Lost

by P. C. Cast

  So much blood! There’s so much blood!

  I couldn’t stop screaming. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to wake up. But I was frozen in place, hovering over my dream-self as Neferet wiped her sword on the ground and then returned to the duffel bag to pull out rope and a rough, homemade plaque that had scrawled on it: THOU SHALT NOT SUFFER A WITCH TO LIVE! EXODUS 22:18.

  I recognized the Bible quote. It had been the same one found on Professor Nolan’s crucified, headless body.

  And then I heard her. Heard me. My gaze went from Neferet to the severed head that had rolled to land in a bloody pool beneath me, face up. As I stared in horror at it, the eyes opened suddenly and my own voice blasted inside my head.

  You have to help Kevin stop her—nothing else matters!

  From behind me someone grabbed my shoulder, and I screamed so loud it felt like my voice was tearing …

  “Z! It’s just me! It’s okay!”

  Still screaming, I sat up, smacking into Stark and almost breaking his nose. Persephone snorted and laid her ears back, as if looking for something to attack.

  “Sssh, all is well, sweet mare.” Lenobia was suddenly there too, soothing Persephone while she sent me worried looks.

  “Stark?” I glanced frantically around us, my heart beating so hard and fast I could feel it in my temples. I’m in the stall with Persephone. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.

  “Hey, yeah, of course it’s me. What the hell’s going on? I felt your fear like a branding iron. What happened?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him about the dream—and I couldn’t. Because I realized I was wrong. It hadn’t been just a dream. It was a message. A message I had to, for now, keep to myself.

  “Stark!” I let him pull me into his strong, safe arms. “I’m so sorry.” I turned my head so I could see Lenobia. Persephone had stood, and she was pressed against the horse mistress, looking frightened and worried. “Oh, no! I scared Persephone too!” Stark helped me to my feet and I went to the mare, petting and kissing her. “I’m so, so sorry, pretty girl. I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

  “No. It’s not. I could feel how terrified you were. What. The. Hell. Happened?” Stark asked.

  I attempted a laugh, which came out more as a sob. “This is really embarrassing. It was just a dream.”

  “But often your dreams are more than just images from your imagination,” said Lenobia, not unkindly. “Last time a dream woke you, it was Kalona.”

  “Only it wasn’t really Kalona,” Stark added. “So what was it?”

  I wiped sweat from my face. “You guys, I really am sorry. It wasn’t anything like the Kalona/not-Kalona dream. It was spiders.”

  “Spiders?” Lenobia said.

  I nodded and shivered. “Spiders.”

  Stark sighed and pulled me back into his arms. “She’s terrified of spiders,” he explained to Lenobia.

  “In my dream I fell into a pool of them. It was awful,” I lied—feeling pool-of-spiders-awful about it.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” said Lenobia. “But, Zoey, if spiders frighten you that much, you really should look into hypnotherapy. One of the High Priestesses at the St. Louis House of Night is a specialist in it. I’m sure she could help you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. I’m usually not bothered by my spider phobia much.”

  “But you’ve been stressed and not sleeping,” said Stark. “So, maybe you could use some therapy.”

  “Yeah, maybe. If I have another dream like that, definitely.”

  Stark kissed my forehead. “Hey, would some psaghetti madness make you feel better? You slept through lunch, so it’s almost dinnertime.”

  I didn’t show how shocked I was to find out I’d slept for hours instead of twenty minutes or so. Instead I nodded and tried to appear enthusiastic. “Psaghetti always makes me feel better.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Stark, taking my hand. “It’s been a long day for me too. Let’s go eat.”

  “Sounds good.” I kissed Persephone one more time and smiled sheepishly at Lenobia as we left the stall. “Sorry about scaring you. I really do feel stupid about that.”

  Lenobia was looking at me with her sharp, gray eyes. “You are forgiven,” she said. “And, High Priestess, if you need to talk, please remember I am here for you.”

  “Thank you! I’ll remember.” I closed the stall door. Hand in hand, Stark and I left the stables, heading to the dining hall.

