by P. C. Cast
But it wasn’t like I had any choice.
So . . . thinking of Heath . . . I started by remembering what a cute kid he’d been in grade school. In third grade his hair had been lots blonder than it was now, and he’d had like a zillion cowlicks. It used to stand up all over his head like duck fluff. Third grade was when he’d first told me that he loved me and was gonna someday marry me. I’d been in second grade, and I so didn’t take him seriously. I mean, even though I was almost two years younger I’d been a foot taller. He was cute, but he was also a boy, which meant he was annoying.
Okay, so he could still be annoying, but he’d grown up and filled out. Somewhere between third and eleventh grade I’d started taking him seriously. I remembered back to the first time he’d really kissed me, and the fluttery, excited way it made me feel. I remembered how sweet he was, and how he could make me feel beautiful, even when I had a terrible cold and my nose was bright red. And how he was an old-fashioned gentleman. Heath had been opening doors and carrying books for me since he was nine.
Then I thought about the last time I’d seen him. He’d been so sure that we belonged together and so unafraid of me that he’d cut himself and offered his blood to me. I closed my eyes and leaned against Persephone’s soft flank, thinking of Heath and letting the memories of him drift past my closed lids like a movie screen. Then the images of our past changed and I got a vague sense of darkness and dampness and cold—and fear slammed into my gut. I gasped, keeping my eyes tightly closed. I wanted to focus in on him, like I had that one other time when somehow I’d seen him in his bedroom, but this connection between us was different. It was less clear, more filled with dark emotions than playful desire. I concentrated harder, and did what Erik had said to do. I called Heath.
Aloud, as well as with everything inside of me, I said, “Heath, come to me. I’m calling you, Heath. I want you to come to me now. Wherever you are, get out of there and come to me!”
Nothing. There was no answer. No response. No sense of anything more than damp, cold fear. I called again. “Heath! Come to me!” This time I felt a surge of frustration, followed by despair. But I didn’t get an image of him. I knew he couldn’t come to me, but I didn’t know where he was.
Why had I been able to see him so much more easily before? How had I done it? I’d been thinking about Heath then, just like I had been now. I’d been thinking about . . .
What had I been thinking about? Then I felt my cheeks get hot as I realized what had drawn me to him before. I hadn’t been thinking about how cute a kid he’d been or how pretty he made me feel. I’d been thinking about drinking his blood . . . feeding from him . . . and the red-hot bloodlust that caused.
Okay, well then . . .
I drew a deep breath and thought about Heath’s blood. It tasted like liquid desire, hot and thick and electric. It made my body burst alive in places that had only begun to rouse before. And those places were starving. I wanted to drink Heath’s sweet blood while he satisfied my yearning for his touch, his body, his taste—
The disjointed image I had of darkness cleared with an abruptness that was shocking. It was still dark, but that was no problem for my night vision. At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing. The room was weird. It was more like a little alcove in a cave or a tunnel than a room. The walls were round and damp. There was some light, but it was coming from a dim, smoky lantern that hung from a rusted hook. Everything else was complete darkness. What I thought at first was a pile of dirty clothes moved and moaned. This time it wasn’t just a threadlike feeler I was looking through. It was actually as if I was floating, and when I recognized the moan my hovering body drifted over to him.
He was curled up on a stained mattress. His hands and ankles were duct taped together and he was bleeding from several slashes on his neck and arms.
“Heath!” My voice wasn’t audible, but his head snapped up as if I’d just yelled at him.
“Zoey? Is that you?” And then his eyes widened and he sat straight up, looking wildly around. “Get out of here, Zoey! They’re crazy. They’ll kill you like they did Chris and Brad.” And he started to struggle, trying desperately to break the tape, even though all that was happening was he was making his already raw wrists bleed.
“Heath, stop! It’s okay—I’m okay. I’m not here, not really.” He stopped struggling and squinted around him like he was trying to see me.
“But I can hear you.”
“Inside your head. That’s where you hear me, Heath. It’s because we’ve Imprinted and now we’re linked.”
Unexpectedly, Heath grinned. “That’s cool, Zo.”
I gave a mental eye roll. “Okay, Heath, focus. Where are you?”
“You won’t believe this, Zo, but I’m under Tulsa.”
“What does that mean, Heath?”
“Remember in Shaddox’s History class? He told us about the tunnels that were dug under Tulsa in the twenties because of the un-alcohol thing.”
“Prohibition,” I said.
“Yeah, that. I’m in one of them.”
I didn’t know what to say for a second. I vaguely remembered learning about the tunnels in History class, and was astounded that Heath—not exactly an excellent student—would remember at all.
As if he understood my hesitation he grinned and said, “It was about sneaking booze. I thought it was cool.”
After another mental eye roll I said, “Just tell me how to get there, Heath.”
He shook his head and a way too familiar stubborn look settled over his face. “No way. They’ll kill you. Go tell the cops and have them send a SWAT team or something.”
That was exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to get Detective Marx’s card out of my pocket, call him, and have him save the day.
