by P. C. Cast
“The bright side is that almost everyone thinks I’m still a terrible hag from hell,” she said, smiling happily and nuzzling her cat.
“I think you’re spectacular,” Darius said, reaching over to pet Maleficent, who started to purr.
“And you are absolutely right.” She leaned over and, smashing the complaining cat between them, kissed him noisily on the cheek.
I made gagging noises and pretended to throw up in my tissue wad, but I smiled as Aphrodite winked at me, and I did feel just a little bit better. At least it’s over, I told myself. Erik hates me. Stark is dead, and even if he undeads, I’m just going to help him get his feet on the undead ground. That’s it. So after that nasty confrontation with Heath, I’m definitely finished with boyfriend issues for a good, long time.
Naturally I was late for drama class. By shifting my schedule around, I’d been put in an upper-level drama class, which was really okay. I’d been in Drama II at South Intermediate High School when I’d been Marked, and I liked drama (onstage, not off). Okay, that didn’t mean I was a particularly good actress, but I tried. Of course, changing hours stuck me in a class with a new group of kids. I stood in the doorway, trying to figure out where to sit and really, really not wanting to interrupt Erik (Professor Night?) in the middle of his lecture about Shakespearean plays.
“Just have a seat anywhere, Zoey.” Erik spoke without even glancing in my direction. His voice was brisk and professional and even a little boring. In other words, he sounded just exactly like a teacher. No, I do not have a clue how he knew I was lurking in the doorway.
I hurried into the room and sat at the first empty desk I found. Sadly it was in the front. I nodded to Becca Adams, who was sitting right behind me. She nodded back, but was clearly distracted by her need to stare at Erik. I didn’t really know Becca very well. She was blond and pretty, as per the norm for fledglings at the House of Night (there seemed to be five blondes for every “normal” kid), and she’d recently joined the Dark Daughters. I think I remember seeing her hang around with a couple of Aphrodite’s old friends, but I didn’t have any particular opinion of her one way or another. Of course, her craning her head around me and drooling at Erik wasn’t exactly endearing her to me.
No! Erik is not my boyfriend anymore. I can’t get pissed when another girl goes after him. I have to ignore it. Maybe I’ll even make a point to try to be her friend to show everybody how over him I am. Yeah, I’ll just—
“Hi, Z!”
Very blond, very cute, and very tall Cole Clifton, who was currently dating Shaunee (which also meant he was very brave), whispered a perky greeting to me, breaking through my inner babble. “Hi,” I said back, giving him a big smile.
“Oh, hey, this is excellent. Thank you for volunteering, Zoey.”
“Huh?” I blinked up at Erik.
His smile was cool. His eyes were blue ice. “You were talking, so I assumed that meant you were volunteering to read opposite me in the Shakespeare improvisation.”
I gulped. “Oh. Well. I—” I started to try to beg out of doing whatever the hell a Shakespeare improvisation was, but when his cool gaze turned mocking, like he was looking forward to me totally chickening out like a giant dork, I changed my mind. Erik Night was not going to embarrass and bully me all semester. So I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter in my seat. “I’d love to volunteer.”
The quick flash of surprise that widened those gorgeous blue eyes gave me an instant of smugness. That instant evaporated as soon as he said, “Good. Then come on up here and get your copy of our scene.”
Ah, crap crap crap!
“All right.” Erik and I stood on the stage that faced the drama class. “As I was explaining before Zoey came in late and interrupted, Shakespeare improvisation is a great way to exercise your characterization skills. It’s unusual, yes, because Shakespeare isn’t usually improvised. Actors stick close to the playwright’s words, which is why changing up famous scenes can be interesting.” He pointed at the very short script I held in my nervously sweating hand. “That is the beginning of a scene between Othello and Desdemona—”
“We’re doing Othello?” I squeaked, feeling my stomach clench into a nauseated fist. It was Othello’s monologue that Erik had recited to me with his eyes and voice full of love in front of the entire school.
“Yes.” His eyes met mine. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Yes! “No,” I lied. “I just wondered, that’s all.” Oh, god! Was he going to make me improv one of Othello’s love scenes? I couldn’t tell if my stomach was getting sicker by the instant because I wanted that or because I didn’t want it.
“Good. So you know the story of the play, right?”
I nodded. Of course I did. Othello, the Moor (a.k.a. a black guy), had married Desdemona (an extremely white girl). They’d been majorly in love until Iago, a crappy guy jealous of Othello, decided to make it look like Desdemona had been messing around on Othello. Othello had ended up strangling Desdemona. To death.
Ah, crap.
“Good,” he repeated. “So the scene we’re improving is at the end of the play. Othello is confronting Desdemona. We’ll start by reading the actual lines. I’ve copied them onto the scripts for us. When I ask if you’ve prayed, that’s your cue to improv. Then try to stick close to the plot, but make it work in today’s language. Got it?”
Sadly, I did. “Yes.”
“All right. Let’s start.”
And then, just like I’d watched so many times before, Erik Night stepped into the character of someone else and became that person. He turned so that he no longer faced me and began saying Othello’s lines. I noticed that he’d dropped the script and was speaking from memory:
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul;
let me not name it to you, you chaste stars,
it is the cause. I’ll not shed her blood,
nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow . . .
I swear he changed physically, and even through my nerves and the mortification I could feel building inside me because I knew this was bound to become a very public, very embarrassing scene, I could appreciate his amazing talent.
Then he turned to me and I could barely think above the pounding of my heart when he took my shoulders in his hands.
. . . I know not where is that Promethean heat
that can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither. I’ll smell thee on the tree.
Then, utterly shocking me, Erik bent and kissed me on the lips. His kiss was rough and tender—passionate with anger and betrayal, yet it seemed he didn’t want to take his lips from mine. He made me breathless. He made me nauseated. He made my head spin.
I soooo want to be his girlfriend again!
I pulled myself together as he spoke the lines that cued me to begin mine.
I must weep, but they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly,
it strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
“Who’s there? Othello?” I glanced from my paper to Erik, blinking my eyes and trying to look like his kiss had been what woke me up.
“Ay Desdemona.”
Oh, jeesh! I couldn’t believe what my next lines were! I gulped, which made me sound all breathy. “Will you come to bed, my lord?”
“Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?”
Erik’s handsome face had gone all tense and scary, and I swear it wasn’t much of an act for me to look freaked. “Ay, my lord,” I read the last lines of my script quickly.
“Good. You’ll need to have a clean soul for what’s going to happen to you tonight!” he improvised, still looking like the Othello who had been driven insane with jealousy.
“What’s wrong? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Improvising to this wasn’t hard. I’d forgotten about the class and all the watching eyes. All I saw was Erik as Othello, and I knew Desdemona’s fear and desola
tion at the thought of losing him.
“Think hard!” he ground between clenched jaws. “If there’s anything you’re sorry for, you need to ask for forgiveness for it now. Nothing will be the same for you again, not after what happens tonight.”
His fingers were digging into my shoulders so hard that I knew they were going to leave bruises, but I didn’t flinch. I just kept staring into those eyes I knew so well, trying to find the Erik in there that I hoped still cared about me as my forgotten script fluttered from my numb hands.
“But I don’t know what it is you want me to say!” I cried, trying to remember that Desdemona was not me. She hadn’t been guilty of anything.
“The truth!” he stormed, his eyes looking wild. “I want you to admit just how much you betrayed me!”
“But I didn’t!” I could feel tears stinging my eyes. “Not in my heart. I never betrayed you in my heart.”
Erik’s Othello blotted everything out of my world—Heath, Stark, Loren. There was only him and me and the need I had to try to make him understand that I hadn’t wanted to betray him. That I still didn’t want to betray him.
“Then your heart is a black, shriveled thing, because you absolutely did betray me.”
His hands began to slide from my shoulders up to my neck, and I knew he could feel my pulse that pounded there like a frantically fluttering bird. “No! The things I did were mistakes! I broke my own heart, not just one time but three times.”
“So you would break mine along with yours?” His fingers closed around my neck, and I could see that there were tears in his eyes, too.
“No, my lord,” I said, trying to hold on to some part of Desdemona. “I just want you to forgive me and—”
“Forgive you!” he yelled, interrupting me. “How am I supposed to do that? I loved you, and you betrayed me with another guy.”
I shook my head. “It was all lies.”
“You’re admitting that you’ve done nothing but lie to me?” His fingers tightened around my neck.
I gasped. “No! That’s not what I meant. You’re misunderstanding everything. What I had with him was the lie. He was the lie. You were right about him all along.”
“Too late,” he said thickly. “You’ve realized this too late.”
“It doesn’t have to be too late. Forgive me and give me another chance. Don’t let us end like this.”
I watched as several emotions played across Erik’s face. I could easily see anger and even hatred, but there was also sadness and maybe, just maybe, what looked like hope waiting quietly way back in the warm summer sky blue part of his eyes.
Then all of a sudden the sadness and hope flattened from his expression. “No! You acted like a slut, so now you get a slut’s reward!”
With a seriously crazy look in his eyes, he seemed to grow even taller until he towered over me. He stepped close, taking one hand from my throat so that he could use that arm to hold me locked against him. His other hand was big enough that it reached almost all the way around my neck. As he squeezed, our bodies were pressed together, and I felt a wild rush of white-hot desire for him. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was weird, but my heart was pounding with more than fear or nerves. I stared into his eyes, feeling Desdemona’s terror along with my own passion, and I knew by the hardness in his body that he was feeling the same things. He was Othello—crazed with jealousy and anger, but he was also Erik—the guy who had been falling in love with me and had been hurt so badly when he’d found me with another guy.
His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath against my skin. His scent was familiar, and it was that familiarity that decided me. Instead of pulling away from him or continuing with the improv and “fainting” in his arms to pretend I was dead, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into me, closing the short distance between our lips.
I kissed him with everything in me. I put all my pain and sorrow and passion and love for him into that kiss, and his mouth opened under mine, meeting me passion for passion, pain for pain, and love for love.