  I’ll talk about it, but only when I’ve decided exactly what I’m going to do and how I’m going to do it. Truth be told, I already had an idea. I glanced at Stark, knowing he would be my biggest obstacle. He was going to be mad. Real mad.

  Ah, hell …

  5

  Other Kevin

  “You look cold, G-ma. Next time I stop to move one of those logs from the path I’ll get you a blanket from that box behind us. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  The old woman waved away her grandson’s worry. “U-we-tsi, I still cleanse myself in the stream that runs behind my house. It is always cold. I am fine. And we’re almost to the top of the ridge. I believe next time we stop, we won’t be alone.”

  “What is this land?” Kevin peered around them, looking through the darkness at the wilds of an Oklahoma ridge filled with old-growth oaks, waist-tall grasses, and lots and lots of sandstone boulders.

  Grandma gestured at the rough dirt path the sturdy Polaris had been bumping along. “These are old oil trails—and I do mean old. They were established right around 1901 and, lucky for us, they dried up in 1902, well before they thought to tame all of this, or at the very least widen these paths and pave them. Tina’s people on her mother’s side were leaders of the Creek Nation, and the ownership of this huge section of land passed to her. She’s been protecting it for decades.”

  “So, the electric fence happened before the war started?”

  “No. That was an addition she made this past year—quietly, using only those of us who are allied with the Resistance. She knows it won’t stop an attack by the Red Army, but it certainly dissuades random snoopers and poachers.”

  “I’ll bet this is really pretty during the day. It’d be easy to imagine we were living a hundred years ago.”

  “It would, indeed.”

  “It’d be more fun imagining if there weren’t so many spiders, though. With no windshield or top to this thing, we’re like spider magnets.” Kevin grimaced as he raised the thick stick he’d broken off at their first stop, waving it in front of him and G-ma, trying to let it snag spiderwebs before their faces did.

  “Spiders eat ticks and mosquitoes, u-we-tsi. They are merely a nuisance for us.” Her brows lifted. “Unless, like Zoeybird, you’re afraid of them?”

  “G-ma, my manliness says that it’s better if I don’t answer that question.”

  Kevin drove on enjoying the sound of his grandma’s sweet laughter. Soon, though, he found that he had no choice but to let the spiderwebs decorate his face as he had to keep both hands on the wheel and concentrate so the Polaris wouldn’t tip over when the way grew more and more treacherous. His headlights caught a huge tree, fallen like a sleeping giant over the path, and he slowed down to a crawl.

  “That must be the final barricade,” he said.

  “Ready yourself, u-we-tsi. Drive directly up to the tree and then stop. Cut the motor immediately.

  Kevin swallowed his nerves and did as she told him to do. He drove to the huge felled tree, put the vehicle in park, and cut the engine. And as he did so, his little old grandma totally shocked him by climbing lithely up to stand on the bench seat of the Polaris, so close to him her leg pressed against his arm. She poked her head up through the roll bars, drew a big breath, and then shouted.

  “I’m trying to harvest mustard plants by the light of the moon. That’s when they are most potent!”r />
  “Is that true, G-ma?”

  “Of course not. It’s my code phrase. Now, shush.”

  There was a sound like the rustling of wind through tall grass and from the huge oaks surrounding them, half a dozen blue vampyres dropped—swords held up at the ready as they formed a tightening circle around the Polaris.

  A short, powerfully built vampyre whose face held an intricate tattoo of two dragons roaring fire stepped to within a few feet of Kevin. He held a longsword with both hands and his attention was centered on Kevin. “Red vampyre—set Sylvia Redbird free. She does not deserve to lose her life along with you tonight.”

  Sylvia stepped carefully across Kevin, so that she perched between her grandson and the blue vampyre’s sword.

  “Merry meet, Dragon.”

  Dragon Lankford’s eyes narrowed, and still he didn’t speak directly to the old woman, but continued to command Kevin. “Free her.”

  Slowly, carefully, Kevin lifted his hands from the steering wheel, holding them up, palms out. “My grandma is completely free.”

  “Sylvia, come to me,” said Dragon.

  “Only if you give me your word you will hear me out before you behead my grandson.”

  Dragon’s gaze flicked to the old woman. “Your grandson?”

