Destined hon-9

by P. C. Cast

  “For once we can agree on something,” Aphrodite said, moving over to sit on Darius’s lap while the rest of us started to shuffle off the bus. “Order me one of their Santino pizzas. It’s totally worth the calories. Plus, it goes perfectly with that bottle of Chianti I took from the cafeteria when I was cutting fifth—”

  It happened just like that. Aphrodite was in the middle of talking about something as totally normal as cutting class and her whole body seized up. She got rigid. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she started to cry tears of blood. It was like she went from gorgeous, perfect girl to someone who looked barely human. Barely alive.

  Darius didn’t hesitate. He picked up her stiff, bloody-eyed, unseeing body and carried her from the bus. I put aside my ohmygod internal reaction and stood up, turning to the rest of the kids who were either gawking open-mouthed, or covering their eyes looking like they wanted to cry.

  “Aphrodite’s having a vision.” My voice seemed to come from someone else. Someone who was calm. Stark took my hand, lending me strength. “She’s gonna be fine,” I continued, clinging to Stark.

  “Actually, she’s gonna be super pissed and mean when she comes to ’cause she really hates it when this happens to her in public,” Stevie Rae said. She’d climbed halfway up the bus stairs. I noticed her eyes were kinda extra wide, but her voice also sounded totally calm and cool.

  “Yeah, Stevie Rae’s right,” I said. “So there’s no need to make a big deal out of this—now or after she comes to.” I paused and, feeling like a moron, added, “Okay, I don’t mean her visions aren’t a big deal. I just mean she won’t want to hear a bunch of ‘hey, are you okays’ from everyone.”

  “I’ll go ahead and order the pizzas. Do ya think Aphrodite’ll be hungry later?” Stevie Rae asked.

  I thought about the last time she’d had a vision and how awful she’d felt afterward. I wanted to say what Aphrodite would really want would be a Xanax and a bottle of wine, but thought that would probably set a bad example. So I settled for, “Uh, why don’t you get her one and put it in the fridge. We can nuke it later if she’s hungry. Right now I’ll just go check on her. She’ll want water and quiet for a while.”

  “Okie dokie.” Stevie Rae smiled and, acting absolutely normal, told the rest of the bus, “I’m takin’ pizza orders from up here. Cell phone reception is crap in the tunnels. So before y’all scatter for downstairs let me know what you want, and ya better hang around so that I get it right. Speakin’ of, Kramisha, could you write down what everyone wants for me, please? That’d help.” She glanced at Shaunee, who was looking especially lost, and added, “Hey, do you think we could use your card for the order this time? Z and I’ll be sure you get paid back.”

  Shaunee frowned. “Swear? Last time I totally got stuck with the bill from Queenies. Those Ultimate Egg Salad Sandwiches are awesome, but not a couple hundred dollars’ worth of awesome.”

  “I swear.” Stevie Rae narrowed her eyes, skewering the rest of the bus with the stank eye. “Y’all will pay her back.”

  “Yeah, okay, fine,” chorused from the back of the bus.

  I could have kissed my BFF. She’d totally distracted everyone from Aphrodite’s horrendous and unattractive vision, and she’d made sure they’d be up here deciding on pizza and payback versus down in the tunnels gawking and talking about Aphrodite.

  Meanwhile I pulled Stark from the bus. “We’ll take a large combo,” he said as we passed Stevie Rae.

  “Pizza? Really?” I whispered to him, feeling like he’d just said, “Let them eat cake!” or whatever super inconsiderate thing that woman said to the masses when really important stuff was going on back in the day.

  “I thought you wanted to act normal,” he whispered back.

  I sighed. Well, he was right. So, I told Stevie Rae, “With extra cheese and olives.” Then, under my breath I added, “And thanks.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready to talk,” she said just as quietly, then she very loudly and very normally starting asking, “So, how many pepperonis?”

  “Let’s go through the depot so we can grab some water bottles from the kitchen on the way to Aphrodite’s room,” I told Stark when he automatically headed for the basement entrance to the tunnels. He changed direction, but still I explained (probably more to hear my calm-sounding voice than anything), “She’ll be thirsty. We’ll also need to grab some washcloths. I’ll soak them in water and put them over her eyes.”

