by P. C. Cast
“Thanks, Z. You’re the best.”
I ducked out of Stevie Rae’s blanket door and made my way slowly down the tunnel until I came to the pink My Little Pony blanket I’d made Stark tack up as our door. I ran my hand down the soft front of it and let myself smile as I remembered how I used to play dress up with My Little Pony and how Mom had cut some of the ponies’ hair short so I’d know which were the boys and which were the girls.
Mom …
I closed my eyes and centered myself. “Spirit, I need you,” I called softly. I felt the infilling of the element almost immediately. “This time could you stay with me a little while, just until I fall asleep?” Spirit answered my question with a rush of feeling that made me feel warm and very tired.
I ducked under the pink blanket and walked quietly to the bed. I knew he’d be asleep. I lay down beside him, pulled my blue blanket over both of us, and watched Stark for a few minutes while I let spirit lull me. He was frowning in his sleep. Under his eyelids I could see his eyes moving like he was watching a Ping-Pong match with his eyes closed. I touched his forehead gently, with just the tips of my fingers, trying to soothe away his stress. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Don’t have bad dreams.” It seemed to work a little because he let out a long breath, his face relaxed, and he threw an arm around me so I could snuggle close while I finally fell into deep, dreamless sleep.
Kalona
At first it had been simple, even accidental, that Kalona had followed the thread of shared immortal spirit that bound him with Stark. He had slipped into the young vampyre’s mind easily. But as the days multiplied and their experience in the Otherworld faded further and further into the past, Kalona found the job of invading Stark’s subconscious more and more difficult.
The boy’s mind was rebelling.
Kalona’s invading spirit had to remain still and simply observe, or only make small suggestions to the Warrior Guardian of Zoey Redbird, or Stark’s subconscious resisted and, more often than not, severed the thread that tied the two of them, ejecting Kalona’s spirit in a most uncomfortable manner.
Of course it did tend to be easier if the boy was distracted by either making love to Zoey or when he was asleep and dreaming.
Initially, Kalona had preferred entering Stark as he entered Zoey. It was, indeed, pleasurable. But the sex was also a diversion the winged immortal didn’t need. So as the days and nights passed, Kalona had returned to a skill he’d perfected eons ago—he entered Stark’s dreams.
The immortal did not manipulate the Warrior’s dreams, though, as he had done to Zoey and many others.
That would have been too obvious. Stark would have recognized what was happening. If he became cognizant of Kalona’s presence the boy could borrow elemental power from Zoey and block Kalona. At the very least Stark would have been on guard against him, and then observing Stark’s subconscious would have been little except a boring waste of his immortal time. Staying secret—acting subtly—that was what he must do. Yes, it was far better to lurk quietly in the recesses of Stark’s mind—to whisper dark thoughts—to eavesdrop.
It was a happy coincidence that the young vampyre’s dreaming mind enjoyed talking to itself. Odd, really, how Stark’s subconscious tended to circle around to the same dream where he faced himself on a small piece of earth surrounded by nothingness, and talked to a mirror image of himself who was tougher and meaner than the real Stark and whom the vampyre called The Other. Stark didn’t travel to The Other’s presence every night, but when he did Kalona often overheard interesting pieces from the boy’s day.
This night Kalona was ready to sever their tether, disgusted by a banal dream of Stark remembering happy scenes from his childhood, when the dream shifted and the child Stark grew, changed, and doubled. Kalona stilled himself and watched as the mirror images began speaking.
“Crappy day, fucknuts?”
“Yeah, and you’re the turd cherry on the top of this banana split of a crap day.”
“Hey, Stark, no problem. You can always count on me to keep ya real. So why don’t we talk about how today would have been lots easier if you’d manned up and hadn’t been so fucking nice.”
“Yeah, Other. That’s one thing I can count on from you—a bad attitude.”
“Yeah, fucknuts, my attitude sucks, but I don’t cry about having bad days. You can count on that.”
“I can also count on Zoey being in danger from people who are too damn close to her for comfort.”
