by P. C. Cast
“Your tears.” Damien’s knees gave way and he sat heavily on the edge of Jack’s bed. “They’re clear. How do you feel?” he asked urgently.
Jack’s smile was innocent and sweet and full of happiness. “I feel like myself.”
“Like yourself?”
Jack nodded. “Yep! Exactly like myself. Before I rejected the Change. Before terrible, awful hunger woke me and I was a red fledgling, drafted to enter the Red Army. Damien, I feel like myself.”
“Come here,” Damien said.
Eagerly, Jack lunged across the bed and into Damien’s open arms. Their lips met and there was nothing tentative or hesitant about their kiss. It was deep and long and hot.
Damien forced himself to pull back a little. He was holding Jack against his chest and Grandma Redbird’s rope of turquoise nestled between them—pressed as firmly against Jack as was Damien.
“The turquoise isn’t burning you.” Damien felt breathless and dizzy.
“And I don’t want to bite you!” Jack touched Damien’s cheek. His hand followed a light, caressing path down the side of his neck, where it lingered for a moment, before it slid down to Damien’s chest where it rested, palm pressed against the turquoise beads. “Well,” Jack smiled with shy flirtation. “I may want to bite you, but I don’t mean to hurt you.”
“How could this be?”
“I don’t know. But I am so—”
The door slammed open and Aphrodite rushed into the room. She came to a stop beside the bed. Her Taser was in her hand, raised, and ready to shoot, but her eyes studied Damien and Jack. She lowered it.
“It really did work. Hey, Other Jack. You feeling fine?”
“I feel like myself!”
“Well, good. Excellent, actually.”
“Oh my holy shitfuck what happened to your face?” Damien shouted, almost dropping Jack off the edge of the bed.
One corner of Aphrodite’s mouth lifted. She raised her chin and shook back her uncharacteristically messy hair. “I made the Change. Times two. Oh, and Other Jack’s totally fixed. You are welcome.” And she twitched away.
Damien looked at Jack. Jack looked at Damien.
“Aphrodite is weird in any world,” Other Jack said.
“I have zero trouble believing that.” He pulled Jack into his arms. “Welcome home.”
Their lips met, and they clung to each other as if they were human lifelines. Because that was exactly what they were.
Zoey
“No, Stark, we’re getting you home. The sky is clearing. You know you can’t stay out here in the sunlight.” I turned around and stared out of the front window of the Escalade. “Ignore him and drive, Shaunee.”
“Whatever you say, High Priestess.” Shaunee gave me her version of a salute and pulled out into the snow-covered street while Stark huddled in the back seat, covered with a blanket against the sunlight that had suddenly decided to break through the low-hanging clouds and turn Tulsa into a glistening snow-globe scene. Yeah, it was beautiful. It was also deadly for red vampyres and red fledglings.
“Shaunee, go east down Fifth until you get to Detroit, then take a left. Let’s go up over the overpass and make a loop around the Brady District. They might have found places to hide around Guthrie Green.” Stark’s voice was muffled but insistent.
“Well?” Shaunee cocked a brow at me.
“I’m fine back here, and you need to look for your brother.”
“Without you frying,” I said. “Which is why we’re going back to the House of Night—right after we make that loop around the Brady District and Guthrie Green. But I’m doing the looking. Shaunee is doing the driving. And you keep your head covered.”
“Deal,” Stark said. “Hey, can you think of anywhere your brother would go? Any place that’s special to him downtown?”
“No! I don’t know him that well!” Then I drew a deep breath and started again. “Sorry. I don’t mean to seem so crazy, but I’m—um—I’m pretty freaked out right now.”
“When’s the last time you talked to your brother?” Shaunee asked.
“The day I was Marked. I have a sister, too. Her name’s Barbara, but I like to call her Barbie. She’s a freshman at OSU—majoring in beer, cheerleading, and hot guys. Kevin is a sophomore this year at Broken Arrow. He’s doing okay, but his teachers say his grades aren’t great.”
No one said anything. I sighed again. “What? Just because we don’t talk doesn’t mean I don’t check up on them. Since Mom died I wanted to be sure they were okay. They are. The step-loser adopted Kevin. He didn’t adopt Barbie, but she’s over eighteen, so whatever.”
“You didn’t call them or anything?” Shaunee asked—not unkindly.
“I didn’t know what to say. And the step-loser is a problem. He hated me. Well, hates me. I’m sure it’s a present-tense thing. I didn’t want any of that to rub off on them, plus Barbie has never wanted much to do with me. She was always perfect. She looked way more like Mom than Kev and me.” I paused, thinking about what I really meant. We all had the same bio-dad, but Barbie looked super white—she was even blond without too much help from her colorist at Ihloff Salon. Kevin and I looked like Grandma. We were brown—brown hair, brown eyes, brownish skin. I shrugged. “I thought I was helping them by staying away. And most fledglings and vamps break from their human families. If not when they’re Marked, when they Change.” I squinted out at the uber-bright snowy morning, trying to catch a glimpse of something—anything—that might be Other Kevin.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Shaunee said. “My family totally has nothing to do with me. When I got Marked they basically dumped me.”
