Lost

by P. C. Cast

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re Nyx’s Prophetess. And because I believe in Nyx and her love.”

  “That’s a good story, Kev.”

  “That’s a true story, Aphrodite.”

  “Are you scared about tomorrow?” She abruptly changed the subject.

  “Well, yeah. Of course,” he said honestly.

  “Because you don’t think I can do it?”

  “No way. I know you can. I’m scared because the Red Army is a fucking nightmare. And I’m scared that innocent people will probably get hurt because Neferet is an evil bitch. Zoey might get hurt too, which scares the crap outta me, and not just because she’s my sister and I don’t want her to die. Again. If anything happens to her, Other Stark will come over here and rip my heart out of my chest, which will not be cool.”

  “Definitely not. So, Zoey and her Stark are seriously in love?”

  “Yep, but it’s more than love. They’re bonded. He’s her Warrior and even more than that. They fit together. I’m happy for them. It’s what I want. Someone I fit together with.”

  “It’s what I want too. But don’t tell anyone. Everyone thinks all I want is a different hot guy in my bed every night. Or maybe every other night.”

  “And that’s not what you want?”

  “No. It’s exhausting. But it’s less scary than loving someone.”

  “Unless you love the right someone.”

  Aphrodite sighed and flipped back her ponytail. “But how the hell do you know when someone is the right one? I’m sure my father thought he loved my mother, like, a zillion years ago. But their marriage was a sham. By the time he died they hated each other. I decided right then that I’d rather be alone than take a chance at that kind of living nightmare. So, what about guys? Do I have a lover or whatever over there?”

  Kevin’s chest suddenly hurt, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t lie to her.

  “Yeah, well, that’s another thing that’s different about that Aphrodite and you. In Zoey’s world you have an Oathbound Warrior named Darius. He loves you. You love him. You two fit together.”

  He couldn’t look at her, so instead he stared down at his hands.

  “Wait, I thought that Aphrodite and you kinda had a thing over there.”

  Kevin smiled sadly at his hands. “No. Well, only a little. Only what your heart had room for. You didn’t love me. You liked me.” He felt his cheeks getting warm and wished he hadn’t turned the damn lantern up so high when he was trying to dry Nala. “You did kiss me and tell me to find you in this world, and to just be myself because you’d love me in this world too.”

  “Too? Sounds like I mighta kinda loved you a little.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “And what about you? How did you feel?”

  He swallowed hard and moved his shoulders. “How could any guy not fall in love with you?”

  She didn’t say anything for so long that Kevin’s cheeks went from blazing hot to cold with the kind of embarrassment that comes from heartbreak.

  And then he felt her move. She slid over so close she could touch him. Aphrodite reached out and took his chin in her hand, gently lifting it and turning his face so he had to meet her eyes.

  “No guy has ever loved me. Not one. They’ve wanted me. Lusted after me. Tried to use me. Feared me. Hated me. But never loved me.”

  “Then every one of them was a fool.”

  “But you aren’t. Kevin Redbird, you are no fool,” she said.

  His laugh was humorless. “I think the definition of a fool is someone who falls in love with a woman who is not his to love.”

  “That Warrior isn’t here, Kev,” she said softly, looking from his eyes to his lips. “What if in this world you are my Darius?”

  Aphrodite leaned into him, pulling him down to her. She kissed him, long and deep and hot. Their tongues met, touched, teased. Her arms went around his shoulders and suddenly she was in his lap and his hand stroked the length of her smooth leg.

  “I want to stay with you tonight,” she whispered against his lips. “I need to stay with you tonight.”

  “You can stay with me forever,” he murmured back—lifting her, turning her, so that their bodies pressed together as they explored the secret, beautiful places only lovers share.

  And then finally they fit together. Perfectly.

  31

  Zoey

  “What happened to TU?” Stevie Rae asked as they pulled into the already packed parking lot. They’d timed it so the Resistance Warriors, who all had their tattoos covered and were wearing either OU or OSU paraphernalia, would enter late, just before kickoff, so that they had an excuse to rush in with the other humans who had to wait for the last minute because vampyres were always seated first—and always in the best seats.

