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  “Ah, crap!” Shaunee said.

  “The hags from hell,” Erin said.

  “Want me to save you a plate of something?” Damien asked sweetly.

  “No. Aphrodite said they’re going to feed me.”

  “Probably raw meat,” Shaunee said.

  “Yeah, from some poor kid she caught in her nasty spider web,” Erin said.

  “By that she means the one between her legs,” Shaunee explained.

  “Stop, you’re freaking Zoey out,” Stevie Rae said as she started nudging me toward the door. “I’ll show her where the rec hall is, then I’ll meet you guys at our table.”

  Outside I said, “Okay, tell me that they’re kidding about the raw meat.”

  “They’re kidding?” Stevie Rae said unconvincingly.

  “Great. I don’t even like my steak rare. What am I going to do if they really do try to feed me raw meat?” I refused to think about what kind of raw meat it might be.

  “I think I have a Tums somewhere in my purse. Do you want it?” Stevie Rae asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, already feeling nauseous.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “That’s it.” Stevie Rae had stopped, looking uncomfortable and apologetic in front of the steps that led to a round brick building situated on a little hill overlooking the eastern part of the wall surrounding the school. Huge oaks wrapped it in darkness within darkness, so I could barely make out flickers of either gas or candles lighting up the entrance. Not one speck of light was coming from the darkened windows that were long and arched and seemed to be made of stained glass.

  “Okay, well, thanks for the Tums.” I tried to sound brave. “And save a place for me. This really can’t take that long. I should be able to get done here and join you guys for dinner.”

  “Don’t rush. Really. You might meet someone you like and want to hang out. Don’t worry about it if you do. I won’t be mad and I’ll just tell Damien and the Twins that you’re reconnoitering.”

  “I’m not going to become one of them, Stevie Rae.”

  “I believe you,” she said, but her eyes looked suspiciously big and round.

  “So I’ll see you soon.”

  “ ’Kay. See you soon,” she said, and started to follow the sidewalk back to the main building.

  I didn’t want to watch her walk away—she looked all forlorn and spanked puppylike. Instead I climbed up the steps and told myself that this was going to be no big deal—nothing worse than the time my Barbie sister talked me into going to cheerleading camp with her (I don’t know what the hell I’d been thinking). At least this fiasco wouldn’t last a week. They’ll probably cast another circle, which was actually very cool, do some unusual praying like Neferet did, and then break for dinner. That would be my cue to smile nicely and slip out. Easy-peasy.

  The torches on either side of the thick wooden door were lit by gas and not the raw flame sconces used in Nyx’s Temple. I reached my hand toward the heavy iron knocker, but, with a sound that was disturbingly like a sigh, it opened away from my touch.

  “Merry meet, Zoey.”

  Oh. My. God. It was Erik. He was wearing all black, and his dark, curly hair and his insanely blue eyes reminded me of Clark Kent—well, okay, without the dorky glasses and the nerdy slicked-back hair . . . so . . . I supposed that would mean he actually reminded me (again) of Superman—well, without the cape or tights or the big S . . .

  Then the babble in my mind totally shut itself up when his oil-dampened finger slid over my forehead, tracing the five points of the pentagram.

  “Blessed be,” he said.

  “Blessed be,” I replied, and would be eternally grateful that my voice didn’t croak or crack or squeak. Ah, man, he smelled good, but I couldn’t place what he smelled like. It wasn’t any of the tired, overused colognes guys apply by the gallon. He smelled like . . . he smelled like . . . the forest at night just after it’s rained . . . something earthy and clean and . . .

  “You can come on in,” he was saying.

  “Oh, uh, thanks,” I said brilliantly. I stepped inside. And then I stopped. The interior was all one big room. The circular-shaped walls were draped in black velvet, totally blocking the windows and the silver moonlight. I could see that under the heavy curtains there were weird shapes, which started to freak me out until I realized that—hello—it’s a rec room. They must have shoved the TVs and game stuff to the sides of the room and covered them so everything would look, well, creepier. Then my attention was captured by the circle itself. It was situated in the middle of the room and made up entirely of candles in tall red glass containers, like the prayer candles you can buy in the Mexican foods section of the grocery store that smell like roses and old ladies. There must have been more than a hundred of them and they lit up the kids who were standing in a loose circle behind them talking and laughing with a ghostly light that was tinted red. The kids were all wearing black and I noticed right away that none of them were wearing any embroidered rank insignias, but each had a thick silver chain that glittered around their necks from which an odd symbol dangled. It looked like two crescent moons positioned back to back against a full moon.

