Hidden: A House of Night Novel Read online

Stark grabbed his pillow and wadded it behind him so that he was propped up in bed. He crossed his arms, shook his head, and looked away from me. “I think you were doing a lot more than just sleeping.”

  I wanted to strangle him.

  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I asked him.

  “You said his name.”

  “Whose name?” I blinked, having a flashback to that creepy old movie Invasions of the Body Snatchers and wondering if Stark had turned into a pod person.

  “Heath’s!” Stark scowled. “Three times. It woke me up.” Still not looking at me, he said, “What were you dreaming?”

  What he’d said had shocked the hell out of me, making me mentally scramble. What the hell had I been dreaming? I thought back. I remembered Stark kissing me before I went to sleep. I remembered the kiss was super hot, but I’d been super tired and instead of doing more than kissing him back, I’d put my head on his shoulder and totally passed out. After that I didn’t remember a thing until he was shaking me and yelling at me to stop it.

  “I have not one clue,” I said honestly.

  “You don’t have to lie to me.”

  “Stark, I wouldn’t lie to you.” I brushed my hair from my face and then touched his arm. “I don’t remember dreaming about anything.”

  He looked at me then. His eyes were sad. “You were calling Heath. I’m sleeping right here next to you, but you were calling for him.”

  The way he sounded made my heart squeeze. I hated that I’d hurt him. I could have told him it was ridiculous of him to be mad at me for something I’d said when I was asleep—something I hadn’t even remembered, but ridiculous or not, Stark’s hurt was real. I slid my hand in his.

  “Hey,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  He threaded his fingers with mine. “Do you wish he was here instead of me?”

  “No,” I said. I’d loved Heath since I was a kid, but I wouldn’t trade Stark for him. Of course, the rest of the truth was that had Stark been the one killed, I wouldn’t have traded Heath for him, either. But that was definitely something Stark didn’t need to hear—not now—not ever.

  Loving two guys was a confusing mess, even when one of them was dead.

  “So, you’re not calling out for him because you want to be with him instead of me?”

  “I want you. Promise.” I moved forward and he opened his arms to me. I fit perfectly against his chest and breathed in his familiar smell.

  He kissed the top of my head and hugged me. “I know it’s stupid of me to be jealous of a dead guy.”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “Especially when I actually liked the dead guy.”

  “Yep,” I agreed.

  “But we belong together, Z.”

  I leaned back so that I could look into his eyes. “Yes,” I said seriously, “we do. Please don’t ever forget that. No matter what amount of crazy is going on around us—I can handle it, but I need to know my Warrior is here for me.”

  “Always, Z. Always,” he said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Stark. Always.” I kissed him then and showed him that he absolutely didn’t have to be jealous of anyone else. And, at the same time, for just a little while, I let the heat of his love burn away the memory of what I’d seen when I’d looked through the Seer Stone that night …

  * * *

  Next time I woke up it was because I was way too hot. I was still in Stark’s arms, but he’d shifted a little and thrown his leg over me, cocooning me in my fuzzy blue blanket. This time he wasn’t being Crazy Boyfriend. He looked cute and little-boy young and out cold.

  As per usual, Nala had made her bed on my hip, so before she could grumble I scooped her up, and slid both of us as gently and quietly as I could to the other, cooler, side of the bed. Totally asleep, Stark made a vague motion with his sword hand, as if reaching out for me. I focused on happy thoughts—brown pop, new shoes, kittens that didn’t sneeze in my face—and he relaxed.

  I tried to relax, too—for real. Nal stared at me. I scratched behind her ears and whispered, “Sorry for waking you up. Again.” She butted her face against my chin, sneezed on me, and then jumped back on my fuzzy blue blanket, circled three times, and returned to being a sleeping fur donut.

  I sighed. I needed to do like Nala—curl up and go back to sleep, but my mind was too awake. With awakeness came thinking. After we’d made love, Stark had sleepily murmured, “We’re together. Everything else will work itself out.” I’d fallen asleep feeling secure that he was right.

