Whoever he was, he was really starting to piss me off. Yeah, Jasmine Ashton was dead because of me. I had plenty of guilt over her death and the part I’d played in it. But the Valkyrie had been two seconds away from murdering me when Logan had put a spear through her heart.
My mom had killed more than one bad guy while she’d been a police detective. She’d told me once that it wasn’t right taking someone else’s life, but sometimes it was necessary to protect other people and yourself. Logan had killed Jasmine to save me, even if Jasmine’s family didn’t see it that way, even if the other Reapers didn’t see it that way.
The truth was, I wanted to know who was trying to kill me, so I could take the Reaper down myself. Of course, I wouldn’t discover anything if I stayed here in the room all night, even if it was definitely the safer option. No, the Reaper and his wolf were out there somewhere, and it was time for me to find them. Or at least have enough fun to make me forget about them for the night. Right now, I wasn’t too picky about which way things went.
I sat up and met Daphne’s eyes in the mirror.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s party.”
Chapter 10
“Parteeeee!” a Roman guy standing on top of a table screamed and raised his plastic cup of beer.
“Parteeeee!” all the other kids screamed, lifting up their own cups in response.
Then, with one thought, everyone chugged down whatever was in their cups. In my case, it was some kind of light-colored ale that tasted like sour grass as it slid down my throat. But I drank it anyway, if only to blend in. Nobody here was drinking soda tonight.
I wrinkled my nose. “Yucko. I can’t believe people drink this stuff for fun.”
“Not for fun,” Carson said above the shouts, giving me a crooked grin and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Just to get drunk.”
“And how do you know when you’re drunk?”
His grin widened. “When it starts tasting good.”
It was just after nine, and Carson, Daphne, and I were at one of the many student parties being held tonight as part of the Winter Carnival. This one was at Solstice, which was one of the coffeehouses in the alpine village next to the hotel.
During the day, Solstice was actually a coffee shop, the kind of place that charged way too much for espressos, mochas, and lattes, not to mention the muffins, scones, and pound cakes that went along with them. Every once in a while, I got a whiff of the sugar and spices that had flavored the air earlier in the day, although now, the smells of perfume, beer, and smoke overpowered them.
Tonight, all of the tables had been pushed up against the walls to make room for a dance floor. Somebody had set up some strobe lights, and the music thumped with a low, steady bass beat through the sound system. Daphne had told me that Samson Sorensen’s dad owned the whole Powder resort complex and always let the Viking have a party here at the coffee shop during the Winter Carnival—with absolutely no interference from the Mythos professors. Hence the insanely loud music and the row of kegs that squatted on the counter in plain view of the front windows. Not to mention the quick glows of orange-red lights in the crowd as some of the kids sucked down cigarettes or something even stronger and more illegal.
As for Samson, he stood in the middle of the coffee shop, a beer in one hand and his arm around a girl from the New York academy. The Viking accepted backslaps from all the guys for throwing such an awesome party, and the girl by his side looked up at him with adoring eyes. No wonder. With his sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and dimples, Samson was one of the cutest guys at either school.
It wasn’t that late, but more than a few kids were already totally wasted. One guy lay on top of the counter behind the row of kegs, his hand curled around one of them, like it was a stuffed animal he was clutching to his chest. A string of drool oozed out of the side of his open mouth. I could see it, because I was standing at the end of the counter where his head was. I thought he might be snoring, too, but the music was so loud that I couldn’t really tell.
“Come on. Let’s dance,” Daphne said, grabbing Carson’s hand.
He winced. “You should know by now that I don’t dance.”
She flashed him a confident, smirking smile. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make you look good. I always do.”
Laughing, Carson let Daphne pull him out onto the dance floor. A second later, the two of them were grooving to the blaring music, with Daphne going about it much more smoothly than Carson, who was all flailing arms and jerky feet. If he wasn’t careful, the band geek was going to stab someone in the eye with his elbow.
