Marked (House of Night, Book 1): A House of Night Novel

by P. C. Cast

  “This is the time of the fullness of our Goddess’s moon. There is magnificence to this night. The ancients knew the mysteries of this night, and used them to strengthen themselves . . . and to split the veil between worlds and have adventures we only dream about today. Secret . . . mysterious . . . magical . . . true beauty and power in vampyre form—not tainted by human rules or law. We are not humans!” With this, her voice did ring against the walls, very much as Neferet’s had earlier. “And all your Dark Daughters and Sons ask tonight in this rite is what we have petitioned each full moon for the past year. Free the power within us so that, like the mighty felines of the wild, we know the lithe suppleness of our animal brethren and we are not bound by human chains or caged by their ignorant weaknesses.”

  Aphrodite had stopped right in front of me. I knew I was flushed and breathing hard, just as she was. She raised the goblet and offered it to me.

  “Drink, Zoey Redbird, and join us in asking Nyx for what is ours by the right of blood and body and the Mark of the great Change—the Mark that she has already touched you with.”

  Yes, I know. I should have probably said no. But how? And suddenly I didn’t want to. I definitely didn’t like or trust Aphrodite, but wasn’t what she was saying basically true? My mother and stepfather’s reactions to my Mark came back hard and clear in my memory, along with Kayla’s look of fear and Drew’s and Dustin’s revulsion. And how no one had called me, or even text-messaged me, since I’d been gone. They’d just let me be dumped here to deal with a new life all on my own.

  It made me sad, but it also made me mad.

  I grabbed the goblet from Aphrodite and took a big drink. It was wine, but it didn’t taste like the wine in the other moon ritual. This one was sweet, too, but there was a spice to it that tasted like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It caused an explosion of sensation in my mouth that traveled with a hot, bittersweet trail down my throat and filled me with a dizzy desire to drink more and more and more of it.

  “Blessed be,” Aphrodite hissed at me as she jerked the goblet from me, sloshing some of the red liquid over my fingers. Then she gave me a tight, triumphant smile.

  “Blessed be,” I replied automatically, head still reeling with the taste of the wine. She moved to Enyo, offering her the goblet, and I couldn’t stop myself from licking my fingers to get one more taste of the wine that had spilled there. It was beyond delicious. And it smelled . . . it smelled familiar . . . but through the whoosh of dizziness in my head I couldn’t concentrate enough to figure out where I’d smelled something that incredible before.

  It hardly took any time for Aphrodite to travel around the circle, giving each of the kids a taste from the goblet. I watched her closely, wishing I could have more as she returned to the table. She lifted the goblet again.

  “Great and magical Goddess of Night and of the full moon, she who rides through the thunder and the tempest, leading the spirits and the Elder Ones, beautiful and awesome one, who even those most ancient must obey, aid us in what we ask. Fill us with your power and magic and strength!”

  Then she upended the goblet, and I watched, jealously, as she drank until she drained the last drops. When she finished drinking, the music started up again. In time with it she made her way back around the circle, dancing and laughing as she blew out each candle and told each element good-bye. And somehow, as she was moving around the circle, my vision got all screwed up because her body rippled and changed and it suddenly seemed as if I was watching Neferet again—only now she was a younger, rawer version of the High Priestess.

  “Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again!” she finally said. We all responded while I blinked my vision clear and the weird image of Aphrodite-as-Neferet faded, as did the burning of my Mark. But I could still taste the wine on my tongue. It was way strange. I don’t like alcohol. Seriously. I just don’t like the way it tastes. But there was something about this wine that was delicious beyond . . . well, beyond even Godiva dark chocolate truffles (I know, it’s hard to believe). And I still couldn’t figure out why it somehow seemed familiar.

  Then everyone started to talk and laugh as the circle broke up. The gaslights came on overhead, making us blink from their brightness. I looked across the circle, trying to see if Erik might still be watching me, and a movement at the table caught my eye. The person who had been slumped and motionless during the entire ritual was finally moving. He kinda jerked around, awkwardly pulling himself more into a sitting position. The hood on the dark cloak fell back, and I was shocked to see bright orange-red, bushy, unattractive hair and a pudgy too-white and freckled face.

