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This guy’s screams also morphed into desperate, choked gurgles. I released his hair, and he thumped to the floor, quickly bleeding out, just like the first man had.
I straightened up, my gaze sweeping back and forth across the storage area, searching for more enemies to fight. But the other Reapers had left, taking Gwen along with them, and I was all alone. No footsteps pounded in this direction, and it didn’t seem like anyone had heard the sounds of the fight—
A phone beeped.
Curious, I tucked my knife back up my sleeve, then crouched down and rifled through the first man’s pockets. I pulled out his phone and read the message from Winifred.
Hurry up. Train leaving in five minutes.
I slid the dead guy’s phone into my jeans pocket, right alongside my own phone, then straightened up. Winifred was right.
I had a train to catch.
I quickly dragged the dead men off to one side of the room, then haphazardly piled some of the cardboard boxes on top of the bodies, hiding them from sight as best I could. Then I hurried out of the storage area.
By the time I made it back to the main lobby, the luncheon was officially over, the waiters had packed up all the leftover food and disappeared into the kitchen, and everyone else was already on board the train. I opened one of the glass doors, scurried to the left, and darted behind one of the wide brick columns that supported the platform roof. Then I peered through the train windows, trying to spot my enemies.
No . . . no . . . no . . .
There they were.
Gwen and Brayden were sitting across from each other in one of the cars, with Rosie, the Reaper woman, perched a few seats away. And of course, Winifred was ambling along the aisle, smiling and nodding as though she really were a conductor instead of just a murderous pretender. It was a smart disguise. The conductor had free rein of the entire train, and she could do just about anything she wanted while she was wearing that stolen uniform.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but I didn’t have any messages from Bria, Finn, or Owen. Weird. I would have expected Bria to have sent me a string of texts by now, asking where I was and what was happening, along with more and more frowny faces. My sister loved emojis just as much as Silvio Sanchez, my personal assistant, did.
I sent my friends a group text explaining what was going on, along with the fact that the real conductor was probably dead somewhere back at the main Pine Crest station. I finished by saying that the train was about to leave and asked them to meet me at the Cypress Mountain station, then slid my phone back into my pocket.
I looked through the windows again. Gwen, Brayden, and Rosie were all still in the same car, but Winifred had moved on to a different one.
The whistle screamed, the engine clanked, the wheels churned, and the train slowly pulled away from the station. I held my position, not wanting any of the Reapers to spot me. If they realized I was still alive, then they might hurt Gwen or some of the other passengers. Winifred certainly seemed determined to get her hands on whatever artifacts were on board, and I had no doubt that she would kill every single person who got in her way.
I waited until the car with Gwen, Brayden, and Rosie had moved past my position. Then I stepped out from behind the column and started running, my boots slapping against the platform’s thick wooden planks. The train was swiftly gaining speed, and I had to time this just right, or I would be left behind, and Gwen would probably wind up dead.
So I pumped my arms and forced my legs to move even faster as I rushed toward the end of the platform. I picked up my pace a little more, took one final step, and then leaped forward as far as I could, stretching my arms out wide, wide, wide . . .
For a moment, I hung in the air, like a spider swinging on a strand of its own web. Then my chest crashed up against the back of the caboose. Gravity took over, pulling me down, down, down, even as I flailed out with my hands, searching for something, anything, that I could grab onto . . .
My fingers closed around one of the rungs on the ladder attached to the back of the caboose. My body jerked to an abrupt stop, wrenching my left shoulder. The sharp, painful motion almost made me lose my grip, but I used my Stone magic to harden my fingers and forced myself to hang on.
I dangled there for a few more seconds, my brain sloshing around inside my skull. The world slowly stopped spinning around, and I was finally able to reach up and grab the rung with my other hand, as well as anchor my boots on another rung below.
I glanced down, watching the metal tracks whiz by below my feet. Not even my Stone magic would have saved me if I’d fallen off and somehow been sucked under the train’s chugging wheels. I shuddered at the thought, then quickly pushed it away.
I’d caught the train—literally. Now I needed to get back inside and help Gwen. So I looked up, reached for the next rung on the ladder, and started climbing.
Chapter Six
Gwen
Try as I might, I just couldn’t think of a way to take down Brayden and the other Reapers. At least, not without a whole lot of innocent people potentially getting hurt in the process. So I decided to bide my time, stick to my original plan, and wait for the Reapers to take me to the baggage car. Besides, every second Brayden wasted texting on his phone was another second for Logan, Daphne, and the rest of my friends to escape the Reapers’ trap, get past the rockslide, and come find me.
That’s what I kept telling myself, over and over again, instead of dwelling on the possibility that Logan, Daphne, and the others might already be dead.
An image of Logan lying by the side of the road, blood coating his chest, his eyes empty and fixed on the sky, filled my mind, but I shoved it away. Logan freaking Quinn was a Spartan and one of the best warriors in the mythological world. It would take a whole lot more than a rockslide and a Reaper ambush to kill him. Not to mention all the other smarts, skills, and magic that Daphne, Carson, Oliver, and Alexei had, along with Nickamedes, Professor Metis, and Coach Ajax. They were going to be fine. My friends were going to be just fine.
And if they weren’t fine . . . well, I would at least take down the Reapers who had a hand in hurting them—starting with Brayden, Winifred, and Rosie.
Brayden finally put his phone away. A couple of minutes later, Winifred stepped back into the car and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Brayden nodded back at her, as did Rosie.
