by P. C. Cast
As Kalona approached Rephaim braced himself for what was surely to come. He’d seen his father’s wrath unleashed before—he knew what to expect. Kalona unfurled his great wings and loomed over his son, but the blow Rephaim expected did not come. Instead when he met his father’s gaze he saw despair and not anger.
Looking like a fallen god, Kalona said, “Not you, too. I expected her disrespect and disloyalty; she betrayed a goddess to free me. You, though, you I never believed would turn on me.”
“Father! I have not!” Rephaim said, putting from his mind all thoughts of Stevie Rae. “I simply cannot bear the way she treats you.”
“That is why I must discover a way to break that accursed oath.” Kalona made a wordless sound of frustration and paced over to the balustraded stone railing, staring out into the night. “If only Nyx had stayed out of the battle with Stark. Then he would have remained dead and I know in my soul Zoey would never have found the strength to return to this realm and her body, not with two of her lovers dead.”
Rephaim followed his father to the railing. “Dead? You killed Stark in the Otherworld?”
Kalona snorted, “Of course I killed that boy. He and I battled. He could not possibly have defeated me, even if he did manage to become a Guardian and wield the great Guardian claymore.”
“Nyx resurrected Stark?” Rephaim said, incredulous. “But the Goddess doesn’t interfere with human choice. It was Stark’s choice to defend Zoey against you.”
“Nyx did not resurrect Stark. I did.”
Rephaim blinked in shock. “You?”
Kalona nodded and continued to stare out at the night sky, not meeting his son’s gaze as he spoke in a strained voice as if he had to force each word from his throat. “I killed Stark. I believed Zoey would retreat then and remain in the Otherworld with the souls of her Warrior and mate. Or perhaps her spirit would shatter forever and she would be a wandering Caoinic Shi’.” Kalona paused and then added, “Though I did not wish the latter on her. I do not hate her as does Neferet.”
To Rephaim it seemed his father was talking aloud to himself more than speaking to him, so when Kalona went silent he was silent and patient, not wanting to interrupt him, waiting for him to continue.
“Zoey is stronger than I anticipated.” Kalona continued speaking to the night. “Instead of retreating or shattering, she attacked.” The winged immortal chuckled at the memory. “She skewered me with my own spear and then ordered me to return Stark’s life to repay the life debt I owed for killing that boy of hers. I refused, of course.”
Unable to stay silent, Rephaim blurted, “But life debts are powerful things, Father.”
“True, but I am a powerful immortal. Consequences that govern mortals do not apply to me.”
Rephaim’s thoughts, like a cold wind, whispered through his mind: Perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps what is happening to Father is part of the consequences he has considered himself too powerful to pay. But Rephaim knew better than to correct Kalona, so he simply continued, “You refused Zoey, and then what happened?”
“Nyx happened,” Kalona said bitterly. “I could refuse a childlike High Priestess. I could not refuse the Goddess. I could never refuse the Goddess. I breathed a sliver of my immortality into Stark. He lived. Zoey returned to her body and managed to rescue her Warrior from the Otherworld, too. And I am under the control of a Tsi Sgili who I believe to be utterly mad.” Kalona looked at Rephaim. “If I do not break this bondage she may take me into madness with her. She has a connection with Darkness that I have not so much as sensed in centuries. It is as powerful as it is seductive and dangerous.”
“You should kill Zoey.” Rephaim spoke the words slowly, haltingly, hating himself for every syllable because he knew the pain Zoey’s death would cause Stevie Rae.
“I have, of course, already considered that.” Rephaim held his breath when Kalona paused. “And I have come to believe that if I kill Zoey Redbird it would be an open affront to Nyx. I have not served the Goddess in many ages. I have done things she would view as”—Kalona paused again, this time struggling with his words—“unforgivable. But I have never taken the life of any priestess in her service.”
“Do you fear Nyx?” Rephaim asked.
“Only a fool does not fear a goddess. Even Neferet avoids Nyx’s wrath by not killing Zoey, though the Tsi Sgili does not admit so to herself.”
