Lost Page 13

  Kevin was definitely going to avoid the main building.

  Staying close enough to the wall that he blended with the flickering gaslight shadows, Kevin kicked into a swift jog. He followed the wall all the way around until he passed Nyx’s Temple. As he did he sent it a longing look. He’d never forget the sense of love and acceptance he’d felt with Zoey and her friends inside the Goddess’ Temple. It looked almost exactly like this temple, though there didn’t seem to be nearly as many candles glowing through the paned windows, and he didn’t catch even the smallest scent of vanilla or lavender.

  It’s Neferet. She’s not honoring the Goddess like Zo does.

  That thought made Kevin angry and heartsick.

  Just beyond Nyx’s Temple, the wall began to curve to the right, where it would run parallel to Utica Street, and not long after that Kevin caught sight of the solitary building he sought, built of the same stone as the wall and the rest of the House of Night. But this building was different.

  Not that it looked that much different. It was small—really a miniature version of Nyx’s Temple. It had a Japanese-style meditation garden situated adjacent to it that was framed on three sides by a mausoleum, which held the ashen remains of blue fledglings who had rejected the Change.

  “And just blue fledglings,” Kevin muttered softly to himself. “Red fledglings get dropped off at the morgue, burned, and then their ashes are thrown away. Literally. Like garbage, they’re collected with the rest of the school’s trash every week. I hope today wasn’t trash day.”

  Kevin approached the mausoleum. He’d have to make his way through the meditation garden to enter the morgue itself, but he didn’t anticipate any problem with that. The morgue wasn’t exactly a hot spot of House of Night activity. Actually, hardly anyone ever went there, as Neferet encouraged fledglings not to “mourn those who were found unworthy.”

  The sand of the meditation garden gave silently under Kevin’s feet, and even though the area appeared deserted, he was glad for the decorated wooden screens that partitioned off sections of the garden, creating private alcoves of shadow.

  He could see the arched wooden door that was the entrance to the morgue not far from him, and Kevin had almost allowed some of the tension to leave his shoulders when movement caught the corner of his eye.

  In the middle of the meditation garden there was a beautiful statue of Nyx. This particular statue portrayed Nyx as the compassionate goddess Kwan Yin. She was fashioned of dreamy white onyx, sitting cross-legged on a lotus flower, and was lit from within by the only light in the serene garden.

  In front of the statue was a simple wooden bench, much like the benches within each of the meditation alcoves, except larger. On the bench there sat a solitary figure, face upturned, staring at the Goddess.

  Shit! A priestess!

  Kevin quickly and silently ducked into the nearest meditation alcove. He studied the woman sitting on the bench, trying to get a clear view of her face, and thinking that she seemed familiar, when someone else rushed into the garden from the opposite direction, as if she were coming from the main school building. She strode up to the bench, making a big show of looking down at the priestess who was sitting there by herself. Kevin pressed himself into the corner of his alcove and prayed that neither woman would discover him there.

  “There you are! One of the Warriors said he saw you heading this way, but I was sure he was mistaken. I even said so. I said, ‘Why would the lovely Aphrodite want to spend time in the morgue garden?’ But as I couldn’t find you elsewhere, and as you refused to answer your phone, I decided to come here looking for you.”

  Kevin felt a jolt of electric shock. That’s Aphrodite! And then his mind caught up with his shock as he recognized the voice of the second priestess.

  Aphrodite’s sigh carried across the sand to Kevin. “Hello, Neferet. To answer your question, I come here often because hardly anyone else does. I like to have time to think. Alone. Which is why my phone is off.”

  “My dear, that would be acceptable if you were any other priestess, but you are not. You are my Prophetess.”

  “It’s not like I’m having a vision.”

  Kevin’s lips turned up at Aphrodite’s sarcastic, sexy voice. He’d rarely seen Neferet up close. He’d never spoken to her. But he had witnessed how other vampyres treated her—with respect and a very healthy dose of fear. Not Aphrodite. Aphrodite spoke to her as if they were peers, and she was annoyed at being interrupted.

