by P. C. Cast
Perhaps humans could be good for more than food or servants. Perhaps, like Lynette, they would truly know how to worship her properly.
Neferet fell asleep wrapped within her beloved children with the sound of Lynette’s fingers tapping on her iPad creating a very human kind of magick.
9
Other Kevin
Kevin wiped his hand across his face and shook his head like a dog coming in out of the rain. Snap the hell out of it! You gotta get it together for the meeting. Kevin scolded himself as he made his way groggily from the wing of the House of Night that housed the professors’ quarters to the main building where the School Council Meeting was set to begin—he glanced at a wall clock he’d passed—exactly now.
He sighed heavily and gave his fingers a half-hearted crack. It wasn’t like him to be so muddy-minded, but Aphrodite’s death had changed him—changed everything.
“Oh, Kevin! There you are!” A blue fledgling he only half recognized as a girl named Becky rushed up to him. “There’s someone at the front door asking for you. Um, a human someone.” Her blue eyes were big and round like she’d never seen a human before, and Kevin had to stifle the urge to point out that she’d probably only been Marked for a few months.
“No problem. I was heading that way to a Council Meeting. Could you run up to the conference room and let them know why I’ll be a little late?”
“Will do!”
She started to rush away, and Kevin opened his mouth to ask her the name of the visitor—and then found he couldn’t summon the energy. His body felt super heavy as he made his way slowly along the main corridor that fed into the foyer of the school and the administrative offices located there. As he took a left to the front entrance he saw a guy standing with his back to Kevin. Hands in his pockets, he was talking with the Son of Erebus Warrior whose shift it was to guard the front doors—and it appeared the Warrior was actually laughing. Then Kevin recognized the broad shoulders and the shaggy blond hair and he understood the Warrior’s demeanor.
“Heath!” Kevin called, hurrying forward.
Heath spun around, a grin splitting his handsome face. “Kev! Dude! Look at you! You’re, like, a real vampyre!”
“And you kinda sorta look like a real football player,” Kevin teased as the two young men embraced warmly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, especially without death and destruction happening all around us,” said Heath—his expression sobering.
“Seriously,” Kevin said.
“Hey, uh, can we go somewhere to talk. I know you’re busy vampyre-ing and all, and I gotta get back and catch some sleep before school tomorrow, so I just need a sec.”
“Yeah, of course. I always have time for you. Come on into the auditorium. No one should be using it right now.” Kevin led the way across the foyer to one of the multiple doors to the large auditorium. Except for the lights on the end of each row of velvet chairs, the room was dark and had a strange, undersea quality to it. They sat in two of the back-row seats. “So, what’s up?” Kevin asked.
Heath spoke abruptly with no preamble. “Was she a ghost or for real?”
Kevin started at him. What the hell can I tell him? What the hell can’t I tell him? What the hell? What the hell?
“Hey, don’t stress. I know there’s secret shit you can’t tell me, what with me being human and all. But I saw her. And I wanta know if I’m gonna see her again. I figured you’d know.”
Kevin cracked his knuckles. “Would it be good or bad if she was a ghost?”
Heath turned so that he met Kevin’s gaze directly. “Neither, little bro. What would be good is the truth.”
Kevin drew a deep breath. He knew what he should say. He should make some shit up and let Heath be good with half-truths and superstitious lies. But sometimes what you should do isn’t the same as the right thing to do—and this was one of those times.
“Zoey isn’t a ghost.”
Heath’s expression didn’t change, but a tremor of emotion shivered through him. Kevin could even see the little blond hairs lift all along Heath’s arm.
“That’s what my gut said. So, she’s alive?”
“Yes and no.”
“You gotta explain that, Kev.”
Kevin ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll tell you what I can and you’ll just have to trust me for the rest of it.”
“Hey, who didn’t even tell Zo that time when you were a freshmen and you snuck out to hook up with that little dark-haired girl—what was her name?”
“Karla,” Kevin said, unable to stop his embarrassed chuckle.
“Yeah, that was it. And she dared you to spray paint the school’s gym doors and make it look like guys from the Union football team did it.”
“And the Union football team caught me at Sonic getting a burger with her afterward with red paint all over my hands.”
“They were gonna kill you dead, little bro.”
“Yeah, you stopped ’em and didn’t tell on me. I would’ve gotten suspended,” Kevin said.
“Worse, dude. Your step-loser would’ve sent you to some kind of conversion therapy camp or somethin’.”
“I don’t think that’s the right kind of camp for vandals,” Kevin said.
“Whatever. My point is that we have a superlong history of trusting each other. So, I know you’ll tell me what you can—and you know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Okay, Zo isn’t alive. Not in this version of reality. But there are a lot of different worlds—and more versions of our reality than we can ever understand. And sometimes someone who is very special can move between them. If the reason is important enough, world-changing enough.”
Heath nodded slowly. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and he brushed it away. “That’s what happened during the Bedlam game. Another Zo showed up to save us, like some epic Captain Marvel Endgame shit, right?”
“That’s actually not a bad explanation.”
