Professor Nolan cleared her throat, drawing the Council’s attention. “I had an idea about helping the red vampyres.”
“Please, share,” said Anastasia.
“I know that the majority of them are fully Changed vampyres, but they were never given a proper education. I believe they should all return to school, and that we should tailor special classes for them.”
“I like that idea,” said Professor P. “Writing and art classes would be an excellent way for them to begin working through their feelings.”
“Red fledglings learn nothing about our history. We also weren’t allowed to worship Nyx,” said Kevin. “It made me feel isolated and really just lost.”
“Neferet did that on purpose,” Stark said. “She commanded that the red fledglings be kept from Nyx’s Temple and only be taught Warrior skills. I confronted her about it, and she said they were too animalistic to be educated—and that the Goddess understood and approved.” He shook his head. “I will forever regret that I justified her cruelty as truth.”
“We all did at first,” said Dragon.
Stark’s voice was gravelly with regret. “But you realized your mistake. I didn’t before it was almost too late.”
“Almost is the most important word there,” said Anastasia.
“Yeah. Had you not realized your mistake and taken action to fix it, that football game at TU would’ve had a very different ending,” Kevin added.
Stark nodded but avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. Kevin thought he knew a little of how he felt. Had his own actions been different—had he realized what was happening earlier, he might have saved Aphrodite.
“I very much like this idea of returning the red vampyres to school,” said Anastasia. “Professor Nolan, I give you charge of that. Create five new classes, specifically for the red vampyres, including an hour of temple time and ritual instruction. And be sure you get them interacting with the rest of the blue fledglings. I think it’s important they don’t feel segregated, and it would do them good to be around the others. Kevin, would you aid Professor Nolan? You have more insight into the red vampyres than any of us.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Then let us get to work,” said Anastasia. “This Council Meeting is adjourned.”
As the Council slowly followed their High Priestess from the room, Kevin found himself face-to-face with James Stark.
“If you go, I’m going with you.” Stark spoke low. His expression was so fierce and so familiar that Kevin almost smiled.
“Dude, it’s freaky how similar you are to the other you. And hell no, you’re not going with me.”
“Gentlemen, I need to speak with you.” Grandma Redbird’s voice sounded from behind them.
Together, Kevin and Stark jumped guiltily.
“You mean me too?” Stark asked.
“Gentlemen is plural. Yes, James Stark, I mean you too. Sit, please.” Grandma Redbird gestured at the large round table. The boys sat.
“I want the two of you to hear me. Will you do that?”
“Of course, G-ma,” Kevin spoke quickly.
“Yes, I’ll listen, Mrs. Redbird.”
“Call me Sylvia or Grandma Redbird.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stark nodded.
The old woman folded her hands in her lap. “I will not allow either of you to waste the vast amount of love and potential for happiness you both have and deserve to have in your lives longing for women neither of you will attain in this lifetime.” She met Kevin’s gaze and he felt his stomach drop. “My darling u-we-tsi, Zoey’s Aphrodite has found her love, and in that world, it is not you.”
Kevin nodded and cracked his knuckles. “But doesn’t she have the capacity to love more than one person at a time?” He knew he sounded desperate, and he did not care one tiny bit.
Grandma reached forward and covered his restless hands with hers. “That isn’t the question. Ask yourself this—is your love big enough, strong enough, mature enough to share?”
Kevin stared at his grandma. He hadn’t actually thought past the fact that one version of Aphrodite was still alive—and he could get to her. He’d mostly, conveniently, forgotten about Darius.
Grandma Redbird squeezed his hands before releasing them and facing Stark. “James Stark, I have no doubt that my Zoeybird could love you and your double—the Other Stark—at the same time. Again, that is not the question. What I want you to consider is this—could you bear to see Zoey with a version of yourself and know every sweet, intimate touch they would share when you weren’t with her? Would you wonder if she laughed and sighed and smiled like that with Other Stark too, or just with you? And what would that wondering do to your heart, your soul, and your relationship with Zoey?”