“Might as well spill your guts. You know I’ll always play devil’s advocate.”
“This damn Rephaim thing is gonna bite me in the ass.”
“Tell me you’re not moron enough to trust him.”
“I’m nice, not stupid.”
“Hey, sissy boy, have you thought about the fact that if you can’t trust Rephaim, then you can’t trust anyone who’s close to him, either.”
“Like Stevie Rae. I know. I expected to have to watch her close and be sure she wasn’t getting Zoey into danger, but it looks like the opposite’s happening. Stevie Rae keeps pushing Rephaim to stay away from Kalona, to be safe and smart and not give his messed up dad the time of day.”
“What’s the problem then?”
“Shaunee.”
The Other laughed. “You mean one half of the Twin duo? So, they’re both causing you stress. Hey, how ’bout this—instead of crying about it you dump Zoey and make yourself the middle of a Twin sandwich. Those two bitches are hot.”
“You’re such a piece of shit. I’m not dumping Z. I love her. And it’s not the Twins who are the problem. It’s just Shaunee. Seems she has some kinda daddy complex and she’s giving Rephaim fuel for his Kalona-might-change fire.”
“Sounds bad. You better be on guard, fucknuts, or shit’s gonna hit the fan when …
The scene began to fade as a beautiful white feather appeared over Stark’s head.
“It’s okay … Don’t have bad dreams.”
In time with the whispered words the feather softly, gently, stroked over Stark’s face, soothing his furrowed brow and, like a broom with sand, sweeping away the dissipating image of The Other.
In the darkest shadows of Stark’s mind, Kalona smiled and, for then, severed their nightly connection.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shaunee
“Really, Twin. Go with Kramisha and Aphrodikey. My stomach is still messed up from the Lunchables I had for breakfast. I need to stay here closer to the bathroom,” Shaunee said.
“Eew, Twin, I tried to tell you Lunchables aren’t a breakfast food,” Erin said.
“Look, are you staying here and suckling Shauneedy, or are you coming with us? The bumpkin and the bird are upstairs heating up the car and waiting on us. We have like two-point-five minutes to get to the back door of Miss Jackson’s and have Kramisha and Stevie Rae convince the security guy to let us in before he goes off shift and the damn store is locked up tight,” Aphrodite said. “I have zero patience for Twin crap. The whole trip is already a pain in my shapely ass because I know Stevie Rae is gonna make me leave my credit card number.”
“That is the right thing to do,” Shaunee said.
“Whatever. Let’s go,” Aphrodite said.
“Twin, are you—” Erin began and Kramisha cut her off. “You know I hate to agree with Hateful over there, but as my momma would say, shit or get off the pot.”
“Gross,” Shaunee said. “Especially with the way my stomach’s feeling.”
“Totally,” Erin agreed.
“Are you comin’ or not?” Kramisha said.
“Go,” Shaunee insisted. “Grab me something that has cashmere and fur. In red, ’cause I’m so hot. And make Aphrodite pay for it.”
Erin grinned. “Done, Twin.”
“Are you two gonna kiss good-bye now or what?” Aphrodite said.
Erin rolled her eyes. “Come on, Hateful. Let’s shop.”
“’Bout time…” Kramisha muttered as the three of them hurried from the kitchen.
<
br /> Shaunee felt a little guilty when Erin gave her one last worried look and waved. She was frowning and staring down at the table when Zoey came in with a super rumpled looking Stark.
“Hey there, Shaunee,” Z said. “You feeling better?”
“Where’s Erin?” Stark asked.
“No, and shopping,” Shaunee said. She didn’t like the way Stark was looking at her, all disapproving and adult-like. “What’s your problem?” she asked him.
“Nothin’.” He shrugged nonchalantly and stuck his head in one of the fridges. “Just need some caffeine to wake up.”
