Loved

by P. C. Cast

  Aphrodite remembered when she was eleven. A boy from down the street had stopped by to ask if she could play kickball with him and some of the other neighborhood kids. Her mother had said no and told their maid to close the door in his face. Aphrodite had cried. Her mother had slapped her. Hard. And called her a little slut.

  She hadn’t known what slut meant until that day. She’d googled it, but had still not really understood. She’d never even kissed a boy—never even held a boy’s hand. But her mother had told her she was a slut. So, she believed it. How could she not?

  Over and over the memories deluged her, and as they played across her mind’s eye, her tears dried. Her sobs quieted to hiccups. She lifted her face from the marble floor and sat, looking up at the serene goddess, and it was as if the scales fell from her eyes, her mind, her heart—and she was finally able to understand the truth.

  “I’m not the problem.”

  Aphrodite spoke to the statue of her goddess. At first her voice was trembly, choked with tears and emotion, but as she kept speaking, kept reasoning through a past that had kept her shackled to self-loathing, her words became clearer, stronger, and wiser. Much, much wiser.

  “It’s not that I’m not good enough for my mother to love. No one—no child, no husband, no job—would ever be good enough for her because she wasn’t ever good enough for herself. Her life disappointed her over and over again, because it was broken. It was broken because she was broken. She is broken.” Aphrodite brushed her damp hair from her face and wiped her nose. “I can’t fix her. I can’t make her love me. I can only fix myself—love myself. And I have to let Mother go, and let the pain she created in my life go with her, or I will become her. I have to let her go.”

  She put her face in her hands and began to weep again, but this time her tears were an outpouring of relief and release because it was at that moment Aphrodite LaFont truly began to live her own life.

  “Daughter, I have been waiting to see if you would choose healing or self-destruction. I am infinitely pleased that you have chosen wisely.”

  Aphrodite lifted her head from her hands to look up at the statue—which was no more. Instead of a marble replica of Nyx, the goddess herself stood before her, wrapped in gossamer silver and gold. Her dark hair cascaded around her waist, and over it was Nyx’s headdress of stars that glistened so brightly Aphrodite had to lower her eyes, which she did immediately, pressing her forehead to the cool marble in supplication.

  “Forgive me, Nyx. I’ve been vain and selfish and cruel—to myself and to the people who love me. I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me.”

  Aphrodite felt the goddess’ touch on her head and she was filled with love so complete, so unconditional, that she gasped aloud.

  “I do not require your supplication, daughter. I understand you. I’ve understood you from the moment you were Marked. I was simply waiting for you to understand yourself. Rise, Prophetess! Behold your future!”

  At Nyx’s command a bolt of pain splintered Aphrodite’s forehead sending shards of white-hot agony across her face. But in the span of a breath, the pain was gone.

  Aphrodite lifted her head to see the goddess smiling down on her. Nyx made a graceful, sweeping motion with her hand, and a silver-framed mirror appeared before her, catching Aphrodite’s reflection. Feeling as if she was moving through a fantastical dream, Aphrodite lifted her hand. With trembling fingers she watched her reflection trace the incredibly beautiful tattoo pattern of exploding blue and red fireworks that framed her eyes in a perfect mask.

  “W-what is this? I don’t understand.” Her voice trembled with so much emotion she could hardly speak.

  “This is the part of my prophetic gift to you that had to wait until you were wise enough to wield it.”

  “Forgive me, Nyx, but I still don’t understand.”

  “Daughter, you have no need to continue to ask for my forgiveness. You have no way of understanding without my explanation.”

  Aphrodite pulled her gaze from her incredibly changed reflection to look into the eyes of her goddess. “What am I?”

  Nyx’s smile was sunlight and moonlight married in one harmonious blaze of joy. “Just as Zoey Redbird bridges two worlds—the ancient one of the first of my children, and today’s hectic, mad, modern world—so, too, do you bridge worlds.” The goddess flicked her wrist and the mirror disappeared.

  “Worlds? You mean the human and the vampyre worlds?”

  “No, daughter. I mean the worlds of my red and blue Marked children. From the moment you sacrificed a piece of your humanity to save Stevie Rae and my children Marked in red, you have been on this path. I hoped that you would be strong enough to heal your past and wise enough to seek a new future—my hope has come to fruition today.”

  “So, I’m a bridge?” she said, sounding more like herself.

  Nyx laughed and the stars in her headdress twinkled with impossible brilliance. “Yes, but you are also truly a vampyre—fully Changed.”

  Aphrodite pressed her hand against her mouth. She felt so filled with happiness that she thought she might explode. The goddess waited with seemingly infinite patience while she sifted through her emotions, savoring a sense of peace and fulfillment that she had never before known. Finally, when she was able to speak again, she lifted her face to her goddess once more.

  “Thank you. Those two words aren’t enough, but they are all I have. Thank you, Nyx. I won’t let you down. I won’t be my mother, and I won’t let her hurt me anymore.”

  “I know you won’t, Daughter. But do you not wish to know the extent of your prophetess gifts?”

