by P. C. Cast
I kissed Grandma lightly on her forehead, being careful not to hurt any of her cuts and bruises. “I love you, Grandma.”
“And I love you, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. Go with the Goddess, and the blessings of our ancestors.”
My hand had just touched the doorknob when her voice rang between us, sounding strong and sure and wise as ever.
“Hold to the truth, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. Do not ever forget, as our people have always known, there is a deep power in words that speak the truth.”
“I’ll try my best, Grandma.”
“And that is all I will ever ask of you, my Zoeybird.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zoey
The ride back to the House of Night was slow and weird and awkward.
It was slow because even with Shaunee and me directing fire to warm the hooves of the horses so that we could trot down Twenty-first Street and take a left at the Utica Street light (which was totally dark), it was still a slick, frigid, difficult trek.
It was weird because everything was so darn dark. Here’s what happens when your city loses light: it doesn’t look right. It sounds simplistic, especially coming from a kid who is supposed to be one of the children of the night or whatnot, but the world doesn’t look the same when the lights go out.
And it was awkward because Shaunee and Erin kept throwing looks at me like they thought I was a bomb that might explode. Johnny B and Kramisha hardly talked to me at all, and Stark, who was sitting behind me on my amazing mare, Persephone, wouldn’t so much as rest his hands on my waist.
Me? I just wanted to go home.
Darius drove the Hummer behind us at I’m sure what must have felt like a crawl to him, even though the three horses were managing a steady trot. The red fledglings, led by Stevie Rae and Erik, followed the Hummer. Except for the car and the hooves of the horses, the night was as silent as it was dark, though once in a while, creepily, a branch would give up under its icy weight and, with a terrible crack! a tree would break.
We’d turned left on Utica before I said anything.
“So are you just not going to ever talk to me again?” I asked Stark.
“I’ll talk to you,” he said.
“Why does it seem like there should be a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”
He hesitated and I could practically feel the tension that radiated off him. Finally he let out a long breath and said, “I don’t know whether to be pissed at you, or to say I’m sorry for the messed-up shit that happened in the cafeteria.”
“Well, the cafeteria wasn’t your fault. Or at least most of it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, see, I know that, but I also know your feelings were hurt by the whole Erik thing.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so we rode on in silence for a while until Stark cleared his throat and said, “You were pretty hard on everyone back there.”
“I had to shut up the bickering, and that seemed like the quickest way.”
“Next time you could try saying something like, ‘Guys, shut up your bickering!’ I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but that makes more sense than freaking on your friends.”
I stifled the urge to snap back and say I’d like to see him do any better. Instead I thought about what he’d said. He might be right. I didn’t feel comfortable with the fact that I’d snapped at everyone—especially since a bunch of the “everyones” were my friends.
“I’ll try to do better next time,” I finally said.
Stark didn’t gloat. He didn’t turn all tough-guy–like and patronize me, either. He just rested his hands on my shoulders, squeezed, and said, “The fact that you actually listen to other people is one of the things I like best about you.”
I could feel my cheeks get warm at his unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” I said softly. I ran my fingers through Persephone’s cold, wet mane, liking how her ears twitched back in response. “You’re a really good girl,” I crooned to her.
“Thought you mighta noticed by now that I’m not a girl,” Stark said with a cocky smile in his voice.
“I noticed.” I laughed and the tension between us evaporated. The Twins, Johnny B, and Kramisha looked our way with tentative smiles.
“So, uh, you and I are okay?” I asked him.
“You and I will always be okay. I’m your Warrior, your protector. No matter what else is going on, I’ll have your back.”
When my throat cleared enough for me to speak, I said, “Being my Warrior might not always be an easy job.”
He laughed, full and loud and long. He also slid his arms around my waist and said, “Zoey, sometimes being your Warrior will suck royally.”
I was going to mention that, just perhaps, his mom sucked royally, but his arms were warm around me and his touch was soothing. So I grumbled something about him being full of bullpoopie, and let myself relax back against him.
