Spartan Promise by Jennifer Estep

Author:Jennifer Estep
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jennifer Estep
Published: 2018-10-04T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I stared at Covington, who smiled back at me, looking as smug and confident as ever. In an instant, the crypt disappeared, and I was back in the Cormac Museum the night he had tried to turn me into a Reaper.

Become a Reaper… Become a Reaper… Become a Reaper…

I could hear Covington’s sly voice whispering in my mind over and over again, and I could see that sickening Reaper red fog spreading over everything and clouding my vision just as it had that night at the museum. This odd lethargy spread through my body, threatening to drown me in a sea of cold numbness. Worst of all, I could feel myself wavering. I could feel myself becoming weak and small and tired. I could feel myself starting to give up, starting to give in…

No—no—no!

Those were memories. Awful ones, to be sure, but just memories. Nothing more. I blinked, and the sensations vanished, although not the pain, worry, dread, and fear that they left behind.

Those things never, ever went away.

But Covington hadn’t turned me into a Reaper then, and he wasn’t going to turn me into one now. I wouldn’t let him turn me into a Reaper. Not now, not ever. Making that silent promise to myself helped me push away some of my fear. And the one good thing about my horrible memories was the final emotion they brought along with them.

White-hot rage.

I grabbed hold of that rage, let it scorch through me and burn away the rest of my emotions, until my chest felt like it was full of hot daggers stabbing deeper and deeper into my body with every hard, painful beat of my heart. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between us, raise Babs high, and run the blade through Covington’s black heart. I even took a step forward to do just that—

“Rory,” a low voice murmured. “No. That’s exactly what he wants.”

It took me a moment to realize that Babs was the one speaking, although I was clutching her so tightly that my hand muffled her voice. I was the only one who heard her soft words, but they were enough to stop me.

As hard as it was, I pushed down my rage and focused on the feel of her hilt in my hand, along with the cool touch of my charm bracelet around my wrist. The sensations comforted me and helped me set aside my emotions and look at the situation as a Spartan.

Babs was right. Covington was standing absolutely still, but Drake was holding something down by his side and shifting back and forth on his feet, as though he were getting ready to strike. The Viking tried to hide the object behind his leg, but I caught a glimpse of a long, slender glass cylinder.

Was that…a syringe?

A sick, sick feeling flooded my stomach. Drake was holding a needle instead of a weapon, which meant that the Reapers didn’t want to kill me. They wanted to drug me instead.

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