I gently peeled my face off the stone, yawned, and sat up. The lights were still on, but the library was eerily silent. I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and checked the time. Just after nine o’clock, which meant the library had closed a few minutes ago. I slid my phone back into my pocket and peered down at the first floor through the stone slats in the balcony railing.
All the kids who’d been sitting in the chairs and couches around the fireplace were gone, along with the ones who’d been at the study tables. The coffee cart had been closed up, and I didn’t even see a librarian at the checkout counter, shelving a few last books before leaving. But I wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the first time I’d been in here alone at night.
In the weeks after my parents were murdered, I had spent hours and hours in the library. Maybe it was weird and morbid, since this was where they had died, but roaming through the stacks and looking at the books and artifacts actually made me feel a little closer to my parents. But I hadn’t been wandering around aimlessly—I had been searching for clues.
My parents had had so many secrets, and part of me had hoped that they’d left something behind in the library for me to find, since this was the last place they’d been. A letter, a diary, an artifact. Something, anything, that would answer my questions about why they had done all those horrible things.
I hadn’t found anything, not here at the library or at our old house, not so much as a scribbled note, but that didn’t keep me from looking, from hoping, even to this day. Maybe I wasn’t weird and morbid. Maybe I was just foolish for thinking that my parents were anything other than the evil Reapers they appeared to be.
The other reason I had spent so much time in the library was that it was the one place on campus where I could find a quiet spot away from prying eyes and sit and think about everything that had happened. Sometimes, when the other kids’ stares and whispers got to be too much, I would play hooky from class and hide in the stacks until I felt I could face everyone again.
Ever since Loki and the Reapers were defeated, the librarians had gotten really lax when it came to security, and they didn’t roam through the stacks and check on the books and artifacts nearly as much as they used to. Plus, one of the side doors had a flimsy lock that was easy to jiggle open with a paper clip, so I could come and go as I pleased without anyone even knowing I was in here.
Since it was so quiet, I wondered what had woken me up. Probably some faint noise, like a book falling off a shelf—
Something moved in the stacks on the first floor.
A black blob detached itself from the wall and crept through a pool of shadows before stopping at the end of one of the aisles. For a moment, I wondered if I was only imagining the inky shape, but then it moved again, sidling over to a glass display case, and I realized it was a person—wearing a black Reaper cloak.
My breath caught in my throat. A Reaper? In the library? They were all supposed to be either dead, in prison, or in hiding. So what was a Reaper doing here?
I studied the figure. Despite the black cloak that covered the Reaper from head to toe, I got the impression that it was a guy, judging from his tall frame and broad shoulders. My suspicion was confirmed a second later, when the Reaper reached out and started fiddling with the display case. Those were definitely a guy’s hands. I squinted at the Reaper, but the hood of his cloak covered his head and cast his face in shadow, and I couldn’t make out his features.
My gaze dropped to the display case, but the Reaper was blocking my view, and all I could see was a glimmer of gold. I thought back, trying to remember what artifact was in that particular case. Not a weapon or a piece of armor but something to do with some…creature, although I couldn’t remember anything more specific. But it didn’t matter. The Reaper wouldn’t be stealing that artifact or any others.
The Reapers had already taken far too much, especially from me. They weren’t getting anything else.
I got to my feet, tiptoed forward, and scanned the first floor below in case the Reaper had brought some friends with him—
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
The sound of footsteps whispered up from the first floor. The Reaper froze. Yeah, me too. Especially since the footsteps were coming from the opposite side of the library.
Someone else was in here.
I eased forward a little more and looked to my right toward the center aisle. A second later, Amanda, the girl from the dining hall, slipped out of the stacks on that side of the library. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, just like at lunch, and her black leather boots tapped softly against the floor as she walked. She wasn’t wearing a black Reaper cloak, but she was carrying a long staff, a weapon usually preferred by Amazons.
Amanda crept forward, both hands clutched around her staff, ready to use her speed to whip up the weapon and bring it crashing down on someone’s head. She moved slowly and cautiously, glancing around as though she was searching for something—or someone.
My eyes narrowed. Was she looking for the Reaper? Had she come here to stop him? I glanced back at the Reaper, but he’d gotten over his surprise and was now using a dagger to try to force open the lock on the display case. The more I looked at the Reaper, the more his tall frame and broad shoulders reminded me of Ian, the Viking that Amanda had been so cozy with at lunch. Maybe she was his lookout, making sure the library was clear so he could steal that artifact.
My hands clenched into fists. Well, I didn’t care what they were doing. Neither one of them was leaving with any artifacts. Not as long as I was here to stop them. Amanda might have a staff, and the Reaper might have a dagger, but I was a Spartan, and I could take both of them down with my bare hands if I had to.
But first things first. I had to text Aunt Rachel and tell her what was going on. Otherwise, I would probably get blamed for Amanda and the Reaper breaking into the library. Aunt Rachel would believe me. She was the only one who would believe me.
So I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and entered my message.
Aunt Rachel texted me back almost immediately. I’m on my way! DO NOT try to fight the Reapers by yourself!
I frowned. Of course I was going to stop the Reapers. I was a Spartan, and that was what we did. I had started to text her back when my phone lit up with another message.
I mean it! DON’T DO IT! Stay where you are! Stay safe!
I sighed. Aunt Rachel didn’t often tell me what to do, but the capital letters and the exclamation points told me she meant business. I still felt bad about snapping at her this morning, so I decided to do as she asked and keep watch on the Reapers instead of going downstairs and confronting them. Besides, I could always follow the Reapers if they left the library before she got here.
I texted her back. Okay. I’ll stay on the balcony.
I had just hit send when a soft noise caught my attention. I frowned. Was that…humming?
Bum. Da-bum-bum. Bum.