Burned: A House of Night Novel Read online

  “What price did Darkness exact for such knowledge?” Thanatos asked. Her face had gone absolutely white. “And how did she survive the payment of it without losing her mind or her soul?”

  “That’s what I wondered myself, especially after Stevie Rae told me how bad the white bull was. She said she didn’t think anything could defeat it except for the black bull, which was how she got away from it.”

  “She evoked the black bull, too?” Thanatos said. “That is almost unbelievable.”

  “Stevie Rae has some mad earth skillz,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, that’s how she said she got the good bull to Tulsa. She drew power from the earth to call it,” Aphrodite said.

  “And you trust this Stevie Rae vampyre?”

  Aphrodite hesitated. “Most of the time.”

  Stark expected at least one of the kids to jump in and correct Aphrodite, but they all stayed quiet until Damien said, “Why do you ask about trusting Stevie Rae?”

  “Because of the few things I know about the ancient beliefs of Light and Darkness symbolized in the bulls, one is that they always exact a price for their favors. Always. Answering Stevie Rae’s question was a favor from Darkness.”

  “But she called up the good bull and it kicked the bad bull’s butt. That kept Stevie Rae from paying a price to him,” Jack said.

  “So she then owed payment to the black bull,” Thanatos said.

  Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what she was talking about when she said she wouldn’t ever evoke either of the bulls again because the price was too high.”

  “I think you should look to your friend and discover what payment she rendered the black bull,” Thanatos said.

  “And why she wouldn’t tell me about it,” Aphrodite added.

  Thanatos’s eyes looked old and sad as she said, “Just remember, there are consequences for everything, whether good or bad.”

  “Can we stop looking back at what has happened with Stevie Rae?” Stark said. “I need to move forward. To Skye and a bridge of blood. So let’s get going.”

  “Whoa, big boy,” Aphrodite told him. “Settle for a second. You can’t just show up on the Isle of Women and bumble around looking for a bloody bridge. Sgiach’s protective spell will kick your butt—as in kill you dead.”

  “I don’t think Stark’s supposed to be looking for something literal,” said Damien, studying Aphrodite’s note again. “It says to look to your blood to discover the bridge, not look for a blood bridge.”

  “Ugh, metaphor. Just one more reason I seriously hate poetry,” Aphrodite said.

  “I’m good at metaphors,” Jack said. “Let me see.” Damien handed him the paper. Jack chewed his lip while he read the line again. “Hmm, if you were Imprinted with someone, I’d say it meant that we should talk to whoever that is, and maybe they’d know something.”

  “I’m not Imprinted with anyone,” Stark said, starting to pace again.

  “So that might mean that we need to look at who you are—that there’s something about you that’s a key to getting onto Sgiach’s island,” Damien said.

  “I don’t know anything! That’s the problem!”

  “Okay—okay, how about we look at the notes we made about Sgiach to see if there’s something there that rings a bell with you,” Jack said, making consolatory motions at Stark.

  “Yeah, chill out,” Shaunee said.

  “Take a seat and have a sandwich.” Erin gestured to the end of their bench with the sandwich she’d begun munching on.

  “Eat,” Thanatos said, taking a sandwich and sitting beside Jack. “Focus on life.”

  Stark suppressed a frustrated growl, grabbed a sandwich, and sat.

  “Oh, pull out that chart we made,” Jack said, peeking over Damien’s shoulder as he flipped through the notes he’d made. “Some of this stuff gets confusing, and visual aids always help.”

  “Good idea—here it is.” Damien ripped out a piece of paper from the yellow legal pad he’d almost filled with notes. At the top of it he’d drawn a big, open umbrella. On one side of the umbrella he’d written LIGHT and on the opposite side, DARKNESS.

  “The umbrella of Light and Darkness is a good image,” Thanatos said. “It shows that the two forces are all-encompassing.”

  “That was my idea,” Jack said, turning a little pink.