“Neferet is so swollen with Darkness that she no longer thinks rationally,” Rephaim said.
“True, but just because she is irrational that does not mean she isn’t clever. For instance, I believe she may be correct about the Red One—she could be used or perhaps even turned from the path she has chosen.” Kalona shrugged. “Or she can continue to stand with Zoey and be destroyed when Neferet comes against her.”
“Father, I do not believe it is simply that Stevie Rae stands with Zoey. I believe she stands with Nyx, too. Is it logical to assume Nyx’s first red High Priestess would be special to the Goddess, and therefore should she remain untouched like Zoey?”
“I see validity in your words, my son.” Kalona nodded his head in solemn agreement. “If she does not turn from the path of the Goddess, I will not harm the Red One. Instead of me, Neferet will be incurring Nyx’s wrath if she destroys Stevie Rae.”
Rephaim maintained a tight control on his voice and expression. “That is a wise decision, Father.”
“Of course there are other ways of hindering a High Priestess without killing her.”
“What do you plan to do to hinder the Red One?” Rephaim asked.
“I do not plan to do anything to the Red One until Neferet manages to coerce her from her path, and then I will either direct her powers or step aside while Neferet destroys her.” Kalona waved away the question. “I was thinking of Zoey. If Zoey can be persuaded to come against Neferet publically, the Tsi Sgili will be completely distracted. You and I can focus on breaking my bond to her.”
“But, as Neferet said, after tonight if Zoey speaks against her she will be admonished and discredited. Zoey is wise enough to know that. She won’t publically clash with Neferet.”
Kalona smiled. “Ah, but what if her Warrior, her Guardian, the one person on this earth she trusts above all others, begins to whisper to her that she shouldn’t allow Neferet to get away with her evil deeds? That she must fulfill her role as High Priestess, no matter the supposed consequences, and stand up to Neferet.”
“Stark would not do that.”
Kalona’s smile widened. “My spirit can enter Stark’s body.”
Rephaim gasped. “How?”
Still grinning, Kalona shrugged his broad shoulders. “I do not know. I have not experienced this ever before.”
“So this is more than entering the realm of dreams and finding a sleeping spirit?”
“Much more. Stark was completely awake and I followed a connection I believed would lead me to A-ya in the realm of dreams, if Zoey had been sleeping. The connection took me to Stark—into Stark. I believe he sensed something, but I do not believe he knew it was me.” Kalona cocked his head, considering. “Perhaps my ability to mingle my spirit with his is a result of the sliver of my immortality I breathed within him.”
… Immortality I breathed within him. His father’s words swirled around and around in Rephaim’s mind. Something was there—something they were both missing. “Have you never shared your immortality with another being?”
Kalona’s smile faded. “Of course not. My immortality is not a power I would willingly share with another.”
And suddenly what had been niggling at the edge of Rephaim’s thoughts burst into understanding. No wonder Kalona had appeared different since he’d returned from the Otherworld. It all made sense now. “Father! What was the exact wording of the oath you swore to Neferet?”
Kalona frowned at his son, but he recited the oath: “If I failed in my sworn quest to destroy Zoey Redbird, fledging High Priestess of Nyx, Neferet shall hold dominion over my spirit for as long as I am an imm
ortal.”
Excitement coursed through Rephaim’s body. “And how do you know Neferet actually has dominion over your spirit?”
“I did not destroy Zoey; she must have dominion over me.”
“No, Father. If you shared your immortality with Stark, you are no longer completely an immortal, just as Stark is no longer completely a mortal. The conditions of the oath do not exist, nor did they ever. You are not truly bound to Neferet.”
“I am not truly bound to Neferet?” Kalona’s expression shifted from disbelief to shock, and finally to joy.
“I do not believe you are,” Rephaim said.
“There is only one way to be certain,” Kalona said.
Rephaim nodded. “You must openly disobey her.”
“That, my son, will be a pleasure.”