  Now that I was, sadly, fully conscious, I couldn’t avoid the whole think-too-much-worry-too-much thing. Although, my guess was if Stark knew what I’d imagined I’d seen through the Seer Stone last night, he’d take back his everything else will work itself out comment, and turn back into Mr. I’m Jealous of a Dead Guy.

  I put my hand over the small round stone that hung on a slender silver chain around my neck and dangled innocently between my breasts. It felt normal—like any other necklace I could have worn. It wasn’t radiating weird heat. I pulled it from under my T-shirt and slowly lifted it. I drew a deep, fortifying breath, and peeked through it at Stark.

  Nothing strange happened. Stark stayed Stark. I turned the necklace a little and took a peek at Nala. She stayed a fat, sleeping, orange cat.

  I put the Seer Stone back under my shirt. What if I had imagined it? Seriously. How could Heath be in Aurox? Even Thanatos said he’d been created by Darkness through the sacrifice of my mom. He was a Vessel—a creature under the control of Neferet.

  But she’d needed to kill Shadowfax to totally control him, and he had asked those questions about what he really was to Thanatos.

  Okay, but does any of that make a difference? Aurox wasn’t Heath. Heath was dead. He’d gone on to a deeper realm of the Otherworld that I hadn’t been able to go because Heath was dead.

  Reflecting my restlessness, Stark stirred, frowning in his sleep. Nala cat grumbled again. No way did I want either of them awake again, I got quietly out of bed and tiptoed from the room, ducking under the blanket Stark and I used as a door.

  Brown pop. I needed a serious dose of brown pop. Maybe I’d get lucky and there would be some Count Chocula and uncurdled milk left, too. Yum, just thinking about it made me feel a little better. I could seriously heart me some breakfast cereal.

  I shuffled down the dimly lit tunnel, following it past turn-offs and other blanket-covered doorways behind which my friends rested as we waited for the sun to set, until I entered the alcove which was the common area we used as a kitchen. The tunnel sorta dead-ended there, making room for some tables, laptops, and a few full-sized fridges. “There’s gotta be some brown pop left in here somewhere,” I muttered to myself, as I rummaged through the first fridge.

  “It’s in the other one.”

  I made a stupid-sounding squeak and jumped. “Jeesh, Shaylin! Don’t lurk like that. You almost scared the pee outta me.”

  “Sorry, Zoey.” She went to the second of the three fridges, and pulled out a can of fully leaded, totally loaded with sugar and caffeine brown pop, handing it to me with an apologetic smile.

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I sat in the closest chair and sipped my pop, trying not to sound as grumpy as I felt.

  “Yeah, well, I’m tired and all. I can feel the sun hasn’t set yet, but I got a lot on my mind. Know what I mean?”

  I gave a little snort. “I super know what you mean.”

  “Your color’s kinda off.” Shaylin made the comment as nonchalantly as if she’d just said something as normal as mentioning the color of my shirt.

  “Shaylin, I don’t really get this color stuff you talk about.”

  “I’m not sure how much of it I really get, either. All I know is that I see it and if I don’t think about it too much it usually makes sense to me.”

  “Okay, give me an example of how it usually makes sense to you.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll use you as my example. Your colors don’t change very
much. Most of the time you’re purple with silver flecks. Even when you were getting ready to go to the ritual at your grandma’s place, and you knew it was gonna be a hard thing to watch, your colors stayed the same. I checked because…” Her voice trailed off.

  “You checked because?” I prompted.

  “Because I was curious. I checked the nerd herd’s colors before you left, but, well, I just realized how invasive that sounds.”

  I furrowed my forehead at her. “It’s not like you’re reading our minds or anything like that. Is it?”

  “No!” she assured me. “But the longer I have this True Sight stuff, and the more I practice it, the more real it gets for me. Zoey, I think it tells me things about people—things that they sometimes would rather keep hidden.”

  “Like Neferet. You said she’s dead-fish-eye color on the inside, and on the outside she’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, like that. But also like what I’m seeing with you. It’s like Kramisha would say, I’m not keeping to my own business.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re seeing with me, and then I’ll tell you whether I think you’re poking too much into my business.”

