I stared at a spot in front of the checkout counter. That’s where Covington, the former head librarian, had stabbed my parents in the back, and that’s where they had been lying when I raced into the library that awful, awful day. I didn’t get vibes off objects, not like Gwen did with her psychometry magic, but the memories were so strong that they rose up in my mind and blotted out everything else.
In an instant, all I could see was my mom and dad crumpled on the floor, their eyes open wide with shock and pain. All I could hear was the faint whisper of their black Reaper cloaks fluttering back and forth in the air-conditioning, looking like death shrouds draped over their bodies. All I could smell was the coppery stench of their blood oozing across the floor, staining the stone a sickening scarlet…
A Roman guy hurried past me, and his backpack accidentally clipped my shoulder. The faint nudge snapped me out of my trance, and the images faded away, although not the pain they left behind.
Nothing ever took away that heartache.
These same memories haunted me every single time I set foot in here. And I wondered, like I always did, if I could really go over, sit down at a study table, open my books, and pretend everything was fine. That my parents hadn’t died a few feet away.
More hurt and loss stabbed through my heart, while more of that sick dread twisted my stomach. Not for the first time, I wanted to whirl around, run out the door, and never set foot in the library again, but I forced myself to take in slow, deep breaths and hold my ground. I couldn’t avoid the library, not even for a few days, given the massive amounts of homework my professors dished out on a weekly basis. Besides, Covington and my parents had already taken so much from me. They weren’t taking the library too. I wouldn’t let them take that too. So I pushed the memories back down to the bottom of my brain, squared my shoulders, and strode forward.
“What’s she doing here?” A snide voice caught my ear.
I glanced over at the fireplace, and I realized that all the other kids were staring at me again.
“Isn’t it bad enough that we have to sit through classes with her?” Kylie, the blond Valkyrie from lunch, continued. “Does she have to come to the library too?”
In an instant, everyone started whispering about me, and once again, I wanted to turn around, leave the library, and never come back. But Spartans never ran away from a fight, not even one like this that I could never, ever win, so I gritted my teeth and walked down the center aisle, as though I didn’t hear any of the cruel taunts. Besides, I really did need to do some research and get started on my term-paper outline. I took pride in getting good grades, and I wasn’t going to flunk my first myth-history assignment of the semester because of some stupid gossip.
So I went over to one of the computer stations close to the checkout counter, typed in the titles of the books the professor had given us as starting points, and printed out their locations. But the other students had beaten me to them, and all the copies of the first few books on the list had already been checked out. Still, I trudged from one side of the library to the other, trying to find something that would help me. Every time I left the stacks and walked by the fireplace, a fresh round of whispers rippled through the groups of kids, but I ignored the harsh murmurs and marched on.
Since all the books on the first floor were already gone, I pushed through a door, climbed the stairs, and stepped out onto the second floor. Like all the other Libraries of Antiquities, the second floor featured a balcony that wrapped all the way around the library, boasting a pantheon of statues of the gods and goddesses of all the cultures of the world, everything from Greek to Norse to Egyptian and all the others in between.
Zeus, the ruler of the Greek gods, with his lightning bolt clutched in his hand. Odin, the ruler of the Norse gods, with his two ravens perched on his shoulders. Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, with her claw-tipped fingers. I moved past those deities and dozens more. Just like the stone gryphons outside, these statues also studied me, although none of them gave me a friendly wink or an encouraging smile. But I didn’t mind their silent scrutiny. At least I couldn’t hear their thoughts about me, whatever they might be.
All the other students were lounging around the fireplace, so it was much quieter up here, and I was the only one on this floor. I sighed with relief. Now that no one was watching me, maybe I could relax and focus on my homework. Besides, up here, I didn’t have to keep walking by the spot where I had seen my parents’ bodies.
A few minutes later, I finally found one of the myth-history books on my list and slid it out of its spot on the shelf along one of the walls. I grabbed a couple of other volumes, enough to get started on my outline, and headed toward the exit so that I could go downstairs, check out the books, and take them home.
I was almost to the door when a bright gleam of metal caught my eye.
A glass display case sat at the end of one of the bookcases along the wall. The case was one of hundreds in the Library of Antiquities, which got its name from all the, well, antiquities that were housed inside. Weapons, armor, jewelry, clothing, and more were displayed throughout the library, all of them used and worn by gods, goddesses, warriors, and creatures over the centuries, many of them possessing magical powers and properties.
I had spent a lot of time in the library over the past year, and I didn’t remember seeing this case before. Curious, I walked over and peered through the glass.
A silver sword that glimmered like it had been freshly polished lay on a bed of dark green velvet inside the case, along with a black leather scabbard. I glanced around, but I didn’t spot an identification card inside the case or a metal plaque attached to the outside that would tell me whom the weapon had belonged to, what battles she had fought with it, and what magic it might have.
Swords were a dime a dozen in the library, and I had started to turn away from it when another gleam of metal caught my eye. I stepped forward, peered through the glass again, and took a closer look at the sword.
Was that…a face…engraved in the metal?
For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren’t. A round bulge of an eye, a pointed cheekbone, a sharp, hooked nose, a curved chin. All those things joined on the sword’s hilt to form a face—a woman’s face, judging from her heart-shaped lips and the delicate eyebrow etched into the metal. Surprise jolted through me, and I held my breath, wondering if the sword’s eye might pop open and the woman inside the metal might look up or maybe even talk to me.
Nothing happened.
The sword didn’t talk, blink, yawn—nothing. It was like the weapon was, well, just a weapon, albeit one with a very pretty face. Disappointment filled me. Gwen had a talking sword named Vic, who was totally bloodthirsty. Ever since I’d met Vic, I had thought it would be so cool to have a talking sword of my own, but of course, something that amazing could never happen to me.
Sometimes I felt like nothing good ever happened to me.