Burned

by P. C. Cast

  “The good people?” Stark looked exasperated.

  “The Fey—Fairies tae you. Do yie no know that’s where the sayin’ ‘Tie the knot’ comes from?”

  “That’s romantic,” Aphrodite said, her tone—for once—totally devoid of sarcasm.

  “Aye, wumman, if it’s truly romantic, then it must be Scottish,” said the Warrior as he put the Range Rover into gear and pulled slowly away from the wish-laden tree.

  Distracted by the thought of tying a wish with Zoey, Stark didn’t notice the castle until Seoras stopped again. Then he looked up, and the blaze of light reflecting off rock and water filled his sight. The castle sat a couple hundred yards from the main road, down a single lane that was really a raised stone bridgeway over a boggy field. Torches, like those that lined the bridge from the mainland, lit the lane, only here they were easily three times in number, illuminating the pathway to the castle and the walls of the huge edifice itself.

  And in between the torches were stakes, as thick around as a man’s arm. On each stake was a head—leathered, mouth grimacing, eyes missing, the macabre things at first appeared to move and then Stark realized it was just the long, stringy hair from each shriveled scalp that floated, ghostlike in the cold breeze.

  “Gross,” Aphrodite whispered from the backseat.

  “The Great Taker of Heads,” Darius said, his voice hushed with awe.

  “Aye, Sgiach,” was all Seoras said, but his lips curved up in a smile that mirrored the pride in his voice.

  Stark didn’t speak. Instead, his eyes were drawn from the grisly entryway up and up. Sgiach’s fortress perched on the very edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Though he could only see the land side of the castle, it wasn’t hard for Stark to imagine the sheer face that must present itself to the outer world—a world that would never gain access to her domain, even had the queen’s protective spell not already repelled intruders. The castle was made of gray stone interspersed with the shimmering white marble that littered the island. In front of the thick, double wooden doors was an imposing archway that sat before the narrow, bridgelike entrance to the castle.

  As he got out of the Range Rover, Stark heard a sound that drew his gaze even farther upward. Lit up by a circle of torches, a flag flew from the uppermost turret of the castle. It rippled in the cool, brisk breeze, but Stark clearly saw the bold shape of a powerful black bull with the image of a goddess, or perhaps a queen, painted within his muscular body.

  Then the doors to the castle opened, and Warriors, male and female, poured from within, crossed the bridge, and jogged together toward them. Stark automatically stepped back as Darius moved up beside him in a defensive position.

  “Dinnae look for trouble where nane is meant,” Seoras said, making a calming motion with his callused hand. “They wish only to show proper respect to yer queen.”

  The Warriors, all dressed like Seoras, whether they were male or female, moved quickly, but without any sign of aggression, to Stark. They came in a column of two, holding a leather litter between them.

  “ ’Tis tradition, respect, laddie, for when one o’ us falls. It is the responsibility of the Clan tae return him, or her, home tae Tír na nÓg, the land of our youth,” Seoras said. “We never be leaving behind one of our own.”

  Stark hesitated. Meeting the Warrior’s steady gaze, he said, “I don’t think I can let her go.”

  “Och aye,” Seoras said softly, nodding in understanding. “Yie dinnae have tae. You be takin’ the foremost position. The Clan will do the rest.”

  When Stark stood there, unmoving, Seoras walked to him and held out his arms. He wasn’t going to let Zoey go; he didn’t think he could bear it. Then Stark saw the gold chieftain’s torque glittering at Seoras’s wrist. It was the torque that touched something inside him. With a jolt of surprise, he realized he trusted Seoras, and as he passed Zoey to the Warrior, he knew he wasn’t giving her up but sharing her instead.

  Seoras turned and carefully laid Zoey on the litter. The Warriors, six on each side, bowed their heads respectfully. Then the leader, a tall, raven-haired woman who held the foremost position of the litter, said to Stark, “Warrior, my place is yours.”

  Moving on instinct, Stark walked to the litter, and as the woman stepped away, he grasped the well-worn handhold. Seoras walked ahead of them. As one, Stark and the other Warriors followed him, carrying Zoey like a fallen queen into Sgiach’s castle.