  “Not at this moment you’re not, but you had one earlier this afternoon.”

  Aphrodite stood and faced the taller High Priestess. “You have spies watching me?”

  “Spies? No. Only the faithful fulfilling their duty to inform me about anything I would consider important, and my Prophetess having a vision and then hiding from me is definitely important.”

  Aphrodite tossed back her mane of hair, which caught the slight light from the image of the Goddess and shined like newly spun gold. “Oh, for shit’s sake! I’m not hiding. I seriously thought coming to the morgue would help. I’ve been seeing nothing but death in my visions. Today’s was no different. You want to know what I saw? Blue fledglings and vampyres being slaughtered in a field by a disgusting horde of red vampyres. Actually, the one thing I can tell you specifically, besides who was slaughtering whom, is that it was a field of winter wheat that had just been cut. It smelled really good. Until the stink of red vampyres took over. Nothing else was very clear. Just death, blood, slaughter, and panic in a field overrun by red soldiers.”

  “What field? Where?” Neferet snapped.

  “I don’t know! Neferet, I keep trying to get you to understand that I always experience my visions from the point of view of someone who is dying—usually horribly. That’s why it’s so hard to understand them. So, because my Goddess-be-damned visions are so full of death, it made sense that I might find an answer near the morgue. Like I want to hang out here? Get real. This place is not my style.”

  “Oh, so you want to get real?” Neferet said in a low voice. Kevin felt his soul shiver as Neferet glided closer to Aphrodite, causing the younger vampyre to step back into the sands of the garden. “What’s real is that there is a Resistance movement of my own people fighting against me. What’s real is that every day blue fledglings, blue vampyres, and even loathsome, weak humans desert me. They leave! As if I don’t know what’s best for them? As if I’m not their High Priestess!”

  “Well, you’re really not High Priestess of any humans,” Aphrodite said.

  Quick as an adder, Neferet struck Aphrodite. The slap echoed from across the serene space, and Kevin cringed in sympathy.

  “Never tell me what I am or am not! All I want you to tell me is how to bring about the end of the Resistance. If you cannot do that, you are of less use to me than a rabid, newly Changed red vampyre. At least they fight for me. Remind me, my dear, what is it you do for me?”

  “I am your Prophetess.”

  “Really? Your visions have become nothing but muddled nonsense.”

  “But I can only see what Nyx allows me to—”

  “Perhaps you would do better if you groveled less to Nyx and spent more time serving your High Priestess!” Neferet interrupted.

  “Neferet, I am a Prophetess of Nyx. My power comes from the Goddess. If I don’t, as you say, grovel, then I don’t get visions.”

  “Then maybe you should look elsewhere for power, my dear. Or would you rather I send you out with the Red Army when they next engage our enemies? Better yet, a few of my generals have suggested I should be more visible to my red soldiers.” Neferet paused and Kevin watched her shudder in disgust. “But I simply cannot abide their scent and their stupidity. They’re really nothing but rabid animals. Maybe you are my answer to the generals’ request. Perhaps you should move your things to the depot and become their Prophetess. You could even go to war with them. Seeing real dea
th instead of your convoluted visions could be an enlightening experience for you! You might get used to it and start being able to think during your visions.”

  Kevin was appalled at Neferet’s words. The depot and the tunnels beneath were little more than holding cells for the Red Army and newly Marked red fledglings. It reeked down there—Kevin had even been disgusted by it. And it was filthy—truly disgusting, with the decomposing remains of humans the army fed on strewn about like giant, broken dolls. The red fledglings and vampyres housed there were not far removed from animals. Kevin hated to even imagine what being forced to live with them would do to Aphrodite.

  “I’ll go wherever you send me, but I promise you that being surrounded by the Red Army will not help my visions.” Aphrodite tried to sound strong, as if she didn’t particularly care where Neferet sent her, but Kevin could hear her panic, thinly veiled by nonchalance.