Unfortunately, I was afraid I couldn’t.
“Who is the ‘they’?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“The people who took you? Who are they?”
“They’re not people, and they’re not vampyres even though they drink blood, but they’re not like you, Zo. They’re—” he broke off, shuddering. “They’re something else. Something wrong.”
“Have they been drinking your blood?” The thought made me furious with such an intensity that I was having a hard time controlling my emotions. I wanted to rage at someone and shriek, He belongs to me! I forced myself to take several deep breaths while he answered me.
“Yeah, they have.” Heath grimaced. “But they complain a lot about it. They say my blood doesn’t taste right. I think that’s the main reason I’m still alive.” Then he swallowed hard and his face got a shade paler. “It’s not like when you drink my blood, Zo. That feels good. What they do is—is disgusting. They’re disgusting.”
“How many of them are there?” I said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not really sure. It’s so dark down here and they always come in weird groups, all smushed together like they’re scared of being alone. Well, except for three of them. One’s named Elliott, one’s called Venus—how weird is that—and the other one is called Stevie Rae.”
My stomach knotted. “Does Stevie Rae have short, curly blond hair?”
“Yeah. She’s the one that’s in charge.”
Heath had just substantiated my fears. I couldn’t call in the police.
“Okay, Heath. I’m going to get you out of there. Tell me how to find your tunnel.”
“Are you going to get the cops?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Nope. You’re lying.”
“I am not!”
“Zo, I can tell you’re lying. I can feel it. It’s that link thing.” He grinned.
“Heath. I can’t get the police.”
“Then I’m not telling you where I am.”
Echoing from down one end of the tunnel came a skittering that reminded me of the sound the science experiment rats made as they scurried through the mazes we made in AP Bio. Heath’s grin was gone, as was the color that had returned to his cheeks
while we talked.
“Heath, we don’t have time for this.” He started to shake his head no. “Listen to me! I have special powers. Those—” I hesitated, not sure what to call the group of creatures that somehow included my dead best friend. “Those things aren’t going to be able to hurt me.”
Heath didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look convinced and the ratlike sounds were getting louder.
“You said you can tell I’m lying because of our link. It has to go both ways. You’ve got to be able to tell when what I say is the truth.” He looked like he was waffling, so I added, “Think hard. You said you remembered some of that night you found me at Philbrook. I saved you that night, Heath. Not the cops. Not an adult vamp. I saved you, and I can do it again.” I was glad I sounded a lot more certain than I felt. “Tell me where you are.”
He thought for a while, and I was getting ready to yell at him (again) when he finally said, “You know where the old depot is downtown?”
“Yeah, you can see it from the Performing Arts Center where we went to see Phantom for my birthday last year, right?”
“Yeah. They took me to the basement of it. They got in through something that looks like a barred door. It’s old and rusted, but it lifts right up. The tunnel starts from the drainage grates down there.”
“Good, I’ll—”
“Wait, that’s not all. There are lots of tunnels. They’re more like caves. It’s not cool like I thought they’d be from History class. They’re dark and wet and disgusting. Pick the one on your right, and then keep turning to your right. I’m at the end of one of those.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Be careful, Zo.”
“I will. You be safe.”
“I’ll try.” Hissing was added to the scurrying noises. “But you should probably hurry up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I opened up my eyes and I was back in the stall with Persephone. I was breathing hard and sweating, and the mare was nuzzling me and making soft, worried, nickering noises. My hands were shaking as I caressed her head and rubbed her jaw, telling her that it was going to be okay, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
The old downtown depot was six or seven miles away in a dark, unused part of town under a big, scary bridge that linked one part of the city to the other. It used to be majorly busy, with freight and passenger trains coming and going almost nonstop. But in the past couple decades all of the passenger traffic had stopped (I knew because my grandma had wanted to take me on a train trip for my thirteenth birthday, and we’d had to drive to Oklahoma City to catch the train there) and the freight train business had definitely dwindled. Under normal circumstances, it would only take a few minutes to zip from the House of Night to the depot.
Tonight I was not dealing with normal circumstances.
The ten o’clock news had said the roads were impassable, and that had been—I checked my watch and blinked in surprise—a couple hours ago. I couldn’t drive there. I suppose I could walk, but the urgency I felt was telling me that wasn’t good enough.
“Take the horse.”
Persephone and I both shied at the sound of Aphrodite’s voice. She was leaning against the stall door looking pale and grim.
“You look like crap,” I said.
She almost smiled. “Visions suck.”
“Did you see Heath?” My stomach clenched again. Aphrodite didn’t have visions of happiness and light. She saw death and destruction. Always.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And if you don’t get on that horse and get your ass to wherever he is, Heath is going to die.” She paused, meeting my eyes. “That is, unless you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you,” I said without hesitation.
“Then get the hell out of here.”
She came into the stall and handed me a bridle I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. While I put it on Persephone, Aphrodite disappeared to come back with a saddle and saddle blanket. Silently, we put the tack on Persephone, who seemed to sense our intensity because she held completely still. When she was ready I led her from the stall.
