by P. C. Cast
Stark sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry. I wouldn’t really knock the crap outta him. I like him.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I think you’re going to have to find a way to tell him to stop using Old Magick. The irony is that you’ll probably have to use Old Magick to do that,” Stark said.
I avoided eye contact with him. “Yeah, that sucks. But I’m working on figuring it out.”
“That’s good and bad news. Look, Z, I know this is really wearing on you, and you’re super worried about your brother, but I want you to promise me that you’re not going to go off alone and mess with Old Magick.”
I put my arms around him and rested in his embrace. “I promise. I learned my lesson about that. I won’t sneak away alone and use Old Magick.”
I could feel him relax, which added to my guilt. When he tried to kiss me I leaned back, covering my mouth. Against my palm I said, “You don’t want to do that. I just puked.”
“Ah, Z, I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“Nothing. I really am fine now. I’m going to end class early and send them to study hall so that I can go to our room and brush my teeth. Puke breath is just disgusting.”
“Okay, it’s almost lunchtime. Will you be okay to eat?”
“Sure! I’ll meet you in the dining hall. And stop worrying. I’m fine.”
Stark kissed me on my forehead. “I love you, my Queen.”
“I love you too, my Warrior,” I said. Then I watched him walk away, my heart squeezing in my chest. When he was gone, I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and punched the right contact.
“’Sup, Z?”
“Kramisha, I need you to do something for me.”
“Your wish be my command.”
“Do you still have a copy of that old prophetic poem—the one about how to get Kalona to rise?”
“I do. It’s in my file labeled, ‘Shit no one should mess with.’ ”
“Good. I need it. Would you email me a copy?”
“Is you gonna mess with it?”
“Kramisha, Kalona already burst out of the ground. It can’t happen twice.” At least not in this world it can’t, I added silently to myself.
“True that. I’ll email it.”
“Thanks, bye.”
I went back to my classroom and stuck my head inside the door. “Guys, I’m cutting class short today. For the rest of the period you may go to the Media Center for study hall.” Then I closed the door on their jubilation and headed to the parking lot.
My Warrior had been 100 percent right. Kevin had to be told how dangerous it is to wield Old Magick, and he had to understand how to control the urge to use it again and again.
I am going to tell him.
I am going to teach him.
In person.
But first I needed to think—really reason through the hows and whens and with whoms—alone. Without looking over my shoulder for whoever was going to either stare at me like a chemistry project that could explode at any moment, or worse, ask me over and over if I was okay.
So I headed to my current favorite alone spot …
17
Stark
As soon as the bell rang to release classes for lunch, Stark sprinted from the Field House to the Professors’ Dining Hall. He didn’t give a shit that he drew the attention of every fledgling, vampyre, and human he passed. Stark had a feeling. A damn bad feeling. And it had something to do with Zoey.
Sure enough, she wasn’t in the dining hall.
He slid into the big booth where he and Z and their friends usually ate and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When thirty minutes had passed, he flagged down a waitress.
“What may I bring you, Stark?”
“I’m good. I’m just waiting for Zoey. But maybe I missed her. Did she already eat?”
“No, I haven’t seen her at all today. Would you like me to take your order anyway?”
“No, I think I’ll wait a little longer. Thanks, though.” She left, and Stark checked his phone. Again. Nothing from Z. He texted her. Again.
You’re still not here. Did I get the placed mixed up?
He pressed SEND, and then quickly texted again.
I’m starting to worry. Call me.
“Hey there, Stark. What looks most delicious for lunch today?” Damien asked as he slid into the booth across from Stark.
“Oh, hi, Damien. I don’t know. I’m waiting for Z.”
“Yeah, I’m waiting for Jack. He’s putting in extra time in the Media Center, trying to catch up on what he didn’t learn back in that wretched Other World.” The waitress came back, and Damien smiled at her. “I’m going to order the tacos for Jack and me. But give it about ten minutes before you put the order in. He’s Other Jack, but he’s just as late as the original Jack was.” Then Damien turned his attention back to Stark. “Did you say you were waiting for Z?”