  Stark

  The interior of the castle was a major surprise, especially after the gruesome “decorations” on the exterior. At the very least, Stark had expected it to be a Warrior’s castle—manly and Spartan and basically like a cross between a dungeon and a guys’ locker room. He was seriously wrong.

  The inside of the castle was gorgeous. The floor was smooth white marble veined in silver. The stone walls were covered with brightly colored tapestries that depicted everything from pretty island scenes, complete with shaggy-haired cows, to battlefield images that were as beautiful as they were bloody. They’d passed through the foyer, walked down a long hallway, and come to immense double stone stairs when Seoras halted the column with a wave of his hand.

  “You cannae be a Guardian of an Ace if you cannae make a decision. So yie need to decide, laddie. Do yie wish to take yur queen above and use some time tae rest and prepare, or do yie choose to begin yur quest now?”

  Stark didn’t hesitate. “I don’t have time to rest, and I started preparing for this the day Zoey accepted my oath as her Warrior. My decision is to start my quest now.”

  Seoras nodded slightly. “Aye, then, it’s to the Chamber of the Fi-anna Foil we will be going.” The Warrior turned from the stairs and continued down the hallway. Close behind him, Stark and the others carried Zoey.

  To Stark’s complete irritation, Aphrodite quickened her step until she was almost even with him, and asked, “So, Seoras, what exactly did you mean when you called what Stark has to do a quest?”

  Seoras didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder at her when he said, “I didnae stutter, wumman. I named his task a quest, and that it is.”

  Aphrodite snorted.

  “Shut up,” Stark whispered to her.

  As usual, Aphrodite ignored him. “Yeah, I got the word. I’m just not sure of the meaning.”

  Seoras came to a huge set of arched double doors. Stark thought they looked like they would take an army to open, but all the Warrior did was to say in a low, gentle voice, “Yur Guardian asks permission to enter, my Ace.” With the sound of a lover’s sigh, the doors opened by themselves, and Seoras led them into the most amazing room Stark had ever seen.

  Sgiach sat on a white marble throne that was on a triple-tiered dais in the middle of the massive chamber. The throne was incredible, carved from top to bottom with intricate knots that seemed to tell a story, or portray a scene, but the stained-glass window behind Sgiach and her dais was already revealing dawn, and Stark staggered to a halt just outside its encroaching brightness, bringing the column to a standstill and drawing curious glances from all the warriors. He was squinting against the light and trying to make his brain work through the haze that the sunlight hours caused in him when Aphrodite stepped up, bowed quickly to Sgiach, and then told Seoras, “Stark’s a red vam-pyre. He’s different than you guys. He’ll burn up in direct daylight.”

  “Cover the windows,” Seoras ordered. Warriors immediately did his bidding, unfurling red velvet drapes Stark hadn’t noticed before.

  Stark’s eyes instantly adapted to the darkness that blanketed the room, so even before more warriors lit wall torches and tree-sized candelabra, he clearly saw Seoras stride up the dais steps and take the place to the left of his queen’s throne. He stood there with a confidence that was almost tangible. Stark knew, without any doubt, that nothing in this world, and perhaps not even the next, could get past Seoras to harm his queen, and for an instant Stark felt a terrible wave of envy. I want that! I want Zoey back so that I can be sure nothing ever hurts her again!
Sgiach lifted her hand and caressed her Warrior’s forearm briefly, but intimately. The queen didn’t look up at Seoras, but Stark did. He was gazing down at her with an expression Stark understood completely. He’s not just a Guardian, he’s The Guardian. And he loves her.

  “Approach. Lay the young queen before me.” As she spoke, Sgiach made a beckoning motion.

  The column moved forward and gently laid Zoey’s litter on the marble floor at the feet of the queen.

  “You cannot bear sunlight. What else is different about you?” Sgiach said, as the last of the torches was lit, and the room took on the warm yellow glow of open flame.

