as if he knew all about it.
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.
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.'
The girl shrugged. 'So the daughter's not here. So what? We have our orders. We disable the mom and question her about the dagger and where she hid it. That's what's important tonight. Now let's go.'
Dagger? What dagger? What were they talking about? Why would my mom have a dagger, much less hide it?
I lost my focus, and the memory blurred and shifted before I was able to latch onto it again. Now the SUV idled at a dark intersection, its lights off. Preston's head was turned, looking out the window.
'Here she comes. Get ready,' the girl ordered from the backseat. 'Now… go!'
Preston smashed his foot down on the gas, and the SUV hurtled out of the dark toward my mom's car. She never even saw it coming. The sound of metal screeching and glass breaking roared in my ears, as though I'd really been there when Preston had rammed his vehicle into hers.
I drew in a ragged breath, and the memory blurred again. Now my mom was out of the car and lying on her back on the blacktop. A light rain had started to fall, but it couldn't hide the fact that blood covered her whole body-her legs, her chest, her face. The ends of her broken bones poked against the skin of her arms, and her breath came in shallow rasps. Dying-my mom was dying.
The girl stood in front of Preston, a sword glinting in her hand as she towered over my mom. She was wearing a hoodie, just like I did all the time. Except the girl's hood was up to protect her from the rain, so I couldn't even see the back of her head, much less her face.
'Where's the dagger?' the girl snarled. 'Where did you hide it?'
My mom smiled at the Reaper girl. 'Someplace you'll never think to look.'
'Fool. There's no place you can hide it that we won't find it. It's only a matter of time.'