  “Yes, my friend. This is Kevin. He comes in peace as your ally, just as I do.”

  Hard and flat, Dragon’s gaze went back to Kevin. “Then I am sorry for the pain his death will cause you.”

  “Dragon, you must listen to me. If you don’t, if you slaughter without thought, how are you different than Neferet and her army of red monsters?”

  Dragon Lankford paused long enough to glance sadly at Sylvia again. “I do not blame you for leading him here. You are clearly under his influence. You will forgive me when you are yourself once more.”

  Kevin’s sight, which was preternaturally sharp, caught the cues an instant before Dragon struck. All Kevin could imagine was what that razor-like longsword could do to his little old grandma. He moved with blurring speed as Dragon lunged, grabbing his spider stick and deflecting the sword while he hurled himself in front of her. Knocked to the side, the blow that was meant to sever his head from his neck streaked across his back from shoulder to shoulder.

  At first, he didn’t feel any pain—just a tug and the sudden heat of his blood gushing down his back.

  Grandma Redbird screamed and fell forward across Kevin’s body, blocking Dragon’s next, fatal blow.

  “Sylvia! Move away from him!” Dragon ordered.

  “Smell his blood!” shouted Sylvia. “Smell it, Dragon! His isn’t like the rest of the red vampyres!” Pressed against her grandson’s bleeding body, Sylvia’s anger was almost palpable. “You will have to kill me to get to him!”

  “Bryan, wait.”

  Through a haze of shock, Kevin watched a woman step to the Swordmaster’s side and gently touch his arm. Her beauty was ethereal, making her look like one of the ancient fey. Kevin thought her long blond hair seemed to hold a light of its own. And a huge raven perched serenely on her shoulder.

  “My love, our friend Sylvia is correct. This boy’s blood does not smell of death.”

  That had Dragon’s sword wavering. The Warrior drew a deep breath, and his eyes widened. He moved forward, easily plucking Grandma Redbird away from Kevin and depositing her on the side of the path near the raven woman, before Dragon pressed the sword against Kevin’s neck.

  “Is this dark magick? Has the Red Army learned to cloak their scent?” Dragon demanded.

  “No,” Kevin gasped, trying to speak through the pain blazing across his back. “Not dark magick—love. Nyx interceded and returned my humanity. Please don’t hurt my grandma.”

  And then the ethereal beauty was there. Easily brushing aside the killer sword, she touched Kevin’s face, smiling sweetly at him, and he realized who the beauty must be—Anastasia, Dragon Lankford’s mate. “Bryan, look beyond your anger and see this boy.”

  Dragon smoothly sheathed the longsword in the scabbard strapped across his back. Then he stepped up to within a hand’s distance of Kevin, who was trying his best not to slump over the steering wheel. The Warrior sniffed at him and studied his Mark.

  “What are you?” he finally said.

  “A vampyre boy you almost killed,” said Sylvia Redbird as she pushed past Dragon. “This wound needs to be bandaged. He’s losing too much blood.”

  “We will tend to him. Can you walk?” the beauty asked Kevin.

  Dragon spoke before Kevin could make his voice work. “No, Anastasia. Different or not, he is still a red vampyre, and therefore our enemy. I need to make an end of him.”

  “My love, we must not lose our ability to show mercy or, as Sylvia so succinctly said, there will be no difference between us and Neferet’s monsters. Trust me. I have a feeling about this boy.”

  Dragon looked at his mate for a long moment before nodding. It was a curt nod, but it was still a nod. “We will tend him and hear his story. We are not monsters.”

  Anastasia kissed Dragon’s cheek as the raven on her shoulder watched Kevin with dark, intelligent eyes. “Of course we are not.” She turned back to Kevin, repeating, “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” He started to slide his legs around and get out of the Polaris. Before he could stop himself, Kevin gasped at the flood of pain. Bright specks of light blossomed in his vision. He would have fallen had Anastasia not caught him. “I’m—I’m s-sorry,” he said through chattering teeth.

  “Bryan! This boy is wounded badly,” said the beauty while her raven took flight, squawking indignantly.

