed direction and went low, swiping my sword across his leg instead. Babs’s blade dug into the meaty part of his thigh, making him yelp with pain.
“That’s it!” Babs cried out, her mouth moving underneath my palm. “Cut him down to size, Rory!”
I yanked my sword out of his thigh, making his leg buckle. He also crashed to the floor. Desperate, he lashed out with his weapon so hard that the sword flew right out of his hand. I dodged the weapon, stepped up, and drove my sword into his chest, ending his struggles.
Killing the last Reaper had separated me from Ian, and his warm, strong back was no longer pressed up against mine. I whipped around to help him, but Ian had already killed two of the Reapers, and he rammed his ax into the chest of the final man, dropping him as well.
With the six Reapers dead, Ian glanced at me. I nodded back. Then, together, we faced Lance and Drake again.
“What were you saying about getting other people to do your dirty work for you?” I called out, a mocking note in my voice. “That’s not working out so well for you so far.”
Drake shrugged and looked at Lance. “I’ll let you handle this.”
“You really think he can beat me in a fight?” I snorted. “You obviously haven’t been paying attention.”
“Ah, ah, but you forgot about my secret weapon,” Lance said.
Even though I knew exactly what he was going to do next, I was still too slow to stop it, given Lance’s Roman speed. I’d only taken three steps forward when he yanked the gold chimera scepter out of his pants pocket, snapped it up, and slashed it through the air in a series of sharp figure-eight motions.
Two thick, choking clouds of smoke exploded out of the end of the scepter and immediately solidified into two very large, angry chimeras. The creatures snarled, their lips drawing back to reveal their jagged teeth, and started pacing back and forth, their paws leaving black scorch marks on the floor. With every step they took, the chimeras scraped their claws against the stone, as if they weren’t sharp enough already. I winced at the harsh, loud screech-screech-screeches. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard—and much, much deadlier.
“What’s wrong?” Lance called out from his position behind the monsters. “Chimeras got your tongue, Rory?”
He and Drake both snickered at the stupid joke.
“I’m going to enjoy punching that smirk off his face,” Ian muttered.
“Not if I beat you to him,” I said.
Lance finally stopped laughing and stared at me, a smug expression on his face. “You wanted a fight, Rory. Let’s see how well you do against my chimeras this time.”
He raised the gold scepter again, like he was going to order the creatures to attack. I tensed and snapped up my sword. So did Ian, and we braced ourselves for the upcoming fight—
“Enough!” another voice called out. “That’s enough. I told you to let the others wear her down so we could capture her. I want the Spartan girl alive.”
A man strode into the rotunda. He was wearing a red cloak trimmed with black, along with a red harlequin mask with black diamond shapes over the eyes. For a moment, I thought he was in some bizarre court jester’s costume, but then I realized that his outfit was like the ones the Reapers had worn at Lance’s mansion, only with the colors reversed. All the other Reapers had sported black cloaks and masks, and only one person would wear blood-red from head to toe like that: their leader.
Lance and Drake both bowed their heads to the other man, further confirming my suspicion about who he was.
“Sisyphus.” I spat out the name.
The mystery man tilted his head in agreement. Then he did the last thing I expected. He reached up, pushed the red hood off his head, and removed his mask, revealing his true identity.
He was on the short side, and his billowing cloak swallowed up much of his thin frame. His hair and eyes were both a light hazel-brown, although the goatee that clung to his chin was a few shades darker. His skin was a bit paler than I remembered, but he still had the ruddy look of someone who’d spent years in the sun and now had a permanent tan as a result.
I recognized him at once, this horrible, horrible man who had caused me so much pain. Cold shock flooded my body, as though I were drowning in an icy tidal wave. For a moment, everything inside me felt numb and frozen, and I struggled to breathe. But in the next instant, the cold shock burned away, replaced by sizzling anger, and my heart started beating so hard and fast that I thought it might explode right out of my chest.
Sisyphus wasn’t some anonymous bad guy. I knew exactly who he was, and the sight of his smug face made me sick to my stomach.
Covington, the former head librarian at the academy and the Reaper who’d murdered my parents.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I staggered back and clutched my chest, sucking down breath after breath and trying to get my pounding heart under control.
“You—you—you’re supposed to be in prison,” I sputtered. “How did you get out?”
Covington tossed his mask down onto the floor and let out a low, amused laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. “Did you really think I was going to let myself rot in some silly Protectorate prison? You should know me better than that, Rory.” He shook his head, as though he were disappointed in me. “Despite Loki’s defeat, Reapers are still everywhere, even right under their family’s noses in the precious Protectorate. Ask your friend. He would know.”
He smirked at Ian, who glared back at him.