Still, the temptation to try was so strong. I wanted to know what Alexei, and more important, the Protectorate, knew about me. I especially wanted to know what they knew about my touch magic-and if they'd realized that I'd killed Preston with it.

I shivered, but it wasn't because of the chill in the air. A guy's face filled my mind. Once, it had been a handsome face, but now it was twisted with pain, and his blue eyes were cold, dead, and empty-all because of me. Metis and Grandma Frost had always told me that my magic would keep growing, that I'd be able to do other things with it besides just touch objects and see memories, but I never thought I could actually kill someone with it. But that's what I'd done to Preston. I'd used my psychometry to kill him so that I could live. That was bad enough, but the worst part was that I knew I could do the same thing again-to anyone, at any time. I could feel the magic, the power, the knowledge deep inside me, a dark whisper that rasped along in time to the beat of my heart. Use me, use me, use me . . .

"I'm from Saint Petersburg, Russia," Alexei finally said. He must have decided that my questions were harmless after all. "However, I attend the London academy since that's where my dad spends most of his time with the Protectorate these days. I'm a Bogatyr warrior, and I'm not your age. I'm eighteen, a third-year student."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah. I knew that all the academies all over the world had the same structure, with first-year students who were sixteen or so all the way up to the sixth-years, who were around twenty-one. Second-year, third-year, it wasn't that big a difference.

"I'm here to guard you because my father is a senior member of the Protectorate, and I'm training to be a member too someday. And also because I'm . . . familiar with some of your classmates."

I raised an eyebrow. "Familiar how? And what's a Bogatyr?"

"We're going to your weapons training now, yes?"

I nodded.

"You'll see."

And that was all he said. He didn't explain anything else about himself, who he was, or why he was here. Okay, okay, so he wanted to be all dark, brooding, and mysterious, something that his cool Russian accent definitely helped him with. Whatever.

We walked the rest of the way to the gym in silence. I pushed through the double doors that led into the main space and headed for the bleachers on the far side, but Alexei stopped a moment to look around. I didn't see what was so interesting. Bright banners dangling from the ceiling, polished wooden bleachers jutting out from the walls, thick mats covering the floor. The gym looked like any other-except for the racks of weapons.

Since Mythos was a school for the descendants of ancient warriors, gym class was a little more strenuous than just running laps and shooting hoops. Here, gym was really weapons training, where Coach Ajax and the rest of his staff taught us kids how to use everything from swords to staffs to daggers to bows. All those weapons and more were lined up in neat rows, their sharp points glinting underneath the lights, just waiting for the students to come and grab them.

Of course, I hadn't had the lifelong weapons training the other kids had had, which was why I schlepped over to the gym every morning before regular classes started to put in some extra training time with Logan, Kenzie, and Oliver. Since Loki had escaped, Daphne and Carson had started coming too. We all wanted to be ready-for anything.

Everyone except Oliver was already in the gym, and Logan, Kenzie, and Carson were over at the weapons racks figuring out what we were going to practice with today. I put my messenger bag on one of the mats and plopped down on the bleachers next to Daphne. Even though we'd come here to sweat, the Valkyrie looked as pretty as ever in her pink designer yoga pants and matching cropped top. Her blond hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and just the right amount of makeup brought out her dark eyes and the beautiful color of her amber skin.

"I see you brought your shadow with you," Daphne sniped, watching Alexei wander over and put his own bag down on the mat next to mine.

"Be nice," I said. "It's not his fault that he's stuck with me. At least, I don't think it is."

She snorted, but she didn't say anything else. The guys decided on staffs and passed out the weapons. Logan hesitated, then gave a staff to Alexei, who hefted it in his hands with an easy, familiar grace.

"What's a Bogatyr warrior?" I asked Logan when he handed me my own staff. "That's what Alexei said he was."

The two of us watched Alexei work with the staff. He'd gone through a short warm-up and was now twirling the weapon around and around, moving it from one hand to the other as he executed a series of complicated moves. He didn't seem to have a Viking's super-strength, but there was something about the way he moved, flowing from one attack position to the next, that told me he was as dangerous as anyone else at Mythos. The staff kept moving faster and faster in his hands, until it was nothing more than a blur swirling through the air around him. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought him some sort of dancer-he just moved that fluidly, that gracefully.

"Bogatyrs are ancient Russian warriors," Logan said. "They're similar to Romans in that they are exceptionally fast, but the way they move . . . it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"You mean the way he looks like he's dancing instead of fighting?"

Logan nodded. "I've heard Coach Ajax say that a battle is almost like a dance to them, and the longer a fight goes, the stronger they get because they train themselves to always keep moving, to always keep attacking. They have incredible endurance. Most of them also use two weapons at once, one in either hand, like two swords or two daggers. I'm not sure what other powers they have, but Bogatyrs are some of the fiercest warriors in the Pantheon, right up there with Spartans."

In addition to their inherent warrior strengths and skills, all the kids at Mythos also had other powers, bonus magic as it were, everything from enhanced senses to the ability to heal others to being able to call up storm clouds and control the weather. At Mythos, what kind of warrior you were, what kind of weapon you used, and what kind of magic you had were all just status symbols, along with the kids' expensive cars, designer clothes, and pricey electronics.

We watched Alexei work with the staff. Carson, who also used a staff, seemed especially awestruck by him. The band geek leaned on his own weapon, his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to follow Alexei's quick, complicated moves. Kenzie stood beside Carson, also watching Alexei.

Beside me, Logan drew in a breath and let it out. I looked at him, wondering what was on his mind.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he finally said. "And everything that happened. I still can't believe that my dad is doing this to you, that he thinks you somehow helped the Reapers. I tried to talk to him last night, but he just wouldn't listen to me. He never listens to me-about anything."