“Call your friends first,” Aphrodite said.
“Huh?”
“You can’t beat those things on your own.”
“But how are they going to go with me?” My stomach hurt, I was so scared my hands were shaking, and I was having trouble understanding what the hell Aphrodite was saying.
“They can’t go with you, but they can still help you.”
“Aphrodite, I don’t have time for riddles. What the hell do you mean?”
“Shit, I don’t know!” She looked as frustrated as I felt. “I just know that they can help you.”
I flipped open my cell phone and, following my gut and breathing a silent prayer for guidance from Nyx, punched Shaunee’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“What’s up, Zoey?”
“I need you and Erin and Damien to go somewhere together and call to your elements, like you did for Stevie Rae.”
“No problem. Are you gonna meet us?”
“No. I’m going to get Heath.” To her credit, Shaunee hesitated for only a second or two, then said, “Okay. What can we do?”
“Just be together, manifest your elements, and think about me.” I was getting really good at sounding calm even when I thought my head might explode.
“Zoey, be careful.”
“I will. Don’t worry.” Yeah, I’d worry enough for both of us.
“Erik isn’t going to like this.”
“I know. Tell him . . . tell him . . . that I’ll, uh, talk to him when I get back.” I had not a clue about what else to say.
“Okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks, Shaunee. I’ll see ya,” I said and closed the phone. Then I faced Aphrodite. “What are those creatures?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you saw them in your vision?”
“Today was the second vision I had about them, though. The first time I saw the other two guys being killed by them.” Aphrodite brushed a thick strand of blond hair from her face.
Instantly I was pissed. “And you didn’t say anything about it because they’re just human teenagers and not worth your time to save?”
Aphrodite’s eyes blazed with anger. “I told Neferet. I told her everything—about the human kids—about those things—everything. That’s when she started saying my visions were false.”
I knew she was telling the truth, just as surely as I had begun to know that there was something dark about Neferet.
“Sorry,” I said shortly. “I didn’t know.”
“Whatever,” she said. “You need to get out of here or your boyfriend is going to die.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I said.
“Again I say whatever. Here, I’ll give you a leg up.”
I let her hoist me into the saddle.
“Take this with you.” Aphrodite handed me a thick, plaid horse blanket. Before I could protest she said, “It’s not for you. He’ll need it.”
I wrapped the blanket around me, taking comfort in its earthy, horsey smell. I followed as Aphrodite went to the rear doors of the stable and slid them apart. Frigid air and snow swirled in little mini-tornadoes into the barn, making me shiver, although it was more from nerves and apprehension than from the cold.
“Stevie Rae’s one of them,” Aphrodite said.
I looked down at her, but she was staring out into the night.
“I know,” I said.
“She’s not who she used to be.”
“I know,” I repeated, even though saying the words aloud hurt my heart. “Thanks for this, Aphrodite.”
She did look up at me then and her expression was flat and unreadable. “Don’t start acting like we’re friends or anything,” she said.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” I said.
“I mean, we’re not friends.”
“Nope, definitely not.” I was p
retty sure I saw her trying not to smile.
“As long as we have that straight,” Aphrodite said. “Oh,” she added. “Remember to pull silence and darkness around yourself so humans will have a hard time seeing you on the way there. You don’t have time to be stopped.”
“Will do. Thanks for reminding me,” I said.
“Okay, well, good luck,” Aphrodite said.
I gripped the reins, took a deep breath, and then squeezed my thighs together, clucking at Persephone to go.
I entered a world that was weirdly made of white darkness. Whiteout was definitely the right description of it. The snow had changed from big, friendly flakes to sharp little razorlike pieces of snow-ice. The wind was steady, making the snow slant sideways. I pulled the blanket over my head so that I was partially protected from the snow and leaned forward, kicking Persephone into a quick trot. Hurry! My mind was yelling at me. Heath needs you!
I cut across the parking lot and rear part of the school grounds. The few cars still at school were covered with snow, and the flickering gaslights that shined crazily off of their backs made them look like june bugs on a screen door. I pressed the inside button for the gate to open. It tried to swing wide, but a snowdrift caught it and Persephone and I had barely enough room to squeeze through. I turned her to the right and stood for a moment under the cover of the oaks that framed the school grounds.
“We’re silent . . . ghosts . . . no one can see us. No one can hear us.” I murmured against the whining wind, and was shocked when the area around me stilled. With a sudden thought I continued. “Wind, be calm near me. Fire, warm my way. Water, still the snow in my path. Earth, shelter me when you can. And spirit, help me not to give in to my fear.” The words were barely out of my mouth when I saw a little flash of energy around me. Persephone snorted and she skittered a little to the side. And as she moved it was like a little bubble of serenity moved with her. Yes, it was still blizzarding and the night was still cold and frighteningly alien, but I was filled with calm and surrounded by the protection of the elements. I bowed my head and whispered, “Thank you, Nyx, for the great gifts you have given me.” Silently I added that I hoped I deserved them.