  “What do you mean? This is how TU has always been,” said Dragon from the driver’s seat of Grandma Redbird’s van.

  “In our world, the campus is a lot bigger and, well, nicer,” I tried to explain as I looked at the sparse old stone buildings that surrounded a super high-tech stadium. “But your stadium is nicer, even after we updated ours.”

  “Not much happens academically at TU,” said Anastasia. “It was a wonderful university a few decades ago. Only the brightest and best attended. But they couldn’t compete with OU and OSU’s sports programs, so the university went into decline. Well, as you already noted, except for the stadium. Other teams use it, so that rich man—Bryan, what was his name?”

  “Boone Pick, Pick Boone, or something like that.”

  “Yes, thank you, my love, him. He donated money to the school, but not for academics, of course. To redo the stadium so that they could host semipro teams. I believe the new stadium seats thirty thousand.”

  “Dang,” said Stevie Rae. “Makes me sad. I always wanted to go to TU. They have—well, our TU has an awesome film studies program.”

  “I didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff,” I said.

  “Yeah, in high school I really wanted to be a director—you know, like Patty Jenkins. Then I got Marked and died. And undied, and Changed into the first red vampyre High Priestess, so I got kinda sidetracked.”

  “If you want to go to TU when we get back, you totally can,” I said.

  “Z, that would be awesomesauce! You think I’ll have time, what with being sure the Depot Restaurant gets up and running?”

  “We’ll make time. No one should ignore their dreams.”

  “Okay, everyone ready?” Dragon asked. He swiveled in his seat to look back at us. Stevie Rae, Rephaim, Anastasia, Dragon, and I all decided to arrive together. The rest of the Resistance, including Kevin and Aphrodite, had divided themselves up in cars and trucks that Tina had supplied from local Resistance members. Kevin and Aphrodite had driven together in their town car, pretending to go straight from their shopping trip in Dallas to the stadium.

  “I’m ready!” I mustered as much confidence as I could, though worry gnawed at my stomach. There were just so many things that could happen in such a giant space filled with so many people and an army of ravenous, inhuman vampyres. I mean, what could go wrong besides everything? Then I shook myself mentally. Get it together, girl. Act like a High Priestess. “We’re going to do this,” I said firmly. “Everyone totally understand their parts?”

  “We separate and head to the top of the bleachers, each in the direction of the elements we represent,” Anastasia said.

  “And then we watch the game and wait,” Dragon said.

  “That’s my favorite part!” Stevie Rae gushed. “Boomer Sooner!” Then she looked chagrined. “Uh, I didn’t mean that Aphrodite saving all the red vamps wouldn’t be as cool as a football game, though.”

  “They understand,” Rephaim said, kissing her gently.

  “I don’t like that we’re all separated,” said D
ragon.

  “We have these.” I lifted the high-tech walkie-talkie from my pocket. It looked like one of those old flip phones, only it didn’t flip open. There was a button on the side, and when I pressed it I could talk to the others. Each of us had one: Dragon, Anastasia, Stevie Rae, Kevin, and me. I was supposed to give them the signal, and Anastasia would open the call to the elements with air.

  “I wish we coulda given one to Aphrodite. She is the one who has to make the sacrifice,” said Stevie Rae.

  “It was too risky. She has to report to Neferet. If Neferet makes her stay there in the press box with her, we’d be discovered the second her walkie-talkie bleeps,” said Anastasia.

  “But she’ll know when we cast the circle. It should be obvious,” I added.

  “I hope so,” muttered Dragon.

  I grinned at the grumpy Swordmaster. “You just wait and see. Everyone will know when we cast the circle.”