“Yeah. She’s late too.”
“That’s because she’s not here. I saw her bug pull out of the parking lot about midway through last hour, and I haven’t seen her come back yet.”
“Shit! Are you kidding me?”
“No. Stark, is everything okay?” Damien asked.
“No. Nothing is okay. Sorry, Damien. I gotta go.” It took a lot of effort for Stark not to slam the door behind him when he left the dining hall.
She just drove off and didn’t say anything to me? Again.
This was the third time in just the past few days that Z had told him she was going to be somewhere—or meet him to do something—and she was either a no-show or late. Really late.
Sure, she always had an excuse, like she had to check Neferet’s tomb to be sure nothing weird was going on out there. He understood that. He also understood that Zoey could send someone else to do that. Someone like him. Or Darius. Or Rephaim. Or one of a dozen other Sons of Erebus Warriors who would report to Zoey and otherwise keep their mouths shut should they discover something crazy.
And, of course, she said she kept going to the Depot Restaurant to help with the renovation there. But between Damien, Other Jack, and Stevie Rae, there were already lots of helping hands.
Even worse, whenever Stark tried to check on Z—tried to see what was taking her so long—she wasn’t ever actually where she said she was going to be when she said she was going to be there.
Stark went to the rooms he shared with Zoey first. She wasn’t there. Then he hurried down the stairs and out the arched wooden door that always reminded him of a castle. He paused, his eyes sweeping the school grounds. There were fledglings and human students everywhere. Some were sitting in little groups under the flickering gaslights, sharing lunches. Some were hurrying to the dorms. Others were playing a weird tag game the current senior class had created that somehow involved cats.
His eyes were drawn to the statue of Nyx that stood in the center of the main courtyard. When he recognized one of the High Priestesses in the little group at the Goddess’ feet, he felt a wave of relief and rushed across the brown, winter grass. There she is! Let’s hope she knows something.
“Stevie Rae! Hey, we need to talk,” Stark said as he joined her at the statue. Beside Stevie Rae were two young fledglings who had just finished lighting the myriad of votive candles that flickered cheerily around the base of the Goddess. They bowed nervously but respectfully to greet Stark. “Hi, yeah, hi. Nice job with the candles and whatever. Okay, time to get to lunch. Or your next class. Basically, it’s time for you to get!” Stark waved his hand dismissively and shooed them away.
Stevie Rae watched the two fledglings scurry toward the rear entrance to the school. She scowled at Stark. “Great. You just scared ’em. Don’t you remember what it was like to be newly Marked? Those two have only been here for a week. They’re still cryin’ in their pillows at night for their mam
as.”
“They’ll be fine, just like we were fine. Who’s not fine is Zoey.”
“What in the Sam Hill are you talkin’ about?”
“Have you seen her lately?” Stark fired the question at her.
“Yeah. No. I saw her for just a sec a little while ago. It was the middle of last hour, and she said she was headin’ to the depot to see if Kramisha needed any help packing. You know Kramisha’s leavin’ for Chicago tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know about Kramisha. And Z said she was going to the depot? Are you sure?”
“’Course I’m sure. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Okay, hang on.” Stark pulled his phone from his pocket and punched Kramisha’s number, putting her on speaker so Stevie Rae could hear too.
Kramisha—unlike Zoey—answered on the first ring. “What you want, Stark? I’s busy packing.”
“Sorry to bug you. Hey, is Z with you?”
“Nope.”
“Have you seen her today?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Hey, is everyth—”
Stark hung up and gave Stevie Rae a pointed look. “Zoey lied to you. She lied to me. She’s been doing that lately. Has she been talking to you at all?”
Stevie Rae hesitated before she answered. “I started to say, ‘Sure! Z’s been talkin’ to me every day.’ But when I really think about it, she hasn’t actually been sayin’ much.”
