Marked
“What the—?” I whispered.
“It’s just a trick. You’ll see.”
I did. It was actually a trap door. Like the kind you see in those old murder movies, only instead of a door in a library wall or inside a fireplace (as in one of the Indiana Jones movies—yes, I’m a dork), this trap door was a small section of the thick, otherwise solid-looking school wall. Part of it swung out, leaving an open space just big enough for one person (or fledgling or vamp or possibly even a freakishly solid ghost or two) to slip through. Erik and I were the last ones through. I heard a soft whoosh, and looked back in time to see the wall closing seamlessly.
“It’s on an automatic keypad, like a car door,” Erik whispered.
“Huh. Who all knows about this?”
“Anyone who’s ever been a Dark Daughter or Son.”
“Huh.” I suspected that was probably most of the adult vamps. I glanced around. I didn’t see anyone watching us, or following us.
Erik noticed my look. “They don’t care. It’s school tradition that we sneak out for some of the rituals. As long as we don’t do anything too stupid, they pretend like they don’t know we’re going.” He shrugged. “It works out okay, I guess.”
“As long as we don’t do anything too stupid,” I said.
“Shush!” Someone in front of us hissed. I closed my mouth and decided to concentrate on where we were going.
It was about four thirty A.M. Uh, no one was awake. Big surprise. It was weird to be walking through this really cool part of Tulsa—a neighborhood filled with mansions built by old oil money—and have nobody notice us. We were cutting through amazingly landscaped yards and no dogs were even barking at us. It was as if we were shadows . . . or ghosts. . . . The thought gave me a creepy chill. The moon that earlier had been mostly obscured by clouds was now shining silver-white in an unexpectedly clear sky. I swear that even before I was Marked I could have read by its light. It was cold, but that didn’t bother me like it would have just a week ago. I tried not to think about what that meant about the Change that was going on inside my body.
We crossed a street, then slid soundlessly between two yards. I heard running water before I saw the little footbridge. The moonlight lit up the stream as though someone had spilled mercury across the top of it. I felt captured by its beauty, and I automatically slowed down, reminding myself that night was my new day. I hoped that I would never get used to the dark majesty of it.
“Come on, Z,” whispered Erik from the other side of the bridge.
I looked up at him. He was silhouetted against an incredible mansion that stretched up the hill behind him with its huge, terraced lawn and pond and gazebo and fountains and waterfalls (these people clearly had entirely too much money), and he reminded me of one of those romantic heroes out of history, like . . . like . . . Well, the only two heroes I could think of were Superman and Zorro, and neither of them were truly historical. But he did look very knight-like and romantic. And then it registered on me exactly which amazing mansion we were trespassing on, and I hurried across the bridge to him.
“Erik,” I whispered frantically, “this is the Philbrook Museum! We’re really going to get in trouble if they catch us messing around here.”
“They won’t catch us.”
I had to scramble to keep up with him. He was walking fast, much more eager than me to catch up with the silent, ghostlike group.
“Okay, this isn’t just some rich guy’s house. This is a museum. There are twenty-four-hour security guards here.”
“Aphrodite will have drugged them.”
“What!”
“Ssssh. It doesn’t hurt them. They’ll be groggy for a while and then go home and not remember anything. No big deal.”
I didn’t reply, but I really didn’t like that he was so ‘whatever’ about drugging security guards. It just didn’t seem right, even though I could understand the need for it. We were trespassing. We didn’t want to get caught. So the guards needed to be drugged. I got it. I just didn’t like it, and it sounded like yet another thing that was begging to be changed about the Dark Daughters and their holier-than-thou attitudes. They reminded me more and more of the People of Faith, which was not a flattering comparison. Aphrodite wasn’t God (or Goddess, for that matter), despite what she called herself.
Erik had stopped walking. We stepped up to join the group where it had formed a loose circle around the domed gazebo situated at the bottom of the gentle slope that led up to the museum. It was close to the ornamental fishpond that ended right before the terraces leading up to the museum began. It really was an incredibly beautiful place. I’d been there two or three times on field trips, and once, with my Art class, I’d even been inspired to sketch the gardens, even though I definitely can not draw. Now the night had changed it from a place with pretty, well-tended gardens and marble water features into a magical fairy kingdom all washed in the light of the moon and shaded by layers of grays and silvers and midnight blues.
The gazebo itself was amazing. It sat on the top of huge round stairs, throne-like, so that you had to climb up to it. It was made of carved white columns, and the dome was lit from beneath, so that it looked like something that could have been found in ancient Greece, and then restored to its original glory and lit for the night to see.
Aphrodite climbed the stairs to take her place in the middle of the gazebo, which immediately sucked some of the magic and beauty from it. Naturally, Warlike, Terrible, and Wasp were there, too. Another girl was with them, who I didn’t recognize. Of course I could have seen her a zillion times and wouldn’t have remembered—she was just another Barbie-like blond (although her name probably meant something like Wicked or Hateful). They’d set up a little table in the middle of the gazebo and draped it with black cloth. I could see that there were a bunch of candles on it, and some other stuff, including a goblet and a knife. Some poor kid was slumped with his head down on the table. A cloak had been pulled around him, so that it covered his body, and he looked a lot like Elliott on the night he’d been the refrigerator.