  “There’s more than this gorgeous Mark and those visions I get?” Aphrodite gave the goddess a cheeky grin. “Please tell me you took away the bloody tears, pain, and blindness that goes with them.”

  “No, Daughter. I cannot tell you that, for with every gift comes a price, and the price for your visions is pain. There is a price for your new gift, too, though I believe you will find it more and less painful than your visions.”

  “Now I’m really confused,” she said.

  “Then I shall clarify. In these modern worlds where blue and red vampyres collide, I require a Prophetess of Judgment—someone whose past has taught them that not everything that is beautiful is good—and not everything that is plain is bad, for darkness does not always equate to evil, just as light does not always bring good.”

  Aphrodite nodded. “My mother and Neferet are beautiful, and both are filled with Darkness. The black bull could easily be seen as a bad guy, but really he is pure love, pure Light. I get it. But what does that have to do with me and with judgment?”

  “I do not like to interfere in the life choices of my children because I believe that free will defines humanity. Take free will away, and humans become a race of puppets who will never evolve to find their fullest potential. And yet the events surrounding Kalona’s fall and Neferet’s curse shook me to my core. I realized I was wrong. There are times when divine intervention is not just necessary, but merciful—especially when worlds collide, as they are doing at this moment. You, my wise, witty, irreverent Daughter, are my divine intervention.”

  “You know about the zombie apocalypse from the other House of Night world?” Aphrodite shook her head. “What am I saying? You’re our goddess. Of course you know about it. But now I’m scared and confused.”

  “Then I shall reassure you and explain. I have granted you the gift of humanity and second chances. There are times when someone who seems unredeemable becomes worthy of an opportunity for redemption. I have given you the power to gift humanity to those who have lost their own so that they might have a second chance.”

  Aphrodite gaped at the goddess and blurted, “I don’t want that power!”

  “And that, mixed with your past, is why I have chosen you to be my first Prophetess of Judgment. No one worthy would want this power.” />
  “But how will I know if someone deserves a second chance?”

  “You will know.”

  “How?” The word came out as a squeak and Aphrodite cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m not really that smart, and I screw up and hurt people’s feelings. Constantly, actually. Even when I don’t mean to.”

  “Yes, you are very human. That is part of what I appreciate about you. And you speak your mind clearly with very little niceties. I find that essential in a prophetess. You have a unique wisdom that I appreciate. Depend on that wisdom and depend on your heart.”

  “My heart?”

  “When you know it here,” the goddess touched Aphrodite’s forehead gently. “As well as here,” her hand rested briefly on Aphrodite’s breast, over her heart. “Then the answer you seek will be the correct one.”

  “Okay, I’ll try. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to screw things up sometimes, but I will try. I give you my promise.”

  “I shall keep your promise, Prophetess.”

  “You said every gift comes with a price. What’s the price I pay for this gift?”

  “Each time you give someone a second chance, you give away a piece of your gift of judgment. You’ll see it happen, for part of your Mark will fade until finally, one day, it will disappear completely leaving you as you were before.”

  “Before?”

  “Before you were Marked at all. When your tattoo is gone, so too will your term as my prophetess be gone, and you may live out the rest of your life as a human mortal, revered and loved by every House of Night in this world and any other you choose to touch until you die peacefully, surrounded by your children and loved ones, and you return to me.”

  Aphrodite felt hot and cold at once. “Children?”

  “Many—and grandchildren as well as great grandchildren. You will be beloved by generations of your blood. Your life will be so filled with love and Light and laughter that it will drown out the sorrow of your past. So I have spoken—so shall it be.”

  Aphrodite brushed the fresh tears from her cheeks. “I can save Other Jack.”

  “You can. You also can save every red fledgling and vampyre who crossed into this world. But, will you, Prophetess? Are they worthy of a second chance?”

  She stared at the goddess, her mind whirring. “I—I don’t know. How do I know if they’re worthy? The only one of them I know is Other Jack, and I don’t really know him well. Holy shit, I have no idea what to do!” Then she shook herself and amended, “Sorry about that. I don’t sound very prophetess-ey.”

  “Think with your mind and feel with your heart.”

  “Well, I know Other Jack and the rest of them are from a crappy world where Neferet’s managed to start a war. A world with no Stevie Rae or Zoey, so there was no one to basically manipulate me into giving my humanity up so that the red fledglings and vamps could choose for themselves whether they followed Light or …” her words faded as her heart agreed with her mind. “I know what to do.”

  “What is your decision, Daughter?”

  “They never had a choice, so they all deserve a second chance.”

  “Does it matter to you how much of your gift you will lose by saving all of them?”

  Aphrodite drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No. I don’t think I can let it matter. It’s not about me. It’s about them.” She hesitated, and then added, “How much of it will I lose?”

  The Goddess answered her question with a question. “And what of your mother? Will you gift her with a second chance?”

  Aphrodite jerked back in shock. “My mother? What does this have to do with her? She’s not a red or blue vampyre.”

  “Your gift isn’t limited to fledglings and vampyres—your gift is for humanity, and you are all humans, though some of you would like to debate that.”

