"But what about my magic?" I asked. "What about my touch magic?"
That's what some people called my psychometry-touch magic.
"Your touch magic is different," Metis said. "It's one of the rare abilities that can be both physical and mental at the same time."
"What do you mean?"
Metis tapped her fingers against her lips, like she was struggling over how to explain it to me. "Well, obviously, you know about the mental part. That's when you touch objects and see things, as you put it. When you get flashes of other people's memories and emotions in your own mind."
I nodded.
"But there's a physical aspect to touch magic as well," Metis said. "You can get vibes off objects easily enough, but those with touch magic like yours can also influence people. I imagine if you tried hard enough, Gwen, you could push your thoughts and feelings into someone and make her see and feel exactly what you wanted her to. In theory, you could do even more than that. Your psychometry lets you see people's memories, lets you feel what they feel. Who's to say that you couldn't reach even deeper inside them? Perhaps even tap into someone's magic while you were fighting him and turn it against him? There are some very interesting theories about touch magic out there, although few of them have ever been proven, since it's such a rare gift."
Metis's words made me flash back to the Reaper attack. I remembered seeing that spark inside Daphne and trying to reach out and grab it with my own magic. For a few seconds, it had almost felt like that was what I was doing, like I was channeling her healing energy, before the Valkyrie had toppled over from exhaustion. Maybe that was exactly what I'd done, since all the cuts and bruises I'd gotten during my fight with the Reaper girl had vanished then. I wondered if that was what Metis was talking about, if tapping into Daphne's or even someone else's power was one of those mysterious other things I might be able to do with my Gypsy gift.
Basically, though, the professor had told me the same thing my Grandma Frost had a while back-that my magic would keep getting stronger and keep growing and that I'd be able to do more and more things with it. I wondered how it all worked, though. I'd never tried to take more than memories and feelings from an object, and I'd certainly never tried to exert my will over anyone else.
I opened my mouth to ask her another question, but Metis cut me off.
"Let me get my jacket, and I'll take you down to the prison," she said. "I'm interested to hear what Preston has to say for himself today. And don't worry about Daphne. She'll be okay."
The professor stepped back inside her office. Once again, I thought about Daphne's harsh words and the anger simmering in her eyes. Somehow I doubted the Valkyrie would come around as quickly as Metis thought she would.
Metis and I left the English-history building and walked across the upper quad to the math-science one. I tucked my chin down into my gray scarf to try and keep warm, but the air seemed to grow colder and colder with every step I took, like there was a storm blowing in.
I followed Metis into the math-science building, and then down, down, down we went, going through a series of doors coded with keypads and magical locks, until it seemed like we were so far underground, we would never see the sun again.
Finally, we came to an enormous door that was made out of the same dark gray stone as the rest of the building. Thick iron bars crisscrossed over the door, and two sphinxes had been carved into the stone facing each other. The creatures looked even fiercer than the ones on the gates outside did, like their sole reason for being was to keep whatever was behind the door from getting out. No matter how many times I came down here, the sight of the glaring sphinxes always made me uneasy. I shivered and looked away.
Metis fished a large skeleton key from her jacket pocket and slid it into the lock. The door opened with a loud screech, and we stepped through to the other side.
The prison had a dome-shaped ceiling, just like the Library of Antiquities, and seemed much larger than it should have been, considering how far underground we were. Glass cells made up the circular prison walls, stacking up to form three floors. It always struck me as kind of funny that this was one place at the academy that didn't have any statues of gods, goddesses, or mythological creatures. Instead, a hand holding an enormous set of balanced scales had been carved into the stone ceiling. That didn't make it any less creepy, though.
A desk squatted right inside the door. Usually, Raven sat there, reading one of her celebrity gossip magazines, but today, her chair was empty. Metis saw my questioning look.
"Raven had to go over to the dining hall to get some supplies for her coffee cart," she said. "Besides, it's not like Preston's going anywhere. If the other Reapers had wanted him free, they would have come for him by now."
Her explanation made sense, but it didn't make me feel any better about being here. Nothing ever did. I put my bag down on Raven's desk and turned toward the center of the prison.
Preston Ashton slumped over a stone table in the middle of the domed room, right underneath the hand-and-scales carving. Despite the fact that he was wearing an orange jumpsuit and paper shoes, Preston was a handsome guy with white-blond hair, pale blue eyes, and chiseled features. At least, I'd thought he was gorgeous until, you know, he'd tried to kill me a couple of times. Now, when I looked at Preston, all I saw was the Reaper red spark that burned in the bottom of his eyes.
Preston sat up at the soft whisper of our footsteps on the floor, and his lips curled back into a sneer.
"Why, Gypsy," he said. "You haven't been down here in weeks. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me over the holidays."
As if I could ever forget about Preston and the awful thing he'd promised to do to my Grandma Frost if he ever got free. But there was no point in letting the Reaper know just how much he scared me-that would only make him happy.
"Actually, I put you completely out of my mind during the holidays," I said in a cool voice, dropping into the stone chair across from him. "It was rather refreshing not to go digging through your depraved memories for a few weeks."
Preston jerked toward me, but the chains that shackled his arms to the table and his legs to the floor kept him from moving more than an inch.
"Temper, temper," I mocked him.
Preston sat back in his chair and gave me a cold smile, although his cheeks still burned with anger. "We'll see who's laughing soon, Gypsy. We'll see."
I ignored the chill his smirking tone always made me feel, grabbed his hands, and reached for my magic. I spent the next fifteen minutes digging into Preston's mind, sorting through his memories, the things he'd seen and the horrible, terrible, sickening things he'd done as a Reaper. The people he'd killed, everyone he had tortured, everyone he'd ever hurt, I saw it all-and it was all very, very bad.