Of course, Daphne and Carson dancing left me standing by myself against the wall, with only Drool Guy for company. I eyed the unconscious kid, who smacked his lips, causing even more spit to trickle out of the side of his mouth. Disgusting.
I shifted away from the edge of the counter and scanned the crowd, just like I’d been doing ever since we’d gotten here an hour ago, but all I saw were drunk guys, dancing girls, and couples sticking their tongues down each other’s throats. Nobody looked like she could be a Reaper in disguise, and nobody seemed like he wanted to kill me.
As soon as we’d stepped through the door, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything tonight to figure out who was after me. Not that I’d had a real plan to start with, other than to roam around, touch people and their stuff, and see if I got any psycho-killer vibes off anything. There were way too many kids packed into the coffee shop for me to touch every single one of them. Besides, I doubted that I’d see anything tonight through the beer-soaked haze.
I was still scanning the crowd when Logan walked through the door.
He looked as gorgeous as ever. His ink black hair glinted under the flashing lights, and his dark blue sweater brought out the exquisite, icy paleness of his eyes, while his leather jacket highlighted exactly how broad and strong his shoulders were. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart thrummed with painful awareness.
But of course he wasn’t alone. Logan turned around and stretched out his hand. A second later, Savannah stepped through the door after him, her red hair gleaming like ribbons of copper streaming down her back. Logan bent down, and Savannah laughed at whatever he whispered into her ear.
They really did make a cute couple, both of them rich, powerful, and beautiful. I didn’t know much about Savannah, besides the fact that she was an Amazon gifted with supernatural speed, but she really did seem to like Logan. I could tell by the way she smiled at him.
It was the same way I always smiled at him—with my heart in my eyes for everyone to see.
Logan must have sensed me staring at him, because he looked in my direction. He hesitated a second, then lifted his hand. I gritted my teeth, made myself smile, and waved back. Savannah peered around him, wondering who he was waving at. When she saw that it was me, her glossy lips flattened out. She grabbed the Spartan’s arm and pulled him over to the other side of the coffee shop—as far away from me as she could get him and still be in the same room. Logan looked back at me a second, his eyes dark, then followed her.
My stomach twisted, and I suddenly wanted another beer, another ale, another something to get the bitter taste out of my mouth—and take away the sharp, hollow ache in my heart.
My plastic cup still in hand, I leaned over past Drool Guy and twisted the knob on the keg he was protecting. Nothing came out. Empty. Of course it was. Drool Guy had probably guzzled it all down hours ago. Since there wasn’t another keg within arm’s reach, I moved away from the wall and skirted through the crowd, careful to keep from touching anyone. I felt shitty enough already without flashing on someone and feeling his bender.
I tried a couple more kegs before I finally found one that still had something in it. I turned the knob, and a dark brown liquid filled my cup. I sniffed it suspiciously. It was darker than the ale I’d had before and smelled twice as sour, like someone had pissed in it. Maybe they had. Anything was possible at a Mythos party. I sighed and put the cup on the counte
r. I just couldn’t chug down the mystery booze, no matter how much I might have liked to get drunk right now.
I turned around, looking for Daphne and Carson, but I didn’t see them in the mass of thrashing bodies. Logan and Savannah stood about twenty feet off to my left, deep in conversation.
My stomach twisted again, and anger, frustration, and longing burned through my veins like acid. I had to get out of the coffee shop before I did something stupid—like start screaming about how unfair it was that Logan was here with another girl. That a Reaper had tried to kill me twice now, and I’d almost been turned into puppy chow on the slopes by a Fenrir wolf. That I had a smartass magical sword that I didn’t really know how to use and a goddess who’d chosen me to be her Champion, even though I was completely wrong for the job. That I wasn’t a warrior like the other kids and never would be, no matter how hard I tried or how much I wanted to be like them. Not to mention the fact that my mom had been killed by a drunk driver the cops had never been able to find and that I still missed her so much, I sometimes cried myself to sleep. Yeah, I had a lot to scream about.