  Damien smiled at him. “Well done, you.” Then he pointed at the column beneath Light. “So under the force of Light I’ve listed: good, the black bull, Nyx, Zoey, and us.” He paused, and everyone nodded. “And under Darkness I have: evil, the white bull, Neferet/Tsi Sgili, Kalona, and Raven Mockers.”

  “I see you have Sgiach placed in the middle,” Thanatos said.

  “Yeah, along with onion rings, Hostess Ding Dongs, and my name,” Aphrodite said. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

  “Well, I don’t think we’ve decided if Sgiach is a force for Light or Darkness,” Damien said.

  “I added the onion rings and Ding Dongs,” Jack said. When everyone just stared at him, he shrugged and explained, “Onion rings are deep-fried and fattening, but an onion is a vegetable. So aren’t they good for you? Maybe? And, well, Ding Dongs are chocolate, but they have cream in the middle. Isn’t that dairy and healthy?”

  “I think you’re brain-damaged,” Aphrodite said.

  “We added your name,” Erin said.

  “Yeah, ’cause we think you’re like Rachel on Glee,” Shaunee said. “Super annoying, but she has to be in the show ’cause sometimes she comes up with good stuff and kinda sorta saves the day.”

  “But we think she’s still a hag from hell. Like you,” Erin finished, giving Aphrodite a sugary smile.”

  “Anyway”—Damien quickly erased onion rings, Ding Dongs, and Aphrodite’s name, put the chart in the middle of the table, and then went back to the yellow pad—“here’s some info we found about Sgiach,” Damien said, scanning through the notes he’d made. “She is considered a queen of Warriors. Lots of Warriors used to train on her island, so a bunch of Sons of Erebus came and went, but the Warriors who stayed with her, the ones sworn to her service—”

  “Hang on, Sgiach had more than one Oath Sworn Warrior?” Stark interrupted.

  Damien nodded. “Apparently she had a whole Clan of them. Only they didn’t call themselves Sons of Erebus. Their title was . . .” Damien paused, flipping pages. “Here it is. They were called Guardians of the Ace.”

  “Why Ace?” Stark asked.

  “It’s a metaphor,” Aphrodite said, rolling her eyes. “Another one. It’s what they called Sgiach. It symbolizes queen to their Clan.”

  “I think the Scottish clan stuff is cool,” Jack said.

  “Of course you do,” Aphrodite said. “Guys in skirts is your wet dream.”

  “Kilt, not skirt,” Stark said. “Or plaid. If you’re talking about the really old, big one you call it a philamore.”

  Aphrodite raised a blond brow at him. “And you know this because you like to wear them?”

  He shrugged. “Not me, but my grandpa used to.”

  “You’re Scottish?” Damien’s voice was incredulous. “And you’re just now telling us?”

  Stark shrugged again. “What does my human family have to do with anything? I haven’t even talked to them in almost four years.”

  “It’s not just a family,” Damien’s voice rose with excitement as he started ruffling through the pages of his notes again.

  “Oh, for crap’s sake. Your family is your blood, you moron,” Aphrodite said. “What was your grandfather’s last name?”

  Stark frowned at Aphrodite.

  “MacUallis,” Stark and Damien said together.

  “How did you know that?” Stark asked.

  “It was the Clan MacUallis who were the Guardians of the Ace.” Damien grinned victoriously, holding up the page of his notes that held the words: CLAN MACUALLIS = GUARDIANS OF THE ACE for everyone to see.

  “Looks like we found our blood bridge,” Jack said, hugging Damien.


  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Zoey

  Heath stirred and muttered something about skipping football practice and sleeping in. I watched him and held my breath as I paced my circle around where he slept.

  I mean, would you want to wake him up and tell him he was dead as dirt and wouldn’t ever be playing football again?

  Hell no.

  I tried to be as quiet as I could, but I couldn’t hold still. This time I hadn’t even pretended to lie down next to him. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to keep moving.