“You know,” he said. “If you could forget all the craziness the storm is causing, and the whole Kalona-Neferet mess, the ice really does look cool. It’s almost like it’s taken us out of the real world and transported us to a weird winter land. Like someplace the White Witch would really like.”
“Oooh, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe! That was a great movie.”
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t see it.”
“You didn’t see it?” My eyes widened and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You read the book?”
“Books,” he said, putting special emphasis on the plural. “C. S. Lewis wrote way more than one Narnia book.”
“You read?”
“I read,” he said.
“Huh,” I said, feeling befuddled (as Grandma would have said).
“What’s wrong with that? Reading’s good,” he said defensively.
“I know! It’s cool you read. Actually it’s hot that you read.” And it was. I loved it when cute guys showed they had brains.
“Really? Well, you’d definitely be interested in the fact that I just read To Kill a Mockingbird.”
I smiled and elbowed him. “Everyone’s read that.”
“I’ve read it five times.”
“Nu-uh.”
“Yep. I can quote parts of it.”
“That’s bullpoopie.”
And then Stark, my big, bad, macho Warrior, raised his voice, put on a little girl’s Southern drawl, and said, “ ‘Uncle Jack? What’s a whore-lady?’”
“I do not think that’s the most important quote from that book,” I said, but laughed anyway.
“Okay, how about: ‘Ain’t no snot-nosed slut of a schoolteacher ever born c’n make me do nothin’!’ That one’s really my favorite.”
“You got a twisted mind, James Stark.” I was smiling and feeling warm and happy when we turned into the long driveway that led to the House of Night. I was just thinking how magical it looked, all lit up and welcoming, when I noticed there was more light than usual coming from the school’s backup generators and old-fashioned oil lanterns. Then I realized the light wasn’t coming from any of the school buildings. Instead it was flickering from an area between Nyx’s Temple and the school proper.
I felt Stark tense instantly.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Stop the horses,” he said.
“Whoa.” I pulled Persephone to a halt, calling for Shaunee and Johnny B to stop their horses, too. “What’s going on?”
“Keep your eyes open. Be ready to ride back to the abbey. Go and go quickly if I tell you to. And don’t wait for me!” was all Stark said before he slid off Persephone and sprinted behind us to the Hummer.
I twisted around and could see that Darius was already getting out of the Hummer as Heath took his place behind the driver’s wheel. The two warriors talked briefly, and then Darius called Erik and all the male red fledglings to him, plus Stevie Rae. I was just getting ready to head Persephone over to the Hummer when Stark jogged back to me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something’s on fire inside the school grounds.”
“Can you tell what it’s from?” I asked Shaunee.
“Don’t know,” Shaunee said, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “But it feels sacred.”
Sacred? What the hell?
Stark took Persephone’s bridle to get my attention. “Look under the trees.”
I looked to my right, to the row of Bradford pear trees that lined the lane leading to the House of Night. There were things under them—shadows within shadows of crumpled forms. My stomach felt sick when I realized what I was seeing.
“Raven Mockers,” I said.
“They’s dead,” Kramisha said.
“We have to check. We have to know for sure,” Stevie Rae said. She had stepped up with the red fledgling males and Erik.
“That we will,” Darius said. Then, pulling a knife for each of his hands from inside his leather jacket, he told Stark, “Stay with Zoey.” Nodding to Stevie Rae and Erik to follow him, he started toward the trees.
It didn’t take long.
“Dead,” he called, after pausing by each one.
When the group rejoined us, I couldn’t help but notice how white Stevie Rae’s face looked.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She looked up at me, her eyes more than a little startled. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “Fine. It’s just . . .” Her voice trailed off and her gaze went back to the grisly lumps under the trees.
“It’s ’cause they smell bad.” Kramisha said. We all looked at her. “Well, it’s true. Them Raven Mockers have something nasty in they blood.”
“Their blood does smell wrong. I know because I had to clean it up from where Darius had shot some of them down from the sky back at the abbey,” Stevie Rae spoke quickly, like the subject made her uncomfortable.
