by P. C. Cast
“Tomorrow is fencing, not archery. Damien can sub for me. He’s a better fencer anyway.”
Slowly, he started pulling the T-shirt up over my head.
“Damn, Z! You really don’t have anything on except my shirt.”
“Surprise!” I said.
And my chest bloomed with heat as my stomach clenched.
“Zoey?” Stark sat up abruptly, pulling my T-shirt down and staring at me. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”
Through tears of fear and frustration, I nodded. “Kevin’s using Old Magick again,” I said brokenly. “And he has no clue how much trouble he’s getting himself into.”
“Shhh, I know. I know. Come here, my Queen.”
Stark pulled me into his arms and held me close as the horribly familiar warmth in my chest faded, leaving only a sickness in my stomach and a realization about what I had to do. Now. I had to stop thinking about it. Stop weighing the consequences. And just … Do. It.
Ah. Hell.
14
Other Kevin
Kevin woke abruptly, and for the first few seconds of consciousness he thought he was back in the tunnels below the depot—before he’d been pulled over to Zoey’s world—before his humanity had been returned, and the bitter taste of despair flooded his mouth with nausea at the thought of trying to control his hunger and maintain his sanity.
Then he sat up, bumped his head on one of the two wooden crates he’d curled up between, and his memory woke with him. Kevin froze and peered silently around him. Nothing stirred. No one had entered the basement. He checked in with his internal clock—red vampyres always knew the exact time of sunrise and sunset.
“Five twenty-two p.m. Sunset.” He spoke to himself out of habit. He’d done a lot of that over the past year since he’d been Marked as a red fledgling and then Changed. It was one way he’d tried to hold onto his sanity during that horrible time, and now it comforted him. He stretched, grimacing only slightly at the stiffness his wound still caused, though he felt pretty good. “Hungry, but good.” And then he remembered, and his face broke into a grateful grin. “G-ma’s cookies!”
Kevin grabbed the satchel and pulled out several cookies, as he did so his hand bumped something hard. Wondering what else his g-ma had put in there, he looked inside and breathed a long, happy sigh.
He lifted the metal thermos from the bottom of the satchel, opened it, took a sniff, and easily recognized the scent of blood. “She thinks of everything!” He chugged blood from the cold thermos as he ate the cookies. Kevin didn’t have to have a constant supply of blood. He wouldn’t lose his mind and attack someone on the street like a normal red vampyre would after a couple of days without it, but his back still needed to heal and the blood would definitely make him stronger. “Thank you, G-ma,” he said between bites of cookies, and felt a rush of homesickness. For the amount of time it took him to finish his breakfast, he let himself wish he could leave this basement and this House of Night, go to his g-ma’s house, and stay there with her eating cookies and working the lavender farm while they ignored the messed-up world. When he was done eating, he brushed the crumbs off his shirt and with them he brushed away that selfish, impossible wish.
He checked with his infallible internal clock, noting he had about two hours until the briefing Neferet had called.
“Okay, I have to stay down here at least long enough for the first bus to bring red fledglings and vamps over from the tunnels to train with the Sons of Erebus Warriors. So, how ’bout I look around since I didn’t do much more than pass out when I got here?”
He found the light switch to the wall sconces, turning the dark basement into a strange place that almost looked like an underwater graveyard with the flickering gaslight shadows playing over row after row of long, wooden boxes stacked two and three high.
“Well, it’s different than Zo’s House of Night basement, that’s for sure.” Zo had told him that there could be a fortune of weapons stashed in the basement, but there were definitely no jeweled swords or ancient, priceless crossbows in sight. There were only wooden boxes. Lots of them.
He tried to open one, but it was nailed shut. He searched around the big, open room, and it didn’t take long for him to find a crowbar in a pile of discarded hammers, nails, and other small tools. Working carefully, so he could close the box up again after he inventoried what was inside, Kevin pried the lid off the first box.
At first when he looked inside his mind didn’t register what he was seeing. He reached out and touched one of the things, and the truth of what he was looking at had him feeling so hot and dizzy that he staggered back several steps.