And then the stupid bell rang.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oh. My. Goddess. The ringing bell was like a fire alarm. Erik broke away from me, and the class burst into cheers and a chorus of Okie “Whoo-Hoo!” and “That was hawt!” I would have fallen over if Erik hadn’t kept a hold of my hand.
“Bow,” he said under his breath to me. “Smile.”
I did as he said, somehow bowing and forcing myself to smile like my world hadn’t just exploded. As the kids filed out, Erik spoke in his teacherly voice again.
“Okay, remember to take a look at Julius Caesar. Tomorrow we’re improving from that one. And you guys did a good job today.”
When the last kid had walked out the door, I said, “Erik, we have to talk.”
He dropped my hand like I’d burned him. “You better get going. You don’t want to be late to your next class, too.” Then he turned away from me and walked into the drama office, closing the door with a slam! behind him.
I bit my lip hard to keep from bursting into tears as I bolted from the drama room, face burning with humiliation. What the hell had just happened? Well, I knew one thing for sure, even if it was only one thing, and that was that Erik Night was still interested in me. Sure, the interest might be focused mostly on wanting to strangle me. But still. At least he wasn’t as all grown and unfeeling and whatever about me as he’d tried to pretend he was. My lips felt sore from the intensity of our kisses. I lifted my hand, running a finger over my bottom lip gently.
I started to walk, not looking at the fledglings that passed by me on their way to class, and didn’t actually even pay attention to where I was until the croaking caw of a raven sounded from the branches of a tree beside the sidewalk.
With a shiver I came to an abrupt halt and peered up into the dark tree. As I watched, the night wavered and folded, like tallow dripping down a black candle. There was something about it—something about whatever it was in the tree that made my knees weak and my stomach hurt.
Since when had I become such a victim—such a scared little girl?
“Who are you!” I yelled at the night. “What do you want?” I straightened my shoulders, deciding that I was sick of this stupid hide-and-seek game. I might be heartbroken about Heath and confused about Stark, and I might not be able to do crap about the mess I’d made with Erik, but I could do something about this. So I was going to march over there to those trees and call wind to shake whatever it was up there watching me down so that I could kick its butt. I was tired of feeling weird and afraid and totally not myself, and—
Before I could take a step off the sidewalk, Darius seemed to materialize beside me. Jeesh, for a great big guy, he could sure move scarily fast and silent.
“Zoey, you must come with me,” he said.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Aphrodite.”
My stomach clenched so hard, I thought I was going to be sick. “She’s not dying, is she?”
“No, but she needs you. Now.”
He didn’t have to tell me any more. The strain in his face and the deadly seriousness of his voice said it all. She wasn’t dying, so Aphrodite had to be having a vision.
“Okay, I’m coming.” And I started hurrying toward the dorms, trying to keep up with Darius.
The warrior stopped for an instant, giving me a piercing look that was so intense, it made me want to squirm. “Do you trust me?” he asked abruptly.
I nodded.
“Then relax and believe you’re safe with me.”
“Okay.” I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but I didn’t protest when he grabbed my arm.
“Remember, stay relaxed,” he said.
I opened my mouth to repeat my okay (and maybe roll my eyes at him), when all the breath was pushed from my lungs as Darius exploded forward, somehow taking me with him. It was the most bizarre thing I’d ever experienced, which was saying something, because I’d had a ton of bizarre ex
periences in the past couple of months. But this was like being on one of those moving sidewalks at the airport, only the “sidewalk” was Darius’s aura or something, and the moving was happening so fast that the world around us was one big blur.
We were in front of the girls’ dorm within a couple of seconds, and I’m not exaggerating.
“Holy crap! How did you do that?” I was panting a little, and as soon as he let go of my arm, I began to frantically brush my hair back out of my face. It was like I’d just taken a supersonic ride on a Harley.
“The Sons of Erebus are mighty warriors with vast skills,” he said cryptically.
“Huh. No kidding?” I was going to say that they also sounded like they should be in a Lord of the Rings movie, but I didn’t want to be rude.
“She’s in her room,” he said, kinda pushing me up the stairs to the dorm while he reached ahead of me and opened the door. “She told me to get you right away.”
“Well, you certainly did that,” I said over my shoulder. “Oh, could you find Lenobia and tell her why I’m not in class?”
“Of course, Priestess,” he said. Then he disappeared again. Jeesh. I hurried into the dorm, still feeling kinda frazzled. The main room was empty—everyone (except Aphrodite and me) was in class, so I could rush up the stairs and sprint to Aphrodite’s room without having to answer a bunch of questions from way-too-curious girls. I rapped twice on Aphrodite’s door before opening it.
The only light in the room was coming from one small candle. Aphrodite was sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, her elbows resting on them, and her face buried in her hands. Maleficent was curled into a fluffy white ball beside her. The cat looked up at me when I entered the room and growled softly.
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked.
Her body shuddered, and with what was obviously a huge effort, she lifted her head and opened her eyes.
“Oh my god! What happened!” I hurried over to her, turning on the Tiffany’s light that was on her bedside table. When Maleficent stirred and hissed a warning at me, I told the beast, “Try it and I will throw you out the window and call down rain to soak the crap out of you.”
