She shook her head. “Look, I’m really sorry about your phone, but I can’t help you.”
I bit back a growl. I needed to know what room Oliver was in, and I couldn’t exactly go up to the Spartan and ask him. I opened my mouth to plead with the clerk some more when a voice spoke up behind me.
“Actually, Valerie, it’s my phone that got lost. Gwen was nice enough to come over here and ask about it for me.”
Morgan McDougall stepped up beside me, looking gorgeous in a form-fitting, mint green snowsuit. I eyed the other girl, wondering what she was doing—and why she was trying to help me.
The clerk’s face creased into a smile. “Oh, hi, Morgan. I haven’t seen you around much this weekend.”
The Valkyrie shrugged. “I’ve been busy—like usual. Lots of fresh blood at the New York academy this year, if you know what I mean.”
She winked at the clerk, and both of them dissolved into a fit of giggles. I just stood there, feeling awkward and stupid.
“Anyway,” Morgan said, pulling a hundred-dollar bill out of the pocket of her snowsuit and sliding it across the counter. The motion made green sparks of magic shoot off the Valkyrie’s fingertips. “Do you think you can help me out? Because Gwen’s right. My parents will kill me if I lose another phone this year.”
The clerk took the money as smoothly as the Valkyrie had offered it and gave her another smile. “What’s his name?”
Morgan raised her eyebrows and looked at me. “Yes, what was his name, Gwen? I can’t remember.”
“Oliver,” I said. “Oliver Hector.”
Morgan’s eyebrows shot up a little higher on her face, and she gave me a really weird look, but she didn’t say anything. The clerk, Valerie, hit a few buttons on her computer and told us that Oliver was in room 822. Morgan thanked her, and the two of us strolled away from the registration desk. I waited until we were halfway across the lobby, right next to the statue of Skadi, before I turned and looked at her.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
Morgan shrugged. “There are some advantages to being the school slut.”
For a moment the Valkyrie stared at me, a strange light flaring in her hazel eyes, almost like she wanted to say something to me, wanted to talk to me about something. I wondered if it was about what had happened the night Jasmine had almost sacrificed her in the Library of Antiquities.
But then Morgan clamped her lips shut. She stalked off across the lobby and headed outside—alone.
Strange.Very strange. But the Valkyrie had gotten me the information I needed. I supposed I should be grateful to her for that, although I still couldn’t imagine why she’d helped me in the first place. Yeah, maybe I’d saved her from being murdered by her best friend, but I didn’t know if Morgan even remembered what had happened that night. Maybe she’d figured out some of what had gone down, though. That was the only reason I could think of to explain all the strange looks she gave me.
But what Morgan did or didn’t know wasn’t important, not right now, so I pushed away all thoughts of the Valkyrie. It was time to gear up for the next phase of my plan. Now that I knew which room Oliver was in, I just needed to swipe his key card—or his roommate’s.
Chapter 18
Kenzie Tanaka never saw me coming.
Thanks to all the texts the students constantly sent out on the Mythos network, I was able to track him down in one of the hotel restaurants. The Spartan was having what looked like a very private, very cozy breakfast with Talia Pizarro when I walked by and accidentally-on-purpose spilled my extra-large spiced apple cider all over their blueberry, ricotta-cheese pancakes and strawberry shortcake waffles.
“Oops! I’m so sorry!” I said, bumping the table with my hip and making the cider slop everywhere.
Both Kenzie and Talia shoved their chairs back and leapt to their feet, Talia quite a bit faster than Kenzie, since she had her Amazon superspeed working for her.
“Geez, Gwen!” Talia snapped. “Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s my fault. Totally my fault. Here, let me clean it up.”
I used the napkins I’d gotten along with the cider and started dabbing at the puddles of liquid on the table. Kenzie and Talia stepped back and checked to make sure they hadn’t gotten any of the sticky cider on their clothes. I moved from one side of the table to the other, bumping the chair Kenzie had thrown his leather jacket over and making the garment fall to the floor.