But even though he sounded all whatever he still kept with the Look, and Shaunee didn’t feel like dealing. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air, then lay down. And, like Damien would say, I got homework to do.” She started walking toward the exit in the corner that led up to the abandoned depot and the quickest way out.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You’re not—”
“No!” Shaunee said quickly, Z’s worried voice making her feel even guiltier. “I’m not coughing at all. Really. My stomach’s just messed up. It was the old Lunchables. I knew that ham was nasty, but I love me some mini-Ritz sandwiches.”
“I’ll come to your room and check on you later,” Z said.
“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Shaunee called and escaped up the stairs and into the old ticket booth.
There she breathed easier. The depot was a mess, but she’d liked it from the very beginning—even though it was dingy and old and definitely needed some TLC. Still, it had a feel to it that reminded her of taking family trips, back before her parents had decided she wasn’t interesting enough, or whatever, and quit letting her come on vacation with them.
It wasn’t like she’d had a crappy life before she’d been Marked. They’d had money. She’d gone to a cool private school back in Connecticut. She’d been popular and busy and … and …
And lonely.
Then she’d been Marked during a school trip to a summer art class or whatever during a layover at the Tulsa International Airport. Her teacher had left her behind when their plane boarded.
Crying and totally freaked, she’d called her dad. That’s why his PA had put her call through to him. In the five years the woman had worked for her dad, she’d never heard Mr. Cole’s daughter cry.
Shaunee had asked her dad to please send her a ticket home so she could see them before she went to a House of Night on the East Coast, preferably the one in the Hamptons.
Her dad had told her to stay in Tulsa. There was a House of Night there. Good luck and good-bye.
She hadn’t seen her parents since.
They’d set up an account for her, though, and dumped money in it.
Her parents were good at believing money could fix any problem.
Actually, Shaunee was good at pretending she believed the same thing.
She walked slowly around the depot. It was cold and dark inside and, almost absently, she stopped at a pile of broken tiles that had been heaped in the center of the floor.
“Fire, come to me,” Shaunee said. She inhaled and exhaled, soaking up the heat that flowed harmlessly through her body, directing it to her outstretched hands. Her fingers glowed with flickering flame. She touched the pile of tiles. “Warm ’em up.” Instantly they absorbed the fire and began glowing red.
“That is certainly a useful affinity to have.”
Shaunee spun around, hands raised, ready to shoot flame.
“I mean you no harm.” Kalona raised his own hands, holding them and his arms open. “I have come to speak with my son, but I cannot enter the tunnels below without causing myself great pain.”
Shaunee made sure she didn’t look in the immortal’s eyes—she remembered that he had a powerful and seductive gaze. Instead she stared over his shoulder at a spot of ceramic tile left on the ruined depot wall, pulled her element closer to herself, and in what she hoped like hell was a strong whatever voice said, “So you’re just hiding up here?”
“Not hiding, waiting. I have been here since dusk hoping that Rephaim might come above.”
“Well, you wouldn’t find him here unless he was coming up to take a shower in the old locker room. This isn’t the normal entrance and exit we use,” Shaunee said automatically, and then she closed her mouth. That was stupid. I shouldn’t have told him our business.
“I could not know that. I assumed you would come and go through there.” He gestured to the wide front doors that looked dusty and kinda catawampus and only half on their hinges.
“Rephaim isn’t here,” Shaunee said. “He’s shopping with Stevie Rae and those guys.”
“Oh. Well, then. I…” Kalona paused awkwardly and Shaunee snuck a quick peek at him. He wasn’t looking at her. His shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the floor. He seemed glaringly out of place and uncomfortable.
With a little start she realized he also looked a lot like Rephaim. Sure, instead of being brown and Cherokee-ish looking, Kalona was more golden. He was bigger, too. And, yeah, he had those giant black wings. But the mouth was the same. And the face was the same. Kalona glanced up at her.
Except for being amber colored, the eyes were the same, too.
Shaunee looked quickly away.
“You may meet my gaze without fear,” he said. “There is a truce between us. I mean you no harm.”
“No one trusts you,” she said quickly and a little breathlessly.
“No one? Not even my son?”
He sounded totally defeated.