“Yeah, not since she started feeling Other Kevin using Old Magick.”
“I know she’s worried. Heck, Stark, I’m worried about Kev too.”
“The problem is I’m pretty sure it’s not just about Other Kevin.”
“You’re gonna have to give me more to go on than that. Since Z told Rephaim and me that we get to stay in T-Town I’ve been super crazy busy getting settled and figurin’ out lesson plans for this dang Vamp Sociology class I was moronic enough to volunteer to teach. Jeesh, who knew teaching was so hard?”
“Every real teacher in the world knows that, but that’s not the point. Stevie Rae, you need to listen to me—I do not think Z is okay.”
Stevie Rae motioned for Stark to join her on an ornately carved iron bench perfectly situated near the Goddess statue.
“Now, tell me what’s stuck in your craw about Z.”
Stark blew out a long breath as he sat beside her. “She’s going to his grave. Every day. And she’s lying about it.”
Stevie Rae moved her shoulders. “That’s not real bad. I mean, Z misses Heath. We all know that, and maybe she’s not telling the truth because she doesn’t want you to feel bad. Hey, if she’s lying, how do you know where she’s going?”
“I followed her. And before you give me crap about that let me say that I only did it because I’m worried. Real worried.”
Stevie Rae held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging, but you do have my full attention now. Go on.”
Stark ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed again. “So, I followed her,” he repeated. “And watched her. She sits there. On his grave. And talks to him. A lot.”
“She talks to his gravestone?”
Stark shook his head. “No. She leans against his gravestone, but she stares to the side of it, like he’s sitting there—beside her—somewhere close, and by close I don’t mean Nyx’s Grove.”
“Well, okay, so it’s weird and sad, but maybe that’s how Z deals with her grief. You know it took a long time for her to even go to his grave. She’s never even let me go with her. She told me once that it was something she needed to do by herself, and that I should just leave it alone. She said she likes to think there ’cause it’s real quiet. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Z wants some alone time. What do you think?” Stevie Rae shook her head, making her blond curls bounce around her face. “Part of this is my fault. I’m sorry that I’ve been so dang busy that I didn’t realize she’s depressed or whatever.”
Stark waved away her apology. “This isn’t on you. It’s on all of us. I think we’ve left her alone too much since Kevin went back to the Other World.”
“But we’re givin’ her space. Hey, I do know that she’s been talkin’ to her brother. This world’s Kevin. The one who isn’t a red vampyre. I thought that was helping her deal with Other Kevin not being here.” Stevie Rae sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I haven’t asked her hardly anything about how she’s been feelin’, especially after she kept tellin’ us how fine she was, in spite of that dang Old Magick messin’ with her and Other Kevin. Like Kramisha always says, it’s not cool to be all up in Z’s business.”
“Yeah, well, space time is over. Since she’s started ‘talking,’ ” he air-quoted, “to Heath, she’s stopped actually talking to me. And, obviously, you.”
“Z’s not talkin’ to Damien or Aphrodite either?” Stevie Rae asked.
“Oh, sure. Z talks to Damien and Aphrodite, you and me. But she never says how she’s feeling—except to say she’s fine. Stevie Rae, she’s pulling away from me. And from you, Aphrodite, and Damien. She’s only really talking to dead Heath.”
“You seriously don’t think this is just Z dealing with her grief?”
“No, because this dead-Heath-talking crap didn’t start until after Kevin came from the Other World and—”
“And told her about Heath being alive over there,” Stevie Rae finished for him as her eyes widened with understanding.
“Exactly,” Stark said.
“And then she felt Kevin using Old Magick.”
“Yep. Which happened again today. Right before she took off in her bug, even though she told me we were meeting for lunch.”
“Ohmygoodness, Z’s gonna go to the Other World!” Stevie Rae said.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m starting to think too,” Stark said.
