I walked around the circular balcony until I came to a particular statue in the Pantheon-Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. She looked the same as always, although her face seemed to be a little sad today, with the corners of her mouth turned down instead of up. I wondered if it was because I'd failed her so miserably.
"I'm sorry," I said, tears filling my eyes once again. "So sorry. For everything."
I stood there, hoping the goddess would respond to me, but of course, she didn't. The gods only appeared to mortals on their terms. Still, I knew that Nike would come to me again, so I sat down beside the statue to wait.
I don't know how long I sat there, waiting for Nike to move, to blink, to speak, to just do something, anything to let me know that all hope wasn't lost.
But nothing happened.
Down below, Nickamedes announced that the library was closing for the night, and the few students remaining inside packed up their things and left. Not wanting to spend the night trapped in the library, I got to my feet, trooped down the steps, and headed toward the double doors on the first floor. I was just about to step through them when a voice called out behind me.
"Gwendolyn? A moment, please."
I sighed and turned around. Nickamedes stood behind me, holding something in his hand. He gestured at me, and I walked over toward him.
"What?" I mumbled. "Going to lecture me about what a mess I've made of everything? You don't have to. Trust me, I know how bad things are right now."
Nickamedes shook his head. "No, Gwendolyn, I'm not going to lecture you. I think you held up remarkably well, all things considered. I don't know that I would have been as brave as you were."
I blinked. The librarian never complimented me-never. I'd thought he'd rant and rave about how I'd pretty much doomed the entire world, since that was exactly what I'd done. Instead, the librarian gestured for me to take a seat at one of the study tables. Bewildered, I did as he asked, and Nickamedes pulled out a chair and sat across from me. It occurred to me that this was the first time the librarian hadn't stared down his nose at me. But instead of looking at me, he kept his eyes on the thin piece of paper in his hand, like it was the most important thing he'd ever seen.
Finally, Nickamedes cleared his throat. "A few days ago, you asked me why I hated you so much."
"And now you're going to tell me? Terrific," I muttered.
The librarian shook his head. "No, I'm not going to tell you because I don't hate you, Gwendolyn. I never have."
"Then what's with all the attitude every time I come in here? Because you sure act like you hate me."
Nickamedes sighed. "It's ... complicated."
"Most things are at Mythos," I said in a snide tone.
I would have said something else snarky if I hadn't noticed the pained look on the librarian's face. "What's the matter? What have I done wrong this time?"
Nickamedes finally looked up at me. "Nothing. You haven't done anything wrong, but I admit that it's been ... difficult for me to work with you, Gwendolyn. And your perpetual tardiness isn't the only reason."
He drew in another breath. "I knew your mother, you see. Back when we both went to Mythos. We were actually quite good friends, Grace, Aurora, and I."
Nickamedes flipped over the piece of paper he'd been clutching, and I realized that it was actually a photo-one of my mom, Metis, and Nickamedes sitting on the library steps, laughing about something.
My breath caught in my throat. "Where-where did you get that?"
"It slipped out of your mother's diary when you dropped your bag in the library a few nights ago," he said. "The photo slid underneath one of the tables. I tried to give it back to you then, but you'd already left."
So that's what he'd been calling out to me about that night. I'd thought he'd just wanted to gloat about Logan's dumping me.
"You were friends with my mom?" I asked. "Really?"
He nodded, and a smile curved his lips. "Really. Grace, Aurora, and I were as thick as thieves. We had big dreams back then, you see, of how we were going to take on the Reapers and change the world, how we were going to make it safe for all the other warriors out there, so that maybe we wouldn't have to be warriors anymore."
"What happened?" I asked, sensing the story didn't have a happy ending.
Nickamedes shrugged. "We did fight Reapers, the whole time we were at Mythos, and Grace and Aurora were chosen as Champions. But then, things started to change. We all started to change. By the time graduation rolled around, we weren't the same people that we were in this photo. Your mother was ... tired. Tired of fighting Reapers, tired of being a Champion, tired of all the blood and death and responsibility."
I knew exactly how she had felt. I'd only been Nike's Champion for a few months, but it seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought, the Reapers just kept coming and coming and coming. And now, with Loki free, it would only get worse-so much worse.
"Anyway, right before graduation, your mother and I ... argued," Nickamedes continued. "I wanted to join up with other members of the Pantheon. The Pantheon has its own police force, you see, with members stationed all over the world, dedicated to finding Reapers and putting them in prison where they belong. Joining their ranks had been my dream as long as I'd been at Mythos. It had been Grace's dream, too."
"But she changed," I said, picking up on his feelings. "And she didn't want to fight anymore, did she? After graduation."
Nickamedes shook his head. "No, and I couldn't understand why, since she was a Champion, since she had so much power, so much magic. I said some things to her... . Well, let's just say they weren't very nice. Basically, I called her a quitter and told her that she didn't deserve to be Nike's Champion."
I winced. "Sounds kind of harsh to me."
Nickamedes gave me a sad smile. "It was, and I regret it more than you'll ever know. We went our separate ways after graduation. Eventually, I decided to come back here and look after the artifacts in the library."
"And my mom became a cop in the mortal world."
"I guess she fulfilled our dream in a way after all," Nickamedes said. "I thought about her quite often, wondering where she was and what had become of her, if she was living the Reaper-free life she'd wanted. Then one day last spring, Aurora came to me and told me that Grace had been murdered. That she had a daughter and that you were going to start attending Mythos in the fall. I immediately told Aurora that I wanted you to work here in the library with me."
I frowned. "But why? Why would you do that?"
Especially given how you've treated me. I didn't say the words, but they hung in the air between us, angry and unspoken.
"Because you're Grace's daughter," Nickamedes said in a quiet voice. "And I loved your mother very much."
