Betrayed

I almost didn't hear Aphrodite's whispered, "I am sorry ..."

"We'll expect much better news next month."

"Yes, Mother."

"Good, now walk us back to the reception hall so that we can mingle with the others."

"Can I please stay here for a little while? I'm really not feeling very well."

"Absolutely not. What would people say?" her mother said. "Pull yourself together. You'll escort us back to the hall and you'll be gracious about it. Now."

Aphrodite was slowly standing up from the bench, and heart beating so hard I was afraid it would give me away, I hurried back down the path till I came to the fork that would take me out of the courtyard. Then I practically ran from the garden.

I thought about what I'd overheard all the way back to the dorm. I believed that I had nightmare parents, but they were like The Brady Bunch mom and dad (hello—I watch Nickelodeon re­runs like everyone else) compared to Aphrodite's hateful, power-freak parents. Much as I hated to admit it, what I saw tonight made me understand why Aphrodite acted like she did. I mean, what would I be like if I hadn't had Grandma Redbird to love me and support me and help me grow a backbone these past three years? And that was something else, too. My mom had been nor­mal. Sure, she'd been stressed out and overworked, but she'd been normal for the first thirteen of my almost seventeen years of life. It was only after she married John that she changed. So I'd had a good mom and a fantastic grandma. What if I hadn't? What if all I'd ever known was how it had been for the past three years—me being an unwanted outsider in my own family?

I might have turned out like Aphrodite, and I might still be let­ting my parents control me because I was hoping desperately that I would be good enough, make them proud enough, so that some­day they would really love me.

It made me see Aphrodite with totally new eyes, which I wasn't particularly thrilled about.

CHAPTER 3

"Yeah, Zoey, I understand what you're sayin' and all, but hello! Part of what you overheard was that Aphrodite is go

"I know—I know. I'm not getting all warm and fuzzy about her. I'm just saying that after overhearing her with her psycho parents I understand why she is like she is."

We were walking to first hour. Well, actually, Stevie Rae and I were practically ru

Stevie Rae rolled her eyes. "And you say I'm too nice."

"I'm not being nice. I'm being understanding. But under­standing doesn't change the fact that Aphrodite acts like a hag bitch from hell."

Stevie Rae made a snorting noise and shook her head, causing her blond curls to bounce like she was a little girl. Her short cut was odd at the House of Night where everyone, even most of the guys, had ridiculously long, thick hair. Okay, my hair has always been long, but still—it was really weird when I first got here and was bombarded with hair hair hair. Now it made perfect sense.

Part of the physical Change that happens as we become vampyres is that our hair and nails grow abnormally fast. After a little prac­tice, you can tell what year a fledgling is without checking the crest on her jacket. Vampyres looked different than humans (not bad different—just different), so it's only logical that as a fledg­ling passes through more and more of the Change her body looks different, too.

"Zoey, you're so not paying attention."

"Huh?"

"I said, don't let your guard down about Aphrodite. Yes, she has nightmare parents. Yes, they're controlling and manipulating her. Whatever. She's still hateful and mean and vindictive. Watch out for her."

"Hey, don't worry. I will."

"Okay, good. I'll see you third hour."

"See ya," I called to her back. Jeesh, she was such a worrier.

I hurried into class and had just taken my seat in the desk next to Damien, who raised an eyebrow at me and said, "Another two-bowl morning?" when the bell rang and Neferet swept into the room.

Okay, I know it's bordering on weird (or maybe queer is the better word choice) to continually notice how gorgeous a woman is when you're a woman, too, but Neferet is so damn beautiful that it's like she has the ability to focus all the light in the room on herself. She was wearing a simple black dress and totally to die for black boots. She had on her silver Goddess path earrings and, as always, the silver embroidered Goddess rested over her heart. She didn't exactly look like the Goddess Nyx—who I swear I'd seen in a vision the day I was Marked—but she had the Goddess's aura of strength and confidence. I'll just admit it. I wanted to be her.

Today was unusual. Instead of lecturing for most of the hour (and, no, amazingly enough Neferet was never a boring lecturer) she gave us an essay assignment on the Gorgon, who we had been studying all week. We learned that actually she had not been a monster who turned men to stone with a glance. She had been a famous vampyre High Priestess whose Goddess-given gift was an affinity, or a special co

But I was too restless to write. Plus, I had all weekend to finish the essay. I was way more worried about the Dark Daughters. The full moon was Sunday. I would be expected to lead the ritual for the Dark Daughters. I realized everyone was also expecting me to make an a

I ignored Damien's curious look as I quickly gathered up my notebook and went up to Neferet's desk.

"Problem, Zoey?" she asked.

"No. Uh, yes. Well, actually, if you would let me go to the me­dia center for the rest of the hour, my problem would probably go away." I realized I was nervous. I'd only been at the House of Night for a month, and I still wasn't sure about the protocol for being excused from class. I mean, there were only two kids in the entire month who'd gotten sick. And they'd died. Both of them. Their bodies had rejected the Change, one had happened right in front of me during Lit class. It had been totally gross. But other than the occasional dying kid students rarely missed class. Nef­eret was watching me, and I remembered that she was an intu­itive and she could probably sense the ridiculous babble going on in my head. I sighed. "It's Dark Daughters stuff. I want to come up with some new leadership ideas."

She looked pleased. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Probably, but I need to do some research and get my ideas straight first."

"Very well, come to me when you're ready. And feel free to spend as much time in the media center as you need," Neferet said.

I hesitated. "Do I need a pass?"

She smiled. "I am your mentor and I have given you permis­sion, what more could you need?"

"Thanks," I said, and hurried out of the classroom feeling stu­pid. I would be so glad when I'd been at the school long enough to know all the little inside rules. And, anyway, I don't know what I'd been so worried about. The halls were deserted. Unlike my old high school (South Intermediate High School in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma—which is a totally boring suburb of Tulsa) there were no Napoleon Complex, overly ta