Yep, that was definitely humming, and it sounded like it was coming from this floor. This night kept getting stranger and stranger. How many people were in here? Had the librarians even bothered to lock the doors when they left?
I made sure that my text went through, then slid my phone into my jeans pocket and glanced back down at the first floor. Amanda was tiptoeing around the fireplace and peering at the chairs and couches, like she thought someone might be hiding under one of them, while the Reaper was still trying to open the display case on the opposite side of the library. Neither one of them seemed to be in a hurry, which gave me enough time to try to figure out where that weird humming was coming from. I had to protect my own back first. I didn’t need another Reaper sneaking up and attacking me from behind.
So I tilted my head, listening. The humming sounded like it was coming from behind me. I turned to the side and realized that a display case was standing directly across from me—the case with the silver sword that I had been looking at earlier.
A bit of uneasiness rippled through me. This was getting really weird, even by Mythos standards. My gaze flicked back and forth between the first floor and the display case. I should keep an eye on the Reapers, but I also wanted to know who—or what—was making that noise. Aunt Rachel had told me not to confront the Reapers, but she hadn’t said anything about checking out strange sounds on this floor.
So I pushed my worry aside and crept forward. The closer I got to the display case, the louder the humming became and the more the light, trilling babbles sharpened into distinct words.
“Aye, this case will do quite nicely,” a high, lilting, almost singsong voice murmured. “Look how clear and shiny the glass is. No one’s put their grubby hands on this case in ages. Perfect. Absolutely perfect! I wonder if the librarians use antibacterial window cleaner. I certainly hope so. I wouldn’t want to catch a cold. ’Tis a bit drafty up here…”
I frowned again. Antibacterial window cleaner? Was that even a real thing?
“And I even have a balcony view. It’s terrific being able to look out and see so much of the library,” the voice continued. “Aye! This is so much better than being stuck in that moldy storage room for another decade. This will do quite nicely…”
The longer I listened to the voice, the more I realized that it belonged to a woman, one with a lovely Irish accent.
That uneasiness welled up in me again, along with an eerie sense of déjà vu. This sounded almost exactly like a story Gwen had once told me. So much so that I glanced over my shoulder at Sigyn’s statue, but the goddess was as still and stone-faced as before, and so were all the other statues around her.
That feminine voice kept chattering away in that lilting Irish accent, talking about the view, the balcony, and more. My curiosity propelled me forward, and I crept closer to the display case. And closer still…and closer still…
I looked down at the case and the same sword I had seen before, the one with the woman’s face inlaid in the hilt. Eyebrow, cheekbone, nose, lips, chin. The sword’s features were the same as before, with one notable difference.
Her eye was now wide open.
It was a beautiful color, a deep, dark green that gleamed under the lights, as though a polished emerald had been set into the sword’s hilt, instead of an actual eye. But it was an eye, and it swiveled left and right, admiring the so-called balcony view, and the sword’s lips twitched as it—she—started happily humming and talking to herself again.
“Aye! This is so much better than being stuck on the shelf next to that grumpy battle ax. All he ever did was reminisce about chopping off people’s heads. Why, he about talked my bloody ear off, he did, and I only have one of them to start with. What a crotchety old blade he was…”
The sword kept babbling to herself, completely unaware that I was standing right next to her. So I did what anyone would do in this situation. I rapped my knuckles on the glass like I was knocking on a fishbowl.
The voice immediately cut off, and the eye swiveled around to me. The sword looked at me, and I stared right back at her. I knew that I should go back over to the balcony and see what the Reapers were doing, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sword. Her strong features, her intense green eye, her sharp silver blade. She was one of the most beautiful swords I had ever seen, a metallic work of art, and I itched to open the case and pick her up. The urge was so strong that I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from reaching for the case.
I shouldn’t have been so mesmerized. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a talking sword before. I’d had plenty of conversations with Vic, Gwen’s weapon. Vic loved crowing about how awesome he was and how many Reapers he’d helped cut down over the years. He was so proud of his battle prowess that I sometimes thought he should have been a Spartan’s weapon instead of Gwen’s. Not that I was jealous of her or anything. Okay, okay, so maybe I was a teeny, tiny bit jealous. I mean, c’mon. Gwen had a talking sword. How freaking cool was that?
But now that I was face to face with another talking sword, I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.
“You—you—you—” I sputtered, but I couldn’t get out the words that were stuck in my throat.
The sword’s eye widened. “What are you doing here? The library is supposed to be closed for the night.”
Her incredulous tone finally snapped me out of my fangirl stupor. “Of course the library is closed for the night. I fell asleep studying and just woke up a few minutes ago.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but her eye widened even more. If it grew any bigger, it was liable to pop right off her face.
“Oh, no,” the sword whispered. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I just got taken out of storage by that nice old lady this morning! And put in this shiny new case! No. Oh, no, no, no…”
She repeated those same words over and over again, as if my looking at her was the worst thing that could have possibly happened. This was not going the way I’d expected. Not at all. Vic might be bloodthirsty, but this sword seemed downright paranoid.
I softly rapped my knuckles on the glass again, trying to interrupt her chatter and get her to quiet down. I didn’t need the Reapers on the first floor to hear her and realize that someone else was in the library and spying on them. “It’s no big deal. You’re not the first talking sword I’ve seen, and you probably won’t be the last. Everything’s cool.”
Her green eye narrowed. “Wait a second. What other talking swords have you seen? Where? Are they here in the library?”
“Um, no. His name is Vic, and he’s with my cousin, Gwen, in North Carolina. He’s her sword. Or she’s his Champion. Or however that really works.”