Heath blew out a long breath. “That’s our Zoey. She’s always been my superhero.” He wiped away another tear. “Will she come back?”
“I don’t know. She shouldn’t. In order to get here, she has to use forces that can be very dangerous.”
“Makes sense. I’ll bet the Dark Side would love to turn her. You talked to her, though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s—she’s okay? Wherever she is?” Heath stared at Kevin like he was searching for a lifeline.
“She’s good. Great even. She loves you, Heath. No matter what reality she’s in. Zo would want you to know that.” Kevin’s stomach clenched as he tried to figure out what the hell he could say that wouldn’t make things worse for Heath.
“I wish she could’ve stayed. At least long enough to see me—just one more time.” Heath had stopped wiping at his tears. Instead they rained steadily down his face, dripping from his cheeks to soak his OU T-shirt.
“She wanted to,” Kevin admitted.
“The, um, universe or whatever wouldn’t let her?”
“No. She wouldn’t let herself. Zo loves you too much to screw up your life like that. She knew she couldn’t stay—and shouldn’t come back. She thought it’d be easier for you if you didn’t see her.”
Heath’s breath hitched on a sob, but he nodded. “I can see that, but if you ever talk to her again would you give her a message for me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Zo and me—we never got to say goodbye, you know, before she died.”
Kevin nodded. “I know. Me either.”
“So, tell her I just want a goodbye. That wouldn’t screw things up—not now that I know she’s Super Zoey and has to go save the universe or whatever. But a goodbye would help. Didn’t it help you to see her one more time?”
Unable to speak, Kevin could only nod again.
“’Kay, well,
that’s it.” Heath stood. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of tissues. He blew his nose noisily and wiped his face—then shoved the damp mess back into his pocket before grinning at Kevin. “I got into a habit of carrying Kleenex around ’cause Zo was so damn snotty every time she bawled.” He shrugged. “Old habits are super hard to break.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Kevin led the way from the auditorium. “Hey, how’d you get in the school without being skewered by a Warrior?”
Heath grinned. “Dude, even Sons of Erebus Warriors are OU football fans.”
They hugged again and Kevin said, “When this crap between vamps and humans is over—don’t be a stranger. Let’s go fishing or something.”
“Dude, I’m totally up for night fishing! Wanta gig some frogs?”
“Only if there’s beer,” Kevin said.
“There’s always beer,” Heath said. He clapped Kevin on the shoulder, gave the Son of Erebus Warrior at the door a high five, and left the House of Night.
“That kid’s going to be a great quarterback,” said the Warrior.
“That kid is already great,” said Kevin.
Kevin hurried into the conference room and took a seat as he whispered an apology to Anastasia. She nodded in return saying, “Becky explained that you would be late. The meeting has just begun. Our Sword Master was updating us. Dragon, please continue.”
Kevin smiled a thank-you to Anastasia before settling in his seat and exhaling a long sigh. Heath’s visit had been a surprise. He had no way of knowing if he’d ever see Zoey again, but he did understand Heath’s grief and his need for closure all too well. At least Aphrodite and I got to say goodbye. Aphrodite … damn, I miss her so much it’s a physical pain …
Dragon’s deep voice barely penetrated Kevin’s inner dialogue as he answered his mate’s question about the status of the red vampyres: “Well, it’s bad. Even though Nyx washed the Red Army of their guilt for the things they did while their humanity was missing, they’re just not coping. We lost over a dozen more this morning. They just walk out into the sunlight. Short of locking them up, there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do to stop them from killing themselves. Do you have any insight that could help us, Kev?” Dragon Lankford stared across the conference table at the young vampyre who took no notice of him. “Kevin?”
“Huh? Yeah. I mean, what?” Kevin blinked and brought himself out of his own head and back to the present. He took in the new House of Night High Council members—the few left alive. Dragon Lankford and his mate, Anastasia; Professor Nolan, the drama teacher; and Professor Penthesilea—the literature teacher. Also Loren Blake, who was there because before the war he’d been named Vampyre Poet Laureate, which gave him an automatic seat on the School Council. Kevin thought it was a mistake to include him, though. During the war he’d proven himself to be a pain-in-the-ass pretty boy who only looked out for himself. But Anastasia was the new High Priestess, and with Dragon named her Sword Master, it was their mistake to make, not his to correct. And, of course, James Stark was also on the Council—though he was late joining them too, as usual. But no matter what, Kevin decided that six awesome vampyres and one pretty-boy dickhead was a definite improvement over one insane High Priestess and a gaggle of her sycophants.
“Honey, Bryan was commenting about the state of the poor red vampyres,” said Anastasia. “Do you need a moment to collect your thoughts?”
“Oh. Sorry. No, I’m okay.” Kevin cracked his knuckles and rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s not good. One of them pried open a window in the boys’ dorm and at sunrise seventeen of them crawled out and walked into the sun—right in front of a group of newly Marked Third Formers who were just heading to bed.” Kevin shook his head. “It was truly awful.”
“So, we do need to keep them locked up,” Dragon said. “Only we need to do a better job of it.”