  It was that annoying Elliott kid! Very, very odd that he was here. What could the Dark Daughters and Sons want with him? I looked around the room again. Yep, as I’d suspected, there wasn’t one ugly, dorky-looking kid present. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, except Elliott was attractive. He definitely didn’t belong.

  He was blinking and yawning and looked like he’d been sniffing way too much of the incense. He lifted his hand to wipe something off his nose (probably one of the boogers he liked to go spelunking after) and I saw the white of thick bandages that were wrapped around his wrists. What the . . . ?

  A terrible, crawly feeling worked its way up my spine. Enyo and Deino were standing not far from me, talking animatedly to the girl they’d called Pemphredo. I walked over to them and waited till there was a lull in the conversation. Pretending that my stomach wasn’t trying to squeeze itself to death, I smiled and nodded in the general direction of Elliott.

  “What’s that kid doing here?”

  Enyo glanced at Elliott and then rolled her eyes. “He’s nothing. Just the refrigerator we used tonight.”

  “What a loser,” Deino said, dismissing Elliott with a sneer.

  “He’s practically human,” Pemphredo said in disgust. “No wonder all he’s good for is a snack bar.”

  My stomach felt like it was being turned inside out. “Wait, I don’t get it. Refrigerator? Snack bar?”

  Deino the Terrible turned her haughty, chocolate-colored eyes on me. “That’s what we call humans—refrigerators and snack bars. You know—breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “Or any of the meals in between,” warlike Enyo practically purred.

  “I still don’t—” I started, but Deino interrupted me.

  “Oh, come on! Don’t pretend that you couldn’t tell what was in the wine, and that you didn’t love the taste of it.”

  “Yeah, admit it, Zoey. It was obvious. You would have downed the whole thing—you wanted it even more than we did. We saw you licking it off your fingers,” Enyo said, leaning forward all into my personal space as she stared at my Mark. “That makes you some kind of freak, doesn’t it? Somehow you’re fledgling and vamp, all in one, and you wanted more of that kid’s blood than just a taste.”

  “Blood?” I didn’t recognize my own voice. The word “freak” kept echoing round and round in my head.

  “Yes, blood,” Terrible said.

  I felt hot and cold at once and looked away from their knowing faces, and right into Aphrodite’s eyes. She was standing across the room from me talking to Erik. Our eyes locked and slowly, purposefully, she smiled. She was holding the goblet again, and she raised it in an almost imperceptible salute to me before taking a drink from it and turning back to laugh at something Erik had just said.

  Holding myself together, I made a lame excuse to Warlike, Terrible, and the Wasp, and walked calmly from the room. The instant I closed the thick wooden door of the rec hall behind me I ran like a crazy blind person. I didn’t know where I was going, except that I wanted to be away.

  I drank blood—that horrid Elliott kid’s blood—and I’d liked it! And worse, the delicious smell had been familiar because I’d smelled it before when Heath’s hands had been bleeding. It hadn’t been a new cologne I’d been drawn to; it had been his blood. And I’d smelled it again in the hall yesterday when Aphrodite had slit Erik’s thigh and I had wanted to l
ick up his blood, too.

  I was a freak.

  Finally, I couldn’t breathe and I collapsed against the cool stone of the school’s protective wall, gasping for air and puking my guts up.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Shakily, I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and then stumbled away from the puke spot (I refused to even consider what I puked up and how it must have looked) until I came to a giant oak that had grown so close to the wall that half of its branches hung over the other side of it. I leaned against the tree, concentrating on not getting sick again.

  What had I done? What was happening to me?

  Then, from somewhere in the limbs of the oak I heard a meow. Okay, it wasn’t really your normal, average, catlike meow. It was more like a grumpy, “me-eeh-uf-me-eef-uf-snort.”

  I looked up. Perched on a limb that was resting against the wall was a small orange cat. She was staring at me with huge eyes and she definitely looked disgruntled.

  “How did you get up there?”