  Aphrodite stood and began to pace back and forth, back and forth in front of the Goddess. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to keep herself from breaking. Finally, she stopped and faced Nyx. Fresh tears flowed down her face and her voice was filled with despair. “My heart and mind say the same thing. My mother doesn’t deserve a second chance.”

  Nyx stepped from the dais and went to Aphrodite. Gently, the Goddess took the young prophetess into her arms and held her close while she sobbed. Nyx stroked her hair and murmured wordless comfort until Aphrodite’s tears dried.

  “Thank you,” Aphrodite said, stepping from Nyx’s embrace. “I’m better now. And my answer is still the same. My mother does not deserve another chance. My heart and mind told me that. They also told me that I can’t fix her, and that I have to let her go. So, that’s what I’m doing.”

  “You are wise. Frances LaFont has been given many chances for redemption during her life. Selfishness and self-loathing prevented her from taking them. But no child should be made to choose whether their parent deserves redemption. My final gift to you, Prophetess, is twofold. The humanity will be restored to the red fledglings and vampyres from the other world. That gift comes from me. You will not pay a price for it. I also gift your mother with a second chance. So mote it be!”

  The Goddess waved her hand, causing a ripple in the air around them that reminded Aphrodite of a stone being thrown into a still pool of clear water. Reality pressed against her, shifting, changing … making it difficult for her to breathe.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the strange shift in reality lifted. Aphrodite gasped and was able to draw breath again.

  “Is that it? Is it done?”

  “It is, Daughter. I am proud of you, and my pride is truly of a mother for a favorite child. And now I wish you merry meet, merry part, and that we merry meet again.” Nyx’s form faded until only her headdress of stars was all that remained, and then it, too, faded in a glittering rain of diamond sparks.

  “I am worth a mother’s love,” Aphrodite whispered.

  From the air around her rang the Goddess’ loving words. “Of course you are, my sweet, wise daughter. And may you always blessed be.”

  22

  Heff

  Heff forced down the panic that kept bubbling up and threatening to drown him. He had no idea how this thing had happened, but he was definitely not in a Tulsa he recognized.

  His Tulsa had no restaurant in the depot above the tunnels that served as the main encampment of Neferet’s Red Army.

  His Tulsa certainly had no humans dining in a restaurant run by red fledglings.

  There were no trapdoors that opened at a touch from above so that they could drop into the safety of the depot tunnels from several places along the deserted railroad line and between the depot building and the heart of downtown. Heff knew. He and General Dominick had split up and tried every trick entrance to what should have been their army’s stronghold.

  None of them worked. There was no sign that there had ever been trapdoors leading from street level to the tunnels.

  There was a lot about Tulsa itself that was wrong—even though the city slept under a whiteout blizzard.

  Festive garlands wrapped with lights decorated the downtown streets, swaying in the wind as if they were dancing with glee at being there—at being allowed there.

  In Heff’s Tulsa, humans were no longer allowed to decorate the streets for Christmas. Neferet had declared that holiday obsolete.

  And now human police officers—humans—made their presence very obvious outside the entrances to several buildings that provided tunnel sanctuaries beneath them. It was the second-oddest thing Heff had ever seen.

  The first was his sister—alive and well and a fully Changed vampyre—closing the circle that had drawn them to this upside-down world. He tried to compartmentalize his confusion and his hope. Tried to use the mental tricks that had helped him stay sane during the past year, but like this world, his emotions were turned upside down.
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  “With me, Lieutenant,” General Dominick snapped as he brushed past Heff.

  “Yes, sir.” Heff followed the general through the rubble and remains left by the homeless who had the poor luck to have chosen to pull apart one of the boarded up windows of the abandoned Sinclair Building to try to weather the storm. The general had ordered his vampyres to break into the building so that they could regroup. The homeless within? They had been what the general called “before-bedtime snacks.”

  “Nothing is right.” General Dominick rubbed his hands together and braced himself against the wind and snow as they closed the plywood opening to the broken window. The two of them stayed close to the side of the building—taking refuge from the blizzard, as well as concealment from roving humans. “This is not our world. It cannot be.”

  Heff said nothing. He knew better than to call too much attention to himself or to accidentally provoke the general.

  “Sunrise is close. Too close.”

  “Thirty minutes,” Heff said.

  Dominick’s red gaze blazed at him. “I know that as well as you do!” The general turned his attention back to the snow-covered street. “I still see no one outside the Philtower, and there is no movement by the Atlas Building, either. Even with this snow covering the sun, we can’t take a chance at staying above ground.”

  “But this building’s obviously been abandoned for awhile. There are public auction flyers posted that it’s selling next month. With this snow, I don’t think anyone except the homeless will be coming in here, and not even them if we barricade that loose board.”

  The general didn’t answer with words. Instead he backhanded Heff. The force hurled him against the side of the building, his ears ringing as his head smacked a crumbling limestone pillar.

  “It’s not your job to think. Take the fledglings and a squad of the vampyres. Go to the Philtower tunnels. I’ll take the rest of the vampyres to the Atlas Building. After sunset we meet here and decide how to find Neferet and get our orders. Now.”