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Misericordia

Misericordia

Currently reading

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Kiss of Frost

Kiss of Frost - Jennifer Estep Q:
I wasn’t a warrior like the other kids at Mythos, not exactly, but I wasn’t completely without skills either. I was a Gypsy, a person gifted with magic by one of the gods. In my case, that magic was psychometry, or the ability to touch an object and immediately know, see, and feel its history.

My Gypsy gift, my psychometry, was actually cooler—and a little scarier—than it sounded. Not only could I see who had once worn a bracelet or read a book, no matter how long ago it had been, but I also could feel that person’s emotions. Everything she’d been thinking, feeling, and experiencing when she’d been wearing that bracelet or reading that book. Sometimes, everything she’d ever felt, seen, or done over a whole lifetime, if her attachment to the object was strong enough. I could tell if a person had been happy or sad, good or bad, smart or dumb, or a thousand other things.

My magic let me know people’s secrets—let me see and feel all the things they kept hidden from others and even from themselves sometimes. All their conflicting emotions, all the sly things they’d done, all the things they only dreamed about doing in the deepest, blackest parts of their hearts.

Maybe it was dark and twisted of me, but I liked knowing other people’s secrets. I liked the power that the knowledge gave me, especially since I didn’t have any of the wicked cool fighting skills the other kids at Mythos did. Knowing other people’s secrets was sort of an obsession of mine—one that had almost led to me getting killed a few weeks ago.

It was also the reason I held on to Oliver’s notebook now. I’d totally expected the boredom and the frustration I’d sensed. Those were both emotions I’d felt many times before when I’d touched other kids’ notebooks, computers, pens, and all the other ordinary everyday objects they used to help them do their schoolwork.

But that warm, soft, fizzy feeling? Not so much. I knew what it was, though—love. Or at least like—serious like. Oliver Hector had a major, major crush on someone, enough to write about that person in his notebook, and I wanted to know who it was.
(c)