Lost Read online

  4

  Zoey

  “Zoey! Oh, good we found you. Do you have a sec?” a familiar voice shouted from somewhere down the hall.

  I forced myself not to sigh, plastered a smile on my face, and turned as Damien and Other Jack wove their way through the busy hallway to me. Then they caught up with me and my smile became genuine.

  “Hi, Damien and Jack. Are you two settling in okay? Anything you need?” I asked. The happiness that radiated from them made my heavy heart feel lighter—if only for a moment.

  “Ohmygoddess! Everything here is just so fab!” Other Jack gushed, gazing up at Damien with big, love-filled eyes.

  Damien’s grin was for Jack, but he included me in it, sharing the joy. “Z, we have everything we need—each other.”

  “And this awesomesauce world,” Jack added.

  “Yes, what Jack said. Actually, we wanted to see if we could help you,” Damien said.

  “Well, sure. But what do you mean?”

  “We’d like to be involved in the redecoration of the Depot Restaurant,” Damien said.

  Jack was nodding like a bobblehead doll, though I have to admit he’s a lot cuter than your average bobblehead.

  “Have you talked to Kramisha? That’s really her project,” I said.

  “We didn’t want to until we cleared our idea with you,” Damien said.

  When both of them just stood there grinning at me, I nudged. “Okay, well, what’s the idea?”

  “You’re gonna love it!” Jack was hopping up and down in barely controlled excitement.

  “We should tell her,” Damien said.

  “Yepper, we should!” Jack said.

  And then neither of them told me.

  I resisted the urge to strangle both of their ridiculously happy necks, which Damien must have sensed because he cleared his throat and explained.

  “So, you know Kramisha already decided to redecorate the restaurant as a big band–era dinner club, right?”

  “Yeah, right. We all thought that was a great idea,” I said.

  “It is, which is why we wanted to bring in some dinner-club specialists,” Damien said.

  “The gays!” Jack cheered.

  “ ‘The gays’?” Now I was totally confused.

  “Actually, it would be more accurate to say the LGBTQ community,” said Damien. “I went by the Equality Center—you know it’s not far from the depot, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, of course. OKEQ is less than a mile away on Fourth Street. I was there just the other day talking about partnering with them on the next More Color Art Show. I was going to announce it in our next newsletter,” I said.

  “We know,” Jack said. “Toby told us when we were talking about our other idea.”

  I felt like I was ping-ponging back and forth between the two of them, so I focused on Damien. “Explain, please.”

  “It’s simple. Toby Jenkins, the center’s director—”

  “Yeah, I know Toby,” I nodded.

  “He’s a history buff, and he was thrilled to hear that we’re turning the restaurant into a dinner club. He’d like to help us make it not just a beautiful venue with good food and music. He can help us make it historically accurate. As in being sure the stage, dance floor, tables, linens, and even the waitstaff’s uniforms all are so much like the big band era that people will really feel as if they’re stepping back in time when they spend an evening at our restaurant,” Damien said.

  “That does sound cool,” I said. “Which reminds me, Toby told me he has a list of contractors who are proequality and, of course, those are the only contractors we should be hiring. He was going to share that list with me, and then, well …” My words trailed off as we all thought about the events of the past few days.

  “Hey, no problem, Z,” Damien said kindly. “We’ll take care of it for you.”

  “Yeah, you’ve had a lot going on. Let us help you with this,” said Jack.

  “Thank you. Both of you. Yes, I’d appreciate your help, and I think your idea to bring in Toby, and anyone he recommends, is fantastic. Tell Kramisha you definitely have my approval.”

  “Yippee!” Jack clapped.

  “You won’t be sorry, Z. The restaurant is going to be spectacular,” said Damien. He paused and caught me with his wise gaze. “You look tired.”

  “Yoga is excellent for stress relief,” Jack said. “In my other world, before all that really horrid stuff started to happen, I was a certified yoga instructor. Would you like me to take you through some meditative stretches?”