Anastasia’s smooth brow furrowed with worry. “Yes, because we’re hoping after intensive therapy they can learn to forgive themselves and have normal lives.”
“The tunnels are disgusting,” Kevin said with a shudder. “No one with any humanity would live down there, but that’s where we can contain them best.”
“Then our priority needs to be cleaning out that tunnel mess and making it habitable. Fast,” said Anastasia.
Loren Blake grunted. “I’d think our priority would be figuring out how we’re going to keep this truce with the humans going—or are we? Why aren’t we even discussing continuing the war? Neferet wasn’t wrong about everything. Humans have segregated and abused us for centuries.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words exploded from Kevin’s mouth and he had to force himself not to leap across the big, round table and punch the asshole in his throat.
Loren scoffed at him. “What are you? Sixteen? Are you even old enough to be on this Council?”
“You—” Kevin surged out of his chair as Dragon grabbed the back of his shirt.
Anastasia stood. “Stop this at once!” Everyone froze.
She looked from Loren to Kevin and shook her head. “We do not meet violence and hatred and ignorance with violence, hatred, and ignorance. And this display of aggression and testosterone is exactly why Nyx created our matriarchy. Neferet is an abomination—a female who allowed Darkness to steal her compassion, empathy, and wisdom. I am High Priestess here. I am determined to lead this House of Night back to Nyx—back to our roots of wisdom and compassion. I do not know all of the answers. I do know we will defend ourselves, but we will not make war on humans. If any of you disagree, you will leave this Council and this school. Is that understood?”
Kevin bowed his head in shame. Anastasia had barely raised her voice, but the Council Chamber had gone gravely silent. “Yes. Understood. I apologize. I’m—this isn’t how I usually act.”
“You are forgiven,” Anastasia said. She turned her attention to Loren. “And you?”
“I apologize as well. I fear Neferet’s Darkness may have tainted my attitude.” Loren smiled sheepishly and bowed his head.
Kevin had to force himself not to call bullshit. Blake was slimy. But he didn’t need to worry. It took one look at Anastasia, magnificent and filled with righteous anger, to know that she wouldn’t be led astray by a handsome smile and charming but empty words.
“Realizing you’ve allowed Darkness to enter your spirit is the first step. Now you must return to Nyx and the Light. Until you do your voice does not belong on this Council. My suggestion is that you spend time in Nyx’s Temple, apologizing to and recommitting yourself to her.”
Blake blinked in confusion.
“Now,” Anastasia added.
“You mean you want me to leave?”
“What I mean is exactly what I said. You admit to being tainted by Darkness, which makes you unfit to sit on our governing Council. You need to recommit yourself to the Goddess, which you should do with mediation and prayerful self-observation. Nyx’s Temple is the proper place for both. Farewell, Loren Blake. Come see me when you have found yourself and our Goddess again.”
Looking shocked, confused, and—Kevin thought—more than a little angry, Loren Blake stood, bowed mechanically to Anastasia, and headed to the door. But before he exited the Council Chamber, he paused and turned back to address them.
“It isn’t just me. There are others who are also tired of living apologetically under the thumb of beings who are weaker and less talented than we are.”
Anastasia shot to her feet. “These weaker, less-talented beings also outnumber us by the millions! But forget that. Forget how cruel, violent, and heartbreaking this war has been. Remember one thing, if one thing is all your mind can grasp: Those beings are humans. Just as we were once humans. And it is inhumane to wage war simply because we are not all the same.”
Blake tried to speak, but Anastasia’s raised hand silenced him.
“Lor
en Blake, I officially relieve you of your title as Vampyre Poet Laureate, as well as your duties, which include teaching any classes. I expect to see you in Nyx’s Temple for the foreseeable future, beseeching her help in finding your center again. You are dismissed.”
Blake left the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Anyone else here who believes we should move forward with violence and hatred?” the High Priestess of the Tulsa House of Night asked.
The remaining Council Members were silent, watching Anastasia attentively.
“Good.” She sat and smoothed her long, straight hair back. “Then let us proceed. Oh, and Sword Master,” she addressed her longtime mate, Dragon Lankford. “Keep an eye on Loren. I have always suspected his looks and charm were concealing a lack in character—and now I am sure they are. We cannot allow the cancer of hatred to continue to spread. Cutting it out of our governing body is the first step. The second is to watch and be sure it doesn’t metastasize outside this body.”
“Yes, High Priestess.” Dragon bowed his head respectfully and pressed his fist over his heart.
“Um, High Priestess?” Kevin raised his hand.
Anastasia smiled. “Yes, Kevin?”
“Blake’s a douche, but he’s not the only one who needs watching. Maybe it’s because blue vampyres are used to saying whatever they want around red vamps and fledglings with no consequences, but I’ve overheard things that I don’t like.”
“Things?” Anastasia asked.
“Yeah, like the crap Blake said. There is a group of young Warriors who have been basically acting any way they want to act for the past year or so, and some of them aren’t happy about having to give up their power.”
“Their power?” Dragon almost elevated off his chair. “A House of Night Warrior doesn’t hoard power selfishly. He uses it in the service of his High Priestess and his Goddess.”