The revelation stunned me. Uptight, prissy Nickamedes and my-my-mom. Together? As a couple? In love? It didn't make any sense. Then again, I supposed Logan and I didn't make much sense either. The fierce Spartan warrior and the Gypsy girl who was just learning how to fight.
"I'm sorry I've acted the way I have toward you," Nickamedes said. "Our breakup was rather ... messy, as you can imagine. I'd thought I'd gotten over your mother, or at least gotten over my anger at her for leaving, but then you came to Mythos. And you look so much like her, especially when you smile. More than that, you're smart and strong, just like she was too."
The librarian's face softened, and for a moment, I got a glimpse of what he had been like when he was younger-of the guy my mom had fallen for all those years ago. Then, Nickamedes cleared his throat again, and the image vanished.
"I suppose I've been taking my anger at your mother out on you, Gwendolyn, and that's not fair. I wanted to apologize for that. It won't happen again."
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Nickamedes loving my mom; my mom wanting a normal life; my mom quitting as Nike's Champion. It was a lot to take in, and a thousand different questions filled my mind.
"Anyway," Nickamedes said. "I thought you should know why I've treated you the way I have, and I wanted you to have this."
He held out the picture, and my fingers trembled as I took it. My psychometry kicked in immediately, and I felt all the things my mom and Nickamedes had, since they'd both handled the photo. Mainly, I got flashes of my mom's fond memories and her aching regret over the way things had ended between the two of them. They were the same feelings Nickamedes had, although his were now mixed with the determination to do right by me-to protect me the same way Metis had sworn she would.
"Thank you for this, but I think you need it more than I do." I held the photo out to him. "Keep it as a reminder of my mom. I think she'd want that."
Nickamedes nodded and took back the picture. His fingers lingered on my mom's face, and I could tell he was thinking about her again and wishing things had been different between them. Finally, the librarian raised his gaze to mine once more, his blue eyes that were so much like Logan's.
"And now, for the last thing I wanted to say to you tonight. You can't give up, Gwendolyn," Nickamedes said. "You have to keep on fighting just like the rest of us do."
I sighed. "What's the point? Loki's free because of me. Because I failed to protect the Helheim Dagger, he and the other Reapers are going to kill people. You know, start another Chaos War, plunge the world into eternal darkness, that sort of thing."
I'd been kind of out of it back in the forest, but I knew that Oliver had found the dagger beside Preston's body. I had no idea what would happen to the artifact now. Maybe the Powers That Were would put it on display here in the Library of Antiquities as a reminder of my epic failure.
"You listen to me, Gwendolyn Cassandra Frost," Nickamedes said in a sharp tone.
I blinked, wondering how the librarian knew my middle name, but I decided not to ask him since he was glaring at me-again.
"You're Nike's Champion just like your mother was before you," the librarian snapped. "And I will not have Grace Frost's good name dragged through the mud because you're too busy moping and brooding to do what needs to be done. There's a war coming, and we're going to do our best to win it, which means you need to start polishing up that talking sword of yours. Do you understand me?"
Maybe it was Nickamedes's prissy tone or the fierce look on his face. Or maybe it was because I'd felt all the same things he did for my mom-all the love and all the aching regret. But for this moment, this one instant, he gave me a flicker of hope that maybe it wasn't too late. That maybe we could figure out a way to defeat Loki after all.
That maybe I could actually kill the god, like I was supposed to.
"I understand," I said.
"Good," Nickamedes said.
Our talk was over. I got to my feet, and Nickamedes did the same. I told him good night, then turned and headed out of the library.
"And don't be late for your shift tomorrow!" the librarian called out just as I stepped through the double doors.
Instead of annoying me, his words actually made me smile. It was comforting to know that no matter how bad things got, some things would never, ever change.
Chapter 28
I left the library and walked down the steps. I stopped a moment to stare at the gryphon statue, the one that had protected the Helheim Dagger for so long.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I failed you."
Maybe it was just a trick of the moonlight, but it seemed that the gryphon dipped its head in disappointment. I sighed once more. Despite Nickamedes's pep talk, there was no getting over the fact that things had not gone well the past twenty-four hours. Not well at all.
I turned to look back at the library a final time-and that's when I saw her.
She stood at the top of the library stairs, perfectly framed by a slice of moonlight. Bronze hair flowed down past her shoulders, the thick waves matching the folds of the white, toga-like gown that covered her lean, strong body. Her face was as beautiful as ever, although her features looked as cold as marble in the darkness. I focused on her eyes-eyes that weren't quite purple but not really gray either. Even now, here, they reminded me of the color of twilight.
"Nike," I whispered.
"Hello, Gwendolyn," the goddess said.
The Greek goddess of victory glided down the steps to me, her feet barely seeming to touch the stone. Her wings arced up over her back like the two halves of a heart, the feathers ruffling with her elegant, graceful movements. As the goddess neared me, I once again felt her power-the cold, beautiful, terrible power that rolled off her body in unending, unstoppable waves.
"Hello, Gwendolyn," Nike said again, giving me a soft smile.
The goddess's serene expression didn't comfort me. Not at all. Not after I'd failed her so miserably.
I swallowed. "I suppose you're here to take back Vic and that you'll take my magic away, too, while you're at it and give it to someone else. Someone who deserves it."
She frowned. "Why ever would I do that?"
I swallowed again, but I just couldn't seem to get rid of the tight knot that clogged my throat. "Because I failed you," I whispered. "Because I wasn't able to hide the dagger again. Because Vivian used it and my blood to free Loki. Because now, he's going to plunge the world into a second Chaos War. Because people are going to die, and it's all my fault."
I couldn't stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks again. "All my fault."