  “Do they always bleed like that?”

  “Yeah, ever since she lost her Mark. Last time she had a vision she told me the pain and the blood keep getting worse and worse.” I glanced at Stark. “It looked bad, didn’t it?”

  “She’ll be okay. Darius is with her. He won’t let anything happen to her.” He squeezed my hand before letting me climb down ahead of him through the old ticket booth entrance to the tunnels.

  “I don’t think even her Warrior can protect her against this kind of stuff.”

  He smiled at me. “I figured out a way to protect you in the Otherworld. I think Darius can handle some visions and a little blood.”

  I didn’t say anything else as we hurried through the kitchen, grabbing water and washcloths.

  I wanted Stark to be right. I really, really wanted Stark to be right, but I had a bad feeling, and I hated it when that happened. It always meant something was going to go horribly, awfully, terribly wrong.

  “Hey.” Stark took my arm and gently tugged me to a halt just outside the glitzy gold curtain that was the latest door to Aphrodite’s room. “She needs you to be okay.”

  “I know, you’re right. It’s just that the visions really hurt her, and that makes me worry.”

  “But they’re also a gift from Nyx, and they’re information we need, right?”

  “Right again,” I said.

  His grin turned cocky. “I like it when you say I’m right.”

  “Don’t get too used to it. You’re a guy. You have a limited number of ‘I’m rights’”—I air quoted—“allotted to you.”

  “Hey, I’ll take what I can get,” he said. Then he went back to serious face. “Just remember, you need to be her High Priestess now, and not her friend.”

  I nodded, drew a deep breath, and ducked under the gold curtain.

  Okay, Aphrodite’s room kept changing and getting more and more like Kim Kardashian meets Conan the Barbarian every time I went in it. This time she’d added a gold chaise lounge. No, I had no clue where she got it or how she’d gotten it down here. On the rough cement tunnel wall behind the chaise she’d hung part of Darius’s throwing knife collection as decoration. She’d also hung gold beaded tassels from each of the knife hilts. Seriously. Her bed was big. Really big. Tonight the duvet was purple velvet with gold flowers stitched into it. She had millions of fluffy pillows. And her terrible Persian cat, Maleficent, had a matching cat bed that sat beside hers. Only at this moment Maleficent wasn’t in her bed. She was curled protectively on Aphrodite’s lap. Aphrodite was propped in the middle of her millions of pillows looking scarily pale. Darius had put a folded wet paper towel over her eyes, and it was already pink. I felt a little better when I saw that she was petting Maleficent, which meant she was conscious. But my better feeling went away as I approached the bed and the horrid cat started to yowl at me.

  “Who is it?” Aphrodite’s voice sounded weak and uncharacteristically frightened.

  Darius touched her face. “It’s Zoey and Stark, my beauty. You know I wouldn’t allow anyone else within.”

  Stark squeezed my hand, then let go. I sent a quick, silent pray up to Nyx, please help me be the High Priestess Aphrodite needs, and then I stepped into the role that still felt too big a job for me to fill. “I brought some washcloths and cool water,” I said briskly, moving to the side of the bed and dampening one of the cloths. “Keep your eyes closed. I’m gonna change this paper towel.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Her eyes did stay closed. But they were still wee
ping blood. The scent of it came to me, and for a moment I thought I was gonna have an ohmygod-yummy-I-want-to-eat-that reaction. I didn’t.

  Aphrodite didn’t smell like a human. I tried to remember how her blood had smelled last time she’d had a vision, and I drew a blank—which meant it probably hadn’t been normal then, either.

  I pushed that knowledge aside and sat on the bed next to her.

  “I brought a bottle of water, too. Do you want a drink yet?”

  “Yes. Wine. Red. Darius has it.”

  “My beauty, please drink water first.”

  “Darius, the wine helps the pain. And bring me a Xanax out of my purse while you’re at it. That helps, too.”

  Darius didn’t move. He just looked at me.

  “Uh, Aphrodite, how about you choose between the Xanax and wine? Both together just don’t seem healthy,” I said.

  “My mom does them both all the time,” she snapped. Then her lips pressed into a line. Aphrodite drew a deep breath and said. “Point made. I’ll stick with wine. I. Am. Not. My. Mother.”

