Loved

by P. C. Cast

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said kindly. “It means you’re the daughter of an unpleasant woman.”

  “Maybe it means both. Excuse me.”

  Aphrodite fled for the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor. Before the elevator doors opened, she’d fished through her purse and found the flask she kept there. She pulled it out. It was a beautiful thing—silver, monogrammed with an ornate A. Aphrodite unscrewed the cap, lifted the flask to her lips, and drank deeply, grimacing only slightly at the peaty taste of the twenty-one-year-old single malt scotch.

  20

  Zoey

  “Okay, Darius and his Warriors are all in place. There’s only fifteen minutes until sunrise. Time for us to go!” Stark shouted at me as he held open the door of the Escalade. I bolted from the warm, dry House of Night through the stinging snowy wind with my head ducked and my eyes half closed. He ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in.

  “It’s getting bad. Real bad,” Shaunee said from the back seat.

  “Which is the only reason I’m letting Stark come with us at all,” I said.

  Stark shot me his cocky, half grin. “Z, I’m driving. It’s you who is coming with me.”

  I shook my head at him. “I don’t like this. It’s going to be sunrise in half an hour.”

  “I told you that I’ll be fine. There is no way the sun can shine through this mess, and I have this.” He lifted his hoodie and winked at me. “I won’t fry. Promise.”

  “I’ll be real pissed if you do,” I said. “Not to mention if I see your skin even starting to look a little red, I’ll drag your butt back to this very heavily tinted SUV, throw you in the back seat, and cover you with blankets while I floor this thing to the school.”

  “You driving in a blizzard? Now I am scared,” Stark said.

  Shaunee snorted.

  “Hey, that’s not funny,” I said.

  “It is, Z,” Shaunee said. “Everyone knows you’re a shitty driver.”

  “No, everyone knows I can’t parallel park. Hardly anyone can parallel park. That doesn’t make me a bad driver.” I turned to look at Shaunee before we left campus. “Hey, are you sure you don’t want to stay here? This weather is awful.”

  “I heard Marx telling you they have flamethrowers ready. No damn way I’m going to miss that.”

  “It is a good idea to have fire with us,” Stark said.

  “Okay, yeah, I get it. I just haven’t been able to stop worrying since Kalona showed up in my dream and mentioned the N word.”

  “Z, get real. You haven’t stopped worrying since you were Marked,” Stark said.

  I sighed. “You’re probably right. I just, I dunno. I just keep feeling like something is going to happen. Something really awful.”

  “You mean something more awful than the zombie apocalypse?” Shaunee said.

  “Sadly, yes,” I said. We’d come to the gate that opened to Utica. I glanced down what I expected to be a totally empty street to see …

  “Hey, that’s not Aphrodite staggering down the middle of Utica, is it?” Stark said.

  “Ah, hell, it is. Hang on. I’ll get her.”

  Stark’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. “Not without me you won’t. You don’t know why she’s staggering.”

  “Are you being serious?” Shaunee said. “If Aphrodite’s stumbling we all know why. She’s either drunk or high.”

  I sighed and added, “Or both.”

  “Normally, I’d agree. But right now we have zombie vampyres loose in Tulsa, so I’m not taking any chances.” He grabbed his bow and notched an arrow. “Shaunee, slide up here. If any of those creatures show up—run them over.”

  “Totally doable,” Shaunee said.

  Stark and I got out of the SUV, braced ourselves against the wind and snow, and plowed our way to Aphrodite.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” I hurried to her side while Stark stood guard, his keen eyes scanning around us looking for danger.

  “Zoey! Stark!” Aphrodite stumbled and fell against me. “Two of my fave peoples!”

  I caught her and got a huge whiff of her boozy breath as I helped her get upright. “You’re drunk.”

  “And super high! Took two, no wait, three Xanax. Xanaxes? Xanaxie? Ah, whatever.” She lifted the sliver flask she was holding loosely and turned it upside down, shaking it. Nothing came out. “Well, shit. And looks like I’m out of single malt. Again.”

