I was so busy brooding that I didn't pay any attention when the door to Kaldi's opened, and three men trooped inside. Once again, all conversation stopped, and I felt a collective emotion ripple off everyone in the shop: fear.
"The Protectorate," I heard Helena whisper.
The Protectorate? What was that? I'd never heard of them before, but apparently they knew me because the men walked in my direction, their eyes fixed on my face.
I tensed, then sat up in my seat, wondering who the men were and what they wanted. Could they be Reapers come to attack the students? I'd wanted to be alone with Logan, so I'd left Vic, my talking sword, in my dorm room. Stupid of me not to bring the weapon, even though we'd only been getting coffee. I should have known by now that nothing was simple at Mythos-not even my first date with Logan.
My eyes scanned the shop, looking for something I could use as a weapon, but the only things within arm's reach were the two mugs and the napkin holder on my table. I wrapped my hand around the napkin holder and put it in my lap under the table and out of sight of the men.
This wouldn't be the first time Reapers had attacked me. If these men decided to do the same, well, I'd think of something. Besides, one good scream, and Logan would come running out of the bathroom to help me.
One of the men stepped up and stared down at me. He was handsome enough, with blond hair and pale blue eyes, but his mouth was fixed in a firm frown, as if he constantly found fault with everyone around him. He looked at me, and I stared at him a moment before my gaze moved to the two men flanking him. One of the men was tall and slender, while the other was short, with a body that looked fat but was really all hard muscle.
The strangest thing was that the men all had on dark gray robes over their winter clothes. The robes reminded me of the black ones the Reapers always wore, although the men weren't sporting hideous, rubber Loki masks like Reapers did. Instead, a symbol was stitched into their robes in white thread on their left collars close to their throats-a hand holding a balanced set of scales.
I'd seen that symbol before. It was carved into the ceiling of the prison in the bottom of the math-science building on campus, and it had also been in the middle of the Garm gate that Vivian Holler had used to free Loki. My unease kicked up another notch. Nothing good was ever associated with that image, as far as I was concerned.
"So you're her," the first man said. "Nike's newest Champion. Not quite what I expected."
His voice was soft, smooth, and cultured, but there was obvious power in his words, as if he was used to being obeyed no matter what.
"Who are you?" I snapped, my fingers tightening around the flimsy napkin holder. "What do you want?"
"And you don't even have the good sense to know when you're in trouble," the man murmured, as though I hadn't said a word.
I snorted. Oh, I knew I was in trouble. I was almost always in trouble these days. The only question was how bad it would be this time-and if I could somehow manage to get out of it alive once again.
The man kept staring at me with his cold, judgmental eyes, and I lifted my chin in defiance. Whatever happened, whatever these men wanted, whatever they tried to do to me, I wasn't going to show him how confused and scared I was. Reapers thrived on that sort of thing. I didn't think these men were Reapers, since no one in the shop was screaming or trying to run away from them, but they weren't here for anything good. I could feel the hostility emanating from them in waves, especially from the leader.
The man tilted his head to the side. "I wonder what he sees in you." After a moment, he shrugged. "No matter. It won't change anything."
"Change what?" I asked. "Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want with me? And why are you wearing those ridiculous robes?"
Anger made the leader's cheeks take on a faint, reddish tint, but the short, muscular man choked back a laugh. The leader turned to glare at him, and the other man pressed his lips together, although I could see his chest shaking, as though he was trying to swallow the rest of his amusement. The third man seemed bored, as if this was an errand he was eager to get over with.
Okay, this was getting weirder by the second. I looked past the men, wondering what was taking Logan so long, when the leader stepped even closer to me, his eyes glittering with anger.
"Gwendolyn Cassandra Frost," he said in a loud, booming voice. "You're under arrest."
Chapter 2
My mouth dropped open. "Me? Under arrest? For what?"
"Crimes against the Pantheon," the man said in a cold, cryptic tone.