  We were in the middle of the same dense grove we’d run inside of before. When before? I couldn’t really remember, but the short, gnarled trees and lots of old rocks looked cool. And the moss. Especially the moss. It was everywhere—thick and soft and cushy.

  Suddenly my feet were bare, and I was distracted by sinking my feet into the moss and letting my toes play in the living carpet of green.

  Living?

  I sighed.

  Nope. I suspected nothing here was really alive, but I kept forgetting that.

  The trees made a canopy of leaves and branches, so the sun only got through enough to be warm without being too hot, but a cloud passing overhead had me looking up and shivering.

  Darkness . . .

  I blinked in surprise, remembering. That was why Heath and I were tucked away in this grove. That thing had been after us, but it hadn’t entered the grove after us.

  I shivered again.

  I had no clue what that thing had been. I only had a sense of utter darkness, a vague whiff of something that had been dead for a while, horns, and wings. Heath and I hadn’t waited to see any more. We had both been breathless with fear, and we’d run and run . . . which was why Heath was sound asleep. Again. Like I should be.

  But I wasn’t able to rest. So instead I paced.

  It really bothered me that my memory was messing up. And, what’s worse, even though you’d think if my memory was jacked, I wouldn’t know it because I, well, wouldn’t remember it—I was wrong. I knew I was missing hunks of stuff in my mind—some of it new stuff, like that I just now remembered the scary thing that had chased Heath and me into the grove. Some of it was old stuff, though.

  I couldn’t remember what my mom looked like.

  I couldn’t remember the color of my eyes.

  I couldn’t remember why I didn’t trust Stevie Rae anymore.

  What I could remember was even more upsetting. I remembered every instant of Stevie Rae dying. I remembered that my dad had left us when I was two and basically never come back. I remembered that I’d trusted Kalona, and that I’d been so, so wrong about him.

  My stomach felt sick, and, like that sickness was driving me, I kept pacing around and around the inside circumference of the grove.

  How could I have let Kalona fool me so totally? I’d been such an idiot.

  And I’d caused Heath’s death.

  My mind skittered away from that guilt. The thought was too raw, too horrible.

  A shadow caught at my vision. I started, turned quickly, and came face-to-face with her. I’d seen her before—in my dreams and in a shared vision.

  “Hello, A-ya,” I said softly.

  “Zoey,” she said, dipping her head in hello. Her voice sounded a lot like mine, except there was a sense of sadness about her that colored everything she said.

  “I trusted Kalona because of you,” I told her.

  “You had compassion for him because of me,” she corrected. “When you lost me, you also lost compassion.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “I’m still compassionate. I care about Heath.”

  “Do you? Is that why you are keeping him here with you instead of allowing him to move on?”

  “Heath doesn’t want to leave,” I shot back, and then closed my mouth, surprised at how angry I sounded.

  A-ya shook her head, causing her long, dark hair to flutter around her waist. “You haven’t stopped to think of what Heath might want—what anyone besides you might want. And you won’t, not really, not until you call me back to you.”

  “I don’t want you back. It’s because of you that this has happened.”

  “No, Zoey, it’s not. All of this happened because of a series of choices made by a number of people. This isn’t all about you.” Shaking her head sadly, A-ya disappeared.

  “Good riddance,” I muttered, and started to pace again, even more restless than before.

  When another shadow flickered at the corner of my vision, I whirled around, ready to tell off A-ya once and for all, but instead my mouth flopped open. I was staring at me. Well, actually, the nine-year-old version of me I’d seen with the other figures before they were scattered by whatever was chasing Heath and me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “We got boobies!” the kid me said, gawking at my chest. “I’m really glad we got boobies. Finally.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Finally.”

  “I kinda wish they were bigger.” The kid me kept staring at my boobies until I felt like crossing my arms over my chest, which was ridiculous because she was me—which was just weird. “But, oh, well, it could be worse! We could have been like Becky Apple, heehees!”