  “You gotta stop mixing drugs and alcohol,” I said, catching her as she swayed drunkenly. “You’re going to kill yourself someday.”

  She snorted. “Again I say, ‘Whatever.’”

  “Did you see your mom?” I asked.

  “Yes, I abso-fucking-lutely did. Do you know she’s a monster? Literally?” She proceeded to giggle hysterically as she tried to suck nonexistent scotch from her flask.

  Something inside me snapped. I grabbed her flask from her and threw it into the ditch.

  “Hey! That was expensive!”

  “Enough!” I got in her face. “You have to stop this. It’s self-destructive. And it’s not the way adults act, especially adults who are in the service of Nyx.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be in anyone’s service! Maybe I don’t deserve to be in anyone’s service! Maybe that’s what my vision was really about. I’m not human. I’m not vampyre. I’m nothing except an idiot who isn’t even good enough for her mother to love.”

  I grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. Hard. “Snap the hell out of it! Your mom is awful. She’s always been awful. So stop letting her fuck with your head.”

  “Ooooo, you said hell and fuck. It really must be the zombie apocalypse.” She giggled some more.

  “It’s not funny.” I let her go so abruptly that she almost fell. “And I’m serious. What if I needed you right now? What if we all needed you right now? You’re a Prophetess of Nyx. We’re in a time of crisis. And what did you choose to do? Get so messed up that you can hardly walk. That’s total bullpoopie, Aphrodite, and as your High Priestess I’m telling you—no, I’m commanding you—to sober up.”

  “Hey, my monster of a mom is dying. Then I’ll be an orphan. I have the right to get messed up.”

  “No, you don’t. What you have is an obligation to yourself and to the people who care about you to deal with the issues in your life! You’re acting like you’re the only one of us who ever lost a parent. Or who ever had a crappy parent. Bingo and bingo for me and for a bunch of us. Grow the hell up, Aphrodite, and realize you have a problem.”

  Aphrodite narrowed her eyes at me, switching from giggly drunk to mean drunk in an instant. “What problem are you talking about?”

  “Get real, Aphrodite.” Stark spoke without taking his eyes from the street around us. “Everyone knows you have a major alcohol and prescription drug problem.”

  Aphrodite stopped swaying. Her face flushed bright red. “Fuck you, James Stark! And fuck you, too, Zoey Redbird! Fuck all of you. You peasants don’t know who the hell you’re dealing with. Command me? Command me? I didn’t ask for any of this, and you, High Priestess,” she sneered, “don’t have the brains or experience to command the correct spell to enter a circle, let alone command me. I quit!” She shoved past me, bumping me so hard she almost knocked me on my butt and repeating, “I fucking quit!” Over her shoulder she continued to spew anger. “Tell Darius we’re out of here as soon as the airport opens. Queen Damien hates New York? Well, I love it, so mark him off and pencil me in. I’ll do a better job than he’s been doing anyway—all he’s been doing is boohooing. Yeah, New York City. That’s where I’m going. As soon as possible.”

  I started to follow her, but Stark caught my wrist.

  “Let her go.”

  “But she’s—”

  “She’s drunk, full of pills, and mean. And she’s currently walking onto campus. She’ll b
e fine.”

  “Walking? Don’t you mean stumbling?”

  “No.” He pointed at her. “Look. She’s not stumbling at all now. And she’s already through the gate. Let’s get back in the car.”

  We fought against the wind to the car.

  “Let me guess—she was majorly fucked up,” Shaunee said as she climbed into the back seat and Stark took her place.

  “Totally,” I said.

  “You know, the amount of drugs and alcohol she ingests on a regular basis would kill a normal person,” said Shaunee. “And I don’t think she ever eats anymore. I mean, I haven’t been around for a while, but I’ve only seen her drink her meals since I’ve been back.”

  “I’m aware of that.” I watched as Stark pulled the SUV onto Utica and Aphrodite disappeared into the snow. “She’s getting worse and worse. We’re going to have to tell Darius something.”

  “But not what she really said. Not right now,” Stark said. “He doesn’t need to worry about that while he’s battling soldiers from a different world.”