"Crimes? What crimes? What are you talking about?"
He leaned down so that his face was level with mine. "Freeing Loki, for starters, you silly girl. Did you really think that you were just going to get away with it? That there wouldn't be any consequences?"
My mouth dropped open a little more. "But I didn't free him-"
"Get her up," the leader barked, cutting off my protests. "We've wasted enough time here already."
The other two men stepped around him and headed toward me. I leaped up out of my chair and scrambled back so that I was standing against the fireplace, just to the left of where the flames crackled in the grate. The stones felt warm against my back through my clothes. Normally, the sensation would have been a pleasant one, but right now it told me that I had nowhere to go-and no hope of escape.
I looked past the men at the other Mythos students, my eyes going from one face to another, hoping that at least one of them would come to my rescue-or just stand up and ask what was going on. But the other kids seemed just as stunned as I felt, and even Kenzie and Talia, whom I counted among my friends, remained frozen in their seats. Whoever the men were, the students seemed to know all about them-and they didn't dare interfere with them and whatever they were going to do to me.
Everyone except Helena, that is. The Amazon pulled her cell phone out of her purse, and I thought she might actually call for help. But instead, she held her phone up and snapped a few photos of me and the men. Then she bent down over the small screen, sending the pictures as fast as her fingers could text. The smirk on her pretty face told me that she was obviously enjoying this, whatever exactly this was.
Desperate, I raised the napkin holder, wondering if I could somehow distract the men with it long enough to shove my way past them and run out of the shop. Somehow, I didn't think that would work, especially since I kept getting glimpses of the swords strapped to their waists beneath the billowing folds of their robes.
"What are you going to do with that?" the short man asked, his words colored by a Russian accent. "It's not very practical, as far as weapons go. You should have brought your sword with you. I hear it's a fine weapon."
Vic? He knew about Vic? How?
"Come on, Sergei," the leader said in an impatient tone. "Let's get on with it."
"In a moment, Linus," Sergei, the short man, replied. "There's no use frightening and confusing the girl any more than you already have. We're supposed to be civilized about these things, remember?"
Sergei winked at me, his hazel eyes sly and almost merry in his tan face.
"Well, I agree with Linus," the third, thin man said. "We have a schedule to keep."
"Bah," Sergei said, waving his hand. "We should be able to make our own schedules, don't you think, Inari?"
Inari shrugged his slender shoulders. "We go where we're told, just like we always do."
"Sergei," Linus said, a clear warning in his voice.
He sighed. "Very well."
Sergei stepped forward and held out his hand, reaching for me. I tightened my grip on the napkin holder and edged away from him that much more, backing myself into the corner. I wasn't going anywhere with these men without a fight-
"Dad? What are you doing here?" a familiar voice called out.
Logan let the bathroom door close behind him and moved over to stand next to Linus, the leader.
"Sergei? Inari?" Logan asked, echoing the men's names. "What's going on?"
The Spartan looked surprised to see the three men, but unlike the other people in the shop, he didn't seem frightened by them. Then again, Logan wasn't scared of anything. Not Nemean prowlers, not murderous Reapers, not even my magic and the fact that I'd killed another guy with it. Nothing ever rattled the Spartan, not even the sudden appearance of three mystery men wearing creepy robes.
Logan obviously knew the men, knew exactly who they were, but that didn't ease my mind. Not at all. If anything, it only added to my tension, especially since he'd called one of them Dad.
And the men knew Logan too, enough to greet him. Sergei gave him a hearty slap on the back, while Inari respectfully nodded his head. Linus nodded his head as well, although his posture was still stiff, and his face remained cold. If anything, I could feel his dislike for me increase, as he looked back and forth between me and the Spartan.
"Logan?" I asked. "Who are these men?"
"Sergei Sokolov, Inari Sato, and my dad, Linus Quinn."
A sinking feeling filled my stomach. Why, oh why, couldn't Sergei have been Logan's dad instead? He at least seemed somewhat friendly. Linus, not so much. Not at all, in fact.