As he watched his father throw his arms back and shout joyously to the sky, Rephaim knew that tonight would change everything, and no matter what he had to figure out a way to be sure Stevie Rae was safe.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Zoey
“You look really tired.” I touched Stark’s face as if I could smooth away the dark circles under his eyes. “I thought you slept most of the whole flight.”
Stark kissed my palm and made what looked to be an attempt at his cocky smile, which failed miserably. “I’m cool. It’s just jet lag.”
“How can you be jet-lagged before they’ve even opened the door of the jet?” I pointed my chin in the direction of the vampyre flight attendant who was busy doing whatever it was they did to get a plane open after landing. There was a whooshing sound and the seat belt light made an annoyingly loud ding! ding! sound.
“There, the door’s open. I can be jet lagged now,” Stark said as he unbuckled his seat belt.
Knowing he was completely full of bullpoopie, I grabbed his wrist and made him stay in his seat. “You know I can tell something’s wrong.”
Stark sighed. “I’m just having bad dreams again, that’s all. And when I wake up I can’t ever really remember them. Somehow that seems like the worst part. It’s probably a weird side effect from being in the Otherworld.”
“Great. You have PTSD. I knew it. Hey, I think I remember reading in one of the House of Night newsletters that Dragon is one of the school counselors. Maybe you could see him and—”
“No!” Stark interrupted, and then kissed my nose when I frowned at him. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. I don’t need to talk to Dragon about my bad dreams. Plus, I don’t know what the hell PTSD is, but it sounds enough like an STD to be dodgy.”
I couldn’t help it, I giggled. “Dodgy? You sound like Seoras.”
“Aye, wumman, then it’s mindin’ me you should be! Get yur arse outta yur chair.”
I scowled and shook my head. “Do. Not. Call. Me. Woman. Plus, it’s freakish how well you can do that accent.” He did have a point about getting out of the stupid plane, though, so I stood up and waited for him to grab my carry-on bag. While we were walking up the ramp from the plane I added, “And PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
“How do you know that?”
“I Googled your symptoms and it came up.”
“You did what?” he said so loud a woman wearing an appliquéd sweatshirt gave us the stank eye.
“Sssh.” I wrapped my arm through his so that we could talk without everyone gawking. “Look, you’ve been acting weird: tired, distracted, grumpy, and you’re forgetting things. I Googled. PTSD came up. You probably need counseling.”
He gave me his you-are-an-insane-woman look. “Z, I love you. I’ll guard you and stand beside you for the rest of my life. But you gotta quit Googling health-related stuff. Especially health-related stuff about me.”
“I just like to be well informed.”
“You like to scare the crap out of yourself Googling bizarre health stuff.”
“So?”
He grinned at me, and this time he did look cocky and cute. “So you admit it.”
“Not necessarily,” I said, elbowing him. I didn’t get to say anything else because just then I was enveloped in what felt like a mini Oklahoma tornado.
“Zoey! Ohmygoodness, it’s so good to see you! I missed you like crazy! Are you okay? It’s awful ’bout Jack, ain’t it?” Stevie Rae was hugging me and crying and talking all at the same time.
“Oh, Stevie Rae, I’ve missed you, too!” And then I was bawling along with her and we just stood there holding tight to each other like touch could somehow make everything that was crazy and wrong in our world better.
Over Stevie Rae’s shoulder I saw Stark standing there, smiling at us. He was pulling out the little travel pack of Kleenex that he kept in his jeans’ pocket ever since he’d gotten back from the Otherworld, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, touch added to love might make almost everything better in our world.
“Come on,” I said to Stevie Rae as we took the tissues from Stark and the three of us walked arm-in-arm through the giant revolving door that spewed us out into a cold Tulsa night. “Let’s go home, and on the way there you can tell me all about the giant, stinking pile of bullpoopie that’s waiting for me.”
“Language, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya.”