  “Well, since you’ve been back from the ritual at your grandma’s house, your colors are darker.” She paused, stared at me, shook her head, and then corrected herself. “No, that’s not totally accurate. It’s not that they’re just darker—it’s that they’re murkier. Like the purple and the silver got swirled together and muddied.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, starting to understand what she meant by violation. “I get that you see a difference in me, and that’s kinda strange, especially when you said my colors don’t usually change. But what does it mean to you?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I think it means you’re confused about something—something serious. It’s bothering you. Really messing with your head. Is that kinda right?”

  I nodded. “That’s kinda right.”

  “And does it make you feel weird that I know that?”

  I nodded again. “Yeah, a little.” I thought about it for a second and then added, “But here’s the truth—I’d feel less weird if I knew I could trust you not to blab to everyone that my colors are murky and I’m real confused about something. That’s the violation part.”

  “Yeah.” She sounded sad. “That’s what I thought, too. I want you to know that you can trust me. I’ve never been a blab-er. Also, this gift Nyx gave me when I was Marked, well, it’s totally incredible. Zoey, I can see again.” Shaylin looked like she could burst into tears. “I don’t want to mess it up. I’m going to use the gift the way Nyx wants me to.”

  I could tell she was seriously upset, and I felt bad for her—I especially felt bad that I had had something to do with her being upset. “Hey, Shaylin, it’s okay. I understand what it’s like to have a gift you feel a big responsibility for and don’t want to mess up. Hell, you’re talking to the Queen of Mess Up.” I paused, and then added, “It’s part of what I’m confused about right now. I do not want to make one more immature, stupid, wrong decision. What I do and say affects way more people than just me. When I make crappy decisions it’s like a domino mess up. Fledglings, vampyres, and humans can all be screwed. That sucks, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do have a gift from Nyx, and I am responsible for how it’s used.”

  Shaylin thought about that for a while, and I sipped my brown pop. I was actually liking talking to her. It was way better than brooding about Aurox and Heath and Stark and Neferet and—

  “Okay, how about this,” Shaylin interrupted my internal non-brooding brood. “What if I see colors change for a person? Is it my responsibility to tell someone—someone like you?”

  “What do you mean? Like come to me and say ‘Hey, Zoey, your colors are all murky. What’s up?’”

  “Well, maybe, but only if we’re friends. What I was thinking about was more like today when I saw Nicole. Her colors were like the rest of Dallas’s group—all blood-like, swirled together with browns and blacks—like something bleeding in a sandstorm. Last night, at the stables, hers had changed. There was still a rusty red there, but it looked clearer, brighter, but not in a bad way. More like in a getting cleaner way. It’s weird, but I swear I saw some blue in her. Not like sky blue, though. More like the ocean. That’s what made me think that the bad in her might be washing away, and after I thought it, it felt right.”

  “Shaylin, what you’re saying is really confusing,” I said.

  “Not to me it isn’t! It’s getting less and less confusing. I just know things.”

  “I get that, and I believe you’re telling me the truth. The problem is that your knowing is so subjective. It’s like you’re grading life, and people are the answers, but instead of your people answers being true-false, where it’s easy to judge whether what you’re getting is right or wrong, they’re essays. And that means your response could depend on lots of different things. None of it is black and white.” I sighed. My own analogy was making my head hurt.

  “But, Zoey, life isn’t black and white or true and false, and neither are people.” She sipped her pop, which I noticed was clear. I was thinking that I really didn’t understand clear pop—it had no caffeine in it and never seemed sweet enough—when she continued, “I understand what you’re trying to say, though. You believe I see people’s colors. You just don’t believe in my judgment of them.”

  I started to deny it, and say something that would make her feel better, but a nudge from within had me changing my mind. Shaylin needed to hear the truth. “Basically, yes, that’s it.”