  “There you are, Zoey!”

  Aphrodite’s voice slid across the room just ahead of her body. She was wearing a long black dress that flashed with onyx beading, reminding me weirdly of a dark version of Neferet’s beautiful gown. She had on the same necklace as the others, but hers was bigger and outlined in red jewels that might have been garnets. Her blond hair was loose and draped around her like a gold veil. She was entirely too pretty.

  “Erik, thanks for making Zoey welcome. I can take it from here.” She sounded normal, and she even rested her manicured fingertips on Erik’s arm for a second in what the uninformed might think of as just a friendly gesture, but her face told a different story. It was set and cold, and her eyes seemed to blaze into his.

  Erik barely gave her a look, and he definitely moved his arm away from her touch. Then he gave me a quick smile and, without glancing at Aphrodite again, walked away.

  Great. Exactly what I didn’t need was to get in the middle of a nasty breakup. But I couldn’t seem to help the fact that my eyes followed him across the room.

  Stupid me. Again. Sigh.

  Aphrodite cleared her throat, and I tried (unsuccessfully) not to look like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have been doing. Her slick, mean smile said there was absolutely no doubt that she’d noticed my interest in Erik (and his interest in me). And, again, I wondered if she knew it had been me in the hall the day before.

  Well, it wasn’t like I could ask her.

  “You need to hurry, but I brought something for you to change into.” Aphrodite was talking quickly as she motioned for me to follow her to the girls’ restroom. She threw me a disgusted look over her shoulder. “It’s not like you can come to a Dark Daughters’ ritual dressed like that.” Once we were in the bathroom she brusquely handed me a dress that had been hanging from one of the partitions and kinda pushed me into the stall. “You can put your clothes on the hanger and carry them back to the dorm like that.”

  There didn’t seem to be any arguing with her and, anyway, I felt like an outsider enough as it was. Being dressed differently made me feel like I’d shown up at a party dressed like a duck, but no one had told me it wasn’t a costume party so everyone else was wearing jeans.

  I quickly got out of my clothes and slid the black dress over my head, sighing with relief when it fit. It was simple but flattering. The material was the soft clingy stuff that never wrinkles. It had long sleeves and a round neckline that showed most of my shoulders (good thing I’d worn my black bra). All around the neckline, the edge of the long sleeves, and the hem, which was right above my knee, were sewn little red sparkly beads. It really was pretty. I slipped my shoes back on thinking, happily, that a nice pair of ballet flats can go with just about any outfit, and stepped out of the stall.

  “Well, at least it fits.” I said.
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br />   But I noticed Aphrodite wasn’t looking at the dress. She was looking at my Mark, which bugged the crap out of me. Okay, my Mark is colored in—get over it already! I didn’t say anything, though. I mean, this was her “party” and I was a guest. Translation: I was totally outnumbered, so I better be good.

  “I’ll be leading the ritual, of course, so I’m gonna be too busy to hold your hand through it.”

  Okay, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but she was wearing on my last nerve. “Look, Aphrodite, I don’t need to you hold my hand.”

  Her eyes narrowed and I braced myself for another psycho girl scene. Instead she smiled a totally non-nice smile that made her look like a snarling dog. Not that I was calling her a bitch, but the analogy seemed scarily accurate.

  “Of course you don’t need your hand held. You’ll just breeze right through this little ritual like you’ve breezed through everything else here. I mean, after all, you are Neferet’s new favorite.”

  Wonderful. On top of the Erik issue and the weirdness over my Mark issue, she was jealous that Neferet was my mentor.

  “Aphrodite, I don’t think I’m Neferet’s new favorite. I’m just new.” I tried to sound reasonable, and I even smiled.