"And what do they want with me?" I asked. "Why are they here to arrest me?"
Logan frowned. "They're members of the Protectorate, which is basically the police force for the mythological world. But why would they want to arrest you? There must be some mistake."
"There's no mistake," Linus said. "Unless there's some other girl I don't know about who helped Loki escape."
Shocked gasps rippled through the coffee shop, and everyone looked at me. After a few seconds, the surprised stares shifted to horrified looks that quickly melted into harsh, accusing, angry glares. Now, all the kids had pulled out their phones and were taking photos of me and texting them as fast as they could. The news would be all over the academy in minutes.
Sergei stepped to one side and gestured with his hand. I hadn't noticed him before, but a guy about my own age had followed the three men into the shop. He looked like a younger, taller, leaner version of Sergei, with the same hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and tan skin.
"Alexei, my boy, watch her," Sergei said.
Alexei moved over to stand next to me. He wasn't wearing a robe like the men were, but I could tell by the easy, confident way he moved that he was a fighter, a warrior whiz kid just like I was. Maybe a Roman, maybe a Viking, maybe something else. I had no way of knowing, and this wasn't exactly the right time to ask.
"Alexei Sokolov?" Logan asked, more confusion creeping into his voice.
Alexei tipped his head at the Spartan, but he never took his eyes off me. "Hello, Logan." He had the same Russian accent his dad did.
Logan looked at Alexei, then Sergei and Inari in their gray robes. Finally, he whirled around to Linus.
"What's going on, Dad? Why are you here? And why are you arresting Gwen?"
Linus put his arm around his son's shoulders. "Because it's my job as the head of the Protectorate. You know that."
Logan shook his head. "It's your job to protect the members of the Pantheon, to hunt down Reapers and put them in prison where they belong, not show up out of the blue and harass my friend for no reason."
Linus's face tightened until it looked as hard as the stone fireplace behind me. "This-this girl is no friend of yours." He spat out the words. "She's the reason that Loki is free, and she's going to stand trial and be punished for it-all of it."
Trial? Punished? Me? Every word he said made my fear and dread grow that much more. Despite the heat of the fire, I felt cold and numb. Oh yeah, I was in serious trouble, only this time it wasn't from Reapers who wanted to kill me-it was from the Protectorate, a group I'd never even heard of until five minutes ago.
"Get the handcuffs on her, and let's go," Linus said. "We'll continue this discussion later, Logan, and you can tell me exactly what you were doing here with this . . . girl."
Inari pushed back his robe, reached into his pants pocket, and came up with a pair of silver handcuffs. He held them out, but I kept my body plastered against the fireplace wall, wishing I could press myself through the stone and out the other side. I didn't always have to touch something to get a vibe off it, especially if an object had a lot of strong feelings and memories attached to it. Inari's handcuffs radiated with fear, rage, and desperation-all twisted and gnarled together like invisible strands of barbed wire stabbing into me.
I didn't want those handcuffs anywhere near me, much less touching my skin and forcing me to see, feel, and experience everything that all the people who'd worn the cuffs had. None of the memories, none of the feelings, would be good. Not with all those ugly emotions already emanating from the metal. I shivered and dropped my gaze. It made me sick to my stomach just to look at them.
"No," Logan said, noticing my reaction. He knew what would happen if they put the handcuffs on me. "No handcuffs. Gwen doesn't deserve them. She doesn't deserve any of this. You're making a huge mistake."
"There's no mistake," Linus said, his voice hardening. "Except that it seems you have the same foolish fondness for Frost women that your uncle did."
Anger stained Logan's cheeks. He'd told me once that his father didn't get along with his uncle, Nickamedes, the head librarian at the academy, but it looked like there was more bad blood between them than Logan had let on-and that it somehow involved my mom, Grace Frost.
"No handcuffs, Dad," Logan repeated.