  “Me-uf,” she said, sneezed, and inched her way along the branch, clearly trying to get closer to me.

  “Well, come on kitty-kitty-kitty,” I coaxed.

  “Me-eeh-uf-ow,” she said, creeping forward about half one of her little paw lengths.

  “That’s it, come on, baby girl. Move your little tiny paddies this way.” Yes, I was displacing my freak-out and channeling it into saving the cat, but the truth was that I couldn’t think about what had just happened. Not now. It was too soon. Too fresh. So the cat was an excellent distraction. Plus, she looked familiar. “Come on baby girl, come on . . .” I kept up a conversation with her as I hooked the toe of my flats into the rough brick of the wall and managed to pull myself up far enough so I could grab onto the lowest part of the branch the cat was on. Then I was able to use the branch as a kind of rope to climb farther up the wall, the whole time talking to the cat, while she kept complaining at me.

  Finally I got within touching range of her. We stared at each other for a long time, and I started to wonder if she knew about me. Could she tell that I’d just tasted (and liked) blood? Did I have blood puke breath? Did I look different? Had I grown fangs? (Okay, that last question was ridiculous. Adult vamps don’t have fangs, but still.)

  She “me-eeh-uf-owed” at me again, and moved a little closer. I reached out and scratched the top of her head so that her ears went down and she closed her eyes, purring.

  “You look like a little lioness,” I told her. “See how much nicer you are when you’re not complaining?” Then I blinked in surprise, realizing why she seemed so familiar. “You were in my dream.” And a little happiness pushed through the wall of sickness and fear inside me. “You’re my cat!”

  The cat opened her eyes, yawned, and sneezed again, as if to comment on why it had taken me so long to figure it out. With a grunt of effort I scrambled up so that I was sitting on the wide top of the wall beside the branch where the cat was perched. With a kitty sigh, she jumped delicately off the branch, onto the top of the wall, and walked on tiny white paws over to me to crawl into my lap. There didn’t seem to be anything for me to do except to scratch her on the head some more. She closed her eyes and purred loudly. I petted the cat and tried to still the tumult in my mind. The air smelled like it might rain, but the night was unusually warm for the end of October, and I put my head back, breathing deeply and letting the silver moonlight that peeked through the clouds calm me.

  I looked at the cat. “Well, Neferet said that we should sit in the moonlight. I glanced up at the night sky again. “It would be better if the stupid clouds would blow away, but still . . .”

  I had only just spoken the words and a gust of wind whistled around me, suddenly blowing away the wispy clouds.

  “Well, thanks,” I called aloud to nothing in particular. “That was a very convenient wind.” The cat muttered, reminding me that I’d had the nerve to quit scratching her ears. “I think I’ll call you Nala because you are a little lioness,” I told her, resuming my scratching. “You know, baby girl, I’m so glad I found you today; I really needed something good to happen to me after the night I’ve had. You would not believe—”

  A weird smell drifted up to me. It was so odd that I broke off what I was saying. What was that? I sniffed and wrinkled my nose. It was a dry, old smell. Like a house that had been closed up for too long, or somebody’s scary old basement. It wasn’t a good smell, but it also wasn’t so gross that it made me want to gag. It was just wrong. Like it didn’t belong out here in the open at night.

  Then something caught at the corner of my eyesight. I looked down the long, winding brick wall. Standing there, half turned away from me like she wasn’t sure which way she wanted to go, was a girl. The light from the moon, and my new and improved fledgling ability to see well at night, let me see her even though there were no outside lights near this part of the wall. I felt myself tense. Had one of those hateful Dark Daughters followed me? No way did I feel like dealing with any more of their crap tonight.

  I must have actually voiced the frustrated groan I thought I had made in my mind, because the girl looked up toward where I was sitting on top of the wall.

  I gasped in shock and felt fear skitter through me.

  It was Elizabeth! The Elizabeth No Last Name kid who was supposed to be dead. When she saw me her eyes, which were a weird, glowing red, widened and then she made an odd shrieking sound before whirling around and disappearing with inhuman speed into the night.

