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 other 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 hidingsomething,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?