“For how long?” he asked her. “How long must I hide from this vampyre?”

She shook her head. “I got a warning, not a timeline.”

“I’d rather not hide.”

“I’d rather not have you dead,” Stevie Rae said.

“I’d rather sleep,” Aphrodite said.

“All right, let’s go,” I said. I handed Darius my last bottle of water. “Try to make her drink this between glasses of wine.”

“I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I can’t hear you.” She made a toasting gesture with her glass and then drained it.

“You’re under the influence, so I’m ignoring you,” I said. “Get some rest. I’ll talk to you later.”

We moved from Aphrodite’s room, Rephaim and Stevie Rae holding hands and talking in low voices to each other as we made our way up through the tunnels and outside where we were going to wait for a very confused delivery boy who I was going to be sure got an excellent tip.

“What do you think about the vision?” Stark asked, putting his arm around me and holding me close to him.

“I think Stevie Rae is going to be a problem. She’s going to try to protect Rephaim so much that she’s gonna end up getting him killed.”

Stark nodded and looked grim. “That’s how Darkness works. It turns love into something bad.”

His words surprised me. He sounded so cynical, so old. “Stark, Darkness can’t turn love into anything. Love is the only thing that lasts through Darkness and death and destruction. You know that—or you used to.”

He stopped then and all of a sudden I was in his arms and he was holding me so tight that he almost stopped my breath.

“What is it?” I whispered to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes I think I should have been the one to die and Heath should have been the one who stayed with you. He believed in love a lot more than I do.”

“I don’t think the amount of belief you have is what’s important. I think it’s what you have belief in that matters.”

“Then we’ll be okay because I believe in you,” he said.

I wrapped my arms around him and held on, trying to reassure him and myself with touch when words just didn’t seem to be enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Neferet

How goes the pursuit of chaos, my heartless one? The white bull’s deep voice echoed through her mind.

Neferet turned almost in a complete circle before she caught sight of his luminous, magickal coat, his massive horns, his cloven hoofs. He was approaching her from behind the tomb over which the statue of an angelic young girl looked down, head bowed. Time had crumbled one of her stone hands and Neferet thought her expression made it seem as if the angel had given part of herself as an offering, perhaps to the white bull.

The thought made Neferet burn with jealousy.

She walked to meet her bull, moving slowly, languorously. Neferet knew she was beautiful, yet still she felt compelled to pull power from the surrounding shadows to enhance herself. Her long, thick hair glistened, much like the liquid silk of her black gown. She’d chosen it because it reminded her of Darkness—reminded her of her bull.

Neferet stopped before him and dropped gracefully to her knees. “The pursuit of chaos goes well, my lord.”

So, I am your lord? How interesting.

Neferet tilted her head back and smiled seductively up at the massive god. “Would you rather I call you my Consort?”

Ah, the naming of a thing. There is power in it.

“There is, indeed.” Neferet lifted her hand and touched one of his thick horns. It glistened like opals.

I approve of your name for the vessel. Aurox, after the great and mighty auroch bulls of old. There is something fitting and right in that name.

“I am glad you approve, my lord,” she said, thinking that still he hadn’t said whether she could or could not call him Consort.

And how does he serve you, this creature created through an imperfect sacrifice?

“He serves me well. I see no imperfection when I look at him, only a gracious gift from you.”

You will remember that I warned you, though, will you not? The vessel may be cracked.

“The vessel himself is unimportant,” Neferet said dismissively. “He is simply a means to an end.” She stood and moved closer to him. “We need not waste precious moments speaking of Aurox. He will serve me, and serve me well—or he will cease to exist.”

You cast aside my gifts so easily?

“Oh, no, my lord!” she assured him. “I simply listen to you and hear your warning. Can we not speak of something more pleasurable than an empty vessel?”

You mentioned Consort. It brought to mind something I would like to show you—something you might, perhaps, find interesting.

“I am yours to command, my lord.” Neferet curtseyed.

The enormous incarnation of Darkness knelt, offering his back to her. Come, my heartless one.

Neferet climbed astride him. His coat was ice—slick and cold and impenetrable. He carried her into the night, sliding inhumanly fast through shadows, riding the currents of night, using the hidden, horrible things that always, always did his bidding, until he finally halted in the thickest shadows under ancient, winter nude trees on a ridge southwest of Tulsa.

“Where are we?” Neferet shivered as she clung to him.

Quietly, my heartless one. Observe silently. Watch. Listen.

Neferet watched, listened, and very soon what she believed to be a tall, muscular man descended from one of three stilted wooden shacks that sat atop the ridge before her. He walked to the edge of the ridge and sat on a huge, flat sandstone boulder.

It was only after he sat that she saw his wings. Kalona! She thought his name, did not speak it, but the bull answered her. Yes, it is your old Consort, Kalona. Let us move closer. Let us observe. The night around them rippled and reformed, cloaking the bull and Neferet eerily, so that it seemed they were only part of the fabric of shadows and the lazy mist that had suddenly begun to unfurl over the ridge.

Neferet held her breath as the bull moved silently and invisibly closer to Kalona, so close that she could see over his broad shoulder and realized he was holding a cellular phone. He began touching the screen, and Neferet could see it light up. The winged immortal hesitated, his finger hovering indecisively.

Do you know what you are seeing?

Neferet stared at Kalona. His shoulders slumped. He rubbed his forehead. He bowed his head as if in defeat and finally, reluctantly, placed the phone gently on the rock beside him.

No, Neferet thought. I do not know what I’m seeing.

Kalona, fallen Warrior of Nyx, longs for someone who is absent from him. Someone he does not have the courage to contact.

Me? She couldn’t stop the thought.

The bull’s humorless laughter drifted through her mind. No, my heartless one. Your old Consort longs for the company of his son.

Rephaim! Neferet’s anger began to build. He longs for that boy?

He does, though he has not yet put words to the feeling. Do you know what that means?

Neferet thought before she spoke. She discarded jealously and envy and all the trappings of mortal love. Then, and only then did she truly understand. Yes. It means Kalona has a very big weakness.

It does, indeed.

They began to fade away from the ridge, slipping from shadow to shadow, riding the night. Neferet stroked the bull’s neck, thought about new possibilities, and smiled.

Rephaim

“We gotta talk about Aphrodite’s vision,” Stevie Rae said.

Rephaim took one of her curls and twirled it around a finger. When he’d completely captured it, he tugged playfully. “You talk. I will touch your hair.”