“Mine, too,” Stark said. “Z, we didn’t mean to come down on you. We’re just trying to help.”
“I know, I know. I was just so shocked. Am just so shocked. I mean—Kevin. My annoying little brother who is totally into video games and smells like a teenage boy.”
“Eww,” Shaunee said.
“Yeah, he was that little brother. But now he’s a killer red vampyre who can spread a zombie plague throughout Tulsa. I just … I just … I just have no words.”
“We’ll help, Z. Your Nerd Herd is all in one place again. We’ll handle this. You’ll handle this,” Stark said.
I had no clue why his vote of confidence made my stomach hurt.
“This is a lot of snow. I’m glad you put chains on these tires,” Shaunee said as she expertly steered us out of a nasty slide.
“Hey, you are good at snow driving,” I said.
“Yep. I learned in Connecticut. Twenty inches of snow in a winter is considered mild.”
“Slow down!” I said. “I think I saw something over there by the Brady Theater.”
Shaunee braked and made a left turn the wrong way down a one-way street which was, thankfully, deserted. The Escalade barely crawled as we circled around the Brady Theater block.
“No, it was just that banner from Mexicali Grill flapping all weird in the wind,” I said. “Maybe we should go inside the Brady, though, just in case.”
“No,” Stark said firmly. “Zoey, I’m your Warrior. You need to listen to me. It is not safe for the three of us to go into the Brady. Call Marx. Tell him you think you saw something. He’ll be here with backup to check it out.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just so bizarre. It’s Kevin.”
“Yes. And Damien thought Other Jack was just Jack. If we hadn’t been looking out for him, what would have happened?” Stark said.
“Other Jack would have eaten him,” I said miserably. “Okay, I’m calling Marx. Keep driving, Shaunee. Circle around by the west edge of the railroad tracks. There are some overpasses there. They could be hiding under them.”
“Okie dokie,” Shaunee said.
I reached for the portable radio Marx had given us because the damn cell towers were
still down—and my cell phone scared the crap out of me by exploding in vibrations and my “Eye of the Tiger” ringtone. I snatched it out of the side pocket of my coat.
“Hello.”
“Zoey—Marx. The fledglings are awake.”
“What? You mean fledglings at the House of Night?” Marx had agreed to escort the bus filled with the unconscious red fledglings to school, which is—sadly—where they had to be taken since the depot was still a crime zone, meaning the tunnels were off-limits.
“No. The ones in the bus. We’re not at the school yet. What the hell’s going on?” Marx said.
I looked at the face of my phone. It was 8:25 a.m. “I have no idea, but we’ll meet you at the House of Night. Be sure you keep those fledglings covered and pull into the entrance by the Field House—the one that’s covered. Cell service is obviously back, so I’ll call the school and be sure they know you’re coming in with red fledglings. Oh, and I might have seen something by the Brady Theater. Could you send some cops to check it out?”
“Will do.” He hung up without another word.
“Shaunee, we need to—”
“Already heading back,” she said. “Hang on.”
“What was that about?” Stark asked.
“The red fledglings are awake,” I said as I scrolled through my recent calls to find Lenobia’s number, but before I could punch it, my phone rang again. The caller ID said aphrodite. I stifled a sigh and answered. “Aphrodite, I don’t have time for this right now.”
“I’m sorry I was an awful bitch,” she said.
“Oh. That’s okay. Apology accepted.”
“No, it’s not okay, but I’m working on it. And you need to get back here.”
“You sound sober.”
“That’s because I am sober. And there’s something you need to see. Well, you need to know about it, too, but seeing it’s important. Or at least I think it is. It really is beautiful, though I don’t know why I’d expect anything less—what with Nyx doing it and all.”
“You’re babbling. Are you sure you’re sober?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, I’m on my way back. But Marx and a big TPD mobile prison van thing they call a bus is going to beat me there. It’s supposed to be filled with passed-out red fledglings from the other world, but—”
“But they’re awake,” she said.
“How did you know that?”
“Come home and see for yourself. I’ll tuck the fledglings in. Bye.”
“Bye,” I said, staring at the phone.
“Now what?” Stark asked.
“Aphrodite is sober. And she apologized to me for being a bitch.”
“Are you sure you weren’t talking to Other Aphrodite?” Shaunee said.
“I didn’t see any other Aphrodite come through the fountain thing,” I said.
“Well, neither did I, but apologizing for being a bitch doesn’t sound like our Aphrodite.”
“And yet she just did. She also knew the fledglings were awake. She said I need to see something. Or know about something. Or both, I guess. She’s confusing me. Hell, this entire day is confusing me.”
“Let’s get home,” Stark said, and Shaunee floored it.
24
Heff
Five of the vampyres made it out alive with him. Kevin ran. He led the remnant of his squad directly to the sewer grate he’d noted earlier. With their strength, they tore off the grill-like covering and dropped below in less than the time it took their pursuers to race out of the buildings after them.
The six of them were breathing hard, gasping with panic and adrenaline. He motioned for the soldiers to move through the sewer line, away from the grate as he whispered, “Quiet. Move this way.” They followed him without question, crouching in the narrow, fetid space. Kevin was relieved that these five were coherent enough to actually follow orders—much of the Red Army’s soldiers could only be pointed in an enemy’s direction and set loose to rip and tear and bite and kill.