  “Um, not this second,” I said. “But if you’d like to teach a few yoga classes here at school I think that would be great.”

  “Oh. My. Goddess! Really? Are you kidding? Would you really let me?”

  How could anyone not love this kid? He was like a sparkling unicorn. “Yep, I’ll totally let you. Let me get with the School Council and we’ll figure out where we can add your class.”

  Jack hurled himself into my arms, almost knocking me over. “Thank you! Thank you! May I play music? Yoga is always better with music. And hot yoga! Can we have hot yoga too?”

  I disentangled myself from Jack. “Sure. Hot yoga sounds good,” I lied. Hot yoga? Like regular yoga isn’t hard enough? “Get a syllabus together, with a supply list, so that I can let the Council know exactly what you need, and we’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s great, Z.” Damien was still studying me over Jack’s exuberant head. “But it looks like you need some rest and stress relief now.”

  “You couldn’t be more right,” I said. “Which is why I gotta go. I’m on my way to get some barn therapy.”

  Relief softened Damien’s worried expression. “Oh, that’s excellent! Grooming Persephone always relaxes you. Have fun. And if anyone asks where you are, I’ll tell them you’re at the depot.”

  “That would be wonderful. I just need an hour or so to myself.”

  “It’s yours.” Damien put his arm around Jack. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Kramisha, and then we can give Toby the good news.”

  Talking animatedly with their heads together, Jack and Damien headed for the front of the House of Night. I watched them go, trying to hold on to some of the happiness they exuded.

  It didn’t work. They left and all I felt was tired and sad. Again.

  Come on, Z. Get yourself together and snap out of it! Kevin is back where he has to be, and that’s that. That world needs him. In this world Heath is dead. Your mom is dead. And we actually defeated Neferet. Get a grip!

  Mentally shaking myself I headed out the back door of the school, turned left, and followed the sidewalk to the rear entrance of the equestrian center. I walked fast, barely nodding to the fledglings who greeted me. I just needed some time alone—some time to relax and not think too much.

  The instant I opened the door to the stables I drew a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scents of horse and hay. The class had started, and I could hear Lenobia in the arena, telling her current group of third formers, or freshmen, that horses are not big dogs, which had me grinning with nostalgia as I made my way to Persephone’s stall. As soon as the roan mare saw me she called a low, rumbly greeting.

  “Well, hi right back at you, pretty girl! How are you?” I grabbed the currycomb; a wide, soft brush; and a hoof pick from the cubby outside her stall—as well as a handful of the peppermint treats that were her favorites—and slipped inside with her. Persephone nuzzled me, obviously looking for the candies, which I offered her. I smiled and kissed her wide forehead as she delicately lipped the peppermints from my palm. After I snuggled her some more and kissed her velvet muzzle, the mare returned to her feed and I got to work.

  I love grooming horses—Persephone in particular. And her positive energy worked quickly on me. Soon, my mind was empty of everything except braiding her mane and tail, and being
sure her hooves were free of even the smallest pebbles.

  “Persephone, pretty girl, I wish I could get my hair to shine the way your coat does,” I said, resting my chin against her wide, warm neck. She cocked one leg, sighed, and looked very much like she was going to take a nap. I glanced between the stall bars at the stable clock. “Ugh. About twenty minutes and this period will be over and fledglings will be swarming everywhere.” What I wouldn’t give to be a fledgling again, without a care in the world.

  I started to move toward the door to put away the brushes when Persephone sighed again, and, with a very satisfied grunt, curled her long legs under her and plopped down in the middle of her straw-filled stall.

  “So, you were serious about that nap, huh?” I turned to the door and then hesitated. “Why the hell not? Maybe some rest will help me snap out of this terrible mood.” I dropped the brushes and went to Persephone. The sweet mare barely opened an eye when I curled up with her, just behind her front legs, resting against her warm belly. “I’m probably not going to actually sleep, though. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately,” I told her through a giant yawn. Then I put my head on her shoulder, closed my eyes, and went straight to sleep.