I turned and headed for the door, not really caring who I bumped out of my way to get there. The coffeehouse suddenly felt as hot, small, and cramped as a cage.
Along the way, I passed Kenzie and Oliver. The Spartans guys were joined at the hip like always, although tonight, they were tag-teaming their prey. Kenzie was turned one way, chatting to Talia Pizarro, a tall, pretty Amazon with ebony skin, while Oliver was at his back, talking to a girl that I didn’t recognize, some chick from the New York academy.
Oliver saw me looking at him, and his face tightened with anger. From the way he was glaring at me, it looked like he was still pissed I’d brushed him off on the bus ride over here this morning. Whatever. I still didn’t know why he’d sat down beside me to start with. I certainly wasn’t the person he had a crush on, so what was the point of trying to chat me up? I might not have gotten a crystal-clear picture of his mystery crush in my head when I’d accidentally touched Oliver’s supersecret notebook during weapons training, but I’d seen enough to know it wasn’t me.
Although the Spartan’s hard stare made me wonder why he was talking to the other girl in the first place. After all, she had white blond hair, not black hair like Oliver’s mystery crush had in my hazy flash.
I pushed away all thoughts of the Spartan and stepped outside. The night air felt cool and crisp against my cheeks, and a few flakes of snow fluttered in the air. A soft breeze carried a sharp metallic tang with it, whispering that even more of the white stuff was on the way. I looked up. There weren’t any stars out tonight, but a silver sliver of the moon peeked down at me for a few seconds before the thick clouds swallowed it up again. The Christmas lights that had been strung up in the alpine village winked on and off, flashing red, green, and gold against the blackness of the night.
I leaned against the coffee shop window, tucked my hands into my jacket pockets, and just breathed. In and out, in and out, the way my mom had taught me to whenever I was feeling scared, panicked, or upset. The slow, steady rhythm soothed me, chasing away some of my anger, frustration, and heartache. The music from the party still thumped, but the sound was muffled out here—just a low, growling rumble through the brick and glass of the building.
My peace and quiet lasted maybe two minutes before a Valkyrie wearing a tight, white turtleneck sweater, a green leather miniskirt, and ridiculously high-heeled boots teetered outside, stumbled away about thirty feet, bent over, and puked up all the beer she’d just drunk. I wrinkled my nose. Ugh. I so did not need to see that.
She straightened up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and I realized it was Morgan McDougall. The Valkyrie sensed me watching her and turned in my direction. We stood there staring at each other. Maybe it was just the flashing lights, but Morgan’s face looked as green as her skirt and matching boots.
“Do you, uh, need some help?” I asked.
Morgan opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then she clamped her lips together and shook her head. Without another word, she turned and tottered off toward the hotel, her stiletto boots digging into the snow like spikes.
Morgan puking her guts out seemed like a clear signal that it was time to leave. I turned around and glanced through the window. It took me a minute to spot Daphne and Carson, who were still dancing. Well, Daphne was dancing. I wasn’t quite sure what Carson was doing.
I thought about going inside and telling them that I was all partied out for the night. But I knew if I did that, Daphne would insist on leaving the party, so she and Carson could walk me back over to the hotel. She was just that good a friend, and so was Carson. The two of them had basically been babysitting me all day—they deserved to have a little time to themselves tonight.
Besides, there were plenty of other Mythos kids wandering around outside, laughing and talking and stumbling from one shop, or one party, to the next. I’d be safe enough walking back to the hotel by myself. I could see the entrance from here, lit up with strands of Christmas icicle lights. I doubted that even a Reaper would be stupid or brave enough to try to kill me in the middle of the alpine village, especially since it was full of drunk students.
My decision made, I pushed away from the building, heading back toward the hotel—and ran right into Preston.
One second, I was alone. The next, Preston appeared in front of me.
“Oof!”