  “You need to figure out what will help your visions! If you don’t start giving me some information I can use, you’re going to lose your opulent chambers, your room service, and your bottomless supply of champagne and virile blue vampyres with which to dally. All that—all of this,” Neferet made an angry gesture that took in the serene garden, the school grounds, and the tidy little morgue, “will be replaced by damp, fetid tunnels and death, as I am beginning to believe that your gifts are only meaningful to the dead. So, the next we speak I will expect you to have remembered more details about your last vision—or pack your Louis Vuitton bag and get ready to move.” In a swirl of her long, silk gown, Neferet turned her back on Aphrodite and strode away, leaving her Prophetess standing alone in the moonlit sands of the meditation garden.

  Kevin remained there, silently watching Aphrodite. As soon as Neferet was gone, the young Prophetess’ shoulders slumped. She rubbed the side of her face where she’d been struck, and Kevin was almost certain he heard her breath catch in a sob.

  And then she did something Kevin absolutely did not expect. Aphrodite didn’t leave. She didn’t head back to the warmth and opulence of her chambers in the main House of Night building. Instead, she turned, and for an instant he thought she was heading to his alcove. His mind whirred, frantically testing and discarding lies he could say, excuses he could use for being there.

  But she stopped and slumped on the bench she’d been sitting on before Neferet had interrupted her. With a sigh that sounded like it’d originated in the depths of her soul, she slipped off a sparkly, very uncomfortable-looking high-heeled shoe from her right foot and began drawing little designs in the sand with what he could clearly see were her toes painted a bright pink.

  “Nyx, she’s so horrible!” Aphrodite said to the statue. “Maybe I should tell her she’s looking old. She’s not, of course—the bitch, but if I start asking if she’s getting enough sleep and mention crow’s feet and sagging boobs—just in general—not about her specifically, she’s so fucking paranoid that she might focus more on her mirror than on me.” She blew out another long, defeated sigh. “I don’t want to tell her everything I see. I … I can’t bear knowing that I am the cause of more deaths. Lenobia and Travis and all those horses …” Aphrodite’s voice trailed away on a sob. Then she angrily wiped at her eyes and stared up at the Goddess. “Nyx, she’s your High Priestess, but I just don’t get it. She’s awful. I hate her more than I hate those horrible cheap department stores where everything’s on sale and the peasants who shop there have to paw through racks and racks of tacky crap without the benefit of dressing rooms with crystal chandeliers and flutes of champagne.” She shuddered delicately.

  Caught completely off guard by the very bizarre, very Aphrodite-like comparison, Kevin snorted a laugh.

  Aphrodite’s demeanor shifted instantly. Her spine went straight. She tossed back her hair. Her blue eyes narrowed as her gaze swept the meditation garden.

  “Who the hell is here?”

  Kevin froze. Then, remembering the sweatshirt G-ma had given him, he pulled the hoodie up over his head, and tugged and tugged—hoping like hell that it and the shadows would be enough to cover his red tattoo.

  Aphrodite stood, slipping her arched foot back into her sparkly shoe. She took a few steps further into the meditation garden—directly toward Kevin’s alcove.

  “I said, who the hell is here?”

  “S-sorry. I didn’t really mean to disturb you,” he stuttered, thinking it was smarter to admit to his presence than it was to be discovered creeping in the shadows.

  She marched to his meditation alcove and stopped in front of it, hands on hips.

  “What? What the fuck do you want from me? To know the future? To know the Goddess? To know me?” she scoffed, and her beautiful face twisted into something mean and spite-filled. “Well, you’re out of luck. I can’t help you with any of those things.”

  “I-I’m not here because I want anything from you!” Kevin blurted honestly. His mind was speeding around like a bumper car at the Rooster Days Festival, smacking against ideas and bouncing off as he rejected them.

  “Oh, sure you don’t. Everyone wants something from me.” Kevin saw a flash of raw emotion, bitter and pain-filled, cross her face. “How long have you been here?”

