She was nervous about what the night would bring, but Lynette trusted Neferet. She knew her mistress would handle whatever situation arose. The truth was, she was hoping Neferet would fail—that the sacrifice of five vapid mortals would not be enough to siphon power to this world’s totally crazy version of her friend. A fail tonight would be all it would take for Lynette to convince Neferet that they really must return to their world, if only to regroup and come up with plan B.
Lynette tapped her chin contemplatively. I’d like to live in Scotland. I’ll bet Neferet would too. We were happy at Balmacara Mains. I could wait there while Neferet goes to Skye and gains her immortality. That was their original plan, and it was a good one.
She gazed out the window as she thought about this world—about how similar yet utterly unlike it was to hers. Lynette never imagined she’d miss Tulsa, but she would happily return there if it meant leaving this place.
And then a thought struck her, and after it did she was amazed that it had taken her so long to consider it.
“I wonder who my mirror image is in this world?” she murmured at the computer screen.
For a moment her fingers froze over the keys. What if she’d never gotten out of Camino Villa trailer park in Broken Arrow? Lynette shuddered. Could she leave a version of herself here to rot in poverty and ignorance?
“She’s a version of you, Lynette,” she told herself. “I’ll bet she got out too. And in this world, there was no war. She’s probably running a whole corporation and has a permanent table at the Summit Club reserved—by the west windows that look out over the river—just for her.”
She typed “Lynette Witherspoon” into the search bar and began reading as her coffee grew cold and her stomach grew hot with bile.
She’d been correct. This world’s Lynette Witherspoon had been a successful businesswoman. She’d lived in a mansion in midtown and thrived as the head of her own business.
And then last year, she’d been murdered—by Neferet.
Zoey
“Please tell me we’re not having another icepocalypse. We already had one. Last year. We are not due for another for five years or so.” I spoke into Stark’s chest as he cradled me against him while we stared into our fireplace. “At least Grandma’s been in town for the past couple days. I can almost smell her lavender chocolate chip cookies baking already—makes me almost wish for a week of ice.”
The storm had pretty much isolated the school, and I’d suspended classes for the night (at least) because the buses that ferried the red fledglings from the tunnels beneath the depot to campus were currently stuck on the ice rink that was our parking lot. So even though the sun had set, Stark and I hadn’t budged from our room and, the truth was, I was beginning to enjoy every minute of our unexpected laziness.
“Well, I’m no weatherman, but Trav Meyer is, and he says that this stuff seems stuck here for now, but he’s expecting it to clear in a day or so. It’s already kinda sorta stopped.”
“Kinda sorta? Does that mean—”
clunk!
And everything electric went black.
“Ah oh,” I said, though without much enthusiasm. Candles and gaslights lit the school, and we had a backup generator for things like the media center and our refrigerators, but there was something homey and romantic about the power being off and a snow day being called. The truth was, we could all use the break the isolation would bring.
Stark sighed. “I better go be sure the kitchen flips the refrigerators and freezers over to the generators.”
I mirrored his sigh. “And I better call Stevie Rae and be sure everything’s okay at the depot.”
“She’s not there, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” I grinned. After we’d cast the protective spell around the grotto last night, Stevie Rae and Aphrodite and I—as well as our guys, which included Damien and Jack—had hung out so long in the dining hall, laughing and eating and basically just destressing, that dawn had crept up on us and Stevie Rae and Rephaim had decided to stay on campus for the day. “Stevie Rae and Rephaim went to our old dorm room—well, more Stevie Rae than Rephaim. He was out there flying around in the ice somewhere while she snoozed the day away. I’m sure they’re curled up together right now, though.” I sighed and felt nostalgic. “I miss that room sometimes.”
Stark made a show of looking around our large and awesome living quarters that included a sitting room that faced a wide stone fireplace, a kitchenette, a giant bedroom, and a really nice bathroom, with a claw-foot bathtub. “You seriously miss one tiny room you shared with Stevie Rae and Kenny Chesney?”
I giggled. “Well, memory might have made it a little more luxurious than it was.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot.” I wrapped myself more tightly around him. “Don’t go yet. The chef is über-responsible. No way is she gonna let our food spoil. She’ll switch over to the generators, and Stevie Rae has those tunnel fledglings so organized that there’s nothing for me to worry about at the depot.”
“And if there is, Stevie Rae will handle it,” added Stark, squeezing me so tightly I made a little squeak.
“Hey, what about Woodward Park? The cameras won’t be recording if the electricity is out.”
“I think it’ll be fine. Darius stationed a Warrior there for the night shift. I’m sure he’s miserable, but I don’t think we need to send backup. Not in this icy mess.”
“Maybe you should call Darius and have him check in with the Warrior,” I said. “And we really need to think about adding a structure on top of that ridge for our vamps. I know they’re pretty much impervious to weather, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need some kind of shelter. I hate to think about the poor guy out there turning into a Son of Erebus–sicle.”
“I promise you Darius has that handled. Want me to call him and tell him to have the Warrior stand down and come back to campus, at least for the night?”