  “You’re definitely not your mom,” I agreed. Darius looked relieved and began to open the wine. “Okay, so, while your man is letting your wine breathe I want you to drink some of this water.”

  Her lips curled up in what was almost her familiar sneer. “What do you know about letting wine breathe? You don’t even drink.”

  “I watch TV. Jeesh, everyone with half a brain knows wine needs to breathe,” I said, guiding her hands to the open bottle of water and helping her drink it. “How was it this time? As bad as the last?”

  When it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer, Darius did for her. “Worse,” he said. “Maybe you should come back after she’s rested.”

  The Zoey who was Aphrodite’s friend totally agreed with him. But the Zoey who was High Priestess in Training, knew better. “She’ll be drunk and exhausted for the rest of tonight and probably into tomorrow. I need to hear about this vision before she’s too out of it to talk.”

  “Z’s right,” Aphrodite said before Darius could protest. “And anyway, this one was short.” I was glad to see she’d drained the water bottle, but she reached out a blind hand and said, “Water’s gone. Where’s my wine?”

  Darius brought her a wineglass that looked super simple, just crystal and a pretty shape, but it had a little Riedel mark written on the bottom, so I knew it was nice stemware from Williams-Sonoma. I knew that because Aphrodite had lectured me when I’d almost broken one a few days ago. (Like I care?) Anyway, Darius helped Aphrodite take a very long drink from the crystal glass. Then she exhaled slowly. “Get another bottle ready. I’ll need more.” He didn’t even glance at me for confirmation; he just looked defeated. “And tell Stark to quit lusting after your knives. He’s bowboy, not knifeboy.”

  “Are they super heroes now?” I asked, trying (probably unsuccessfully) to be funny.

  Her lips turned up in satisfaction, and for a second she looked way too much like her cat for comfort. “Well, mine’s a super hero in lots of ways. You’ll have to decide about yours on your own.”

  “Vision,” Stark mouthed to me from across the room where he was, indeed, checking out the ornamental knives.

  “Okay, so tell me what it was about this time,” I said.

  “It was one of those damn death visions again. One where I was inside the guy getting killed.”

  “Guy?” I felt a little bubble of panic build. Was it Stark?

  “Relax, it wasn’t your guy or mine. It was Rephaim. I was inside him when he was killed. And, by the way,” she hesitated, taking another long drink of wine. “Birdboy has some weird shit in his head.”

  “Give me the basics now. We’ll talk about the gossipy part later,” I said.

  “Well, as per usual when I’m inside the person who’s getting slaughtered, the vision was confusing,” she said, pressing her hand over the washcloth and grimacing with pain.

  “Just tell me what you remember,” I prompted. “How did he die?”

  “Sword almost sliced him in two. Totally gross, although his head didn’t come off like yours did in that other vision.”

  “Well, that’s nice for him,” I said, not sure if I was being serious or sarcastic. “Who did the cutting in half?”

  “That’s where the confusion kicks in. I’m not sure who actually kills him. I am sure Dragon is there.”

  “Dragon kills him? Ugh. That’s awful.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m not sure of that. I can tell you that I remember the look on Dragon’s face just before the sword sliced me. He was totally shut down. He looked even worse than he’s been looking recently. It’s like there was no hope or light or happiness anywhere in his life, and he was crying—really bawling, like with snot and everything.”

  “Then Rephaim gets killed by a sword,” I said.

  “Yep,” she agreed. “I know. Should be a no-brainer. Seems like Dragon did it, but it just doesn’t feel one hundred percent to me, especially when you add in the bawling part and all the other confusion.”

  “Other confusion?”

  “Yeah, bizarre shit kept flashing all around. There was something white that looked dead. There was ice that was burning a circle. There were blood and boobs everywhere, and then I—meaning Rephaim—was dead. The end.”

  I rubbed my temple where I felt a headache brewing.

  “Boobs?” Stark perked up at that word.

  “Yes, bowboy. Boobs. Like there was a naked woman hanging around. Literally. I didn’t see her face because Rephaim was predictably mesmerized by her boobs, but I do know she had something to do with the blood and the white dead thing.”