  The warriors faded into the chamber’s shadowy corners. Stark faced the queen and her Guardian and answered her quickly, without any messing around or time-wasting preamble. “I usually sleep all during the day. I’m not one hundred percent as long as the sun is in the sky. I have more bloodlust than regular vampyres. I can’t enter a private home without an invitation. There might be more differences, but I haven’t been a red vampyre for very long, and that’s all I’ve figured out so far.”

  “Is it true you died and were resurrected?” the queen asked.

  “Yes.” Stark said the word quickly, hoping she wouldn’t question him more on that subject.

  “Intriguing . . .” Sgiach murmured.

  “Was it during daylight when your queen’s soul shattered? Is that why yie failed tae protect her?” Seoras asked.

  It felt like the Warrior had shot the questions through his heart, but Stark met his gaze steadily and spoke only the truth. “No. It wasn’t daylight. I didn’t fail her because of that. I failed her because I made a mistake.”

  “I’m sure the High Council, as well as the vampyres at your House of Night, have explained to you that a shattered soul is a death sentence for the High Priestess, and quite often for her Warrior as well. Why do you believe coming here will change that certainty?” Sgiach said.

  “Because, like I said before: Zoey’s not just a High Priestess. She’s different. She’s more. And because I’m not just going to be her Warrior; I want to be her Guardian.”

  “So yer willing tae die for her.”

  The Warrior didn’t speak it as a question, but Stark nodded anyway. “Yes, I’d die for her.”

  “But he knows if he does, then he’ll have no chance of getting her back into her body,” Aphrodite said, as she and Darius stepped up beside him. “Because that’s what other Warriors have tried, and none of them have been successful.”

  “He wants to use the bulls and the ancient way of the Warrior to find a door to the Otherworld while he’s alive,” Darius said.

  Seoras laughed humorlessly. “You cannae be expectin’ tae enter the Otherworld by chasing myths and rumors.”

  “You fly the flag of the black bull over this castle,” Stark said.

  “You speak of the tara, ancient symbolism long forgotten, like my island,” Sgiach said.

  Stark countered with: “We remembered your island.”

  “And the bulls aren’t so forgotten in Tulsa,” Aphrodite said. “Both of them manifested there last night.”

  There was a stretch of silence in which Sgiach’s face showed utter shock, and her Warrior’s expression flattened to a dangerous readiness.

  “Tell us,” Seoras said.

  Quickly and with surprisingly little sarcasm, Aphrodite explained how Thanatos had told them about the bulls, how that had led Stevie Rae to evoking the aid of the wrong bull at the same time Damien and the rest of the kids were researching, which, in turn, had them discovering Stark’s blood tie to the Guardians and Sgiach’s island.

  “Tell me again exactly what the white bull foretold,” Sgiach said.

  “The Warrior must look to his blood to discover the bridge to enter the Isle of Women, and then he must defeat himself to enter the arena. Only by acknowledging one before the other will he join his Priestess. After he joins her, it is her choice and not his whether she returns,” Stark recited.

  Sgiach looked up at her Warrior. “The bull has given him passage to the Otherworld.”

  Seoras nodded. “Aye, but only passage. The rest is his to be doing.”

  “Explain it to me!” Stark couldn’t keep a handle on his frustration any longer. “What the hell do I have to do to get into the damn Otherworld?”

  “A Warrior cannot enter the Otherworld alive,” Sgiach said. “Only a High Priestess has that ability, and not many of them can actually gain access to that realm.”

  “I know that,” Stark said through gritted teeth. “But, like you said, the bulls are letting me in.”

  “No,” Seoras corrected. “They’re allowing you passage to, nae entry. You cannae ever gain entry as a Warrior.”

  “But I am a Warrior! So how do I get in? What’s the part about defeating myself mean?”

  “That’s where the old religion comes in. Long ago, male vampyres could serve the Goddess or the gods, in more than a Warrior’s capacity,” Sgiach said.

  “Some of us were Shamans,” Seoras said.

  “Okay, so, I need to be a Shaman, too?” Stark asked, utterly confused.

  “There is only one Warrior I’ve ever known who also became a Shaman.” To convey her meaning, Sgiach rested her hand on Seoras’s forearm.

  “You’re both,” Aphrodite said excitedly. “So tell Stark how to do it! How he can become a Shaman along with being a Warrior.”