I thought about it and felt the itch of intuition that said I needed to stick with our original plan, even if it meant a miserable night for one Warrior.
“Sadly, no. We need to keep an eye on that grotto. Plus, if Darius thought we needed to call the Warrior back to campus, I’d have already heard from him.”
“I agree,” Stark settled back into the cushy couch with me.
“Do you actually think we can get one night to just relax and—” I kissed his neck. “Do—” I followed the kiss with a teasing little nip. “Nothing but this.” He met my lips and I sank into his kiss.
“Damn, I hope so,” Stark said as he pulled off the oversized T-shirt I was wearing, which was only right. It was his …
13
Other Neferet
Neferet wrapped herself in the cashmere robe Lynette had purchased for her the day before and joined her handmaid in the second-floor sitting room. Lynette was already there, of course, with her breakfast expertly prepared and waiting on a tray with a carafe of blood and wine on ice.
“Good day, dearest one,” she said as she swept past Lynette, who was, as usual, hard at work on her borrowed computer. Neferet poured herself a goblet of bloody wine and a took piece of toast slathered in butter and strawberry jam—organic, of course—with her to nibble and sip as she gazed out the window at the rear lawn of the villa where, just hours before, she had conjured sprites who had created the gorgeous and convenient icy wonderland before her. “Oh, this is exactly what I asked for. Of course, it would be better if the electricity went out, but there is still time for that.”
Lynette said nothing.
“I hope those young women were duly impressed last night. So much so that they will not cause too many problems for us today, though I can imagine that they will whine and complain about the weather.”
When Lynette still said nothing, Neferet turned from the wall of beveled glass. She realized she had been mistaken earlier. Lynette�
�s fingers were not flying across the keys as usual. She was staring at the computer screen, hands clasped in her lap, looking exceedingly pale.
Neferet left the windows and hurried to sit across from Lynette. “Dearest, are you unwell?”
Lynette’s gaze lifted to meet hers, and the depth of misery and fear within her eyes shocked Neferet to her core. She dropped the toast and put down her unfinished goblet, covering Lynette’s hand with her own. “What has happened?”
“I googled myself. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it earlier. Of course a version of me would exist here. I—I was just busy, preoccupied. But I had everything prepared for the day, and those girls are, thankfully, still sleeping, so I had some time. I found her—me.”
“Oh, no! Is she in trouble too? We shall rescue her. Just tell me where she is, and I will be certain it is done.”
“She’s in Oaklawn Cemetery off Eleventh.”
“She’s dead?”
Lynette nodded.
“How did she die? Shall we avenger her?”
Lynette opened her mouth to answer, but then shook her head slightly and turned the laptop around so that Neferet could see the story she’d been staring at.
As she read, Neferet began feeling something utterly alien to her—or at least alien to her for more than the hundred years since her mother had died trying to birth her brother. Neferet felt grief—a great sadness coupled with outrage and a healthy dose of fear for the woman sitting across the table from her—the woman who had become so very dear to her.
Neferet’s mouth went dry. “She killed her. This world’s Neferet killed her,” she almost couldn’t speak the terrible words.
Lynette nodded woodenly. “Keep reading. It gets worse.”
“Worse than death?” Neferet mused. “I do not see how—” She gasped, clutching her throat. “Oh! It is worse.”
“She could’ve escaped. But she willingly stayed with Neferet.” Lynette stood abruptly and went to the wall of windows to stare out as she rubbed her arms as if she was freezing.
Horrified, Neferet kept reading. Lynette was correct. The version of her who had lived in this strange world had been found with her blood drained, slumped on Neferet’s throne in the Mayo—dead, along with every human who had had the misfortune of being trapped in that building with the self-proclaimed Goddess of Tulsa. Police accounts, bystanders, and the House of Night all agreed that Lynette had remained with Neferet of her own free will, choosing to be the first human to worship her in goddess form. She had even gotten away from Neferet, yet she faithfully returned to her side only to be killed, drained of blood, and arranged on that monster’s throne in the Mayo.
Neferet felt sick. She finished the article and downed the glass of bloody wine. Then she went to the ornate liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, chose an expensive brandy, and filled the bottom of a snifter with it. She took the glass with her as she joined Lynette at the windows.
“Here, dearest. Drink this very quickly.”
Mechanically, Lynette took the glass and downed the brandy and then dropped it. It made a muffled sound as it bounced against the carpeted floor.
“Lynette, look at me.” Her handmaid turned to face her and Neferet gently took both of Lynette’s hands in her own. “This changes things.”
“Are we going to go home now?”
“Almost. I will still break the monster from her tomb. I cannot leave her there, just as you could not bear to leave this world’s version of you in danger.”
“I’m too late. She’s already dead.”
Neferet squeezed her hands. “I know, dearest. Were that not so, I would do everything in my power to help her—to be sure she was safe and happy.”
“If you release her from that tomb, she will try to kill me.”
Neferet swelled with anger. “I would never allow that!”
Lynette began to sob. “But she’s immortal. How will you stop her?”