“Get your shit together, Kev,” he told himself. He cracked his knuckles. Shook out his hands. Ran a hand through his dark hair. And then he went back to the box.
The guns were huge and weird looking. And then he saw that there was a paper packed in the box. On it he read, EX-41 MULTISHOT GRENADE LAUNCHER.
“This is bad. This is really bad.”
He didn’t want to look in the other boxes, but he had to—so he opened each of the fifty coffin-like crates. Half of them held more grenade launchers and the ammunition for them. The rest of them held M16 machine guns, a lot more ammo, and a bunch of grenades.
Kevin’s mind buzzed at the edge of panic as he memorized everything he saw. He had to warn Dragon. Neferet’s armies had taken control of Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, and Kansas in a massively coordinated series of surprise attacks in the middle of the night. That control had spread like a forest fire to Louisiana, Missouri, Nebraska, and Iowa. They’d destroyed National Guard armories in each of those states and confiscated military vehicles. Holding with vampyre tradition, they hadn’t used modern weapons. The teeth and claws of the Red Army, as well as their ability to control the minds of humans, had been enough to defeat the meager human Resistance.
But Kevin knew that as Neferet kept pushing—kept waging war against humans—she was running into more and more opposition. Humans were erecting barricades along state borders. As Kevin was just a lieutenant in the Red Army, he wasn’t privy to the hows and whys of military tactics, but he had heard General Dominick complaining that Neferet was spending too much time negotiating with the governors of each state. He, of course, was for attacking, attacking, attacking.
“Apparently, so is Neferet,” Kevin said somberly. “Only she means to attack with modern weapons.” And then another thought smacked him. “Holy crap! This can’t be the only weapons stash she has! All those armories—crap! Crap! Crap! Sure, the armies burned them, but I’ll bet my humanity that they didn’t burn the weapons they found in them.”
He paced back and forth, back and forth. “This changes everything. The Resistance has to act right away! We have to take out Neferet and stop this war before she starts using these weapons. And I need to get a message to Dragon. Now.”
Kevin checked his internal clock again. He had about forty-five minutes before Neferet’s briefing, which should be enough time for him to walk aimlessly around the school grounds, hoping Anastasia’s raven would find him.
He made sure the crates looked undisturbed before he reapplied the disgusting blood perfume. Then he slung G-ma’s satchel over his shoulder and went up the stairs two at a time and paused at the door. Deciding the best thing to do would not be to try to sneak around, he held his breath and opened the door, stepping quickly out into the hallway. He’d taken one step when the voice behind him seemed to fill the hall—and freeze his heart.
“Hey! What the hell were you doing down there?”
Kevin turned to see General Stark and one of his lieutenants closing the distance between them. And Stark looked pissed.
“Sorry, sir. I musta taken a wrong turn.” Kevin made a big show of snapping to attention and avoiding eye contact.
“That door is supposed to stay locked—Neferet’s orders,” said Stark.
“Sorry, sir,” Kevin repeated, still at attention. “It wasn’t locked.”
“Dallas, Artus has the keys. Find him and lock that damn door.”
“Yeah, will do, General.” Stark’s lieutenant started to leave, and then he smacked himself on the forehead and turned back. “I just realized I know who this kid is. He’s one of General Dominick’s lieutenants.”
“Dominick? The red general who’s missing with an entire squad of red fledglings and soldiers?” Stark said, his sharp eyes skewering Kevin.
“Yes, indeedy, sir,” said Dallas.
Stark stepped closer, getting in Kevin’s personal space. “Who are you?”
“Lieutenant Heffer, sir!”
“Under whose command?”
“General Dominick, sir!”
“And where is your general, Lieutenant Heffer?”
“I’m sorry, sir?”
Stark sighed audibly. “Red vamps are such a pain in the ass.” Stark spoke to Dallas like Kevin wasn’t still standing at attention right in front of him, hearing every word.
“Yep, they’re pretty stupid. Even the officers.” Dallas got up in Kevin’s face. “Hey! The general asked you a question, boy! Fucking answer it!”