It must really take a lot out of a kid to have his blood drained for Aphrodite’s rituals, and I wondered whether that had anything to do with bringing on Elliott’s death. I blocked from my mind the fact that my mouth started watering when I thought about the kid’s blood being mixed with the wine in the goblet. Weird how something could totally gross me out and make me want it really bad at the same time.
“I will cast the circle and call the spirits of our ancestors to dance within it with us,” Aphrodite said. She spoke softly, but her voice traveled around us like a poisonous mist. It was spooky to think about ghosts being drawn to Aphrodite’s circle, especially after my own recent experiences with ghosts, but I have to admit that it intrigued me almost as much as it scared me. Maybe I was so certain I had to be here because I was meant to get some clue about Elizabeth and Elliott tonight. Plus, this ritual was obviously something the Dark Daughters had been doing for a while. It couldn’t be that scary or dangerous. Aphrodite played all big and cool, but I had a feeling that it was an act. Underneath she was what all bullies are—insecure and immature. Also, bullies tended to avoid anyone tougher than them, so it was only logical that if Aphrodite was going to call spirits into a circle it meant that they were harmless, probably even nice. Aphrodite was definitely not going to face down a big, bad, boogie monster.
Or anything as truly freaky as what Elliott had become.
I started to relax into welcoming what was already becoming a familiar hum of power as the four Dark Daughters took candles that corresponded to the element they were representing, and then moved to the correct area of the mini-circle in the gazebo. Aphrodite summoned wind, and my hair lifted gently in a breeze that only I could feel. I closed my eyes, loving the electricity that tingled across my skin. Actually, in spite of Aphrodite and the stuck-up Dark Daughters, I was already enjoying the beginning of the ritual. And Erik was standing beside me, which helped me not to care that no one e
lse there would talk to me.
I relaxed more, certain suddenly that the future wasn’t going to be that bad. I’d make up with my friends, we’d figure out together what the hell was going on with the weird ghosts, and maybe I’d even get a totally hot boyfriend. Everything would be okay. I opened my eyes and watched Aphrodite move around the circle. Each element sizzled through me, and I wondered how Erik could stand so close to me and not notice it. I even snuck a peek at him, half expecting him to be staring at me as the elements played over my skin, but, like everyone else, he was looking at Aphrodite. (Which was actually annoying—wasn’t he supposed to be sneaking looks at me, too?) Then Aphrodite began the ritual of summoning of the ancestral spirits, and even I couldn’t keep my attention from her. She stood at the table, holding a long braid of dried grass over the purple spirit flame, so that it lit quickly. She allowed it to burn for a little while, and then blew it out. She waved it gently around her as she began to speak, filling the area with tendrils of smoke. I sniffed, recognizing the scent of sweet grass, one of the most sacred of ceremonial herbs because it attracted spiritual energy. Grandma used it often in her prayers. Then I frowned and felt a tendril of worry. Sweet grass should be used only after sage has been burned to cleanse and purify the area; if not, it might attract any energy—and “any” didn’t always mean good. But it was too late to say anything, even if I could have stopped the ceremony. She had already begun calling to the spirits, and her voice had taken on an eerie, singsong quality that was somehow intensified by the smoke that curled thickly around her.
On this Samhain night, hear my ancient call all you spirits of our ancestors. On this Samhain night, let my voice carry with this smoke to the Otherworld where bright spirits play in the sweet grass mists of memory. On this Samhain night I do not call the spirits of our human ancestors. No, I let them sleep; I have no need for them in life or in death. On this Samhain night I call magical ancestors—mystical ancestors—those who were once more than human, and who, in death, are more than human.
Completely entranced, I watched with everyone else as the smoke swirled and changed and began to take on forms. At first I thought I was seeing things, and I tried to blink my vision clear, but soon I understood what I was seeing had nothing to do with blurry vision. There were people forming within the smoke. They were indistinct, more like the outlines of bodies than actual bodies themselves, but as Aphrodite continued to wave the sweet grass they grew more substantial, and then suddenly the circle was filled with spectral figures that had dark, cavernous eyes and open mouths.
They didn’t look anything like Elizabeth or Elliott. Actually, they looked exactly as I imagined ghosts would—smoky and transparent and creepy. I sniffed the air. Nope, I definitely didn’t smell any old basement yuckiness.
Aphrodite put down the still-smoking grass and picked up the goblet. Even from where I was watching, it seemed that she looked unusually pale, as though she had taken on some of the physical characteristics of the ghosts. Her red dress was almost painfully bright within the circle of smoke and gray and mist.
“I greet you, ancestral spirits, and ask that you accept our offering of wine and blood so that you may remember what it is to taste life.” She lifted the goblet, and the smoky shapes churned and roiled with obvious excitement. “I greet you, ancestral spirits, and within the protection of my circle I—”
“Zo! I knew I’d find you if I tried hard enough!”