“I am not without power—you know that. The sprites heed my call and Old Magick wields more power than an insane, starving goddess. I will protect you—always.” Neferet drew a deep breath before she continued. “Lynette, my dearest friend, there is one way I can protect you more fully than any other. Do you know what it is to Imprint with a vampyre?”
Lynette sniffled and said, “I know the basics of it. It usually happens between mated pairs, and most easily between a human and a vampyre.”
Neferet wiped the tears from Lynette’s face. “Yes, dearest. When it happens between a human and a vampyre, it creates an attachment like none other. The Imprinted pair may be able to communicate without words—may know each other’s location—and are always, always brought closer by the bond.
“Another very important side effect is that the blood of the Imprinted human changes. Its scent is repulsive to other vampyres, as they can smell and taste that it will never be freely given to them because it, and the human, completely belong to another vampyre. Dearest, if we were to Imprint, you would be safe from that monster’s bloodlust. You would also be clearly marked as belonging to me, and all other vampyres would know, should they wish to harm you, they must first vanquish me.”
Lynette stared at her. The human’s eyes were unblinking and looked huge and liquid as they filled with more tears.
“Oh, please do not cry, dearest!” Neferet pulled her into an embrace. “I will not let you be harmed. I give you my oath.” She held her out at arm’s length so that she could look into her handmaid’s eyes again. “I have never Imprinted with anyone. Not once in my long life. I have always avoided it and never, ever considered Imprinting with a human. But now I offer this bond to you as I do my oath.”
“I’m afraid,” Lynette said.
“Of me?”
Lynette shook her head. “No. I’m afraid to die.”
“But, dearest, you will not die. You will simply be bonded to me.”
“I have a horrible feeling that if that monster is released, she will be the death of me.”
Neferet’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “I will never allow that. You trusted me enough to come with me to another world. Will you trust me enough now to believe that I will protect you?”
“I—I will,” whispered Lynette.
“And will you allow yourself to Imprint with me?”
Lynette’s voice sounded stronger, more like her own when she answered. “Yes, my lady. I will.”
The two women hugged, clinging to one another until it was Lynette who stepped back, wiping her face. “How do I do it?”
Neferet smiled. “We do it, and it is quite easy when both parties want the same thing. Often it is sexual, so do not be shocked at the feelings of pleasure.” Lynette looked surprised, but not upset or repulsed, so Neferet continued. “I cannot say for sure what it will do to us or how it will make us feel, except that it will bring us even closer.”
Lynette nodded. “How do we do this?”
“Come to the settee here.” Neferet pointed at the gold velvet love seat positioned at the end of the wall of windows.
Lynette smoothed the cardigan she wore over her silk knit tank top and sat as Neferet returned to the liquor cabinet and poured brandy into another snifter—this time, considerably more than a taste. She sat beside Lynette and offered her the glass.
“Drink all of it—quickly. If you’re a little tipsy the beginning will go easier. As I drink your blood, it will become pleasurable for you, but I would not have you experience any discomfort.”
Lynette downed the expensive brandy in three gulps. “That’s why you always had me get your feeders a little drunk before showing them to your suite?”
“It is. I used to enjoy the taste of fear on a feeder, but at Balmacara Mains I knew the panic and screams would upset Mrs. Muir and bring unwanted attention. That is, at first, why I asked you to get them drunk. Then, as I experience
d the sweetness of their pleasure, my tastes changed.” Neferet paused and touched Lynette’s cheek gently. “Or perhaps I changed.”
“We both have,” said Lynette.
“I believe our friendship will change our world,” said Neferet. “Now, I usually feed from the neck or the inner thigh—or even somewhere more intimate.”
Lynette’s eyes widened, and she hiccuped. “Oh, my! I—I didn’t know about … that.”
“Yes, well, I think it would be best if I fed from your arm. It will be simple to staunch the flow of blood there and won’t be uncomfortably intimate for you.”
“I am ready.” Lynette shrugged off her cardigan, folded it neatly, and placed it across the back of the love seat.
Neferet wet her lips and slid closer.
Other Lynette
Lynette shivered, lifted her arm, and offered it to Neferet. She took it and gently rested it across her lap.
“Have I told you how much I appreciate your fastidiousness? And I do not mean only in regard to the work you do for me. You are always so perfectly coiffed, and you dress with impeccable taste.”
Neferet’s compliment and the brandy worked together to warm Lynette, and she stopped shivering. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. All my life I’ve tried to be put together.”
“I know. And I understand. It’s because of your childhood. You never want to go back there,” Neferet said.
“Neither do you,” Lynette said.
“And neither of us ever shall. Now, my dearest, lean back and relax. This will not hurt. You will feel a slight tug as my fingernail opens your skin, but the moment I begin drinking, my pheromones pass to you. When Nyx created vampyres she made it so that feeding can be a very pleasurable sensation.”
“Will I bleed a lot?”
“No. I will only drink from you until I feel the Imprint. Then I will close your wound. You saw no blood when my feeders left Balmacara, remember?”
Lynette leaned back and closed her eyes. “That’s right. I remember. Go ahead. I’m not afraid anymore.”
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