Bitterness filled Logan's voice, and his eyes were dark and angry. I reached over and threaded my fingers through his. The Spartan's emotions washed over me, the way they always did, but as I held his hand, flickers and flashes of other things began to flood my mind, things I'd never seen before-memories of his dad through the years.

Most of the images were the same-Logan slumped over at a table while his dad paced back and forth in front of him, his face stern, talking in a sharp voice. Do this. Don't do that. Why can't you get better grades? Why is your room always such a mess? Why don't you straighten up and act like a real warrior, like a real Spartan? Your mother and sister would be so disappointed in you.

The images and fragments of conversation flashed by one after another, faster and faster, until all I could see, feel, and hear was Linus lecturing his son over and over again, each harsh word hurting more than the last. And I experienced Logan's emotions too-all his anger, frustration, and the aching disappointment in himself that twisted my stomach into tighter and tighter knots.

"It's okay," I said, shaking my head to clear away the feelings and memories. "You don't have any control over what your dad does or what he thinks of me. This is what the Protectorate does, right? Investigate claims that folks are Reapers?"

Logan nodded. "Among other things."

"Don't worry, okay? We'll get through this, just like we always do."

He wrapped his arms around me and drew me close. I breathed in, just enjoying the heat of his touch, the warmth of his body next to mine, the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart under my fingers. I didn't know what was going to happen from one day to the next, from one minute to the next, actually, but we were together now, and I was determined to enjoy it while I could. If there was anything that fighting Reapers had taught me, it was to appreciate the good times that much more-because you never knew when they and the people you loved could be taken away from you.

"Anytime you two lovebirds are ready," Daphne called out, twirling her own staff, pink sparks of magic crackling in the air around her. "I don't know about everyone else, but I feel like hitting someone today-hard."

Carson winced. "Just don't break my glasses, okay?"

Daphne walked over and kissed him. "Would I do something like that?"

"Well, you wouldn't break my glasses," he said. "But you definitely would a Reaper's."

"And that's why you love me and my fierce Valkyrie self," Daphne purred.

Carson smiled and kissed her back. Kenzie laughed.

Logan and I stepped apart. A door at the far end of the gym banged open, and Oliver Hector rushed inside. The Spartan hurried across the mats and slung his bag down with everyone else's. The Spartan turned and smiled.

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late-"

Oliver's voice cut off the second he spotted Alexei. I'd thought the Spartan would be surprised by Alexei's appearance, but it was almost like Oliver had seen a ghost. All the color drained out of his face, and his green eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Alexei? What are you doing here?" Oliver said.

Alexei's head snapped up at the sound of the Spartan's voice. He lost his concentration, and the staff that he'd been so gracefully twirling slipped through his fingers and rolled across the mats.

"Oliver! I didn't know if you'd be here this morning or not." Alexei walked over to where Oliver was standing with me and Logan. "I looked for you at the assembly yesterday, but I didn't spot you in the crowd. It's good to see you again."

"I didn't notice you there either." Oliver hesitated. "It's good to see you too."

And that was all they said. The four of us stood there in silence, with Daphne, Carson, and Kenzie looking on.

Finally, I cleared my throat. "Alexei has been assigned by the Protectorate to . . . watch me while they investigate the charges against me."

Oliver's face tightened, and he glared at Alexei. Instead of glaring back at him, a sad look flashed across the Bogatyr's face before he was able to hide it.

"I will go work with the Valkyrie and the Celt," Alexei said in a stiff voice. He turned and walked away.

"I'll help them get started," Logan said and headed after him.

I raised my eyebrows at Oliver, waiting for him to explain. He sighed and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. He looked at me, as if hoping that I'd leave things alone. Please. He knew me better than that. I crossed my arms over my chest and kept staring at him.

"Spill it, Spartan," I said. "Because it's obvious that today isn't the first time you and Alexei have met."

Oliver sighed again. "Alexei is the guy I was telling you about. The one I've been texting with."

"The one you met over winter break?"

He nodded.

"Oh. Oh."

Oliver was gay, and for a long time, he'd had a crush on Kenzie, who was his best friend and straight. But Oliver had told me that he'd met someone over the holidays, someone he thought might have boyfriend potential. I'd just never thought that person would be Alexei.

Oliver stared at me, his eyes searching mine. "I've texted with Alexei a few times since the break, but he didn't tell me that he was coming to Mythos. He didn't tell me about any of this. If he had, I would have warned you. You know that, Gwen."

I did know that. The Spartan was one of my friends, and he'd tell me if he knew something bad was going to happen to me, just like I would tell him. Well, I guess this explained why Alexei had said he was familiar with me and my friends-Oliver had probably told him all about me, Logan, and everyone else.

Part of me couldn't help but be a little pissed about that. My magic let me know other people's secrets-I didn't like it when folks knew mine. Plus, Oliver had been my friend first, before he'd ever met Alexei. He should be taking my side in this and vowing not to have anything else to do with Alexei-ever. And I knew he would do that, if I asked him to.

But then Oliver looked at the Russian warrior, and I saw the longing in his face. It was obvious that Oliver had a crush on Alexei. I knew how hard it had been for him to watch Kenzie start dating Talia, and I didn't want Oliver to miss out on finding happiness because of me. I sighed. Sometimes, being a friend meant muzzling your inner, petty, jealous bitch, and this was one of those times.

"Well, I have to say that you have good taste," I drawled. "He's really cute, if you like dark, brooding warriors. And that Russian accent is wicked cool. Why, I'd almost think about dating him myself, if it wasn't for Logan and that whole pesky Gwen's-on-trial thing. And if he wasn't more interested in you than me."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Have I ever told you that being your friend is impossible, Gypsy?"