  “Whatever. So, are you ready?”

  I gave up trying to reason with her and nodded, wishing this whole ritual thing would hurry up and be over.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” She led me out of the restroom and over to the circle. I recognized the two girls we walked up to as two of the “hags from hell” who had followed her around in the cafeteria. Only instead of wearing pursed-face, I-just-ate-a-lemon expressions, they were smiling warmly at me.

  No. I wasn’t fooled. But I made my face smile, too. When in enemy territory it’s best to blend in and look inconspicuous and/or stupid.

  “Hi, I’m Enyo,” said the taller of the two. She was, of course, blonde, but her long, flowing locks were more the color of waving wheat than gold. Although in the candlelight it was hard to be sure which cliché was a more appropriate description. And I still didn’t believe she was a natural blonde.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I’m Deino,” said the other girl. She was obviously mixed and had a gorgeous combination of really pretty, coffee-with-lots-of-cream skin and excellent thick, curly hair, which probably had never had the nerve to nap up on her for an instant, no matter the humidity.

  The two of them were freakishly perfect.

  “Hi,” I said again. Feeling more than a little claustrophobic, I moved into the space they’d created between them.

  “You three enjoy the ritual,” Aphrodite said.

  “Oh, we will!” Enyo and Deino said together. The three of them shared a look that made my skin crawl. I turned my attention away from them before my better judgment won out over my pride and I bolted from the room.

  I had a good view of the inner area of the circle now, and again it was similar to the one in Nyx’s Temple, except this one had a chair pulled up beside the table and there was someone sitting in it. Well, kinda sitting. Actually, the whoever was slumped down with the hood of a cloak covering his or her head.

  Well . . . hmmm . . .

  Anyway, the table was draped with the same black velvet as the walls, and there was a Goddess statue on it, a bowl of fruit and bread, several goblets, and a pitcher. And a knife. I squinted to be sure I was seeing right. Yep. It was a knife—it had a bone handle and a long, wicked curving blade that looked entirely too sharp to be used for cutting fruit or bread safely. A girl I thought I recognized from the dorm was lighting several fat sticks of incense that sat in ornately carved incense holders on the table, and totally ignoring whoever was slumped in the chair. Jeesh, was the kid asleep?

  Immediately the air began to fill with smoke that I swear was green-tinged and curled, ghostlike, around the room. I expected it to smell sweet, like the incense at Nyx’s Temple, but when a feathery wisp of smoke reached me and I breathed it in I was surprised by its bitterness. It was kinda familiar and I frowned, trying to figure out what it reminded me of . . . crap, what was it? It was almost like bay leaf, with a clovey middle. (I had to remember to thank Grandma Redbird later for teaching me about spices and their smells.) I sniffed again, intrigued, and my head felt a little woozy. Weird. Okay, the incense was odd. It seemed to change as it filled the room, like expensive perfume that changes with each person who wears it. I breathed in again. Yep. Clove and bay, but there was something at the end of it; something that made the scent finish tangy and bitter . . . dark and mystic and alluring in its . . . naughtiness.

  Naughtiness? Then I knew.

  Well, hell! They were filling the room with pot smoke mixed with spices. Unbelievable. I’d stood up to peer pressure and for years said no to even the most polite offers to try one of those gross-looking homemade joints that get passed around at parties and whatnot. (I mean, please. Is that even sanitary? And just exactly why would I want to do a drug that made me want to obsessively eat fattening snack foods?) And now here I stood, immersed in pot smoke. Sigh. Kayla would never believe it.

  Then, feeling paranoid (probably another side effect of the pot invasion) I looked around the circle, sure I’d see a professor who was ready to leap in and haul us all away to . . . to . . . I dunno, something unspeakably horrid, like the boot camp Maury sends all of his troubled teen guests to.

  But, thankfully, unlike the circle in Nyx’s Temple, there were no adult vamps here, and only about twenty kids. They were talking quietly and acting like the totally illegal marijuana incense was no big deal. (Pot heads.) Trying to breathe shallowly, I turned to the girl to my right. When in doubt (or panic), make small talk.

