“Yeah,” I said.

“Here goes—I’m tired and it’s making me stupid. And about your mom, we don’t know what really happened and I think it’s freaking both of us out. But no matter what I love you, even if I’m a jerk. Okay? Better?”

“Okay. Yeah. Better,” I said.

Still letting him hold my hand I looked out of the window as we took the left on Fifteenth Street, passed Gumpy’s Garden, which always made the air smell like piñon wood, and traveled down Cherry Street. By the time we were on Utica, and passing Twenty-first, I was completely distracted by worry about my mom and my grandma—and wondering if maybe Stark could be right to question what I thought had been my vision. I mean—I hadn’t heard from Grandma. What if it had all been a bad dream …

“It’s always so pretty.” Damien’s voice drifted back from the front seat he’d automatically chosen as his own. “When you look at it from here, it’s so hard to believe that such horrible, heartbreaking things could happen there.”

I heard the sob in his voice, squeezed Stark’s hand once before letting it go, and then lurched up the aisle to sit beside Damien.

“Hey,” I said, sliding my arm through his. “You have to remember that wonderful, heartmaking things happen there, too. Don’t ever forget that’s where you met Jack and fell in love with him.”

Damien stared at me and I thought he looked sad but really, really wise.

“How are you doing without Heath?”

“I miss him,” I said honestly. Then something made me add, “But I don’t want to be like Dragon, eaten up by sadness.”

“Me, either,” Damien said softly. “Even though sometimes it’s hard not to be.”

“It hasn’t been very long.”

Clamping his lips tightly together, as if to keep himself from crying, he nodded his head.

“You’ll get through this,” I said. “And so will I. We will. Together,” I said firmly.

Then we were going through the iron gate that had the crescent moon crest on the middle of it, and driving around to the side entrance of the school.

“School Council Meeting begins at seven thirty,” said the Son of Erebus Warrior as the bus came to a halt. “Classes begin at eight o’clock sharp, just like they should.”

“Thank you,” I said to him like he’d actually been friendly (or at least respectful). Then I glanced at my phone: 7:20 P.M. Ten minutes until the meeting and forty before school started. I stood up and looked back at the group of obviously nervous kids.

“Okay,” I said. “Just go to your old homerooms and wait there for what to do next. Stevie Rae, Stark and I are going to the Council Meeting and, as they’d say on the Isle of Skye, get Rephaim’s and your permanent schedules sorted.”

“How ’bout me? Ain’t I comin’ to the Meeting?” Kramisha asked. “It’s usually borin’, but I bet today it’ll be better than usual.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s about time they started to automatically include you, along with Stevie Rae and me.”

“Where do I go?” Rephaim asked from the back of the bus.

I was thinking, trying to figure out where the heck he should go when Damien stood up beside me. “You can come with me—at least for today. If that’s okay with Zoey and Stevie Rae.”

I smiled at Damien. I don’t think I’d ever been so proud of him. Everyone would be worried about him and handling him like he could break down into hysteria at any second, so if he latched onto Rephaim, no way would anyone question him—they’d be too scared of upsetting Damien.

“Thank you,” I said.

“That’s a real good idea, Damien,” Stevie Rae said.

“All right. Try to act normal,” I said. “And I’ll see you guys back here after school.”

“My first hour was Spells and Rituals,” I heard Aphrodite mutter to Darius. “And there’s that new vamp teaching it who looks like she’s twelve. This should be fun.”

“Remember,” Stevie Rae said, giving Aphrodite a hard look she totally ignored, “be nice.”

We filed off the bus. I could see how difficult it was for Stevie Rae to let Rephaim go with Damien. We didn’t really know what he could be walking into, but we did understand that the chances of him being accepted and treated like the normal kid he longed to be were slim to none.

When Stevie Rae, Stark, and Kramisha and I were alone I said, “Ready to enter the lion’s den?”

“I’m thinkin’ it’s more like headin’ into a nasty wasp nest,” Kramisha said. “But I’m ready.”

“Me, too. Let’s cowboy up and get this done.”

“Deal,” I said.

“Deal,” they repeated.

And we walked into a future that was already making my stomach clench and feel like a raging IBS episode was going to hit me at any moment.

Ah, hell.

CHAPTER THREE

Kalona

He didn’t have to fly long to find his sons. Kalona followed the thread that connected him to his offspring. My loyal children, he thought as he circled the tree-covered rolling hills of the less populated and heavily wooded land that was just a short distance southwest of Tulsa. At the very topmost part of the highest of the ridges Kalona dropped from the sky, easily navigating between the thick, winter nude branches to stand in the middle of a small clearing. Around him, built into the trees themselves, were three wooden structures, crude but sturdily made. Kalona’s sharp gaze saw into the windows of the structures where scarlet orbs glowed in his direction.

He opened his arms. “Yes, my sons, I have returned!” The sound of wings was balm to his soul. They burst from the raised shacks and knelt around him, bowing low and respectfully. Kalona counted them—seven.

“Where are the others?”

All of the Raven Mockers stirred restlessly, but only one face tilted up to meet his gaze and only one hissing voice responded.

“Wessst hiding. Lossst in the land.”

Kalona studied his son, Nisroc, cataloguing the differences between this Raven Mocker and the one who used to be his favorite child. Nisroc was nearly as evolved as Rephaim. His speech was almost human. His mind was almost sharp. But it had been that almost, that fine line between them, that had made Rephaim the son upon which Kalona had depended and not Nisroc.

Kalona clenched and unclenched his jaw. He had been foolish to lavish such attention on Rephaim alone. He had many sons from which to choose and to show favor. It was Rephaim who had lost when he’d chosen to leave. Rephaim had but one father, and he would find poor substitute in an absent goddess and a vampyre who could never truly love him. “It is good that you are here,” Kalona said, cutting off thoughts of his absent son. “But I would have preferred that all of you stayed together and awaited my return.”

“Hold them, I could not,” Nisroc said. “Rephaim dead—”

“Rephaim is not dead!” Kalona snapped, causing Nisroc to shudder and bow his head. The winged immortal paused and regained control of his temper before he continued. “Though it would be better for him if he were dead.”

“Father?”

“He has chosen to serve the red vampyre Priestess and her Goddess.”

The group of Raven Mockers hissed and cringed as if he had struck them.

“Posssible? How?” Nisroc said.

“It is possible because of females, and their manipulations,” Kalona said darkly. He knew all too well how one could fall prey to them. He’d even been brought low by …

In sudden realization, the immortal blinked and spoke, more to himself than his son, “But their manipulations do not last!” He shook his head and almost smiled. “Why did I not consider it sooner? Rephaim will tire of being the Red One’s pet, and when he does he will realize what a mistake he has made—a mistake that is not entirely his and his alone. The Red One manipulated him, poisoned him, turned him against me. But it is only temporary! When she rejects him, because ultimately she will, he will leave the House of Night to return to my—”