Hidden

Neferet watched Sylvia’s eyes widen and saw fear shadow them. The old woman’s gaze did not waver, but her song faltered. Her voice began sounding old … weak … tremulous …

“Now, children! You have tasted my blood and Sylvia Redbird has been anointed by it. Entrap her—bring me the old woman!” Neferet’s voice changed, and became rhythmic. Darkly she mirrored Sylvia’s earthy war song.

“You need not kill.

You need only sate my rage.

You drank your fill.

Now create for me a cage.

I’ll make old new.

You’ll feast on youth, vibrant, strong.

To me be true.

And kill this old woman’s song!”

The tendrils obeyed Neferet. They avoided the old woman’s turquoise stones. They wrapped around her naked, unadorned feet, halting her rhythmic dance. Like the floor of a jail cell, Darkness formed from her feet, spreading, and then growing up and up and up, caging Sylvia, and finally, finally her song was silenced, replaced by an agonized scream as they lifted her and, moving through shadow and mist, carrying the terrible cage and its prisoner, Darkness followed their mistress.

Aurox

Aurox waited until the sun was high in the winter sky before he climbed from the pit again. The morning had dawned cloudy and gray, but as the endless hours passed the winter sun had broken through the mist and shadows. At noon, when the sun was highest in the sky, Aurox emerged.

He did not allow the sense of urgency that skittered under his skin to make him careless. Aurox used the sinuous muscles of his arms to hold firm to the roots and hang, partially belowground, partially aboveground. He used all of his paranormal senses to seek. I must get away without being seen, was foremost in his mind.

The school was not as silent as it had been the day before. Human workmen were busily repairing the damaged section of the stables. Aurox saw no vampyres, but the human cowboy, Travis, seemed to be everywhere. Yes, his hands and forearms were still swathed in white gauze bandages, but his voice was so strong that it drifted across the school grounds to Aurox. Lenobia did not show herself in the noonday sun, but she did not need to. Travis was there for her, and not simply with the workmen. The cowboy interacted freely with the horses. Aurox watched him move the huge Percheron and Lenobia’s black mare from one makeshift round pen to another.

He does not merely work for Lenobia. She trusts him. The realization surprised Aurox. If a High Priestess can trust a human so much in times of stress and tumult, perhaps there is a chance that Zoey can—

No. Aurox would not allow himself to indulge in such a fantasy. He’d heard what he was. Zoey had heard what he was. They all had! He had been formed by Darkness through the lifeblood of Zoey’s mother. He was beyond her trust or her forgiveness.

There is only one person on this earth who trusts me—only one person who forgives me. It is to her that I must go.

Aurox hung there, peering through the roots and the shards of bark, waiting … watching … Finally the humans began to meander from the stables, talking about how glad they were to be within walking distance of Queenies so they could have the Ultimate Egg sandwich for lunch, and laughing. Friends always laughed.

Aurox longed to share the laughter of friends.

When their backs were to him and their voices faded, the boy pulled himself fully from the pit and, monkey-like, scaled the felled tree to where it rested against the wall of the school, and then vaulted over it.

Aurox wanted to sprint—to call the beast and tear the soil and run with all of his otherworldly might. Instead he forced himself to walk. He brushed the dirt, leaves, and grass from his clothing. He ran his fingers through the matted mess that was his hair, breaking apart the clumps of mud and blood, and combing it into some semblance of normalcy.

Normal was good. Normal was not noticed. Normal was not apprehended.

The vehicle was exactly where he’d left it the day before. The keys were still in the ignition. Aurox’s hands trembled only a little as the engine turned over and he made his way from the rear parking lot of Utica Square and headed southeast—to sanctuary.

The drive seemed to take only a moment. Aurox was thankful for that. As he turned the car down Grandma Redbird’s lane, he rolled down his windows. Even though the day was cool, he wanted to drink in the scent of lavender, and with it accept the calm it offered. Just as he accepted the sanctuary Grandma Redbird had offered.

When Aurox parked before her wide front porch, everything changed. At first he didn’t understand it—couldn’t process it. The scent hit him, but he fought the knowledge he breathed in with it.

“Grandma? Grandma Redbird?” Aurox called as he got out of the car and jogged around the side of the little cottage. He expected to find her beside the crystal stream—she belonged there. She should have been humming a joyful song. Peaceful. Secure. Safe.

She was not there.

A terrible premonition washed over him. Aurox remembered the fetid scent that had drifted to him amidst the lavender air when he’d parked before Grandma’s home.

Aurox ran.

“Grandma! Where are you?” he was shouting as he rounded the side of the cottage, his feet sliding in the loose gravel that paved the small parking space in front of the home.

Aurox grabbed the railing of the porch, and took the six stairs in two wide strides, stopping in the center of the wide, wooden deck, just before Grandma’s closed front door. Aurox yanked the door open and ran inside.

“Grandma! It’s me, Aurox, your tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na. I have returned!”

Nothing. She was not here. It felt wrong, so very wrong.

Aurox retraced his steps, moving to the middle of the porch. The scent was thickest there.

Darkness. Fear. Hatred. Pain. Aurox could read all those emotions and more from the blood that spattered the porch. As he stood there, breathing heavily, taking in the terrible knowledge of violence and destruction, the smoke came to him. It lifted from around his moccasin-clad feet in swirls, carrying wisps of information. Imprinted in the gray mist was an ancient song that lifted around him, feather-like. Within it Aurox could hear the echo of a courageous woman’s voice.

Aurox closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Please, he pleaded silently, let me know what has happened here.

Feelings assailed him—hatred and anger. Those feelings were easy to understand, familiar. “Neferet,” he whispered. “You have been here. I scent you. I feel you.” But after the familiar emotions came those which knocked him to his knees.

Aurox felt Sylvia Redbird’s courage. He knew her wisdom and determination, and finally her fear.

He fell to his knees. “Oh, Goddess, no!” Aurox cried to the heavens. “This is Neferet’s blood, drawn by Grandma Redbird. Did Neferet kill her as she did her daughter? Where is Grandma’s body?”

There was no answer except the sighing of the listening wind and the a

“Rephaim! Is that you?” Aurox ran his hands through his dirty hair while the raven stared at him, turning his head from side to side. “I wish the Goddess would take the bull within me and make me a bird. If she did I would take to the skies and fly forever and ever.”

The raven croaked at him, then spread his wings and flew away, leaving Aurox completely alone.

In equal parts Aurox wanted to weep in despair and frustration, as well as to call the beast to him and attack someone, anyone, in anger and fear.

The boy who was also a beast chose to do neither. Instead Aurox did nothing—nothing at all, except think. He sat on Grandma’s porch for a very long time, and amidst the residue of blood and smoke, fear and courage, Aurox reasoned his way to truth.