Stark hesitated, then opened his mouth and began with, “I think—” But he couldn’t continue. Instead he closed his mouth and stared at the top of the table.
“James, look at me.”
Stark lifted his head and met her gaze.
“You will find love.”
“In the press box at TU, Zoey said she’d be under the Hanging Tree in the Goddess Grove.” Stark sounded like he expected to enter Nyx’s grove any second.
“She also told you not to be in a rush to get there. She wants you to live a long life, and to love passionately,” Kevin chimed in. “I was there too remember? And she’s my sister—in any world. I know her. G-ma’s right. She could love you and Other Stark at the same time. Her heart is that big. But is yours? And if you question it, know that your double will question it as well.”
“So, in this lifetime I’ve missed my soul mate.” Stark’s voice broke and he had to clear his throat before he continued. “Guess that’s a good thing to know so I don’t get my expectations too high.”
“Do you think our souls are so shallow?” Grandma Redbird asked.
“I haven’t ever really thought about it,” Stark said.
“Well, do think about it.”
“What do you think, G-ma?” Kevin asked.
“I know we are many-faceted. There is no one person and only one person for each of us. Why would the Great Goddess be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” Stark said.
“What else would you call it? If we were fashioned with the capacity to love only once, I call that divine cruelty.” Grandma Redbird smiled kindly at Kevin. “U-we-tsi, you have met your Goddess. Did she seem cruel?”
Kevin jerked with surprise. “Absolutely not!”
Grandma’s smile shined on Stark. “Then that is your answer. If you allow it—if you open yourself to it—you will love again, James Stark. It will not be the same love you would have found with Zoey Redbird, but you will know love.”
“It might even be better.” At the shocked look in his grandma’s eyes, Kevin hurried to explain. “Um, I just mean that Zo totally causes Other Stark a lot of stress. Maybe Stark will find someone less High Priestess-y who doesn’t have to save worlds, that’s all.”
“Ah, I see what you mean,” said G-ma. “And I have to agree.”
“I’ll think about what you’ve said. It’s been weird. I’d just met Zoey a day or so before she was killed, and I really didn’t know the Other Zoey at all, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I close my eyes and I see her. I hear her voice in my dreams. It makes me feel …” Stark’s words trailed off.
“It makes you feel sad,” said Grandma Redbird. “Of course it does. But the sadness will fade, and as it does so will your obsession—if you let it.”
“I get that. Yeah. Thanks for this. Thanks for understanding, Grandma.”
“I’m going to be staying here at the House of Night for awhile, so I want you to know you can come to me anytime you need to talk.”
“I’ll remember that,” said Stark.
Then he surprised Kevin by walking around the table, bending, and kissing the
old woman on her forehead. Grandma Redbird stood and reached up, wrapping Stark in the mother of all bear hugs. When she released him, the young vampyre wiped his eyes, nodded goodbye to Kevin, and then quickly left the room.
“Wow. He really needed that,” said Kevin. “So, I was going to go check on the red vampyres. Do you want to come—”
“I am not finished with you, u-we-tsi. Follow me.” Grandma Redbird picked up her picnic basket, leaving the half-eaten plate of lavender chocolate chip cookies on the table, and headed to the door.
“You’re just going to leave all those cookies out here for anyone to take?” Kevin peered over his shoulder at them.
“That is the point of making cookies—for anyone to take. And I saved a dozen just for you.” She patted the side of the basket. “Now open the door for me and let us go.”
Kevin opened the door for her with a flourish. “Where are we going?”
“To speak to Nyx.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Have you done something terrible?”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
Grandma looked up at him. “U-we-tsi, if you’d done something terrible I believe you would remember it.”
“Good point.”
He followed his g-ma down the stairs to the main floor of the school, and then out the door that led to the rear schoolyard, which held the huge statue of Nyx that stood before her Temple. Grandma went directly to the statue. From her picnic basket she took out a lavender pillar candle, a box of wooden matches, and a fat smudge stick made of white sage and lavender twined together and wrapped with turquoise-colored thread. Grandma lit the candle, bowed respectfully to the statue of Nyx, and then placed it at her feet with the other offerings that were always there. Today Kevin saw several other candles—some lit, some burned out—as well as a few crystals, a beaded necklace, and a bowl of what looked like honey.