  * * *

  Knock! Knock! Knock! Someone was banging on my door.

  My door? Wait. I’m in the stables with Persephone. Are they banging on my stall door?

  I lifted my head. Dark—it was really, really dark. How could it be that dark in the stables?

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Okay, okay! I’m coming!” I said.

  I said? But I didn’t say anything.

  A light clicked on and I jumped in shock.

  I wasn’t in the stables. I was in the dorm. In my old room, but it only kinda looked like my old room. My stuff was there, but the twin bed on the other side of the room was empty. Stevie Rae was nowhere. None of her stuff was there, either. It was like she didn’t exist.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Hey, I’m getting dressed! Sheesh! Hang on!”

  I watched a version of myself pull on jeans and a black-and-gold Broken Arrow Tigers sweatshirt.

  What the hell?

  I felt super dizzy and sick, and then my confusion started to clear when I saw that my body was almost completely transparent, and I was hovering a little above the bed.

  Then I got it! Ohhh, I’m asleep. This is a dream—a dream about fledgling me. Which actually made sense. I mean, I was so stressed out that I was hiding in the barn, napping with my horse, pretty much wishing I was a carefree fledgling. No big surprise I was dreaming that I was a fledgling again.

  Only I wasn’t the fledgling. I was the observer of me, the fledgling.

  Okay, so, fine. Dreams are freaky. I looked around the semifamiliar room as “Zoey” hurried to the door. If Kalona shows up—again—I’m waking up this time. Right away.

  Dream Zoey paused in front of the little mirror over the sink and tried to smooth back her bed head, and I got my first good look at her face.

  Wait, that’s wrong. This fledgling Zoey has a regular Mark, like all the other fledglings.

  But, again, I rationalized that that wasn’t a big deal. I mean, if I was dreaming about escaping stress by being a fledgling, I definitely didn’t want to be the only fledgling with a colored-in Mark. Again.

  Dream Zoey opened the door a crack. I saw her body jerk in surprise, and then she stepped back so that she could open the door all the way—to reveal Neferet standing in the hallway.

  “Ah, hell! Run! This is a sucky dream!” I shouted.

  But Dream Z didn’t hear me—neither did smarmy Dream Neferet.

  “High Priestess! Hello. I, um, would you like to come in?” Dream Zoey asked lamely.

  “No! Don’t let her into your room!” But, again, neither of them heard me.

  “Oh, no, my dear. I am sorry to wake you, as the sun hasn’t quite set yet, but I’m afraid you have a rather distraught visitor,” said Dream Neferet with sickeningly fake niceness.

  “F off, Neferet!” I yelled. Of course they didn’t hear me, so I sighed and waited to see what dream weirdness would happen next—and I seriously reconsidered my anticussing stance.

  “A distraught visitor? I’m sorry, High Priestess, but I don’t understand.”

  “It’s your stepfather. He’s rather …” Neferet paused and grimaced in obvious dislike, “insistent that you speak with him. He mentioned something about your immortal soul.”

  “Oh, ugh! Him,” Dream me said, and I echoed the thought. Just tell her to tell him to go away and never come back!

  But Dream Zoey seemed younger and nicer than me—or maybe just younger and more naïve. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

  “Excellent. I will escort you to him and remain with you. He really is an unpleasant man.”

  “Yeah, he sure is, and thanks for staying with me.”

  Neferet motioned for Dream Zoey to follow her, which she did even though I was yelling, “No, don’t go!”

  And when Dream Z closed the door I felt myself float after her and right through the closed door.

  “Okay, this is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” I spoke aloud to myself as I drifted after Dream me and Neferet, who were chatting nonchalantly together like Dream Neferet was actually a decent High Priestess and Dream Zoey was just a newly Marked fledgling—kinda like when I’d first been Marked and Neferet had seemed like a mother to me.

  I’d been very wrong about that, but this was just a dream. It was supposed to be strange.

