and a bitter, bitter taste filled my mouth. Oliver Hector had tried to kill me. Well, had tried to run me down with his SUV at the very least. But why? Because he'd thought I'd tell Kenzie about Oliver's crush on him? Or because Oliver was a Reaper? I didn't know, and my head started pounding as my troubled thoughts spun around and around.
Whether he was a Reaper or not, Oliver wanted me dead. The real question now was this: What was I going to do about it?
I put Oliver's keys back where they belonged and laid Kenzie's key card on his nightstand to make him think he'd just forgotten it this morning. Then I left the Spartans' room and pulled the door shut behind me.
I stood there in the hallway, thinking about everything I'd just seen and felt and wondering what I should do next. Metis, I thought. I should go tell Professor Metis what I'd learned. Yeah, she'd be pissed that I'd broken into Oliver's room, but she'd listen when I told her what I'd seen when I'd picked up his car keys. She'd believe me when I told her he'd tried to run me down.
While I was standing there wondering if Metis was even in the hotel this morning and how quickly I could find her, the elevator at the end of the hallway pinged. The doors opened, and Oliver stepped out.
Our gazes locked, and Oliver started, like he was surprised to see me on the guys-only floor. Then he realized exactly whose room I was standing outside. His face paled, then his eyes narrowed. Oliver took a step toward me. I turned and ran.
Yeah, maybe I was a coward, but Oliver had tried to kill
me at least once that I knew of. Given the angry expression on his face, it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that me snooping around in his room would seriously piss him off, maybe even enough for him to try again- right here, right now.
'Gwen! Stop!'
There wasn't an elevator at this end of the hallway, so I slammed through a door and into the emergency stairwell. Down, down, down, I hurried as fast as I could. Footsteps echoed on the stairs above my head, growing louder and louder with every second. The Spartan was gaining on me.
'Gwen Frost!' Oliver called out again, his voice bouncing all the way down to the ground floor and then ricocheting back to the top of the stairwell.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't outrun Oliver, but maybe, just maybe, I could lose him. On the fifth floor, I stopped long enough to shove open the door, like I'd left the stairs and stepped out onto that floor. Then I crept down to the fourthfloor landing and stopped, trying to listen to what Oliver was doing despite the blood roaring in my ears and the rapid
His footsteps slowed, then stopped. He paused, and for a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. I stood as still as possible, scarcely daring to breathe for fear the Spartan might hear me. For all I knew, Oliver had enhanced senses, like so many of the other warrior whiz kids did. I knew he was wondering whether I'd really gone through the door or was just trying to trick him. Oliver went for the door. I heard him open it and step out into the hallway.
I started sprinting down the stairs again. I tried to listen and run at the same time, but I didn't hear any more footsteps ringing out on the steps above me. Maybe I'd lost him. I hoped so. I reached the bottom of the stairwell and pushed through the door, expecting it to open up somewhere in the resort hotel's massive lobby.
I stepped out into the construction zone. Plywood, sawhorses, power tools, and plastic tarps filled the space in front of me. There were no lights down here, just eerie shadows cast by what little sunshine trickled in through the gaps in the boards that were nailed up where the windows were supposed to go. The dark, sinister gloom covered everything, like a thick, suffocating blanket. I shivered.
Daphne had told me the resort was adding on a new wing, and I'd seen the construction myself from the outside when we'd first gotten here Friday morning. Somehow I'd walked right into the middle of it by going down the emergency stairs instead of taking the elevator. I peered into the gloom. How was I supposed to get out of here? I couldn't go back up the stairs, not without risking running into Oliver, and I didn't see any doors or exits nearby. All I could do was go forward and try to find a way out of the construction maze.
I picked my way through the semidarkness, trying to make as little noise as possible. I winced every time my sneakers scuffed up against something in the shadows. Sawdust puffed up with every step I took, making my nose twitch. I put my hoodie sleeve up against my nose, so I wouldn't sneeze and give myself away, just in case Oliver had followed me down here.
I don't know how long I wandered around, but it seemed like I was moving in circles. That, or the resort expansion was just much, much bigger than I realized, and I hadn't reached the end of it yet.
I stopped in front of one of the windows. This one hadn't been boarded up as tightly as the others, and a couple of cracks of sunlight slipped through, along with a blast of cold, wintry air. I put my back to the window and stood there a second, looking around and trying to get my bearings. Okay, this looked like it was one of the exterior walls, so if I just followed it, I should be able to get out of here sooner or later. That made sense, right?
Besides, tons of footprints marred the sawdust, probably from all the construction workers. I'd seen them, too, on Friday morning, although they must have quit work for the weekend, since I didn't hear any hammers banging or drills whining. I squatted down and peered at the faint marks, trying to see which direction the footprints went. Maybe I could pretend they were the Yellow Brick Road and follow them right out of here.
I froze, staring at one of the prints on the floor. It wasn't a boot print or even one made by a sneaker or some other kind of shoe. No, this print hadn't been made by anyone walking around down here. It was shaped like an animal's paw, one that was bigger than my hand, with four toe pads and four sharp claws on the ends of them. I might not be a nature-loving girl, but I'd seen that kind of paw print twice before: once in my myth-history book and yesterday in the snow after the avalanche had almost swept me away.
The Fenrir wolf had been down here. Recently, from the looks of it. And where the wolf was, the Reaper wouldn't be far behind.
Just as that chilling thought occurred to me, I noticed an odd shape out of the corner of my eye, something that didn't match the rest of the construction equipment. It took me a few seconds of squinting, but I finally realized what the shape was: a sleeping bag. And that wasn't all. A couple of flashlights rested on top of it, along some empty bottles of Perrier and crumpled bags that smelled of cold, greasy food. It wasn't hard to figure out that someone had been hiding down here with the wolf.
I thought I'd been so clever getting away from Oliver, but I'd walked right into the middle of his supersecret lair in the construction zone.
Panic filled me, and I cursed myself. I had to get out of here-now. Before Oliver found me and sicced his killer puppy dog on me again. I wouldn't escape, not again, not from both of them, not down here in the dark.
I hurried through the construction zone as fast as I could, hurtling over all the tools, boards, and bags of cement, not caring how much noise I made. Escape was the only thing on my mind, burning away everything else.
Finally, just when I wanted to scream with frustration that I was never getting out of the maze, I realized it was getting lighter-and that there was the outline of a door up ahead.
Relief cooled my panic, and I let out a tense breath. As soon as I stepped through that door, I'd be safe. I'd run around the hotel, back to the lobby; find Professor Metis, Coach Ajax, or even Nickamedes; and tell them what was going on. Then they would track down the Reaper and deal with him.
My eyes fixed on the door, I stepped around a wheelbarrow and ran right into Oliver.
Chapter 20
I hit the Spartan's chest and bounced off, shrieking. And I kept right on back-back-backing up until my body was flat against one of the plywood-covered windows.
My hand dropped to my waist, pushing up the bottom of my hoodie and fumbling for the scabbard that was strapped there. After a second my fingers curled around Vic's hilt. If the Spartan tried anything, anything at all, I'd