  “Just tell him she got drunk after she saw her mom,” Shaunee said. “Z, Darius lives with her. He’s her Oathbound Warrior. He has to know she has a serious problem.”

  “It’s going to tear them apart if she doesn’t get a handle on it.” I spoke the words aloud I’d been thinking for some time now.

  “We’ve all known that, Z,” Stark said. “But get your head back into the game. You can figure out what to do about Aphrodite after we solve the zombie apocalypse problem.”

  “You’re right. I’m in the game. Promise.”

  “Where are we going?” Shaunee asked.

  “I’m going to park down the street from the Philtower. No one got past any of the Warriors at the entrances to the other tunnels, so it’s looking good for the bad guys to be either there or the Atlas Building. Marx radioed that his men found tracks outside both buildings. They made sure all the street level doors were unlocked, but locked up everything on the first floors except the entrances to the tunnels. They should be trapped.”

  “With flamethrowers!” Shaunee practically squealed from the back seat.

  “Don’t be so gleeful. That’s gross,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t actually being gleeful about burning people up—just about burning in general.”

  “Okay, so we’re going to the Philtower while Darius is taking the Atlas Building?” I asked.

  “Yeah. TPD has officers in the upper floors of both buildings waiting until the sun rises. Then they’re going to join our Warriors, and we’ll open the doors to the two tunnels at the same time. Z, I want you to wait in the Philcade Building.”

  “Huh? I’m not staying there. I’m going with you to the Philtower.”

  “No, you’re not. And Shaunee is going with you.”

  “Double huh?” Shaunee said.

  “Look, Darius described to me what those creatures did at the depot. They ripped people apart. They ate hunks of flesh from their bodies. I won’t take any chance that you’re going to get hurt. So, Fire can wait with the Leader of the North American High Council, my Queen and my Consort, in the adjoining building where it’s safer.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “Fire and the Leader of the North American High Council, your Queen and Consort, are going to wait in the gorgeous lobby of the Philtower. I get that you don’t want me in that cramped basement with you—I’d just be in your way when you start to fight, but I won’t be banished to across the street.”

  “Fine,” Stark said. “But I’m going to station a flamethrower and a cop there with you.”

  “That and my fire will be plenty to keep our Zoey safe,” Shaunee said. “Wait, isn’t there a tunnel that connects the Philtower to the Philcade Building? Doesn’t it run almost directly under Boston Street?”

  “Yeah. There’s also a metal door to that tunnel that’s locked with a crazy old-time weight-and-pulley system that can only be opened from the Philcade side of the tunnel,” Stark said.

  “So, they’re really trapped.”

  “Yep, really.”

  “Hey, you did tell everyone that the fledglings are harmless when the sun’s out, right?” I reminded Stark. “Other Jack said they’ll all be unconscious.”

  “Yep, everyone knows not to burn up anyone who is sleeping. We’ll just tie them up and bring them back to the House of Night. When you cure Jack, you can cure them, too.”

  “If I cure Jack,” I muttered.

  “I heard that,” Stark said.

  “Well, I have no clue how to help him.”

  “You will,” Stark said.

  “Yep, Z. You always figure it out,” Shaunee said.

  I sighed and kept my mouth shut, but I had a bad feeling about this—about all of this. Something was going to go wrong. I just knew it.

  21

  Aphrodite

  Aphrodite was pissed. Really, really pissed.

  What fucking right did Zoey Redbird have to speak to her like that? Especially after all Aphrodite had done for her and for the entire damn Nerd Herd. It was bullshit. Not bullpoopie. BULLSHIT.

  “This fucking snow. I’m so done with this snow. With this city. With this everything,” she mumbled to herself as she trudged to the front door of the school. “Goddess, I need a hot spiced wine and another Xanax.” She pulled on the door. It didn’t budge. She tried it again. Nothing. “Fucking locked? You have got to be shitting me. We never lock anything.” Just my damn luck. This is ridiculous. Aphrodite banged her fists against the door, but with the wind and the muffling effect of the falling snow, the sound didn’t travel at all. She peered in through the side window. “Hello! Anybody in there?”