“You’re not sleeping.”
Her voice drew his gaze from the statue. He opened his mouth to lie—to say that he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Not in front of Nyx’s statue. Instead he drew a long, exhausted breath and as he let it out said, “I can’t sleep. I lay there and think about her.”
“Aphrodite.”
“Yeah, of course. Her.”
“There is great power in a name. Claim that power, u-we-tsi.”
He drew another breath and then whispered. “Aphrodite.”
“That’s a start.” Grandma took the smudge stick and held it to the flame of the purple candle. As it lit she moved around Kevin, walking slowly clockwise, wafting the sweet-smelling, fog-like smoke over him. “Say it again.”
Kevin cleared his throat. “Aphrodite.” This time he spoke the name aloud.
“And again.”
“Aphrodite.”
“Louder, u-we-tsi.”
“Aphrodite!”
“Yes! Who is it you miss so desperately?”
“Aphrodite!”
“Who is it you love so dearly?”
“My Aphrodite.” His voice had begun to shake as tears flowed down his cheeks, dripping from his jawline and dampening his shirt. Kevin tried to stop them as he wiped angrily at his face.
“No, my sweet boy. Do not hide your grief. There is no shame in showing your tears. Kevin, being a man means claiming all your power. Strength without honest emotion is toxic—to yourself, and eventually it makes you toxic to others. How can you truly love without showing sadness, acknowledging loss, dealing openly with despair?”
“I—I don’t know G-ma. I’ve never felt like this before.” He stared through the smoke at her. “It hurts too much to lose her. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”
“Yes, that is what grief does if you allow it to isolate you. It leads to depression and worse. Weep for Aphrodite. Speak her name. Talk about her—the things about her you love—the things that made you laugh. You cannot recover if you do not allow yourself to grieve.”
“It’s okay to cry.”
“Yes, u-we-tsi. It’s not just okay. It is a necessary part of the grieving process.”
Kevin sobbed and as he did he spoke her name—over and over. Grandma Redbird finally put the still-smoking smudge stick among the offerings at the feet of the marble statue before taking out a carefully pressed linen handkerchief from her seemingly bottomless picnic basket. She handed it to Kevin. He blew his nose and wiped his face, surprised to realize that he’d stopped crying.
She took both of his hands in hers. “I want you to breathe with me. In and out through your nose to a count of four: one … two … three … four. Now out: one … two … three … four.”
He breathed with his grandma for several minutes, losing time as he drank in the thinning smoke and the scent of the lavender candle.
“Now as you breathe in, I want you to think about the parts of you that hurt—and send breath to those parts of you. As you release the breath, concentrate on releasing the pain. Do you understand?”
It was difficult for Kevin to speak, so he just nodded. Then he breathed in, focusing first on his head, which had dully ached for days and days. Next, he sent breath to his gut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a real meal. He hadn’t been able to—his stomach hurt too much. He drew healing breath to his arms that missed holding Aphrodite so badly that they ached constantly. And finally, he breathed into his ravaged heart.
“Good. Yes, that’s it,” Grandma said, squeezing his hands reassuringly. “I want you to do two more things. One—ask for comfort.”
“From Nyx?”
“Yes, but also from Aphrodite.”
“Do you think she’s here?” Hope fluttered in his chest.
“I do not know, but I wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t be here for me.”
Kevin cleared his throat again, then spoke in a soft, trembly voice. “Aphrodite, I—I need you.” His voice broke and he clung to Grandma Redbird’s hands as his lifeline.
She nodded encouragement. “You can do it. Just talk to her like she’s really here—that’s all.”
