Jennifer Estep - Kiss of Frost

"Why is Mrs. Raven here?" I whispered to Metis. "Shouldn't she be in the library handing out snacks or something?"

"She helps guard the prison whenever we have someone who needs to be watched," Metis whispered back. "She's part of the academy's security council, along with Nickamedes, Ajax, and myself. And it's just Raven-no Mrs."

I eyed Mrs., er, Raven and her bizarre figure. I supposed there was more to her than met the eye, just like the sphinxes on the door. Although I had no idea what that something more could possibly be.

Both Ajax and Nickamedes looked as grim as Metis did. Raven stared at me a few seconds, her eyes dark and curious, before going back to her magazine. Metis gestured for me to follow her. I swallowed and headed toward the center of the room.

Preston looked up at the whisper of our footsteps on the stone floor. His blue eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

"Why, Gypsy, so nice of you to come visit me. I would stand but…" He lifted his hands and rattled the chains at me.

I flinched at the harsh, ringing sound of the metal clanking together.

"There's no way he can break those chains," Ajax said in his deep, gruff voice. "They're magically reinforced. There's no way he can hurt you, Gwen. We've made sure of that."

I wanted to tell him that Preston had already hurt me, that his threat against my Grandma Frost haunted my dreams, but I kept my mouth shut. Now was definitely not the time to confess how wimpy I really was.

I crept closer, staring at Preston. White blond hair, blue eyes, great body. He looked just as handsome as he had the ski resort, despite the orange jumpsuit and paper shoes he wore. But the faintest flicker of red burned deep in his gaze. I wondered if the professors could see it, too. I didn't know how I'd missed it before.

An empty chair stood on the other side of the table from Preston, and Metis pulled it out for me. I undid the strap of my gray messenger bag from around my shoulder and set it on the floor. Then I sank down into the chair, trying to keep my hands from visibly shaking. The stone chair felt as cold as ice against my back.

"Take your time, Gwen," Metis said in a kind voice. "There's no rush. Whenever you're ready."

Preston's lips thinned out into an amused smile. "Ah, so they've brought you in to try to break me. Oh, Gypsy, trust me when I tell you that you won't like what you'll see if you use your psychometry on me."

I blinked. How did Preston know about my magic? I'd never told him about my Gypsy gift, but he was talking as if he knew all about it. Oh, we know all about you, Gwen Frost, and what you're supposed to do. Preston had said those words to me in the gloom of the construction site. I hadn't thought much about them then, but now they filled me with worry. What did the Reapers know about my magic that I didn't? What could I possibly do with it that would interest them?

Preston kept staring at me, expecting me to say something.

"I don't like breathing the same air as you," I finally snapped back. "But I make do."

I stared at his hands resting on top of the table. They were just hands, I told myself. Hands that belonged to an evil, psycho-killer Reaper, but just hands nonetheless. Five fingers on either one. I could do this. I could handle this.

I drew in a breath and let it out. Then I reached over and grabbed his hand, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Wanting to get Metis the information she needed so I could leave this awful place and never see Preston again.

The feelings and images flooded my mind the second my skin touched the Reaper's. Even though I didn't want to, I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and let the memories carry me away.

Maybe it was all my years of tracking down lost objects, of touching desks, purses, and wallets and trying to get specific vibes off them, so I could locate the phones, jewelry, and laptops that people had misplaced or others had stolen. But going into Preston's mind was easier than I'd thought it would be. I could feel him trying to block me, trying to think of nothing at all, just a blank wall of white, but I went deeper, slipping past the emptiness he tried to fill his mind with.

I saw so many things-so many horrible, horrible things. Preston fighting, Preston killing other people, other kids, even whipping the Fenrir wolf until its back was red with blood. And Preston wasn't alone while he did these things. Jasmine was right there with him most of the time. Laughing, smiling, and killing alongside her brother. I could feel how much Preston had loved her, how happy he had been that she was just as vicious as he was, just as devoted to Loki. They were like two sides of the same evil coin, mirroring each other in almost every way. And I felt his burning pain, his deep anguish, when he learned that his little sister was dead. It would have made me feel sorry for him if I hadn't seen all the other evil things that he'd done, all the people he'd tortured and killed.

Each and every thing I saw turned my stomach, but I kept looking, searching for something I could tell Metis, something that would help her and the others stop whatever the Reapers of Chaos were planning.

Through it all, I was aware of a pair of burning red eyes following me. The eyes jumped from memory to memory just like I did, watching me all the while. I knew who they belonged to now: Loki. His Reapers were the evil god's window to the mortal realm, a way he could see out of his magical prison, and I could almost feel him glaring at me from inside Preston's brain. I told myself over and over again that the eyes couldn't hurt me, that Loki was locked away where he couldn't touch me, but the thought didn't comfort me as much as it should have.

I was about to give up, let go of Preston's hand, open my eyes, and tell Metis that I wasn't getting anything useful from him, when an image of Preston pulling on a pair of gloves popped into my head. It was the same memory I'd gotten when I'd touched his gloved hand outside the Solstice coffee shop that night in the alpine village. It seemed strange, given all the other more violent and disturbing things that I'd witnessed so far. Curious, I concentrated on that memory, digging it out of the depths of his brain like a miner prospecting for gold, shining it up, and pulling it into sharper focus. Suddenly I was completely in the memory, seeing everything from Preston's point of view.

He sat in the driver's seat of an SUV, pulling on the gloves. Once that was done, he looked in the rearview mirror at the person sitting in the back of the vehicle. Shadows cloaked the inside of the car, so I couldn't tell who was there, although I got the impression it was a girl about my age. Whoever she was, Preston knew her-and was afraid of her. A tingle of fear tickled his spine just from looking at her. Weird. What kind of person would frighten a Reaper like Preston?

"Are you sure she's still in the police station?" the girl asked in a low, soft voice.

"I called and asked for her five minutes ago," Preston said. "She's still in there. See? There she is, coming out right now."

Preston turned his head, and I saw who he was talking about. Brown hair, violet eyes, beautiful smile. My mom stepped out of the back door of the police station.

Oh no, I thought, somehow knowing what was coming next. No, no, no.

My mom strode across the parking lot and got into her car, just like she had in the dream I'd had of her at the ski resort. I'd wondered where the awful memory had come from, and now I knew. It had been an image, a feeling, associated with Preston's glove, one that my psychometry and my subconscious had picked up on, even if I hadn't immediately seen it when I'd touched his glove.

"I thought you said the daughter would be with her," Preston asked. "We could kill them both tonight and be done with this whole thing."