  “So . . . Deino is a, well, different name. Does it mean something special?”

  “Deino means terrible,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  From my other side the tall blonde chimed in perkily, “And Enyo means warlike.”

  “Huh,” I said, trying hard to be polite.

  “Yeah, Pemphredo, which means wasp, is the one lighting the incense,” explained Enyo. “We got the names from Greek mythology. They were the three sisters of the Gorgon and Scylla. Myth says they were born as hags who shared an eye, but we decided that was probably just bullshit male-dominant propaganda written by human men who wanted to keep strong women down.”

  “Really?” I didn’t know what else to say. Really.

  “Yeah,” Deino said. “Human men suck.”

  “They should all die,” Enyo said.

  On that lovely thought the music suddenly started, making it impossible (thankfully) to talk.

  Okay, the music was disturbing. It had a deep, pulsing beat that was ancient as well as modern. Like someone had mixed one of those nasty bootie-humping songs with a tribal mating dance. And then, much to my shock, Aphrodite began to dance her way around the circle. Yes, I suppose you could say she was hot. I mean, she had a good body and she moved like Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago. But somehow it didn’t work for me. And I don’t mean because I’m not gay (even though I’m not gay). It didn’t work because it seemed like a crude imitation of Neferet’s dance to “She Walks in Beauty.” If this music was a poem it would be more like “Some Ho Grinds Her Bootie.”

  During Aphrodite’s crotch-flailing display everyone was, naturally, staring at her, so I looked around the circle, pretending that I wasn’t really looking for Erik, until . . . oh, crap . . . I found him almost directly opposite me. And he was the one kid in the room not watching Aphrodite. He was watching me. Before I could figure out whether I should look away, smile at him or wave or whatever (Damien had said to smile at the kid, and Damien was a self-proclaimed expert on guys), the music stopped and I looked from Erik to Aphrodite. She was standing in the middle of the circle in front of the table. Purposefully, she picked up a big purple pillar candle in one hand, and the knife in another. The candle was lit, and she carried it, holding it in front of her like a beacon, to the side of the circle where I now noticed one yellow candle n
estled amongst the red ones. I didn’t need any prodding from Warlike or Terrible (yeesh) to turn to the east. As wind ruffled my hair, from the corner of my vision I could see that she had lit the yellow candle and now she raised the knife, slashing a pentagram in the air as she spoke:

  O winds of storm, in Nyx’s name I do call thee forth,

  cast thy blessing, I do ask,

  upon the magic which shall be worked here!

  I will admit that she was good. Though not as powerful as Neferet, it was obvious that she’d practiced voice control and the silky sound of her words carried easily. We turned to the south and she approached the large red pillar candle among the other red ones, and I could feel what I was already recognizing as the power of the fire and the magic circle wash over my skin.

  O fire of lightning, in Nyx’s name I do call thee forth,

  bringer of storms and power of magic,

  I ask your aid in the spell I do here work!

  We turned again and, along with Aphrodite, I felt flushed and unexpectedly drawn to the blue candle that nestled within the red ones. Even though it thoroughly freaked me out, I had to keep myself from stepping from circle and joining her in the invocation of water.

  O torrents of rain, in Nyx’s name I do call thee forth.

  Join me with your drowning strength, in performing this

  most powerful of rituals!

  What in the hell was wrong with me? I was sweating and instead of feeling just a little warm, like during the earlier ritual, the Mark on my forehead was hot—burning hot—and I swear I could hear the roar of the sea in my ears. Numbly, I turned again to the right.

  O earth, deep and damp, in Nyx’s name I do call thee forth,

  that I may feel the earth herself move in the roar of the storm

  of power

  which doth come when you aid me in this rite!

  Aphrodite sliced the air again, and I could feel the palm of my right hand tingle, as if it ached to hold the knife and cut the air. I smelled cut grass and heard the cry of a whippoorwill, like it was nesting invisibly in the air beside me. Aphrodite moved back to the center of the circle. Placing the still-burning purple candle back on its place in the middle of the table she completed the casting.