“I feel like I lost myself when you died, and I can’t find myself again without you.” He paused and steadied himself. “If you could help I’d appreciate it. This pain is so bad, Aphrodite. Mind-numbing and soul-sucking. But I’m afraid to let it go because if I do, I’m afraid that means I’m letting you go too. And if I had my choice, I would never, ever let you go.” His voice broke again, and he had to swallow several times before he could finish. “Please, help me. Please.”
“Well done, u-we-tsi. I am so proud of you. When you acknowledge your grief you also acknowledge your love. And when you ask for help and are willing to accept it—that is when your broken heart can begin to heal. We are done now.” Grandma pulled him into her embrace and held him, singing softly, while he sobbed against her shoulder.
Kevin didn’t know how long they stayed there like that. It seemed forever happened in just a few minutes, but his tears slowed and stopped—and he was able to step out of his grandmother’s embrace.
“I feel a little better,” he surprised himself by speaking the words, and by the truth of them.
“Tears are cleansing. Now you need to eat a real meal. You must ground yourself. And how many days has it been since you’ve fed?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s what I thought. Feed. Then eat a meal. And tonight, if you cannot sleep, repeat the breathing exercises. I am going to spend a few more minutes here with Nyx, but then I will join you in the cafeteria.”
Kevin kissed her gently. “Thank you, G-ma.”
“You are most welcome, sweet boy.”
Kevin began to walk away, but her voice stopped him. “Oh, u-we-tsi, I almost forgot the second thing. Expect a sign.”
He stared over his shoulder at her. “A sign? You mean from Aphrodite?”
Grandma smiled. “Perhaps. I will let you tell me when you recognize the sign. Now, go on—feed. You look pale as milk.”
Kevin made his way slowly to the cafeteria. Classes were in session, but it was still early—just before sunset—and the halls were empty—thankfully. He understood what G-ma had said about allowing his emotions to show. He even agreed with her, which was just smart. G-ma was always right. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be gawked at by fledglings who would definitely gawk. He bypassed the student cafeteria, grateful that Anastasia had given him permission to eat in the Professors’ Lounge. As he entered the posh dining room, he passed a wall display of wine bottles—and then almost jumped out of his skin when one of the bottles suddenly exploded with a deafening POP!
Kevin automatically ducked. His rational mind knew that it wasn’t a gunshot, but his war-weary senses reacted differently. From the kitchen area two vampyres, a cook and a server, rushed out looking completely panicked.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kevin explained as he pointed to the wall of wine. “It was just a bottle of champagne that—” It was a bottle of champagne. IT WAS A BOTTLE OF VEUVE CLICQUOT PINK CHAMPAGNE! Kevin’s mind shouted as a smile spread across his face. “What brand of champagne did the Prophetess Aphrodite like best?”
He asked the server the question, but he already knew the answer.
“Veuve Clicquot—and she always preferred—”
“Pink!” Kevin finished with the server. “Yes, I remember. I’ll always remember. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
But the server had already begun cleaning the spilled champagne and she didn’t hear him. That was okay with Kevin. It wasn’t the server he was thanking …
12
Other Lynette
The days and nights that Lynette spent with Neferet at the modest B&B in the shadow of the Isle of Skye were the most interesting and enjoyable of Lynette’s life. Neferet set the tone—and they all followed her lead. It was a surprisingly serene, intimate time that fell into an easy pattern.
Neferet woke moments after sunset. She would emerge from her suite, face completely free of makeup, wrapped in a thick bathrobe with her hair pulled back and her cashmere slippers on, to join Lynette in the drawing room, which the vampyre had commandeered as her own. Their first full day at Balmacara, Neferet supervised Noreen and wee Denise in a quick redecoration of the room—which meant they decluttered it, found a chair that looked like a throne for Neferet, and added several velvet throws in rich jewel tones that Denise had materialized, whispering self-consciously about her sister sewing them for a boutique in Edinburgh—and that she’d much rather sell them to Herself than tourists. Neferet’s sincere delight with the beautiful pieces caused the girl to blush happily, winning the vampyre a new devotee—and a surprisingly capable one at that.
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