“I—I don’t know where my general is.” Kevin focused on sounding like any lieutenant in the Red Army would—subservient and confused.
“When is the last time you saw him?” Stark asked.
“Several days ago, sir. He gave me my orders then, and I have been on that mission since.”
Dallas snorted. “Did that mission include breaking into a locked basement?”
“No, Lieutenant! That was a mistake.”
“What did you do down there?” Stark asked.
“Nothing. When I saw that I was in the wrong place, I left, sir.”
“Where the hell were you supposed to be?” Dallas asked.
“Training. I came back from my mission and then it was time for training. I thought I would see General Dominick at the tunnels tonight and report to him.”
“What was your mission, Lieutenant?” Stark said.
“Five days ago, General Dominick sent me to Stroud. He’d heard the Resistance had found hiding places in that area and I was supposed to reconnoiter and then report back to him.” Stroud was about halfway between Tulsa and Oklahoma City, and not close enough to Sapulpa to cause Dragon and the Resistance any trouble, so turning Stark’s attention there didn’t seem like a bad idea to Kev.
“Didn’t you think something was weird when you couldn’t find your general or the rest of your flight?” said Stark.
“Sir, I just got back. Just now.”
“Give me a fucking break. You expect General Stark to believe that it took you five days to check out a little armpit of a town like Stroud?” Dallas scoffed.
“No, Lieutenant. I—I got lost.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Dallas said.
“Explain yourself, Lieutenant.” Stark commanded.
Avoiding eye contact Kevin spoke quickly and carefully. “Sir, General Dominick gave me orders to check the Stroud area for Resistance members. I did. I started in the town. I didn’t find any evidence of the Resistance there, but I heard rumors that there has been recent unusual activity around the Deep Fork River. Like the general commanded, I sheltered in the town, and on day two I went to the river. I found evidence of campers but nothing specific to the Resistance. When I tried to hike out I realized I was lost. I didn’t find a major road until sunset today. Then I confiscated a car and returned immediately to the House of Night.”
“Lost for days—what a moron,” muttered Dallas.
“And you’ve had no contact with General Dominick since he gave you your orders?” Stark said.
“No, sir. None.”
“Did you think about calling someone on your cell phone when you got lost? Or do you really just not think much?” Dallas sneered at Kevin.
Kevin stifled the urge to punch him in his narrow face. But he showed no sign of any emotion except confusion, and answered immediately. “I did, but had no cell service, Lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant Heffer, did General Dominick mention where he and his soldiers were going?” Stark asked.
Kevin let his face show surprise. “Of course, sir. He said he was marching on orders.”
“Orders? Whose?” Stark said.
“Sorry, sir, but that’s above my need to know.”
“Yeah, okay. Where were they headed?” Stark asked.
Then Kevin began leading Stark on a trail of total bullshit in the opposite direction of Sapulpa, the Resistance, and their Old Magick–protected ridge. “He said the state militia was coming up out of New Mexico and crossing Texas by using the Red River. I believe the general was heading to Elmer to set a trap for them.”
“The New Mexico militia? That’s bullshit. There hasn’t been a peep outta any of our neighboring states’ militias in months. He’s making shit up. It’s a waste of time to talk to him. To talk to any of them,” Dallas said, shaking his head in disgust.
Stark ignored Dallas. “No, something definitely feels wrong. My gut has been telling me that for weeks. Things are happening that we don’t know about. Heffer, I want you to come with me.”
“Yes, sir! I’d be honored, sir!”
Dallas rolled his eyes. “General, he stinks.”
“They all stink, but this red vamp kid has given us the only intel we’ve had on a missing general and his soldiers. Go get that key from Artus and then join us in the auditorium for Neferet’s briefing.”
“Yes, sir,” Dallas said before sending Kevin another look of disgust and jogging away.
“Okay, follow me, Lieutenant. And don’t get lost.”
“Yes, sir!”