“Grandma!” I unhooked myself from Stevie Rae and Stark and ran into her arms. I hugged her tightly, letting love and the soothing scent of lavender surround me. “Oh, Grandma, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, daughter, let me look at your face.” Grandma held me at arm’s length, her hands on my shoulders, while she studied my face. “It is true; you are whole and well again.” She closed her eyes and squeezed my shoulders, murmuring, “Thank the Great Mother for that.” Then we were hugging and laughing at the same time.
“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked when I was finally able to stop hugging her.
“Did your super cool Spidey Senses tell you?” Stevie Rae asked as she stepped up and hugged Grandma hello.
“No,” she said, turning her attention from Stevie Rae to Stark, who was gazing down at her. “Something much more mundane.” She smiled seraphically. “Or I suppose I should say someone much more mundane, although I am not at all sure mundane is a good word to use when referring to this valiant Warrior.”
“Stark? You called my grandma?”
He shot me his cocky grin and said, “Yeah, I like having an excuse to call another beautiful woman named Redbird.”
“Come here, you charmer,” Grandma said.
I shook my head as Stark hugged Grandma carefully, like he wasn’t sure if she’d break or not. He’d called my grandma and told her when our plane was landing. Stark’s eyes met mine over Grandma’s shoulder. Thank you, I mouthed silently to him. His grin got bigger.
Then Grandma was there at my side again, taking my hand.
“Hey, why don’t Stevie Rae and I go get the car while you and your grandma talk?”
I barely had time to nod yes, and the two of them were gone, leaving Grandma and me to find a bench positioned conveniently close by. We sat for a second without saying anything. We just held hands and looked at each other. I didn’t realize I was crying until Grandma delicately wiped the tears from my face.
“I knew you’d return to us,” she said.
“I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry that I didn’t—”
“Ssh,” Grandma shushed me. “There is no need for apologies. You did your best, and your best has always been good enough for me.”
“I was weak, Grandma. I’m still weak,” I said honestly.
“No, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, you are young, that is all.” She touched my face gently. “I am sorry about your Heath. I will miss that young man.”
“I will, too,” I said, blinking hard so I wouldn’t start crying again.
“But I feel you two will know one another again. Perhaps in this lifetime, perhaps in the next.”
I nodded. “That’s what Heath said, too, before he moved on to the next realm of the Otherworld.”
Grandma’s smile
was serene. “The Otherworld—I know that it was under heartbreaking circumstances, but you were given a great gift when you were allowed to travel there and back.”
Her words made me think—really think. Since I’d returned to the real world I’d been tired and sad and confused and then, finally, with Stark I’d been content and in love. “But I haven’t been thankful,” I said the words aloud as I realized them. “I haven’t understood the gift I’d been given.” I wanted to smack myself in the head. “I’m a crappy High Priestess, Grandma.”
Grandma laughed. “Oh, Zoeybird, if that were true you would not question yourself or call yourself to task for your mistakes.”
I snorted. “I don’t think High Priestesses are supposed to make mistakes.”
“Of course they are. How else would they learn and grow?”
I started to say that I’d made enough mistakes that I should have grown to be, like, a zillion feet tall, but I knew that wasn’t what Grandma meant. I sighed and said, “I have a bunch of faults.”
“It is a wise woman who recognizes that.” Sadness made her smile fade. “It is one of the key differences between you and your mother.”
“My mother.” I sighed again. “I’ve been thinking about her lately.”
“As have I. Linda has been close to my mind during the past several days.”
I raised my brows at Grandma. Usually when someone was “close to her mind” it meant something was going on with that person. “Have you heard from her?”
“No, but I believe I soon will. Hold good thoughts for her, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya.”
“I will,” I said.
My Bug puttered up then, looking familiar and cute with its shiny aqua blue paint and sparkly chrome.
“Best be getting back to your school, Zoeybird. You’ll be needed there tonight,” she said in her no-nonsense-Grandma-voice.
We stood and hugged again. I had to make myself let go of her. “Are you staying in Tulsa tonight, Grandma?”
“Oh, no, honey. I have too much to do. There’s a big powwow in Tahlequah tomorrow and I’ve made lovely new lavender sachets.” She smiled at me. “I beaded redbirds into them.”