  At the same instant, Nala arched her back and hissed with such ferocity that her little body shook.

  “It’s okay! It’s okay!” I said over and over, trying to calm the cat and me. Both of us were shaking and Nala was still growling low in her throat. “It couldn’t have been a ghost. It couldn’t have been. It was just . . . just . . . a weird kid. I probably scared her and she—”

  “Zoey! Zoey! Is that you?”

  I jumped and almost fell off the wall. It was too much for Nala. She gave another tremendous hiss and leaped neatly from my lap to the ground. Completely and utterly freaked out, I grabbed the branch for balance and squinted out into the night.

  “Who—who is it?” I called over the pounding of my heart. Then I was blinded by the beams of two flashlights aimed directly at me.

  “Of course it’s her! Like I couldn’t recognize my own best friend’s voice? Jeesh, she hasn’t been gone that long!”

  “Kayla?” I said, trying to shield my eyes from the glare of the flashlights with my hand, which was shaking like crazy.

  “Well, I told you we’d find her,” a guy’s voice said. “You always want to give up too soon.”

  “Heath?” Maybe I was dreaming.

  “Yep! Whoo-hoo! We found ya, baby!” Heath yelled, and even in the awful flashlight glare I could see him hurl himself at the wall and then start to scramble up like a tall, blond, football-playing monkey.

  Incredibly relieved it was him and not a boogie monster, I called down to him, “Heath! Be careful. If you fall you’re going to break something.” Well, unless he landed on his head—then he’d probably be okay.

  “Not me!” he said, pulling himself up and over so that he was sitting beside me, straddling the wall. “Hey, Zoey, check it out—look at me; I’m king of the world!” He yelled, throwing out his arms, grinning like a total fool, and breathing alcohol-scented air all over me.

  No wonder I’d refused to go out with him.

  “Okay, there’s no need to forever make fun of my unfortunate ex-infatuation with Leonardo.” I glared at him, feeling more like myself than I had in hours. “Actually, it’s kinda like my unfortunate ex-infatuation with you. Only it didn’t last as long, and you didn’t make a bunch of cheesy but cool movies.”

  “Hey, you’re not still mad about Dustin and Drew are you? Forget them! They’re retards.” Heath said, giving me his puppy-dog look, which used to be really cute when he was in eighth grade. Too bad the cuteness had stopped working for him about two years ago. �
��And, anyway, we came all the way over here to bust you out.”

  “What?” I shook my head and squinted at him. “Wait. Turn those flashlights off. They’re killing my eyes.”

  “If we turn them off we can’t see,” Heath said.

  “Fine. Then turn them away. Uh, point them out there or something,” I gestured out away from the school (and me). Heath turned the beam of the one he’d been clutching out into the night, and so did Kayla. I was able to drop my hand, which I was pleased to see had quit shaking, and stop squinting. Heath’s eyes widened when he saw my Mark.

  “Check it out! It’s colored in now. Wow! It’s like . . . like . . . on TV or something.”

  Well, it was nice to see that some things never change. Heath was still Heath—cute, but not the brightest Crayola in the pack.

  “Hey! What about me? I’m here too, ya know!” Kayla called. “Someone help me get up there, but be careful. Let me put my new purse down. Oh, and I better take off these shoes. Zoey, you would not believe the sale you missed yesterday at Bakers. All of their summer shoes totally on closeout. I mean, serious closeout. Seventy percent off. I got five pairs for . . .”

  “Help her up,” I told Heath. “Now. It’s the only way she’ll stop talking.”

  Yep. Some things just didn’t change.

  Heath scooted around till he was on his belly, and then leaned down to offer his hands to Kayla. Giggling, she grabbed them and let him haul her up on top of the wall with us. And it was while she was giggling and he was hauling that I saw it—the unmistakable way Kayla grinned and giggled and blushed at Heath. I knew it as well as I knew I would never be a mathematician. Kayla liked Heath. Okay, not liked. She liked Heath.

  Suddenly Heath’s guilty comment about messing around on me at the party I’d missed made perfect sense.