I fussed over the cider on the table for a couple of minutes, working until it was all cleaned up and chattering on the whole time about how sorry I was for ruining their breakfast. Talia rolled her dark eyes at Kenzie, and he shook his head in return. I’d totally annoyed them, which was exactly what I’d wanted to do. Annoyed people didn’t pay much attention to details, like the fact that I slipped my right hand into one of the pockets on Kenzie’s jacket while I used my left hand to wipe cider out of the chairs.
Finally, I finished cleaning up and gave them another sheepish smile. Then I leaned down, grabbed Kenzie’s jacket, and handed it to him.
“Come on, Talia,” Kenzie said, glaring at me as he grabbed his leather jacket and put it on. “Let’s get out of here before Gwen decides to spill something else on us.”
I gave them another apologetic smile as they stormed away. The two of them didn’t see me stick my hand into the pocket of my purple hoodie and draw out a small, white, plastic card.
From our time training together, I knew that Kenzie always kept his wallet in his right jacket pocket, and it hadn’t been too much of a stretch to think he’d put his key card in there too. For once, I’d actually gotten lucky, and the card had just been loose in the pocket, instead of tucked away inside his wallet.
“Room 822, here I come,” I whispered.
I discreetly trailed Kenzie and Talia back to the hotel lobby and stepped behind a cedar tree, so they wouldn’t see me. Oliver was waiting by the main door for them, just like I’d hoped he would be. I needed both of the Spartans to be out of the room while I searched it.
“What took you guys so long?” Oliver asked, frowning. “We were supposed to leave for the slopes five minutes ago.”
I didn’t hear Kenzie’s reply, but I didn’t really need to. I could imagine what he was saying about me right now. Gwen Frost, that clumsy Gypsy girl. The three of them walked outside and headed toward the alpine village. I eased over to the door and peered through the glass. If they were going skiing, I doubted they’d be coming back anytime soon. Good. I turned and headed for the elevators.
Before I went to Oliver’s room, I had one more thing to do. I rode the elevator up to the thirteenth floor, went into my own room, and grabbed Vic off the bed. Whether or not Oliver was a Reaper, someone had almost killed me four times now, and I wanted to be prepared in case he tried again. Besides, it would be just my luck that Oliver would come back to his room for some reason before I’d found the notebook. Whatever happened, I figured it would be better to have the sword with me than not.
Vic’s eye snapped open when I picked up the black leather scabbard with him in it.
“I know that maniacal twinkle in your eye. You’re up to something, Gwen,” he said. “What is it? And is there any chance I’ll get to kill something today? Like a Reaper, perhaps?”
“If everything goes to plan, then no, you won’t get to kill something today,” I said, unzipping my hoodie. “But we might be able to catch the guy who’s been trying to murder me.”
Vic snorted. “Always a bleeding pacifist. Well, you can wake me if there’s any killing to be done. Otherwise, I’m going back to my nap.”
His eye snapped shut.
I strapped Vic and his scabbard to my waist, then zipped my purple hoodie back up. The fabric came down past my waist, hiding the top half of the sword and Vic’s gleaming hilt from sight. The bottom half of the scabbard dangled next to my left leg, but since the jeans I had on were as black as it was, the scabbard wasn’t too noticeable. Besides, all the oth
er kids had packed their weapons, and I doubted anyone would look twice at mine. Still, if the Reaper did come after me again, maybe he wouldn’t realize that I was wearing a sword until it was too late—for him.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Wavy, dark brown hair; winter white skin; a few freckles splashed across my cheeks; purple eyes; and a sword strapped to my waist. Maybe it was weird, but I didn’t feel like I really looked like myself today. Right now, I resembled someone else entirely—someone strong, someone confident, someone ready to kick a little Reaper ass. I shook my head, and the image and feeling faded, replaced by my same old boring face, wobbly nerves, and twisted insecurities.
But I’d come this far, and I wasn’t about to back out now. Oliver Hector had a secret, and I was going to find out what it was—and why he was trying to kill me because of it.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to my reflection, and left the room.