  We climbed out of the van and joined the stream of humans wearing OU red and OSU orange. It was a less rowdy crowd than what was normal for a Bedlam game, but that was no big shock, especially as we all had to pass silent, glowering blue vampyre Warriors. The good news was no one had to pay to get into the game. And I decided that was the only good news, as we entered the stadium and got our first glimpse of the field—and the red vampyres that were grouped around each field exit forming a bizarre blood-colored circle around the players and cheerleaders.

  “Oh, Goddess!” Anastasia gasped beside me. “She has them down there on field level.”

  “Ready to eat anyone who tries to leave,” said Rephaim.

  “This is bad, Z,” said Stevie Rae.

  “Maybe not.” I motioned for my group to follow me to one of the concession stands, where we huddled in a tight circle, pretending to try to decide between hot dogs and nachos. I spoke quietly and urgently. “At least they’re all together down there.”

  “But how are we going to get weapons from them if they’re on the field and our Warriors are scattered around the stadium?” asked Anastasia.

  “Our Warriors won’t be able to be armed,” said Dragon darkly.

  “All that means is that we have to be fast,” I said. “We know the slaughter won’t happen until after the game. Aphrodite saw that much. I’m assuming Neferet will make some sort of ridiculous speech first.”

  “That sounds right,” said Dragon.

  “So, as she starts her speech, we prepare to call the elements.”

  “Maybe we should start the call as soon as the game’s over,” Rephaim said.

  “That will only work if no one can tell we’re casting a circle,” Dragon said, looking at me. “And you’re sure people will be able to tell?”

  I nodded, still speaking low. “There should be a ribbon of light that connects us. People are definitely going to notice that—especially Neferet.”

  “All right. Then we wait until she gives the command,” said Dragon.

  “Anastasia, be ready to call air,” I said.

  “I will be. Do not worry about me.”

  “You’ll be next, Dragon,” I reminded him, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

  “I know the order of the elements, Zoey,” he said, though not unkindly.

  “We all do, Z. It’ll be fine,” said Stevie Rae.

  “Okay. I’m going to take a seat down as close to the fifty-yard line as I can get. That’ll be where I call spirit. Blessed be, everyone.”

  “I shall be in the east,” said Anastasia. She kissed Dragon. “Blessed be.” Then she hurried away.

  “I go to the south. Blessed be,” said Dragon. I saw him begin to make a fist as he automatically was going to show me the proper respect as a High Priestess and bow, but he caught himself in time, and with a wry smile he actually winked at me before he also left, heading to the southern end of the stadium, leaving me alone with Stevie Rae and Rephaim.

  “Z, is this gonna work?” my bestie asked.

  “It has to, but if something awful happens, you and Rephaim get out. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for Kevin or Aphrodite or anyone. Just get out. And don’t go back to the ridge. Take the van. Go to Grandma’s farm. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Got it,” Rephaim nodded soberly. “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “At least we’re wearin’ the right shirts.” Stevie Rae pointed to the matching red OU sweatshirts my group had all opted for. “OU almost always wins.”

  “Boomer Sooner!” I said. “And blessed be, you two.”

  We had a brief group hug, and then they headed for the north end of the stadium. I drew a deep breath, trying to ready myself. I turned to head into the stadium when I heard a voice that stopped me dead. I looked frantically around. Stark was standing near the men’s bathroom, talking to—and another jolt of shock hit me—he was talking to Dallas! In this world Dallas was a blue vampyre, but he looked exactly like he had last time I’d seen him … just before he died.

  I ducked my head and hurried past them, like I had to get to the ladies’ room really, really fast. Then I paused just around a cement wall, where I pressed into its shadow, listening intently.

  “Dallas, stop complaining and get your ass field level,” Stark said. “I need you and every officer who isn’t in the press box with Neferet down there. Keep those red soldiers together. Keep them under command. Make them stand at parade rest. Hell, make them stand on their fucking heads for all I care. Just keep them from eating the cheerleaders!”

  “Hey, I hear ya. I’ll do my best, but that’s a lot of red soldiers. We’re way outnumbered.”