Kevin’s mind was in turmoil as he followed General Stark. He needed to attend the briefing, but he also had to find a way to get free of Stark and that jackass, Dallas, so that he could go outside and wait for Anastasia’s raven to find him. Dragon had to know about the weapons stash. Today.
“Hey, quit lagging!” Stark snapped at Kevin, who had, indeed, begun to lag.
“Yes, sir!” He sped up and was just behind Stark as they left the Field House and entered the hallway that led to the entrance to the school and the auditorium, when a familiar voice, sexy and sarcastic, interrupted his escape planning.
“Hello there, Bow Boy. I’d say it’s nice to see you, but we’d both know it’s a lie.”
Stark paused to greet her as she entered the hallway from the direction of the priestesses’ quarters, and Kevin got to study Aphrodite, noticing nuances he hadn’t been able to see in the darkness of the morgue gardens.
She looks tired. Really tired. And thin. Almost frail. This Aphrodite wore a lot more makeup than the one in Zo’s world, and Kevin wondered if that was because she was trying to cover dark circles and stress. And her mouth is different too. Harder. Like she doesn’t ever smile. It made his heart hurt, and he wanted to put his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Unbidden, his feet started forward a step when Stark’s voice brought him back to reality.
“Since when does it bother you to lie, Aphrodite? And don’t call me that.”
“Oh, hey, so sorry. I tend to forget that you’re General Bow Boy now. Whoop-de-doo. We’ve all been so elevated by this war.” Her perfectly beautiful nose wrinkled as she glanced behind Stark to Kevin. “Eww. It stinks.”
“He’s also a lieutenant in your High Priestess’ army, and he puts his life on the line every time he leaves this House of Night. I don’t think how he smells would make a damn bit of difference to you if he was all that was standing between you and a mob of humans.”
Aphrodite made a show of looking around the hallway, which was becoming increasingly busy as soldiers, Son of Erebus Warriors, and priestesses
began heading toward the auditorium. “Funny, but I don’t see any humans around.”
“Funny? You know what I think is funny? The rumor I’ve heard that you might be joining the Red Army, so my advice to you is to get used to that smell.” Stark jerked his head in Kevin’s direction. “Come on, Lieutenant.” He bowed mockingly to Aphrodite. “Have a real nice day, Prophetess.”
15
Other Aphrodite
Aphrodite turned her bitch level up to cover her nervousness. She didn’t need to say anything. She simply changed her expression from resting bitch face to active bitch face, and soldiers, Warriors, and even the priestesses parted before her like she carried the plague.
I carry something worse—Neferet’s disdain. And they all know it.
Aphrodite had hastily decided that her performance would be best played out in the middle of the crowded auditorium, so instead of going on stage to serve as an attractive backdrop to whatever drama Neferet had cooked up for her minions today or joining the other priestesses huddled together in their typically sheeplike manner in seating reserved for them in the rear, Aphrodite made her way down the center of the auditorium, found the seat she wanted in the front row next to the aisle, and glared at the current occupant, who hastily removed himself.
She didn’t thank him. She sat. And worried. Aphrodite had never done anything like she was planning. She hadn’t meant to—not until Stark, the arrogant douche, had made that crack about her joining the Red Army. So, really, what she was about to do wasn’t her fault. It was Neferet’s. And, probably, somehow Stark’s. But definitely, definitely not Aphrodite’s fault.
She’d never meant to tell Neferet the rest of the vision. Aphrodite hadn’t told Neferet all of the details of any of her visions since the Red Army had slaughtered Lenobia and Travis. And the horses. Aphrodite hated thinking about the dying horses. Hearing their screams in her nightmares was bad enough.
My fault. That had been my fault. I should’ve known! She clenched her hands together over her lap and sat ramrod straight. Anyone who looked at her—and a lot of people were always looking at her—would only see a beautiful, aloof young Prophetess looking confident and calm. They wouldn’t see her hands tremble. They wouldn’t see her soul shake. They wouldn’t see her doubts and fears. That was one positive thing her harpy of a mother had taught her—show only one face in public, and that face should be exquisite and in control at all times, regardless of whether she was actually exquisite or in control.