I got back in the elevator and rode down to the eighth floor. I stepped outside the doors and stood there a second, listening. The whole floor was quiet, and only the hum of the snack and ice machines interrupted the silence. Everyone was either still sleeping off their hangovers in their rooms or out on the slopes enjoying a final day of skiing and snowboarding before heading back to the academy. Either way, I wouldn’t get a better chance than this.
I strode down the hall with purpose, like I was supposed to be on this floor, even though it was guys only, a lame attempt by the profs to keep the weekend sex to a minimum. Room 822 was about halfway down the hall. I slid the key card in the slot, waited for the green light to flash, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Kenzie and Oliver’s room was a mirror image of the one Daphne and I were sharing. There was two of everything, from big, soft beds to nightstands to mirrors mounted on the walls. Clothes and shoes were strewn everywhere, and I couldn’t tell which side of the room belonged to Kenzie and which side was Oliver’s. Jeans, shirts, socks—from the looks of things, the Spartans had brought enough threads with them for an entire week, instead of just a weekend. And I’d thought Daphne had overpacked.
Since I couldn’t tell whose stuff was where, I crouched down by the foot of the bed closest to the door, reached out, and touched the suitcase there. My Gypsy gift kicked in, and an image of Kenzie stuffing clothes into it filled my mind. Okay, so this was his side then, which meant Oliver’s stuff was piled around the bed closest to the window.
I moved over to that side of the room, picking my way through the piles of crumpled clothes on the floor. Then I bent down and started going through Oliver’s suitcase. I used the edge of my hoodie sleeve to flip open the top and peered inside. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes filled the space, along with a couple of pairs of slightly smelly boots.
I went through the suitcase, opening up all the zippered pockets and looking inside. No notebook. I got up and stepped inside the bathroom. A couple of shaving kits sat on the counter, but there was nothing interesting in them, except for the lemon-scented cologne Oliver had in his. It smelled nice. Certainly better than the Spartan’s boots.
Since the notebook wasn’t in the bathroom or Oliver’s suitcase, that meant it was hidden somewhere in the mess in the rest of the room—if he’d even brought it with him to start with. I hoped he had. Only one way to find out.
I moved from one side of the room to the other, going through all the piles of clothes, Kenzie’s and Oliver’s alike. They both had packed plenty of stuff for the weekend, and there were more shirts, shoes, and jeans on one side of the hotel room than I had in my entire closet back at the academy.
“Guys,” I muttered. “Why do they have to be so sloppy?”
The minutes ticked by, and I still couldn’t find the notebook. I was beginning to think Oliver had left it at the academy when I untangled the sheets at the foot of his bed as a last resort, thinking he might have scribbled in it last night before he went to sleep. The red notebook slid out of the sheets and flopped to the floor.
“Jackpot,” I whispered.
I used the edge of my hoodie sleeve to pick up the notebook, then sat down on the bed and put it in my lap. It looked the same as I remembered—just an ordinary red notebook with a couple of the metal rings bent out of shape. It certainly didn’t look like it held anything particularly evil or sinister. But Oliver was hiding something, and this was my best chance of finding out what it was before he tried to kill me again.
So I drew in a breath, pushed up my sleeves, and wrapped my bare hands around the notebook. Then I sat there and waited for the images and feelings to flood my mind.
Chapter 19
For a half a second nothing happened, but then my psychometry kicked in, and images of Oliver filled my mind. Mostly, there were the same images I’d seen the first time I’d picked up the notebook Wednesday morning during weapons training. Oliver sitting at the desk in his dorm room, scribbling on the pages, and the Spartan hunched over the notebook, doodling in class while his professors lectured. I also got the same flashes of feelings that I had before, boredom and frustration from doing homework mixed with occasional spurts of anger and angst.
Then that warm, soft, fizzy feeling started way, way down deep in the pit of my stomach. I concentrated, focusing on that particular vibe, trying to call up all the images that went with it. Everything and everyone Oliver associated with that specific feeling. A hazy figure began to take shape in my mind, one with black hair and eyes. I shut out everything else, so I could bring the haze into supersharp focus and see exactly who Oliver had such a massive crush on—
Kenzie’s face popped into my head.