  The ancient Warrior’s brows went up, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “Ach, ’tis quite simple really. The Warrior within must die tae give birth to the Shaman.”

  “Great. Either way I have to die,” Stark said.

  “Aye, so it would seem,” Seoras said.

  In his imagination, Stark could almost hear Zoey’s “Ah hell!”

  Chapter 21

  Stevie Rae

  She knew she’d catch a bunch of crap when she got back to school, but Stevie Rae didn’t expect Lenobia herself to be waiting in the parking lot for her.

  “Look, I just needed some time by myself. As you can see, I’m fine and—”

  “On the evening news there was a bulletin about a gang break-in at the Tribune Loft apartments. Four people were killed. Their throats were cut out, and they were partially drained of blood. The only reason the police are not on our doorstep accusing us is the report from several witnesses who all swear it was a gang of human teenagers. with Red eyes.”

  Stevie Rae swallowed down the sick taste of bile in the back of her throat. “It was the red fledglings I left at the depot. They messed with the witnesses’ memories, but none of them are Changed, so they don’t have the ability to cover up everything.”

  “They couldn’t wipe those blazing red eyes from the humans’ memories,” Lenobia said, nodding in agreement.

  Stevie Rae was out of the car and moving toward the school. “Dragon hasn’t gone after them, has he?”

  “No. I’ve kept him busy with small groups of fledglings. He’s already started going over self-defense skills with them in case of another attack from Raven Mockers.”

  “Lenobia, I seriously think that one in the park was a fluke. I’ll bet he’s miles away from Tulsa by now.”

  Lenobia made a dismissive gesture. “One Raven Mocker is one too many, but whether he’s alone or with a flock, Dragon will hunt him down and destroy him. And unless Kalona and Neferet are goading them, I don’t think we need to worry about them attacking the school. I’m much more concerned about the rogue red fledglings.”

  “Me, too.” Stevie Rae was eager to change the subject. “The news report said the people had only been partially drained of their blood?”

  Lenobia nodded. “Yes, and their throats were ripped out—not cut or bitten and then bled as you or I would feed.”

  “They aren’t feeding. They’re playing. They like terrorizing people; it’s a kind of high for them.”

  “That’s truly an abomination of Nyx’s ways.” Lenobia’s words came fast; her voice fille
d with anger. “Those from whom we feed should only feel our mutual pleasure. That is why the Goddess gave us the ability to share such a powerful sensation with humans. We don’t brutalize and torture them. We appreciate them—we make them our consorts. The High Council has even banished vampyres who misuse their power over humans.”

  “You haven’t told the High Council about the red fledglings, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t do that without discussing it with you first. You are their High Priestess. But you must understand that their actions have taken them beyond where they can be ignored by the rest of us.”

  “I know, but I still want to deal with them myself.”

  “Not alone again. Not this time,” Lenobia said.

  “You’re right about that. What they did today shows me how dangerous they are.”

  “Should I call Dragon in on this?”

  “No. I’m not goin’ alone, and I do plan on givin’ them an ultimatum—shape up or ship out—but if I take outsiders down there, I won’t have a chance of any of them deciding to give up Darkness and come with me.” Then Stevie Rae realized what she’d said and stopped like she’d run into the side of a barn. “Ohmygoodness, that’s it! I couldn’t have known it before I met the bulls, but now I understand. Lenobia, whatever it is that gets ahold of us after we die, and then un-die, and we’re all evil and filled with bloodlust and stuff—it’s part of Darkness. That means it isn’t a new thing. It has to be as ancient as the Warrior/bull religion. Neferet is behind what happened to me and the rest of the kids.” She met the Horse Mistress’s gaze and saw the fear she was feeling reflected there. “She’s involved with Darkness. There’s no doubt about that now.”

  “I’m afraid there’s been no doubt about that for a long time,” Lenobia said.

  “But how the heck did Neferet find out about Darkness? For centuries and centuries, vampyres worshipped Nyx.”

  “Just because people stop worshipping, doesn’t mean the deity stops existing. The forces of good and evil move in a timeless dance, regardless of mortal whim or fashion.”