  Her voice was so filled with joy that she made me smile in response, but only for a second. It was like it was too hard for me to hold onto the joy she seemed to glow with.

  “Becky Renee Apple—can you believe her mom named her that and then had all of her sweaters monogrammed with ‘BRA’?” the kid me said, and then broke into giggles.

  I tried, unsuccessfully, to hold onto my smile while I said, “Yeah, that poor girl was doomed from the first day of cold weather.” I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face, wondering why I felt so inexplicably sad.

  “It’s ’cause I’m not with you anymore,” the kid me said. “I’m your joy. Without me, you can’t ever really be happy again.”

  I stared at her, knowing that, like A-ya, she was telling me the truth.

  Heath murmured in his sleep again, drawing my gaze to him. He looked so strong and normal and young, but he’d never step on another football field again. He’d never gun his truck around another slick corner and whoop like an Okie. He’d never be a husband. He’d never be a dad. I looked from him to the nine-year-old me.

  “I don’t think I deserve to be happy again.”

  “I’m sorry for you, Zoey,” she said, and disappeared.

  Feeling kinda dizzy and light-headed, I paced.

  The next version of me didn’t flicker or flutter at the edge of my vision. This version met me head-on, blocking my pacing path. She didn’t look like me. She was super tall. Her hair was long and wild and a bright copper red. It wasn’t until I met her gaze that I saw our similarity—we had the same eyes. She was another piece of me; I knew her.

  “So who are you?” I said wearily. “And what part of me am I going to be missing if I don’t get you back?”

  “You may call me Brighid. Without me, you lack strength.”

  I sighed. “I’m too tired to be strong right now. How about we talk again after I take a nap?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Brighid shook her head disdainfully. “Without us, you won’t take a nap—you won’t get better—you won’t rest. without us, you just get more and more incomplete, and you drift.”

  I tried to focus through the headache that was building in my temples. “But I’d be drifting with Heath.”

  “Yes, you might be.”

  “And if I get all of you back together inside me, I’ll leave Heath.”

  “Yes, you might.”

  “I can’t do that. I can’t return to a world without him,” I said.

  “Then you truly are broken.” Without another word, Brighid disappeared.

  My legs gave out, and I sat down hard on the moss. I only knew I was crying when my tears started making wet marks on my jeans. I don’t know how long I sat there, bent with grief and confusion and weariness, but eventu
ally a sound slipped inside my mental fog: wings, rustling, beating against the wind, hovering, dipping, searching.

  “Come on, Zo. We need to get farther into the grove.”

  I looked up to see that Heath was crouching beside me. “This is my fault,” I said.

  “No, it’s not, but why does it matter so much whose fault it is? This is done, babe. It can’t be undone.”

  “I can’t leave you, Heath,” I sobbed.

  He brushed the hair back from my face and handed me another ball of Kleenexes. “I know you can’t.”

  The sound of enormous wings got louder; tree boughs behind us swayed in response.

  “Zo, let’s talk about this later, ’kay? Right now we need to move again.” He grabbed me under one of my elbows, lifted me to my feet, and started to guide me deeper into the grove, where the shadows were darker and the trees even more ancient-looking.

  I let him move me. It felt better to move. Not good. I didn’t feel good. But it was better when I wasn’t holding still.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” I said listlessly.

  “Him?” Heath asked, helping me step over a rough gray stone.

  “Kalona.” The word seemed to change the density of the air around us. “He’s come for me.”

  Heath gave me a sharp look, and shouted, “No, I’m not going to let him get you!”

  Stevie Rae

  “No, I’m not going to let him get you!” Dragon shouted.

  Along with everyone else in the Council Chamber, Stevie Rae stared at the Sword Master, who looked like he might be getting ready to pop a major blood vessel.

  “Uh, him who, Dragon?” Stevie Rae said.

  “That Raven Mocker who killed my mate! That’s why you can’t go out alone until we track that creature down and destroy it.”