I gasped in surprise, but the sensations didn’t stop there. It was like I’d opened a floodgate. All these emotions just poured into me. I saw and felt everything Oliver did toward his friend. All the good times they’d had together growing up. All the admiration and loyalty between them. All the small ways Oliver’s feelings had started to deepen into something that went way beyond friendship. All the giddy joy just being with Kenzie made him feel. All the anger and soul-crushing despair that Kenzie would never like him back the same way. And then, at the very end, all the frustration and fear that I would tell Kenzie how Oliver really felt about him and ruin their friendship—ruin everything good they had between them.
My heart alternately soared up and plummeted down as I rode the roller coaster of Oliver’s emotions until I thought it would pop right out of my chest. Finally, though, the emotions flickered, then faded away, telling me that I’d seen and felt everything I could from the notebook.
My eyes snapped open. The notebook slipped from my fingers, and I sagged down onto the bed, a little overwhelmed by everything I’d just seen. I drew in several deep breaths, waiting for the intense emotions and feelings to fade.
So Oliver was in love—or at least serious, serious like—just as I’d thought he was, but instead of crushing on a girl, Oliver had feelings for Kenzie, his best friend and fellow Spartan. That was it? That was Oliver’s big secret?
Yeah, it was a pretty major secret, but I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. It didn’t matter to me who Oliver was crushing on. People liked who they liked, and I thought we all should just get over it already. As long as people were happy with who they were, that was all that mattered.
But knowing Oliver’s secret didn’t help me answer any of my other questions. Like whether or not he was a Reaper and had tried to kill me. I felt like I was still missing something, so I picked up the notebook again. This time I flipped through it page by page, trying to read Oliver’s scribbled handwriting. But there was nothing on the pages I hadn’t already seen and felt. Lots of class notes, lots of doodles, lots of really cool portraits of Kenzie. Whatever else he was, Oliver was an artist with some wicked talent.
What I didn’t find was anything that told me one way or the other if Oliver was the Reaper who’d been gunning for me. I’d gotten all that I could from the notebook, so I stuffed it back down into the sheets were I’d f
ound it. Then I stood in the center of the room, wondering if there was anything else in here that I could get a vibe off of, anything else that could tell me whether or not my suspicions about Oliver were right.
My searching gaze landed on some keys on Oliver’s nightstand. I walked over, leaned down, and looked at them. I didn’t know much about car keys, but I recognized the symbol for a Cadillac when I saw one. I’d seen this kind of key dozens of times at Mythos and had found lost sets of them a dozen times more, since so many of the academy students had big, fancy cars they took out on the weekends—like Cadillac Escalades.
My breath caught in my throat, and I thought back to that day outside my Grandma Frost’s house. The SUV that had almost hit me had been big, black, and expensive. That was all I really remembered about the vehicle. It could have been an Escalade, or it could have been something else. Only one way to find out.
My heart racing, I picked up the keys and wrapped my fingers around the one for the Cadillac. The metal key felt cold and smooth in my palm, and the images started almost immediately. Flickers and flashes of various trips Oliver had taken, most of them with Kenzie sitting in the passenger’s seat, the two of them listening to the radio. Sometimes Logan lounged in the back, hanging out with his friends.
I concentrated, going deeper, and calling up every image, every memory associated with the key. After a few seconds, the images changed, and the scene shifted. Oliver sat in his SUV parked on a residential street. I got the sense he was nervous and waiting for something—or someone. He looked through the tinted windshield, his eyes on a lavender-painted house at the end of the block.
It was like I was watching a scary movie from the killer’s point of view. After a moment, I saw myself open the door of Grandma Frost’s house and come outside, heading toward the bus stop. Oliver cranked the engine, put the SUV into gear, and steered it away from the curb. I stepped out into the street, and he accelerated, putting his foot all the way down on the gas—
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