  He opened his mouth to try to answer, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

  “Are you one of hers? Did she put you here to spy on me? If so, listen and listen well—I do not give one solitary shit if you tell her what I said. I will lie. I will tell her I sat and prayed to Nyx and you interrupted me when I was just getting a response from the Goddess. She’ll believe me because no matter how much she likes to fuck men, Neferet doesn’t actually like men. And she never, ever trusts them. So, whoever you are, if you tell on me to her, Neferet will end up believing me and loathing you, because she needs little excuse to loathe any man.”

  Kevin was astounded by the depth of cruelty in her voice. The beautiful, sad Prophetess who had, just seconds ago, been sitting morosely on a rock talking to her Goddess, had turned into someone awful.

  Slowly, distinctly, Kevin said, “Oh, I believe you. You obviously know what you’re talking about. You sound just like her.”

  Aphrodite jerked back as if he’d struck her other cheek.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Kevin pressed himself back, wishing he could become a shadow. “I’m no one. Neferet didn’t send me here. I had no idea she’d be here. I had no idea you’d be here.”

  “Then what the hell do you want?” Aphrodite asked again.

  She looked so cold, so unlike his Aphrodite, that Kevin’s anger began to simmer along with his fear. If she screamed or cried out, a Son of Erebus Warrior would surely hear her. He’d be hauled out of the gardens for disturbing Neferet’s Prophetess and become the center of attention—without any stinky blood perfume.

  He’d be discovered as different, and that would suck on many levels. So he hardened his voice and fueled his anger with fear.

  “Hey, I already told you. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t even want to be here—at this awful place of death in this awful fucking world!”

  He could see that his words took her aback. There was a long silence while she stared at the sitting shadow that was Kevin. When she spoke, her voice had lost its bitter edge, and her simple question surprised him.

  “Did you lose someone you loved?”

  The question settled over Kevin, bringing with it images of a lost world … a missed life … Zoey, laughing with her Nerd Herd. Grandma Redbird, gifting him with a medicine bag and trying not to cry as she told him goodbye. The other Aphrodite, smiling at him as her eyes sparkled like gemstones with humor and her special, snarky brand of intelligence. Damien and Jack, holding hands and looking so, so happy and in love, and red and blue fledglings playing peacefully in the snow, surrounded by cats and love. Always love.

  “Yes.” His voice broke and he had to clear his throat before he continued. “Yes. I
lost my whole world.”

  Her face changed again then. It softened, and one tear slid down her smooth cheek, and Kevin thought he’d never seen anyone look sadder or more beautiful.

  “Yeah, me too. I lost myself. Same damn thing.”

  Then she turned and left the meditation garden without another word or glance his way.

  13

  Other Kevin

  Kevin made his decision quickly. He could leave—fast. He could run away, back to Utica Square, call G-ma, and return to the ridge. Or he could get his butt up off the bench he felt practically adhered to and go in the morgue and harvest some stinking red vampyre blood to camouflage his smell and get on with the job he’d set out to do.

  He knew what Zoey would do.

  Kevin moved as quickly and silently as possible. His gaze swept the area as his ears strained to listen for even the smallest sound of anyone approaching while he walked across the meditation garden to the door to the morgue. When he got there, he didn’t pause. Kevin opened the door and ducked within.

  He’d been to the morgue once before. It’d been with General Dominick right before he’d been promoted to lieutenant. They’d had a skirmish with a group of humans who had formed a militia unit east of Broken Arrow in the middle of some state-owned lands that had once been a Boy Scout camp but was now a mess of deserted trails and overgrown woods. The humans had refused to give up. Neferet sent in her Red Army.

  It had been a brutal massacre. Every human was killed. The Red Army lost a dozen soldiers. The general had asked for volunteers to bring the bodies of the fallen red vampyres back to the House of Night, and Kevin had immediately stepped up, thinking that driving a military truck piled with dead vamps was a lot better than staying and joining in with the rest of the army as they tore the humans apart and devoured them. General Dominick had been impressed with Kevin’s ability to handle the job and immediately gave him a field promotion.

  So, Kevin knew exactly where he was going—though he wasn’t eager to get there.