Kevin shuddered.
He was different. He’d always been different.
From the day his sister died—the day the dreams had started—the day he’d been Marked as the youngest red fledgling in history. And a scant two months later, the Change had altered him again—making him the youngest red vampyre in history.
Well, in his world’s history anyway.
Sounds echoed from above, mixing eerily with the whining of the wind and the drip, drip, drip of water from somewhere behind them. The six of them huddled together, waiting.
Kevin’s mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions trying to sift their way through the incessant hunger and anger that shadowed his every moment since he’d picked up the phone one night and heard an emotionless voice report that his sister, Zoey Redbird, had been found dead—decapitated and nailed to a cross outside the House of Night. He’d put the phone down and turned to tell his mom the horrible news when he’d collapsed, only to struggle to his feet a moment later as his mother started screaming … over and over … pointing at the red crescent moon tattooed in the center of his forehead.
Think. Reason. You can do it. What do I know for sure?
Zoey was alive, even though he knew she was dead. The morbid pictures had been in the Tulsa World. Zo’s death was the third decapitation outside the House of Night, and the backlash from the vampyres against humans had been swift and decisive.
Neferet’s armies had been victorious. They were still victorious.
But there was no sign of Neferet or her soldiers here.
Humans and vampyres—red and blue—worked together here.
Zoey was alive. His sister was alive. She’d recognized him. She’d saved him from being fried.
The men who attacked us aren’t lying. This really isn’t my world.
“What are our orders?”
Kevin shook himself and refocused on the present. One of the soldiers was watching him closely—the red glow in his eyes present, but dim. If we stay awake, we will have to feed.
“Sleep,” Kevin told him. “I’ll stay on watch.”
“At sunset. What orders then?” the soldier asked.
“At sunset we go to the rendezvous point and meet the general,” Kevin said automatically, though he sincerely doubted the general would show.
The people of this world were on to them, and the general had fallen into their trap. Kevin would have been trapped, too, and killed, had it not been for Zoey.
“Sleep,” Kevin repeated. “Then we rendezvous and feed.”
That got through to them, and the soldiers formed a nest-like group together and slept.
Kevin struggled against that pull. It would be good—so good to curl up with the others—to share their heat and their heartbeats—to sleep mindlessly and then wake with nothing but hunger on his mind.
No. I do not want that. I do not want to lose myself. And I do not want to lose my dreams.
Adrenaline and panic gone, exhaustion took their place. Kevin walked heavily to stand closer to the grate. He had to cover his eyes and squint against the suddenly strong light of the sun, and he was careful to avoid the slatted rays that filtered down between the grate. Sounds of the men above became more distant and irregular. The street seemed to have quieted. Kevin sat and leaned his head against the cold, wet side of the sewer pipe.
What am I going to do now?
His thoughts were shifting back to Zoey and the wide-eyed look of shock that had frozen her in place before him when it happened.
It was like he had been holding his breath for too long, and all of a sudden, he was able to draw air—clean, sweet, life-giving air. He gasped aloud—and heard his gasp echoed by the five soldiers. They sat, blinking and looking around as if they had no idea where they were. Their gazes turned to him as one.
“Lieutenant?” The soldi
er who had spoken before was the first to say anything. “What just happened?”
The other men shook their heads and rubbed their eyes as if they’d just stepped inside out of a ferocious rainstorm.
Kevin drew a breath. And then another. “I—I’m not sure. How do you feel?” he asked the soldier.
“My name is Marc—Marc Haimes. And I feel normal. I feel absolutely normal.”
“So do I,” said the guy next to him. “I’m Ben.”
“Yeah, I’m good, too. And I’m Ethan.”
“Got a headache and it smells bad down here, but I’m cool. My name’s Dave.”
“I’m Justin. Where the hell are we?”
Kevin stared at them. “You can think again.”
The five of them nodded. They didn’t look much different except there was no sign of redness in their eyes and their faces were animated with emotion—emotion that wasn’t anger or insatiable hunger.
“We’ve been healed,” Kevin said slowly.
“What do ya mean, healed?” Marc said. “I’m fine. Or, I was fine until just the other day when I woke up with that damned red crescent Mark on my …” his voice faltered.
Then Kevin watched as they remembered.
Silently, the five of them stared, slack-jawed, at one another. Kevin saw it. He saw the realization of what they had become—the memory of the things they had done—flood into minds that were no longer poisoned. He understood then for the first time the answer to the question he had been unable to ask safely back in his world. Am I the only red vampyre who still remembers what it’s like to be human?
Yes. The answer was yes. Kevin Heffer had been the only red vampyre in his world to remember what it was like to be human—to mourn for it, to miss it, and to be disgusted by what they had all become. But now these other five—they, too, remembered their humanity. And they couldn’t bear it.
“No.” The word wrenched from Marc on a sob.
“I couldn’t do those things. Really. I’m serious. I couldn’t,” Ben said as tears washed down his cheeks.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Justin repeated the litany as he shook his head back and forth.