  Not a single person stirred.

  “This sucks. This sucks so damn bad.” Aphrodite plowed her way around the side of the building through the calf-deep drifting snow to the little courtyard that held the fountain and outdoor seating for the fledgling dining hall. There she paused, weaving only a little, and stared in through the semi-frosted-over window. “Not one damn person in there, either. Shit. Alright. To the back entrance I go.”

  She got to the entrance to the turret-like tower that housed the Council Chamber and the media center, and was also an entrance to the professors’ quarters.

  “Whew. Finally. Home. Or, temp home until Darius and I get the hell out of this backwards, bumpkin city.” She put her hand on the doorknob, turned and pushed. It opened right away. Then it hit her. “Oh, for shit’s sake—the front door wasn’t locked. I was pulling instead of pushing.” She started to laugh and laugh. And laugh some more, until she was leaning against the arched wooden door frame, barely able to remain upright.

  There was a flash of light from behind her as the wind stilled and the snow paused at the moment the sun lifted over the horizon. Its reflection caught in the long, rectangular windows that framed the hallway beside the door. Aphrodite blinked, wiped at her eyes, and stared.

  Caged in the beveled glass, the rising sun created an aura of silver and gold around Nyx’s Temple, with the goddess, arms raised and cupping the crescent moon, seeming to glisten in the strange, changing light of a snowy dawn. Aphrodite stood still, superimposed on the reflection. As her eyes focused on her own face, the odd light lent a sepia affect to her image as if she were looking through a time camera.

  And Aphrodite truly saw herself—saw what she was becoming.

  Her thick blond hair was a mess, trailing dank strands across her face and over her shoulders. She was thin, yet she looked puffy—bloated. Her eyes were shadowed, their expression flat—almost dead. She looked hard and mean and much older than her twenty-one years yet so, so familiar.

  With a trembling hand, Aphrodite touched her face and the familiar stranger in the reflection did so too.

  “Mother?” she whispered. “I am my mother.”

  The r
eflection began to sob brokenly. Aphrodite turned away from it, unable to look any longer—and found she was staring directly at Nyx’s Temple, alight with dawn and snow and the love of a benevolent goddess.

  Still sobbing, Aphrodite stumbled across the courtyard to the door of the temple. She pushed it open and staggered inside. Instantly she was surrounded by silence and the peaceful scents of vanilla and lavender. Aphrodite didn’t pause. She made her way to the main altar of the temple where a gorgeous statue of Nyx stood as the focus of the room. All around it were tokens of love: brightly colored beads, crystal gemstones, handmade jewelry, candles, chalices filled with wine, bowls of honey, and fresh fruit.

  Aphrodite crumpled at the feet of the goddess. She covered her face and wept inconsolably—wept for her dead father; wept for her hateful, absentee mother who would soon be dead; wept for her lost childhood; and finally, wept for herself. Scenes she hadn’t thought about for years flooded her memory.

  She remembered when she was six and so glad to see her father come home from work that she’d climbed up on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him sweetly on the mouth. Her mother had grabbed her by the arm and yanked her painfully from him, tossing her to the floor, saying she was too old to kiss men on the mouth—that only certain kinds of girls did that to certain kinds of men—said it like she thought her daughter was dirty and disgusting. After that day Aphrodite didn’t remember her father ever kissing her hello or goodbye again.

  She didn’t try to remember her mother kissing her. She had no memory of that happening. Ever.

  Aphrodite remembered when she was eight and had put on her first two-piece swimsuit. It’d been white and yellow, dotted with daisies. She’d run out to their pool where her mother had been sunning to show off her “big girl suit,” as young Aphrodite had called it. Her mother had given her a disdainful sideways glance and said, “If you’re old enough to wear a two-piece suit, you’re old enough to start holding in that gut of yours.”

  She’d been eight. She hadn’t been fat, or even chubby. But from that day forward she’d worried about her weight and skipped meals.