something.
So Daphne had come over to my dorm room one night, and we’d sat on my bed and clasped hands. She hadn’t seen or felt anything, since she didn’t have that kind of magic—touch magic, it was sometimes called.
But I had.
All sorts of images of the Valkyrie had filled my mind, everything from her growing up to her first day at Mythos to her French-kissing Carson after one of their recent dates. Yeah, that last one had kind of grossed me out a little.
And I’d felt all of Daphne’s feelings, too—every last one of them. I’d felt how strong she was, how fierce, how brave, how loyal. And yeah, even how she could be a total, rich-girl snob and a major bitch from time to time. But all those images, all those feelings, good and bad, added up to Daphne—and I was glad she was my best friend.
“Are you seeing anything?” Daphne asked.
Carson looked back and forth between us.
“Not yet,” I growled, tightening my grip on her hand and closing my eyes. “Now quit talking and start concentrating.”
“But you should be able to see something by now,” Daphne said, totally not listening to me. “If you can use my memories to help you with archery, why can’t you use them to help with something else? I know I’m right about this. I’m always right.”
The reason we were standing on the bunny slope and holding hands in the first place was because of Daphne’s theory about my psychometry—her idea that I could use my magic to pick up other memories and other skills from people, just like she’d talked about in my dorm room two nights ago. Basically, the Valkyrie figured if I could use my psychometry to tap into her archery prowess, then maybe I could pick up some of her skiing skills, too. That way, she, Carson, and I could go skiing together, instead of them leaving me behind on the bunny slope all by myself.
Daphne’s theory made sense, I supposed. Thanks to my Gypsy gift, I remembered every single thing I’d ever seen from touching an object or another person—all the images, all the vibes, all the lights, sounds, and flashes of feeling. I’d just never really thought about using them in this specific way before, about trying to specifically call them up like this—
Suddenly an image popped into my head of Daphne standing on top of a tall slope. She let out a loud whoop, pushed off with her poles, and raced down the mountain. And I felt all the things that she had: her knees moving from side to side, the spray of snow against her legs, the cold air burning her lungs, even the blur of the ice-crusted pine trees as she zipped past them.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the image vanished, leaving nothing behind but the empty echo of the wind in my head.
I opened my eyes to find Daphne and Carson staring at me.
“Well?” Daphne asked. “Did it work?”
“We’re about to find out,” I said.
I let go of her hand, put my glove back on, and plodded over to the edge of the hill.
“Come on, Gwen. You can do it,” Carson called out in an encouraging voice.
I didn’t know about that, but I was going to at least try. And if I broke something on the way down, well, Daphne said the resort had awesome hot chocolate.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, dug my poles into the snow, and pushed off.
And immediately wished that I hadn’t. Everything happened so freaking fast . The snow was so packed and slick that it seemed like I was going a hundred miles an hour down the slope the second I took off. Plus, the sun glinted on the snow just so, throwing out dazzling sprays of light in every direction.
For a moment, hot, sweaty panic filled me, but I pushed it away and forced myself to focus, to call up Daphne’s image, just like I had during archery practice with Kenzie and Oliver. I could do this. I would do this.
Daphne, Daphne, Daphne —I chanted the Valkyrie’s name in my head and once again pictured her in her ski suit, sliding down that steep hill and loving every second of
So Daphne had come over to my dorm room one night, and we’d sat on my bed and clasped hands. She hadn’t seen or felt anything, since she didn’t have that kind of magic—touch magic, it was sometimes called.
But I had.
All sorts of images of the Valkyrie had filled my mind, everything from her growing up to her first day at Mythos to her French-kissing Carson after one of their recent dates. Yeah, that last one had kind of grossed me out a little.
And I’d felt all of Daphne’s feelings, too—every last one of them. I’d felt how strong she was, how fierce, how brave, how loyal. And yeah, even how she could be a total, rich-girl snob and a major bitch from time to time. But all those images, all those feelings, good and bad, added up to Daphne—and I was glad she was my best friend.
“Are you seeing anything?” Daphne asked.
Carson looked back and forth between us.
“Not yet,” I growled, tightening my grip on her hand and closing my eyes. “Now quit talking and start concentrating.”
“But you should be able to see something by now,” Daphne said, totally not listening to me. “If you can use my memories to help you with archery, why can’t you use them to help with something else? I know I’m right about this. I’m always right.”
The reason we were standing on the bunny slope and holding hands in the first place was because of Daphne’s theory about my psychometry—her idea that I could use my magic to pick up other memories and other skills from people, just like she’d talked about in my dorm room two nights ago. Basically, the Valkyrie figured if I could use my psychometry to tap into her archery prowess, then maybe I could pick up some of her skiing skills, too. That way, she, Carson, and I could go skiing together, instead of them leaving me behind on the bunny slope all by myself.
Daphne’s theory made sense, I supposed. Thanks to my Gypsy gift, I remembered every single thing I’d ever seen from touching an object or another person—all the images, all the vibes, all the lights, sounds, and flashes of feeling. I’d just never really thought about using them in this specific way before, about trying to specifically call them up like this—
Suddenly an image popped into my head of Daphne standing on top of a tall slope. She let out a loud whoop, pushed off with her poles, and raced down the mountain. And I felt all the things that she had: her knees moving from side to side, the spray of snow against her legs, the cold air burning her lungs, even the blur of the ice-crusted pine trees as she zipped past them.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the image vanished, leaving nothing behind but the empty echo of the wind in my head.
I opened my eyes to find Daphne and Carson staring at me.
“Well?” Daphne asked. “Did it work?”
“We’re about to find out,” I said.
I let go of her hand, put my glove back on, and plodded over to the edge of the hill.
“Come on, Gwen. You can do it,” Carson called out in an encouraging voice.
I didn’t know about that, but I was going to at least try. And if I broke something on the way down, well, Daphne said the resort had awesome hot chocolate.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, dug my poles into the snow, and pushed off.
And immediately wished that I hadn’t. Everything happened so freaking fast . The snow was so packed and slick that it seemed like I was going a hundred miles an hour down the slope the second I took off. Plus, the sun glinted on the snow just so, throwing out dazzling sprays of light in every direction.
For a moment, hot, sweaty panic filled me, but I pushed it away and forced myself to focus, to call up Daphne’s image, just like I had during archery practice with Kenzie and Oliver. I could do this. I would do this.
Daphne, Daphne, Daphne —I chanted the Valkyrie’s name in my head and once again pictured her in her ski suit, sliding down that steep hill and loving every second of
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