“What if Dallas is hotfootin’ it back to the House of Night? He’ll tell them about us.”

Rephaim hesitated only for a moment. “Then do what you must. You know where I will be.” He turned to leave.

“Take me with you.”

Her words made his body freeze. He didn’t look at her. “It’s close to dawn.”

“You’re healed, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“You’re strong enough to fly and carry me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then take me back to the Gilcrease with you. I’ll bet that old place has a basement.”

“What about your friends—the other red fledglings?” he said.

“I’ll call Kramisha and tell her Dallas has lost his mind, and I’m safe, but not in the tunnels, and that I’ll explain stuff tomorrow.”

“When they find out about me, it will appear you’re choosing me over them.”

“What I’m choosing is to take some time to think before I have to deal with the shitstorm Dallas is brewin’ up,” she said. Then, in a much softer voice, she added, “Unless you don’t want me to come with you. You could take off—get outta here—then you won’t have to deal with the mess that’s comin’.”

“Am I or am I not your consort?” Rephaim asked the question before he could stop himself.

“Yes. You are my consort.”

He hadn’t known he was holding his breath until it left him in a long, relieved sigh. Rephaim opened his arms to her. “Then you should come with me. I will see you rest undisturbed today.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then Rephaim’s High Priestess stepped into his arms. He held her tightly while his powerful wings lifted them into the sky.

Stevie Rae had been right. There was a basement in the old mansion. It had stone walls and a hard-packed dirt floor, but it was surprisingly dry and comfortable. With a relieved sigh, Stevie Rae settled herself, sitting cross-legged, leaning against the cement wall, and pulled out her cell phone. Rephaim stood there, not sure what he should do, while she called the fledgling named Kramisha and began a dialogue of hasty and sketchy explanations as to why she wouldn’t be returning to the school: Dallas has lost his damn mind . . . electricity must have jacked with his good sense . . . kicked me outta Z’s car on the way back to the House of Night . . . no, I’m fine . . . probably be back tomorrow night . . .

Feeling like an interloper, Rephaim left her to talk with her fledgling in privacy. He returned to the attic and paced before the open door of the closet he’d transformed into a nest.

He was tired. Even though he was fully healed, racing the sunrise carrying Stevie Rae had sapped his reserves of strength. He should retreat to the closet and rest during the daylight hours. Stevie Rae wouldn’t leave the basement until sunset.

Stevie Rae couldn’t leave the basement.

She could be hurt during daylight hours. It was true that the red fledglings were all vulnerable between dawn and dusk, so Dallas wasn’t a threat to her until dark. But what if a human stumbled upon her?

Slowly, Rephaim gathered the blankets and food staples he’d accumulated and began carrying them to the basement. It was fully daylight when he made his last trip down the stairs. She’d ended the phone call and was curled up in the corner. Stevie Rae barely stirred when he covered her with a blanket. Then he made himself comfortable beside her. Not so close they were touching, but not so far away that she wouldn’t see him immediately when she awoke. And he made sure he was positioned between her and the door. If someone tried to enter, they would have to get through him to reach her.

Rephaim’s last thought before he fell asleep was that he finally understood the ever-present sense of rage and restlessness that surrounded his father. Had Stevie Rae truly rejected him today and cast him from her, his world would have forever been colored by the loss of her. And that understanding held more terror for him than the possibility of having to face Darkness again.

I do not want to live in a world without her. Utterly exhausted by feelings he could barely comprehend, the Raven Mocker slept.

Chapter 24

“I know it could kill me to enter the Otherworld, but I don’t want to live in this world without her.” Stark kept himself from shouting, but he couldn’t keep his frustration from boiling over into his voice. “So just show me what I need to do to get to where Zoey is, and I’ll take it from there.”

“Why do you want Zoey back?” Sgiach asked him.

Stark ran his hand through his hair. The exhaustion that came with daylight pulled at him, fraying his nerves and jumbling his thoughts, and he blurted the only answer his tired mind could form, “Because I love her.”

The queen seemed not to react at all to his declaration; instead, she was studying him with a considering expression. “I sense that Darkness has touched you.”

“Yeah,” Stark nodded, though her statement confused him. “But when I chose to be with Zoey, I chose Light.”

“Aye, but would yie still choose it if it meant losin’ what yie love most?” said Seoras.

“Wait, the whole point of Stark going to the Otherworld is so that he can protect Zoey. Then she’ll be able to pull her shattered soul together and come back to her body. Right?” Aphrodite said.

“Aye, she can choose to return if her soul’s whole again.”

“Then I don’t understand your question. If Z comes back, he doesn’t lose her,” she said.

“My Guardian is explaining that Zoey will be changed if she returns from the Otherworld,” Sgiach said. “What if the change takes her on a path that leads away from Stark?”

“I’m her Warrior. That won’t change, and it means I stay with her,” Stark said.

“Aye, laddie, as her Warrior fer sure, but perhaps not as her love,” Seoras said.

Stark felt a dagger turn in his stomach. Still, without hesitation, he said, “I’d die to get her back. No matter what.”

“Our deepest emotions are sometimes separated only by the type of human beings we are at our cores,” the queen said. “Lust and compassion, generosity and obsession, love and hate. They are often all very close to one another. You say you love your queen enough to die for that emotion; but if she no longer loved you in return, what color would your world be then?”

Dark. The word came instantly to Stark’s mind, but he knew he shouldn’t say it.

Thankfully, Aphrodite’s big mouth saved him.

“If Z didn’t want to be with him, as in a guy with a girl, it would suck for Stark. That’s a no-brainer. That doesn’t mean he’d go over to the Dark Side, and I know you know what that means ’cause your guy gets Star Trek, and one dork goes hand in hand with another. Anyway, isn’t it the truth that what Stark would or wouldn’t do in some not-happened, made-up, Zoey-dumps-him scenario is really between Stark and Zoey and Nyx? Seriously. Goddess knows I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but you’re a queen, not a Goddess. There’s some shit you just can’t control.”

Stark held his breath, waiting for Sgiach to use Star Trek or Star Wars or what the hell ever and blast Aphrodite into a zillion little pieces. Instead, the queen laughed, which made her look unexpectedly girlish.

“I’m glad I am not a Goddess, young Prophetess. The small piece of the world I control is far more than enough for me.”

“Why do you care so much about what Stark might or might not do?” Aphrodite asked the queen even though Darius was giving her what Stark thought of as “Stop talking now” looks.

Sgiach and her Guardian shared a long look, and Stark saw the Warrior nod slightly, as if the two of them had just come to an agreement.

Queen Sgiach said, “The balance of Light and Darkness in the world can shift because of a single act. Though Stark is only one Warrior, his actions have the potential to affect many.”