I hit Preston square on and bounced back off his chest. And, of course, my boots skidded on a patch of black ice on the sidewalk. I would have fallen on my ass right in front of him if he hadn’t leaned over and caught me, clutching me to his chest.
“Nice reflexes,” I said, staring into his blue eyes.
He grinned. “Good to know all those long hours in the gym have finally paid off.”
We stood there like that for another moment, the two of us frozen in this strange, intimate embrace. I cleared my throat and looked away. Preston got the message and pulled me back up onto my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned voice.
“I am now,” I said, smiling at him.
Preston grinned at me again. “Good. You know, I was hoping I’d see you here tonight, Gwen.”
Gwen. Even the way he said my name was sexy, as if his good looks and muscled body didn’t make him cute enough already. Okay, okay, so maybe part of my heart stubbornly insisted that Preston’s voice didn’t have quite the same husky ring to it that Logan’s did whenever the Spartan called me “Gypsy girl.” But Logan was inside with another girl, and I was out here with Preston. Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe it was time to find someone to take my mind off Logan—and I thought Preston would do quite nicely.
“I was hoping that I’d see you, too,” I said.
We stood there staring at each other. The glow from the coffee shop and the Christmas lights highlighted Preston’s smooth skin and perfect features, making him look older, more handsome, and slightly dangerous. He just kept staring at me, as if he thought I was just as gorgeous as he was. I wasn’t, of course, but I still liked the attention, even if a hot, furious blush worked its way into my cheeks as a result.
A few feet away, a couple who’d been making out on an iron bench next to the coffeehouse finally got up. Their lips never broke contact as they walked toward the hotel.
Preston jerked his head in that direction. “Shall we?”
I nodded. We walked over and sat down on the bench. Preston leaned back and stretched his arm out across the top of the bench, almost like he was putting it around my shoulders. We both had on jackets, and he was wearing gloves, so there was no danger of me getting any kind of vibe off him. Still, I liked being close to him.
For a moment I wondered what would happen if I leaned over and brushed my fingers against Preston’s face. What I would see and feel if I used my Gypsy gift to flash on him. Guys were so hard to read, especially supercute ones like Preston, and my magic was basically my ow
n personal, built-in lie and bullshit detector. My psychometry would let me know what he really thought of me. If he thought I was pretty or funny or a total freak. If he really liked me or was thinking about someone else or was just sitting here with me because he thought he might get laid.
The temptation to find out the answers was so strong that it made my fingers twitch with anticipation, but I forced myself to stick my hands into my jacket pockets. I wasn’t going to do that, I wasn’t going to use my magic that way. I wasn’t going to pull secrets out of people just because I had the power to do so, just because I wanted to know what they were up to. It was a decision I’d made a few weeks back, when I’d realized Logan had a secret he was hiding from me—one that was keeping us apart.
Besides, tonight I wanted something—something simple, easy, uncomplicated, and yeah, totally romantic, too. I thought that sitting on a bench with a cute guy and watching the flakes of snow gather in his white blond hair de finitely qualified as romantic.
“So you go to Mythos down here in the South,” Preston said. “What year are you?”
“Second-year. You?”
“Fourth,” he said.
That would make him nineteen then, two years older than me. Not too old at all.
“So what are you?” I asked. “Spartan? Roman? Some other kind of warrior whiz kid?”
Preston shook his head, and his face seemed to darken for a moment before he answered me. “Nope, I’m just a Viking. I have a younger sister, too, but, of course, she’s a Valkyrie.”
I nodded. Siblings shared the same blood and heritage in warrior families, just like they did in normal mortal families, but the kids weren’t always labeled as the same kind of warriors. Usually, the boys were Vikings, while the girls were Valkyries. Or if the boys were Romans, then the girls were Amazons. Then there were some warrior families where it was all the same, where both the boys and the girls were considered to be Spartans, Samurais, Ninjas, or whatever. Daphne had tried to explain it to me one day, but I hadn’t really understood.
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