  “Well,” she said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, “I think my judgment is good. I think it’s getting better and better, and I want to use my gift to help. I know we have a fight coming. I heard what Neferet did to your mom, and how she’s chosen Darkness over Light. You’re going to need someone like me. I can see inside people.”

  She was right. I did need her gift, but I also needed to know I could trust her judgment. “Okay, so, let’s start. How about you keep your eyes open? Let me know if you see anyone’s color changing.”

  “The first one I want to report is Nicole. Erik told me about her. I know she’s been real bad in the past. But the truth is in her colors, and they say she’s changing.”

  “All right. I’ll keep that in mind.” I raised my brows at her. “Speaking of keeping stuff in mind—I’m not being mean or anything like that, but you need to keep an eye on Erik. He’s not always—”

  “He’s arrogant and selfish,” she interrupted me, meeting my gaze steadily. “He’s gotten by on how hot he is and how talented he is. Life’s been easy for him, even after you dumped him.”

  “Did he tell you I dumped him?” I couldn’t tell if she was being bitchy or not. She didn’t sound like it, but then again, I didn’t know her very well. It did seem like every time I saw her, I saw Erik. Not that I cared. Seriously. It wasn’t jealous. It was more like I felt responsible for warning her.

  “He didn’t have to tell me. About a billion other kids beat him to it,” she said.

  “I don’t have any hard feelings toward Erik. I mean, he can be with whoever he wants. If you like him, that’s no problem at all with me.” I realized I was having a bout of verbal IBS, but I couldn’t seem to stop talking. “And he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, either. That’s way over. It’s just that Erik—”

  “Is a dickhead.” Aphrodite’s voice saved me. She walked past us, yawning, and stuck her head in one of the fridges. “And now you’ve heard it from two of his ex-girlfriends. Ex being the most important part of that sentence.” She came over to the table and put a jug of orange juice and a bottle of what I guessed was super expensive champagne down in front of the empty chair beside me. “Of course, Z didn’t call him a dickhead. She was being nice.” As she spoke, Aphrodite went back to the fridge and got into the freezer. There was the sound of glasses clanking against each other. When she came back to the table she was holding a frosty crys
tal glass that was long and slender, like you see people drinking out of at New Year’s Eve parties on TV. “Me, I’m not so nice. Dick. Head. That’s our Erik.” She popped the champagne cork, sloshed a tiny bit of orange juice in the glass, and then filled it to almost overflowing with bubbly champagne. She grinned at the glass and said, “Mimosa—as my mom would say, breakfast of champions.”

  “I know what Erik is,” Shaylin said. She didn’t sound pissed. She didn’t sound pleased. She sounded sure of herself. “I also know what you are.”

  Aphrodite raised one blond brow at her and took a long drink of her mimosa. “Do tell.”

  Uh-oh, I thought. I suppose I should’ve done something to stop what was going to happen, but it was a little like standing on train tracks and trying to push a car out of the way. I was more likely to get smashed than to get the car out of trouble—so I gawked and drank my brown pop instead.

  “You’re silver. That reminds me of moonlight, which tells me you’ve been touched by Nyx. But you’re also a buttery yellow color, like the light of a small candle.”

  “Which tells you what?” Aphrodite studied her well-manicured fingernails, clearly not caring about Shaylin’s answer.

  “Which tells me that, like a little candle, you could be easily blown out.”

  Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed and she slapped her hand against the tabletop. “That’s it, new kid. I have been through too much battle-against-Darkness crap to put up with your mouth or your know-it-all attitude.” She looked like she was getting ready to go for Shaylin’s throat. I was considering running and trying to find Darius when Stevie Rae bubbled into the room.

  “Hey, y’all! ‘Mornin’!” she said around a big yawn. “Man, I’m tired. Is there any Mountain Dew left in the fridge?”

  “Oh, for shit’s sake, it’s not morning. It’s sunset. And why the hell is everybody awake?” Aphrodite threw up her hands.

  Stevie Rae frowned at her. “It’s polite to say mornin’ to people, even if it’s not technically correct. And I like to be up early. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

  “He’s a bird!” Aphrodite said, pouring herself some more champagne.