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Clash-clash-clang!
Winifred hammered her sword at me over and over again, each blow hard enough to rattle my entire body, and it was all I could do to counter her blows and not lose my grip on my knife.
The train jerked forward, and the unexpected motion sent me staggering all the way over into the door at the front of the baggage car. My hand slammed into the metal, and I lost my grip on my knife, which hit the floor and tumbled away.
In the back of the car, Gwen was still battling Brayden, and she too lost her balance and staggered to the side. Her arm slammed into one of the metal baggage shelves, and she hissed with pain, even as her sword fell through her fingers.
“Can’t believe you bloody dropped me in the middle of a fight . . .” Vic grumbled, before the talking sword’s annoyed words were lost in the continued groan and churn of the train’s engine and cars.
Given all the loud noise and clanging commotion, I was starting to think restored train meant on its last wheels. But the engine kept chugging, and the baggage car shuddered back and forth and back and forth, as if trying to settle into some sort of rhythm and equilibrium with all the other cars on the tracks. I clung to one of the metal posts that supported the shelves, trying to keep my balance, and Gwen and the Reapers did the same thing.
After what seemed like forever but couldn’t have been much more than a minute, two tops, the ride smoothed out, and we were all able to release our handholds.
I glanced around, searching for my silverstone knife. Somehow it had slid all the way to the back of the car where Gwen was, while her talking sword had ended up close to my side of the car.
Winifred growled and stalked toward me. She was still clutching that sword, which started glowing even more brightly than before, as if the Reaper’s rage was further fueling its magic.
I considered palming the knife hidden up my left sleeve, but I couldn’t keep blocking Winifred’s blows for much longer. Sooner or later, she would use her superior strength and speed to force her way past my defenses and gut me. At the very least, I needed a larger, sturdier weapon to knock that glowing bronze sword out of her hand.
“First my Champion dropped me, and then she let me rattle around all over the bloody place,” Vic muttered. “Gwen just polished me the other day, and I was looking all nice and shiny. But that’s all ruined now . . .”
My gaze locked onto the still-grumbling sword. Despite his incessant chatter, Vic was an impressive weapon, and he should hold up nicely against the Reaper’s enchanted blade.
Winifred growled and quickened her pace, drawing her sword back for yet another strike.
I was out of time and options. When in Rome, as the old saying went. Or in this case, the wild, weird world of Mythos Academy.
I lunged for the talking sword.
Chapter Eight
Gwen
I was still trying to find my balance when I saw Gin dart toward Vic, who was lying on the floor near the front of the car and still chastising me for dropping him. As if it had been my fault that the train kept lurching forward like an old, wheezing truck that was about to run out of gas.
Winifred charged forward and swung her sword at Gin.
“Look out!” I yelled.
Gin dodged Winifred’s attack, spinning in the other direction and moving away from the Reaper. Then, just as quickly, Gin whirled back around, put her shoulder down, and plowed into Winifred. The Reaper lost her balance and staggered backward, although she bounced off one of the shelves and charged right back at Gin again.
Gin stepped forward, hooked the toe of her black boot under Vic’s blade, and kicked the sword up into the air. She easily caught Vic with one hand, then smoothly whirled all the way around to block Winifred’s blow.
It was seriously one of the coolest things I had ever seen.
Even Logan, a Spartan who could pick up any object and automatically use it as a weapon, would have been impressed.
But I had my own Reaper to battle, so I dragged my gaze away from Gin. Brayden had also regained his balance, and he stalked toward me, still clutching Minerva’s Dagger. I backed up, and my sneaker hit something, making it skitter across the floor. I glanced down and realized Gin’s knife had somehow ended up by my feet.
“Time to die, Gwen,” Brayden hissed, still stalking toward me.
My eyes darted back down to the knife. I should scoop it up and use it to defend myself before Brayden tried to kill me with his weapon again, but I hesitated. From the easy, skillful, familiar way Gin had wielded her knife against Winifred, I was guessing that she had a very deep, very personal attachment to the blade, which meant my psychometry magic would kick in the second I touched the knife—and I would see all the people Gin had killed with it over the years.
I had already witnessed enough blood, death, and destruction at Mythos Academy to last three lifetimes, but I didn’t have any other options, so I braced myself, then leaned down and plucked the knife up off the floor.
Just as I expected, my psychometry kicked in, and the memories slammed into me like a tidal wave, threatening to knock my legs out from under me and drown me in the flickers and flashes of feelings.
There were so many memories, so many more than I had expected, each showing a different place and time.