“That’s what I smelled on you!” I was relieved I’d finally identified the odd scent.
“Everyone needs to focus on the here and now,” Darius said. “We don’t know what’s happening in there.” He motioned toward the school grounds and the flickering flames that were illuminating its heart.
“What is that? Is the school really on fire?” Stevie Rae spoke our thoughts aloud.
“I can tell you what it is.” The voice startled all of us except the three horses we rode, which should have clued me in instantly to who was standing in the shadows on the field house side of the lane. “It is a funeral pyre,” said Lenobia, Professor of Equestrian Studies, and one of the few adult vamps who had stood by us after Kalona and Neferet had taken over the school.
She went straight to the horses, greeting them, checking them, and generally ignoring us until she was sure they were okay. Finally, looking up from caressing Persephone’s muzzle she said, “Merry meet, Zoey.”
“Merry meet,” I responded automatically.
“Did you kill him?”
I shook my head. “We chased him away. Kramisha’s poem was right. When the five of us joined, we were able to banish him with love. But whose—”
“Is Neferet dead or just fled with him?” she interrupted my question.
“Fled. Whose funeral is the pyre for?” I couldn’t wait any longer to ask.
Lenobia’s beautiful blue-gray eyes met mine. “Anastasia Lankford lost her life. The last act Kalona’s favorite son, Rephaim, did before he called his brothers with him to follow you to the abbey was to slit her throat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Zoey
I heard Stevie Rae’s horrified gasp echoed by everyone surrounding us, but Darius didn’t hesitate. “Are there any Raven Mockers left alive here?”
“None. May their souls rot eternally in the deepest depths of the Otherworld,” Lenobia said bitterly.
“Did anyone else die?” I asked.
“No, though there are several wounded. They’ve filled the infirmary. Neferet was our only real healer, and now that she . . .” Lenobia’s voice trailed off.
“Then Zoey needs to get to the wounded,” Stark said.
Lenobia and I wrinkled our foreheads questioningly at him.
“Me? But I’m—”
“You’re the closest thing we have to a High Priestess. If there are hurt fledglings and vampyres at the House of Night, they need their High Priestess,” Stark said simply.
“Especially if she has an affinity for spirit. You could definitely help soothe the wounded,” Darius added.
“You are correct, of course,” Lenobia said, brushing her long white-blond hair back from her face. “I’m sorry. Stasia’s death has taken a toll on me. I’m not thinking clearly.” She smiled at me, but it was really more of a grimace of upturned lips than a true smile. “Your help is welcome and needed, Zoey.”
“I’ll do whatever I can.” I put pretend confidence in my voice, but the truth was, just the thought of hurt people was making my stomach sick.
“We’ll all help out.” Stevie Rae spoke up. “If one affinity can help, maybe five can help times five.”
“Perhaps,” Lenobia said, still looking defeated and sad.
“It’ll bring hope back in.”
I glanced down in surprise to see Aphrodite move to Darius’s side and wrap her arm through his. Lenobia gave her a skeptical look. “I think you’ll see things have changed at the House of Night, Aphrodite.”
“That’s okay. We’re getting good with change,” Aphrodite said.
“Yeah, change is almost our same,” Kramisha said. Several of the other kids made sounds of agreement.
I was so proud of them I almost burst into tears.
“I think we’re all ready to be home,” I said.
“Home.” Lenobia repeated the word in a sad, soft voice. “Then follow me into what home has become.” She turned, made a clucking sound, and, as one, the three horses followed her without any direction from us.
From the main entrance of the school we moved through the parking lot, which was where Darius motioned for Heath to park the Hummer, and we all paused to dismount and regroup. The edge of the professor’s building and the infirmary blocked our view of the center of the school grounds so, eerily, all we could see were the dancing shadows made by the flames.
Except for the crackling of fire consuming wood, the school was absolutely silent.
“It’s bad,” Shaunee said softly.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can feel sadness through the flames. It’s bad,” she repeated.