  “Then kill one of them if you have to. Make them more scared of you than they are hungry. Shit, Lieutenant, they just fed!”

  “Right?! Their hunger is annoying as hell.”

  “Well, get them under control! The last thing we need is a slaughter down there.”

  Stark doesn’t know what Neferet’s planning! The realization soared through me. I knew it! I knew he couldn’t be like Neferet. She’s using him and his devotion to Nyx. And that thought had my spirits lifting and my attitude shifting.

  Stark and Dallas separated. I watched Stark disappear into a curtained, guarded entrance that read PRESS BOX over it.

  Good. At least I know where he is. Stark’s not going to be cool with Neferet commanding the Red Army to eat innocents. He’s going to stand up. He’s going to speak out. And when he does—we’ll be his backup.

  Feeling way more confident, I readied myself, and then entered the stadium. The game had already started and the bands—in the stands at opposing ends of the stadium—were playing some kind of battle song that had lots of people on their feet. I kept my eyes on the stands, trying to find a single seat as close to the fifty-yard line as possible. At row twenty-five I finally spotted a space and pushed myself through a sea of red toward it, where I tried to sit—but the ref had just called holding against OU, so, of course, all the Sooners around me were standing and booing.

  So I stood. And finally I let my gaze go to the field.

  Heath was there. He’d jogged to the sidelines, whipped off his helmet, and was having a very arm-waving discussion with the ref, who was shaking his head and pointing back out on the field at the OU huddle where Heath should be.

  I stared and pressed my hand against my chest because my heart felt like it would beat out of my body. He was wearing number three on his jersey, like always. I had to blink hard to keep from bawling. Number three wasn’t for Daryle Lamonica, Oakland’s famous “Mad Bomber” who’d played football a zillion years ago, like in the 1960s. (I only know about him because Heath knew everything ever about football.) Anyway, Heath always wore number three because that’s when we’d met. When I was in third grade.

  I wiped my eyes and kept staring at him. He was so cute! His hair looked like a baby cow had held him down and licked all over it, making it stand up
in adorable sandy blond tufts. He had those dark quarterback lines drawn under his eyes, which totally took me back to high school, and I had to stifle the urge to yell his name and give a big ol’ Broken Arrow “Go Tigers!” shout.

  The ref made a shooing gesture at him again, and he crammed his helmet back on and rejoined the huddle.

  He looks so grown-up! I realized as I watched his team—his older, more experienced team—look to him as he called the next play. It hurt my heart, but I swear I could’ve watched him for days. I’d grown up watching him play football—getting better and better—growing into an outstanding athlete and finally an outstanding leader. I was glad to see he’d kept himself together. Obviously, he hadn’t crawled into a case of beer and given up after I died.

  Sure, part of me was a little resentful—the selfish, immature part of me. But the rest of me—well, the rest of me loved watching him living his dream. And when he threw the first touchdown of the game I was on my feet too, joining in with the die-hard OU fans and their new chant of “We’ve got Luck! We’ve got Luck! We’ve got Luck!”

  He came off the field with the offense, and that’s when I saw her. One of the cheerleaders—a hot black girl wearing OU’s tiny little cheer uniform—rushed up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him smack on his lips. While the crowd cheered, Heath totally kissed her back.

  “Touchdown for OU!” bellowed the announcer. “And their quarterback gets an Oklahoma hello from Jenn Amala, one of OU’s cheerleaders. Looks like his luck is a lot more than a name.”

  I threw up a little in the back of my throat as I watched him smile that sweet Heath smile at her as she skipped (Skipped! Seriously!) to rejoin the rest of her scantily clad squad. Heath waved at the crowd.

  Then the little walkie-talkie in my pocket crackled.

  “Zo. Come in, Zo!”

  I sat down, covered one ear, cupped my hand around the walkie-talkie, and tried to pretend like I was talking on a phone.

  “Kev?”

  “Are you all here?”

  “Yes. We’re in place.”

  “Ignore that girl. He’ll always love you.”