She was having one of her visions. I sat there, still and quiet, while something old, powerful, and watchful swirled in the air around us. Something familiar and almost comforting. Something that made me think of a certain goddess I'd met not too long ago.
After a few seconds, Grandma's eyes snapped back into focus, and she smiled at me once more. The moment and her vision had passed, and the ancient, invisible force that had been stirring in the air around her was gone. Sometimes Grandma got all sorts of details when she had one of her visions, seeing the future with sharp, crystal clarity. Sometimes, though, her psychic flashes were vague and hazy, and she only got a general sense that something good or bad was going to happen, but not exactly what it was. This must have been one of those vague and hazy times, because she didn't say anything else about why I should go to the Winter Carnival or what might take place once I got there. Besides, Grandma had always told me that she wanted me to make my own choices and chart my own destiny, instead of acting on a possible future that might never come to pass in the first place. That's why she rarely shared the specific things she saw whenever she had a vision about me.
Grandma sat down beside me at the kitchen table while we waited for the chocolate-strawberry cookies to bake. "So, pumpkin, what are you on the trail of this week?" she asked, smiling. "Tracking down more lost cell phones and laptops for the other Mythos students?"
"Nah," I said. "Everyone's focused on the Winter Carnival. Nobody's hired me to find anything for them this week."
Cell phones, laptops, wallets, purses, car keys, jewelry, discarded bras, and missing boxers-my psychometry magic helped me find all sorts of things that were lost, stolen, or otherwise missing. Of course, if the object wasn't where it was supposed to be, I couldn't actually touch it, but people left vibes everywhere they went and on everything they handled. Usually, all I had to do was run my fingers across a guy's desk or dig through a girl's purse to get an idea about where he'd last left his wallet or where she'd put down her cell phone. And if I didn't immediately flash on an item's location, then I kept touching that person's stuff until I did-or saw an image of who had swiped it. Most of the time, it was pretty easy for me to follow the trail of psychic bread crumbs to the missing item.
"And how are you feeling, pumpkin?" Grandma asked in a softer voice. "About everything? It's been several months now since… the accident."
I looked at her, wondering at the way she'd said "the accident," like the words had some hidden meaning, but Grandma's face was dark and sad. Besides, I knew what she was really asking: how was I handling my mom's death.
My dad, Tyr Forseti, had passed away from cancer when I was a kid. He and my mom, Grace, had been married, but she'd kept the last name of Frost and given it to me, as was the tradition for all the women in our family, since our Gypsy gifts, our powers, were passed down from mother to daughter.
I don't even remember my dad, but my mom had died back in the spring, and everything about her death was still sharp and fresh and painful. I had a lot of guilt-okay, aton of guilt-over my mom's death, since I'd sort of caused it.
Back at my old high school, I'd picked up another girl's hairbrush after gym class. I'd figured I'd be safe enough using it, since it was just a hairbrush. Most people didn't have a lot of feelings about what they used to comb their hair.
I'd been wrong.
Instead, I'd immediately flashed on the hairbrush and had learned a sick, sick secret-that the girl's stepdad was sexually abusing her. The memories, images, and feelings had been so horrible that I'd had a total freak-out with my magic. I'd screamed and screamed and screamed before blacking out and later waking up in the hospital. I'd told my mom about what I'd seen, since she was a police detective. My mom had called me from the police station that night to say she'd arrested the girl's stepdad.
That had been the last time I'd ever spoken to her.
Mom's car had been T-boned by a drunk driver on her way home. Supposedly, she'd died instantly, and she'd been messed up so badly from the accident that the casket had been closed at her funeral. Hence, all my heartshattering, soul-twisting guilt. I couldn't help but think that if I hadn't picked up that hairbrush, then my mom wouldn't have been out so late-and she would have never been killed.
I missed my mom like crazy, and I knew Grandma Frost did too, since it had always been just the three of us. That's why I risked the wrath of the professors and the other Powers That Were at Mythos to sneak off campus to come see her and that's why Grandma let me. Because we both wanted to spend as much time with each other as we could, just in case one of us was ever taken away as suddenly and cruelly as my mom had been-
Ding!
The timer sounded, interrupting my dark, guilty thoughts and saving me from answering her question. Grandma got up and slid the cookies out of the oven. The smells of melted sugar, sweet strawberries, and dark chocolate blasted into the kitchen, making everything feel warm, safe, and cozy. I didn't even wait for the cookies to cool before I snatched two off the baking sheet, broke them apart, and stuffed the pieces into my mouth. Yum. So good.
"Now you be sure and give some of these to Daphne," Grandma reminded me in a gentle voice, filling up my usual tin with the cookies. "I know she'll want some, too."
"Okay." That's what I said, but since I was still chewing, it sounded more like "Mmm-kay."
By the time Grandma had finished packing up the cookies, it was after five, which meant that I needed to leave so I could ride the bus back up to the academy. Nickamedes would be on my ass if I was even a minute late for my shift. In addition to going to classes and weapons training, I also had to work several hours a week at the Library of Antiquities as sort of an after-school job. Fun, fun.
I slid the container of cookies into my messenger bag, on top of the stack of comic books I was currently reading, then slung the strap over my head and across my chest.
"Love you, Grandma." I leaned down and kissed her wrinkled cheek.
"I love you too, pumpkin," she said, patting my hand one final time. "You be careful. It's a wicked old world out there."
I paused, wondering if Grandma Frost was having another one of her psychic flashes, if she was trying to warn me about something, but her violet eyes were calm, clear, and focused. Then again, I didn't really need Grandma to warn me. Thanks to my time at Mythos, I knew exactly what kind of scary things were out there-things like Reapers of Chaos, Nemean prowlers, and most especially, Loki.
"I will," I promised her. "I'll be careful."
With a third, still-warm cookie in my hand, I left Grandma Frost's house. The sun had given up trying to break through the clouds, and it had gotten even darker and colder while I'd been inside. I shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth and stuck my hands deep into my jacket pockets, wishing I'd thought to wear gloves today. Of course, I supposed I could have worn gloves around the clock, to cut down on the flashes I got off other people and objects. But I already felt like enough of a freak as it was. Wearing elbow-length gloves all the time wouldsonot help my social status at Mythos.
I walked to the end of the block, looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and stepped out into the street heading for the bus stop on the opposite side.
I didn't even see the car until it was right on top of me.
It was a big, black, expensive SUV with a shiny silver grille-and it was racing right toward me.
I froze in the middle of the street, not quite believing what I was seeing, not quite believing that the driver hadn't spotted me, that he wasn't going to blow the horn and slam on his brakes at any moment. Where had he come from? The street had been completely empty a second ago.