“Shaunee is correct,” Lenobia said. “I’ll take the horses to the stable. Do you want to come with me, or would you rather . . .” Her voice faded as her gaze was drawn to the flickering shadows the firelight cast against the boughs of the ancient oaks that grew throughout the center of the school grounds.
“We’ll go in there,” I said, motioning toward the heart of the school. “Might as well face it.”
“I’ll follow as soon as the horses are cared for,” Lenobia said. She disappeared into the darkness with the horses at her heels.
Stark’s hand was warm and steady on my shoulder. “Remember, Kalona is gone, and so is Neferet. That leaves fledglings and vamps for you to handle, which should be simple after what you’ve gone through,” he said.
Heath stepped up to flank my other side. “He’s right. Even dealing with hurt fledglings and vamps isn’t as bad as Neferet and Kalona.”
“It is our home, no matter what has happened,” said Darius.
“Yeah, home. It’s about time we took it back,” Aphrodite said.
“Let’s see what kind of mess Neferet left for us,” I said abruptly. I stepped away from Stark and Heath, leading everyone to the sidewalk that went around the pretty fountain and garden area outside the professors’ entrance and the castle-like round wooden doors, beside the turret that was really a media center. Finally, the central grounds of the school came into view.
“Oh, Goddess!” Aphrodite gasped.
My feet stopped without me consciously telling them to. The scene was just so awful that I couldn’t make myself move forward. The funeral pyre was
an enormous mound of firewood that had been placed under and around a wooden picnic bench. I knew it was a picnic bench because even though it was burning, the structure was still completely recognizable, as was the body that lay on top of the table. Professor Anastasia, the beautiful wife of our Fencing Master, Dragon Lankford, had been dressed in something long and flowing and covered by a white linen shroud. Horribly, her body could still be seen through it. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her long hair fell toward the ground, lifting and crackling in the fire.
A terrible noise, like a heartbroken child’s cry, pierced the night, and my gaze, which had been fixed on the grisly pyre, shifted to a place near the head of the bench. Dragon Lankford was there on his knees. His head was bowed and his long hair swept forward, though it didn’t hide the fact that he was weeping. Beside him a huge cat I recognized as Shadowfax, his Maine Coon, leaned into him, staring up into his face. In his arms was a delicate white cat who was yowling and struggling to get free, apparently willing to hurl herself onto the pyre with her vampyre.
“Guinevere,” I whispered. “That’s Anastasia’s cat.” I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to hold in the sob that was building there.
Shaunee stepped quickly away from us and walked over to the pyre, standing way closer than any of us could have. At the same time, Erin moved to Dragon’s side. As Shaunee raised her arms and called loudly, “Fire! Come to me!” I heard Erin’s softer voice asking water to join her. While the pyre and the body were suddenly engulfed in camouflaging flames, Dragon was surrounded by a cool mist that reminded me of tears.
Damien moved close to Erin. “Wind, come to me,” he said. I watched him direct a soft breeze to blow away the terrible smell of burning flesh.
Stevie Rae joined Damien. “Earth, come to me,” she said. Instantly the breeze that had blown away the scent of death was filled with the delicate sweetness of a meadow, bringing to mind images of springtime, growing things, and the verdant meadows of our Goddess.
I knew my part was next. Filled with sadness I walked to Dragon and gently put one hand on his shoulder, which shook with his sobs. I raised my other hand and said, “Spirit, come to me.” When I felt the beautiful rush that was the element answering my call, I continued, “Touch Dragon, spirit. Soothe him and Guinevere and Shadowfax. Help their grief to be bearable.” Then I concentrated on directing spirit through me, into Dragon and the two devastated cats. Guinevere stopped yowling. I felt Dragon’s body jerk and slowly his head raised and his eyes met mine. His face was terribly scratched, and there was a deep gash over his left eye. I remembered that last time I’d seen him he had been battling three Raven Mockers. “Blessed be, Dragon,” I said softly.