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Aurox’s body went still. He could not even find his breath. He felt as if Thanatos had just disemboweled him. He wanted to shout: It is not true! IT IS NOT TRUE! but her words continued to bludgeon him.

“Zoey, Damien, Shaunee, Erin, Stevie Rae, Darius, Stark, Rephaim, and I!” she shouted each name. “We bore witness to Neferet’s dark deeds. Dragon Lankford died so that our witness could be made public. Now we must take up the battle that felled our Sword Master. Kalona, I am pleased to hear your confession. You attempted to usurp Erebus, though it was only on earth. It is clear to the High Council that you were goaded by the machinations of Neferet. I do accept you as Death’s Warrior and the school’s protector, but you may not lead the Warriors who have been sworn as his sons. That would be disrespectful to the Goddess as well as her Consort.” Aurox saw the immortal’s eyes flash with momentary anger, but he bowed his head to Thanatos and fisted his hand over his heart before saying, “So mote it be, High Priestess.” Then he backed to the edge of the circle, where anyone near him took small, but conspicuous half steps away.

Thanatos called for Shaunee to invoke fire and light the funeral pyre. As the pillar of fire engulfed Dragon Lankford’s pyre, Aurox dropped from the tree and, unseen by anyone, stumbled back to the shattered oak and disappeared belowground where, alone, he sobbed his despair and self-hatred into the torn earth.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Zoey

“Is everything okay, Z?” Stark spoke low next to my ear as my circle group and I gathered near the entrance to the school lobby. Thanatos had asked us to wait for her to finish speaking with the professors and Warriors, and then she’d join us for the press conference.

“I’m sad about Dragon,” I whispered back to him.

“I didn’t mean that.” He kept his voice soft, so that I was the only one who could hear him. “I meant is everything okay with the stone? I saw you touch it during the funeral.”

“I thought I felt it heat up for a little while, but then it went away. It was probably just because we were standing so close to the pyre. Speaking of”—I raised my voice and said to Shaunee—“good job with the fire part of Dragon’s funeral. I know it’s not easy to keep lighting funeral pyres, but you help. You make it get over with faster.”

“Thanks. Yeah, we’re all sick of funerals. At least before this one we got to watch Dragon enter the Otherworld, but seeing the cats up there on the pyre with him made it especially sad.” She wiped her eyes and I wondered how she (or anyone) could bawl and still look pretty. “Actually, that reminds me,” Shaunee continued, turning so she faced Erin, who was hanging at the tail end of our group, gawking at the kids still by the pyre like she was looking for someone. “Erin, is it cool with you if I move Beelzebub’s litter box and stuff to my room? He’s been sleeping there most days.”

Erin glanced at Shaunee, shrugged, and said, “Yeah, whatever. That litter box smells like shit anyway.”

“Erin, cats don’t like to use a dirty litter box. You have to clean it every day,” Damien informed her with a frown.

Erin gave a sarcastic little snort. “Not anymore I don’t have to.” Then she returned to checking out the other kids.

I noticed she wasn’t crying. I thought about it and realized she hadn’t cried once during the entire funeral. At first this whole Twin breakup had seemed to freak Shaunee out the most, but as time passed I was starting to notice that Erin was not acting like herself. Although, I suppose that’s normal, since acting like herself used to mean acting just like Shaunee, who was now acting a lot more mature and nicer. I made a mental note to find time to talk to Erin, to make sure she was okay.

“Dang, I wish Thanatos hadn’t told Rephaim to wait with the rest of the kids on the bus. He was super upset at the funeral. I hate leaving him alone like that,” Stevie Rae said, coming up beside me.

“He’s not alone. He’s with all the other red fledglings. I watched them walk over to the bus. Kramisha was talking to him about poetry being a way to vent emotions.”

“Kramisha will baffle birdboy with her poetry crap. Blah … blah … rhyming iambic blah,” Aphrodite said. “Plus, even you have to understand that letting the human public know about his little ‘bird issue’”—she air quoted—“isn’t a good idea.”

“Hey there, uh, sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for the school lobby.”

As a group, we turned and gawked at the human who was walking toward us down the sidewalk that led from the main parking lot. Behind him trailed a guy holding a camera and a big bag of stuff crammed into a black bag slung over his shoulder and a long gray mic-thing dangling over his head.

Predictably, Damien was the first of us to pull himself together. I mean, Damien really should be crowned Miss Congeniality for the Tulsa House of Night.

“You are absolutely at the correct spot. Well done, you, for finding us!” Damien’s smile was so warm that I watched the tense set of the human’s shoulders relax. Then he actually held out his hand and said, “Excellent. I’m Adam Paluka, from Tulsa’s Fox News 23. I’m here to interview your High Priestess and, I’m guessing, some of you as well.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Paluka. I’m Damien,” Damien said, taking his hand. Then he giggled a little and added, “Oooh, strong grip!”

The reporter gri

Damien giggled again. Adam chuckled. They made major eye contact. Stevie Rae nudged me and we shared a Look. Adam was cute, seriously cute in a young, up-and-coming metro-sexual guy way. Dark hair, dark eyes, good teeth, really good shoes, and a man satchel, which Stevie Rae and I spotted together. Our eyes telegraphed to each other potential boyfriend for Damien!

“Hi there, Adam, I’m Stevie Rae.” She stuck out her hand. As he took it she said, “You don’t have a girlfriend, do ya?”

His straight-toothed smile faltered, but only a little. “No. I don’t, um. No. I absolutely do not have a girlfriend.” Then his eyes took in Stevie Rae’s red tattoo Mark. “So, you’re one of the new kind of vampyres your ex-High Priestess has been talking about.”

Stevie Rae gave him a big smile. “Yep, I’m the first Red Vampyre High Priestess. Cool, isn’t it?”

“Your tattoo is certainly pretty,” Adam said, looking more curious than uncomfortable.

“Thank you!” Stevie Rae gushed. “This here’s James Stark. He’s the first Red Vampyre Warrior. His tattoo is awesome, too.”

Stark put his hand out. “Nice to meet ya. And you don’t have to tell me my tattoo is pretty.”

Adam’s face lost some of its color, but he shook Stark’s hand. His smile seemed genuine—nervous, but genuine.

“Hi,” I chimed in, shaking his hand. “I’m Zoey.”

Adam’s gaze quickly shifted from the full tattoo on my face, to the V-neck of my T-shirt and the glimpse of tattooing across my collarbone, down to my palm, which was also covered in the same filigree tattoo. “I didn’t know vampyres were getting additional tattooing done. Is your artist here in Tulsa?”

I gri

“Um, no, I don’t have a boyfriend, either. At least not currently.” Adam glanced at Damien, who met his gaze.

Success! was what I was thinking when Aphrodite snorted and said, “Oh, for shit’s sake, this isn’t The Bachelorette. I’m Aphrodite LaFont. Yes, the mayor is my father. Whoop-dee-fucking-do.” She wrapped her arm through Darius’s. “And this is my Warrior, Darius.”

Adam’s cute brow went up as he took in Aphrodite’s school sweater, with the sixth former insignia of the three Fates sewn over her left breast pocket. “Are human beings allowed to attend the House of Night?”