“Rephaim wants to trust you.”
“Which means that he does not,” Kalona said.
Shaunee did meet the immortal’s gaze then. She waited, but didn’t feel like he zapped her or anything. Actually, he just looked like a hot older guy with wings who seemed sad. Real sad.
“I should go,” he said, and began to turn.
“Do you want me to tell Rephaim anything for you?”
He hesitated and then said, “I came here because I have been considering our common enemy, Neferet’s new creature.”
“Aurox,” she said.
“Yes, Aurox. From what my other son told me, the creature has the ability to change form into a being that resembles a bull.”
“I haven’t seen him do that myself, but Zoey has,” Shaunee said. “So has Rephaim.”
Kalona nodded. “Then it must be truth. This means Aurox has been infused with power from an immortal, and to manifest as it has, with such a complex and complete disguise, the power used to create it had to be mighty indeed.”
“That’s what you want me to tell Rephaim?”
“In part. Also tell my son that power of this magnitude had to have taken a great sacrifice. Perhaps a death that was close to those in your group.”
“Jack?”
“No. That boy was sacrificed by Neferet to pay her debt to Darkness for imprisoning me and forcing my spirit to the Otherworld.” Kalona’s voice was bitter—his anger just barely under control. “That is why I know Aurox’s conception must have been the result of a death—as was my torment. Look to the sacrifice and you may discover evidence against Neferet. Causing her destruction would be more possible were she at odds with the High Council.”
“I’ll tell Rephaim.”
“Thank you, Shaunee.” Kalona said the words slowly, hesitantly, as if he was unused to the taste of them. “And tell him I said I wish him well.”
“Okay, I will. Hey, uh, I think you should get a cell phone.”
The winged immortal’s brows went up. “Cell phone?”
“Yeah, how’s Rephaim supposed to call you if he needs to talk to his dad?”
Shaunee thought Kalona almost smiled. “I do not have a cell phone.”
“I guess going to the AT&T store is pretty much not an option for you.”
“No.” His lips tilted up even as he shook his head. “I’m not sure what I would do with my wings.”
“Very true,” she said. “Uh, how about a laptop? You could b
e on Skype.”
“I do not have a laptop, either. Young fledgling, I am living in the woods on a ridge southwest of Tulsa with a flock of creatures who should not exist in the modern world. I do not have, as you would say, computer access.”
Shaunee was nonplused. “I could get you a laptop. All you need is one of those remote satellite connection things and a power source, and you’ll have Internet anywhere—even in the woods southwest of Tulsa. You can find electricity, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So if I got you the computer stuff, would you call your son?”
There was no hesitation Shaunee could see. “Yes,” he said.
“Okay, good. Take this.” She reached into the little chain mail Rebecca Minkoff shoulder purse that was her current favorite, pulled out her iPhone and threw it to Kalona. The immortal caught it without even blinking. “I’ll call you when I have the laptop and stuff.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“Don’t get emotional,” she said blandly. “My parents have money. I’ll just spend some of it. It’s no big thing.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the money. I was speaking of the generosity of the friendship you are showing to my son.”
Shaunee shrugged. “He’s a friend of a friend—that’s all. And don’t get me wrong. I want my phone back.”
“Yes, of course,” Kalona said. Then he really smiled and Shaunee thought she’d never seen anything so amazing and joyful and totally beautiful. “Thank you, Shaunee. This time I mean it with my whole being—and that is, indeed, rare for me.”
“You’re welcome. Just be nice to Rephaim. He deserves a good dad.”
Kalona met her gaze and she felt him look through her eyes to her heart and soul. “As do you, my fledgling friend. Fare-thee-well.” Then Kalona turned and left her, exiting through the broken doors. Shaunee could hear the beat of his massive wings as he lifted into the dark evening sky.
For a long time afterward she stood there, heating the pile of broken tiles with her flame, and thinking …
* * *
“Twin, really. No blood coughing? You’re absolutely not dying?” Erin’s already porcelain skin had paled to crystallized snow.