  “Hey, wait,” I said. “Didn’t Kramisha’s last poem say something about fire and ice?”

  “Hmm, I’d forgotten about that. Easy for me to do because, well, fuck poetry.”

  “Don’t be so negative,” I said. “And it’s not just poetry. It’s prophetic poetry.”

  “Which makes it worse,” she said.

  “I remember. The poem also said something about Dragon’s tears,” Stark said.

  “Maybe he weeps because he kills Rephaim, even after he was tasked to be his protector because he is Sword Master of our House of Night,” Darius said.

  “But he’s not,” I said. “We have our own House of Night over here, so he’s not technically our Sword Master. Maybe that’s how he rationalizes being able to kill Rephaim.”

  “All that sounds logical, but there’s still a piece missing. That’s what my gut says. I just can’t see that piece. Everything except Dragon kept fading in and out of my vision, mostly because Rephaim was super focused on Stevie Rae, who was super focused on the ritual she was performing.”

  “Ritual? Was I there?”

  “Yeah, the whole nerd herd was there. A circle was cast. You were leading things, but the ritual itself was earth centered, so Stevie Rae was playing the major part.” She sucked in a breath. “Holy shit, I just realized where we were—at your grandma’s lavender farm.”

  “Ah, hell! The cleansing ritual I’m supposed to do in a couple days. Or maybe not. Thanatos was calling Grandma about us doing something early—something that might reveal what actually happened to Mom.” I paused, feeling overwhelmed by the thought of the dead white thing, the blood, and the boobs, all in the context of my mom’s murder. “Does this mean I wasn’t meant to find out and I shouldn’t do anything at all?”

  Aphrodite shrugged. “Z, I know you’ll find this hard to believe because you’ve been Miss Front and Center in a bunch of my visions, but in this one you barely made an appearance. I just don’t think this is about you at all.”

  “But it’s at Grandma’s farm.”

  “Yeah, but it’s Rephaim getting carved up this time and not you,” she said.

  “Wait, isn’t this good news?” Stark said, coming up to me and taking my hand.

  Aphrodite snorted. “Sure, unless you’re Rephaim.”

  Stark ignored her comment and continued
, “You’ve seen Rephaim killed. You know where and you know who has to be there. So what if we’re sure those elements don’t all come together? That’ll stop the death, won’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Aphrodite said.

  “Hopefully,” I said.

  “We need to be sure Dragon stays away from Rephaim,” Darius said. “Even if he didn’t actually kill him, you know for a certainty that he was present when Rephaim was killed.”

  “That much I do know,” Aphrodite said.

  “Then that’s it. We keep Dragon and Rephaim separate, even if that means Rephaim doesn’t come with the rest of us when we go to Grandma’s farm.”

  “If I go, Rephaim goes.”

  Stark, Darius, and I turned to see Stevie Rae and Rephaim ducking under the blanket and coming into the room. Aphrodite frowned, but kept the washcloth on her eyes.

  “Her vision was about Rephaim.” Stevie Rae didn’t say it like a question, but I answered her anyway. “Yeah. He dies.”

  “How? Who does it?” Stevie Rae’s voice was hard. She looked ready to take on the world.

  “Not sure,” Aphrodite spoke up. “It was from birdboy’s point of view, which means the whole damn thing was confusing.”

  “But we know it happens at Grandma’s farm and that Dragon is there,” I said. “Which is why we were saying Rephaim should stay here when we all go out there, if we all still go out there.”

  “We will,” Stark said. “You can’t let this stop the ritual you were going to do for your mom.”

  “It’s not for her,” I said miserably. “She’s dead. That won’t change.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “It’s for you and your grandma, which is more important than doing something for a dead woman.” He glanced at Rephaim and Stevie Rae. “The ritual needs to happen, but Rephaim doesn’t need to be there and be in danger. It would be smartest if, like Z was saying, he stayed here.”

  “So that someone, like Dragon, can sneak up on him when he’s all alone? I don’t think so,” Stevie Rae said.

  “I do not understand,” Rephaim said.

  I sighed. “Aphrodite gets visions of deaths. Sometimes they’re real clear and easy to keep from happening. Sometimes they’re confusing.”