  And the House of Night looked strange too. It seemed somehow darker and emptier than my always-busy, never-sleeping school. In the year since my friends and I had taken over, we’d expanded the human/fledgling program so much that there was usually something going on at all hours.

  Not so here. Everything was silent, and the fading light of the setting sun did nothing to alleviate the sense of gloom.

  “Um, aren’t we going the wrong way?” My dream-self’s question pulled my attention back to her and I saw that Neferet had led Dream Zoey out a back door of the school, instead of toward the administrative offices in the front of the main building.

  “Oh, I apologize. I should have explained. Your stepfather refuses to enter campus. One of the Warriors discovered him lurking outside the east wall.” Neferet paused and gave my dream-self a big, pretend smile. “That didn’t sound very charitable of me. I should have chosen another word than lurk.”

  Dream Zoey’s cheeks blazed pink and she shook her head in disgust. “No, that’s the perfect word. And I’m the one who needs to apologize. Again. My stepfather is awful. A total religious hypocrite, filled with hate and judgment.” Dream me shuddered. “Getting Marked and being able to move away from him was a relief. I’ll talk to him and be sure he doesn’t come back here and bother you or any other vampyre.”

  “Oh, my dear, please do not worry about a human man being a bother. That’s nothing new. That’s what human men seem to do best—bother their betters.”

  Dream Zoey didn’t appear to know what to say to that, and about then Neferet picked up her pace, so both of us had to hurry to keep up with her as she strode across the lawn, heading straight to the trapdoor in the east wall.

  “The east wall. That figures. Horrible stuff always happens there,” I mumbled.

  But Dream Zoey couldn’t hear me, so we followed Neferet to the trapdoor, which she tripped by pressing the stone stamped 1926, the year the wall was built. I floated through the opening behind them out to the area just outside the wall. If the sun hadn’t set yet, it sure seemed like it had, because it was so dark under the arms of the giant old oaks framing the wall that we were all cast in shadow.

  “John?” Dream Zoey called, looking around the dark, empty area. “It’s me. Zoey. What did you need to tell me?”

  Dream me was searching the ar
ea, hands on hips, obviously exasperated. But my attention wasn’t on Dream Zoey. It was on Neferet. The High Priestess had stayed close to the wall, where I noticed a wooden fencepost had been stuck into the ground—you know, like something a rancher would use to string barbed-wire on.

  But there were no barbed-wire fences in midtown Tulsa. What the hell was going on?

  Neferet went to the fencepost and opened a big duffel bag that was lying behind it—and unsheathed a long, dangerous-looking sword.

  I understood in a flash. The fencepost was way too much like the one I’d found Professor Nolan staked to, without her head.

  “Zoey! Get the hell out of here!” I yelled at my clueless dream-self, but that Z did nothing but peer around looking for her annoying stepfather.

  Soundlessly, Neferet approached her from behind, carrying the sword with two hands, looking like a samurai assassin.

  “Ohmygoddess, turn around!”

  Dream Zoey didn’t hear me, but she did turn as she said, “Neferet, I think he took off. I’m really sorry this was such a waste of your time and you had to—” Her words cut off as she saw Neferet’s sword.

  “Oh, my dear, there is absolutely no need to apologize. And things have gone exactly as I planned. When they find you they will believe this was the work of humans—the People of Faith in particular. I will have my war.” Neferet’s smile was feral—a victorious baring of her teeth. “And you will never have to be bothered by your ridiculous stepfather again. I consider it a win for both of us.”

  Dream Zoey’s eyes looked glassy with shock, and she kept shaking her head back and forth, back and forth. In a little girl’s voice she repeated over and over, “No, I don’t understand … I don’t understand … I don’t—”

  I screamed as Neferet whirled around in an arc that was as graceful as it was deadly, and with one single strike she severed Dream Zoey’s head from her body. Blood sprayed everywhere as the body collapsed, twitching spasmodically.