  “There are blood and blankets in the container with the rest of the supplies Tina sent.” Grandma Redbird hurried to the carry-all in the rear of the Polaris, returning to Kevin’s side with two rolled up blankets and an armful of blood baggies. She rolled out a blanket onto the path in the space between the Polaris and the fallen tree, and tossed the second blanket at Dragon. “Use that sword for something besides hurting children. Cut this into strips.”

  Kevin thought he heard Dragon mutter, “Yes, ma’am,” but it was hard to tell through the ringing in his ears.

  “U-we-tsi, Anastasia and I are going to help you lay down on that blanket. Then we’re going to bandage that cut. But first drink a couple of these. They’ll help.”

  “A-Anastasia?” Kevin stuttered. “Y-you are Dragon’s mate, r-right? M-my sister told me to f-find you. She d-d-didn’t say anything about you having a bird, though.” His hands were shaking too badly to hold the baggie, so G-ma held it to his lips as he drank first one, then a second and a third.

  “Yes, of course I am Dragon’s mate, and Tatsuwa isn’t a bird. He’s a raven. If he hears you calling him a bird he’ll never forgive you.” Anastasia spoke to Kevin in a calm, soothing voice. “Okay, let’s move him.” She sent her mate a pointed look, and the next thing Kevin knew a wash of pain and surprise threatened to drown him as the compact Warrior pulled him from the vehicle as if he weighed no more than a toddler, and carried him to the blanket, plopping him down on it, face-first.

  Determined not to cry out, Kevin bit a bloody hole in his cheek as his grandma and Anastasia pressed strips of blanket against the weeping wound and then helped him sit so they could tie the bandages into place around his chest and upper arms.

  “I feel weird,” Kevin said. “Kinda like I’m floating.”

  “The cut is long and deep, but you will recover,” said Anastasia. “I will sew it closed as soon as we get you back with us.”

  “You’re really pretty,” Kevin blurted.

  “Hrumph,” said Dragon from where he stood close beside his wife, still watching Kevin warily.

  “Thank you. And you are being a very good patient,” said Anastasia, ignoring her mate.

  “There. That is as good as we can do here,” said Gra
ndma Redbird. “I don’t think he should try to walk. The bleeding hasn’t actually stopped. The more he moves the worse it’s going to be.”

  “Agreed.” Anastasia looked up at her mate and raised one arched blond brow. “Bryan?”

  Dragon Bryan Lankford sighed. “Johnny B and Erik—get the rest of the supplies from the Polaris.”

  “Erik?” Kevin turned his head so that he could see the tall, young vampyre. “Erik Night?”

  Erik glanced his way. “Yeah, I’m Erik Night.”

  “I loved you as Superman! But, uh, I thought you’d died. That’s the rumor in the Red Army.”

  Erik snorted. “The only thing that’s dead about me is my acting career—killed by Neferet’s bullshit.”

  “Hey! That’s enough chitchat. You two get the supplies like I said.” Dragon sent Kevin a dark look before turning to Grandma Redbird. “Sylvia, I assume you are coming with your grandson and not returning to Tina’s ranch tonight?”

  “You assume correctly.”

  Dragon sighed again. “Drew, hide the Polaris. The rest of you spread out down the ridge and be sure the Red Army isn’t following him. And I mean way down the ridge. Cover all the paths that lead from Lone Star Road especially.” He raised his voice and called, “Erik! On second thought, let Johnny B unload the supplies. You cut down the side of the ridge that faces Tina’s place and be sure she doesn’t light a warning fire.”

  “Will do!”

  “No one’s following me. They don’t know I’m here,” Kevin said.

  “It’d be best if you don’t speak,” Dragon told him.

  “It doesn’t hurt more or less if I speak,” Kevin said, attempting to smile at the scowling vampyre.

  “I meant best for me.” In one movement Dragon bent and hooked his arms around Kevin, lifting him in a fireman’s carry and draping him over his broad back. Then the Warrior turned to his mate. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Of course you will, my love,” Anastasia said.

  The last thing Kevin heard before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness was Anastasia Lankford’s musical laughter and her raven’s call as he circled above them.