“Ah, hell!” Stevie Rae said.
* * *
Zoey
I checked the time on my phone as I pulled my bug off Seventy-First Street onto Aspen, and then took the immediate left to enter through the somber gates of Floral Haven Cemetery. I was pretty sure I could make it back to the House of Night without being too late to meet Stark for lunch.
“I should just tell him that I like to come out here,” I muttered to myself. “He’d understand. Right?”
Um. No. I did tell him—once. Almost a year ago. And he asked me a zillion questions and said that maybe I should talk to someone. As in a shrink kind of someone. About my grief.
“I tried to explain that’s kinda what I do when I visit the grave. I talk. Sure, it’s not to a shrink, but talk is talk, right?”
Apparently not to Stark it wasn’t. Not that I really blamed him. Losing Heath had been horrible. Worse, even, than losing my mom, because the truth was that I’d been way closer to Heath than anyone in my family except for Grandma Redbird.
As if it knew the way without me steering, my little aqua-colored bug wound around the curving roadways to what had become a familiar section of the graveyard. I stopped where I always did—by the big juniper tree that marked the beginning of the path I’d followed countless times over the past year.
I always felt sad when I first got there. Floral Haven wouldn’t have been Heath’s first choice. Not because it was a bad cemetery or anything like that. I just knew that Heath would have liked somewhere more … well … colorful. Heath had liked crazy, and Floral Haven was immaculate, structured, organized, and well regulated. The opposite of crazy.
But as I walked down the path that led to the Luck family grave, my sadness lifted a little—then more than a little when I caught sight of my neighborly addition to the Luck plot. I went to Heath’s proper, modest, boring tombstone and sat right on top of his grave, which I knew he would’ve appreciated. I leaned against the cold gray stone that said in block letters: HEATH REGINALD LUCK—BELOV
ED SON, and looked to the side at the next family plot closest to the Lucks’, where there was only one tombstone—the one I’d purchased immediately after I’d purchased the family plot. It was as unboring as the very proper rules of the cemetery had allowed. I’d commissioned a stone made from smooth blue marble, the exact color of a perfect fishing hole. On it I’d had the artist carve a scene of Heath sitting on a small wooden dock casting his rod out into the water. I’d had them make it so that Heath was looking right at me, grinning like he always did when he went fishing.
“Hey there. How ya doin’?” I asked the carving of Heath. “Yep, it was one of those awesome Oklahoma winter days today when it’s not too cold to be outside, but also not hot enough yet to bring on the Okie triple threat: ticks, ragweed, and snakes. I’ll bet you’d say it was good fishing weather, but then again you thought every day was good fishing weather.”
Okay, let me be clear. I hadn’t lost my mind—at least not totally. I was not under any delusion that Heath was actually there, listening to me. I knew where he was … or at least one version of him. I’d been with him there—in the Goddess’ Grove—after he died and my soul had shattered from grief. He’s probably fishing up there somewhere right now.
But I liked pretending to talk to him.
I needed to pretend to talk to him.
Especially now.
“Hey, so, remember the other day I told you about that weird burning in my chest? Well, surprise! It wasn’t a heart attack. It’s something worse. It’s Other Kevin, over there in that Other World, wielding Old Magick.” I paused and rested my head against his tombstone. “Yeah, that’s bad. Really bad. And he’s been wielding it a lot.” I sighed. “Yeah, right? I know he’s gonna get himself into some deep bullpoopie. Why are little brothers always such a pain in the butt?”
“Zoey? It is you! I thought I saw your bug turn in here.”
I jumped at the voice and spun around on my butt to see my brother, Kevin, walking toward me.
“Sheesh, you scared the bejeezus outta me, Kevin. Like, make some noise next time.”
“How about you tell me when you’re gonna visit Heath’s grave next time and I’ll meet you here? I was just lucky that I was passing by when you pulled in.” Kevin looked at me and grinned. “It was luck! Get it?”