Heath’s voice sliced through the night, cutting off Aphrodite’s words.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Heath! What in the hell are you doing here!”
“Well, you didn’t call me back.” Oblivious to everyone else, he hugged me. I didn’t need the bright light of the moon for me to see his bloodshot eyes. “I missed you, Zo!” he blurted, wafting beer breath all over me.
“Heath. You need to go—”
“No. Let him stay,” Aphrodite interrupted me.
Heath’s gaze swiveled up to her, and I imagined what she must look like through his eyes. She stood in the pool of light made by the gazebo’s spotlights shining through the sweet grass smoke, illuminating her almost as though she was underwater. Her red silk dress clung to her body. Her blond hair was thick and heavy down her back. Her lips were tilted up in a mean-looking smile, which I’m sure Heath would misunderstand and think she was being nice. Actually, he probably wouldn’t even notice the smoky ghosts that had stopped hovering around the goblet and had now turned their blank eyes toward him. He also wouldn’t notice that Aphrodite’s voice had a weird, hollow sound to it and that her eyes were glassy and staring. Hell, knowing Heath he wouldn’t notice anything except her big boobies.
“Cool, a vampyre chick,” Heath said, totally proving me right.
“Get him out of here.” Erik’s voice was tight with worry.
Heath tore his eyes from Aphrodite’s boobs to glare at Erik. “Who’re you?”
Ah, crap. I recognized that tone. It was the one Heath used when he was getting ready to have a jealous fit. (Another reason he was my ex.)
“Heath, you need to get out of here,” I said.
“No.” He stepped closer to me and put his arm possessively around my shoulders, but he didn’t look at me. He kept staring down Erik. “I came to see my girlfriend, and I’m gonna see my girlfriend.”
I ignored the fact that I could feel Heath’s pulse where his arm rested against my shoulders. Instead of doing something utterly gross and disturbing, like biting into his wrist, I shrugged off his arm and then yanked at it so he had to face me and not Erik.
“I am not your girlfriend.”
“Aw, Zo, you’re just sayin’ that.”
I gritted my teeth. God, he was dumb. (Yet another reason he was my ex.)
“Are you stupid?” Erik said.
“Look, you bloodsucking fuck, I’m—” Heath began to say, but Aphrodite’s strangely echoing voice drowned him out.
“Come up here, human.”
Like our eyes were magnets to her freaky attraction, Heath, Erik, and I (and, for that matter, the rest of the Dark Daughters and Sons) stared up at her. Her body looked weird. Was it pulsing? How could it? She flipped back her hair and ran one hand down her body like a nasty stripper, cupping her breast and then moving down to rub between her legs. Her other hand lifted and she curled her finger, beckoning Heath.
“Come to me, human. Let me taste you.”
This was bad; this was wrong. Something terrible was going to happen to Heath if he went up there and stepped within that circle.
Totally entranced by her, Heath lurched forward without any hesitation (or common sense). I grabbed one of his arms, and was pleased to see Erik grab his other.
“Stop it, Heath! I want you to go. Now. You don’t belong here.”
With an effort, Heath pulled his eyes from Aphrodite. He jerked his arm from Erik’s grip and practically growled at him. Then he turned on me.
“You’re cheating on me!”
“Can you not listen? It’s impossible for me to cheat on you. We are not together! Now get out of—”
“If he refuses our summons, then we shall go to him.”
My head jerked up to see Aphrodite’s body convulse as gray wisps seeped out of her. She let out a gasp that was a cross between a sob and a scream. The spirits, including the ones that had obviously been possessing her, rushed to the edge of the circle, pressing against it in an effort to break free and get to Heath.
“Stop them, Aphrodite. If you don’t they’ll kill him!” Damien shouted as he stepped out from behind an ornamental hedge that framed the pond.
“Damien, what—” I began, but he shook his head.
“No time to explain,” he told me quickly before turning his attention back to Aphrodite. “You know what they are,” he called up to her. “You have to contain them in the circle or he’ll die.”
Aphrodite was so pale she looked like a ghost herself. She moved away from the smoky shapes that were still trying to push
against the invisible boundary of the circle, until she was pressed against one edge of the table.
“I won’t stop them. If they want him, they can have him. Better him than me—or any of the rest of us,” Aphrodite said.
“Yeah, we don’t want any part of this kind of shit!” said Terrible before dropping her candle, which sputtered and went out. Without another word, she ran out of the circle and down the gazebo stairs. The other three girls who were supposed to be personifying the elements followed her lead, disappearing quickly into the night and leaving their candles overturned and unlit.
Horrified, I watched one of the gray shapes begin to melt through the circle. The smoke that was his spectral body began seeping down the stairs, reminding me of a snake as it slithered in our direction. I felt the Dark Daughters and Sons stir and glanced around me. They were nervously backing away, looks of fear twisting their faces.
“It’s up to you, Zoey.”
“Stevie Rae!”
She was standing unsteadily in the middle of the circle. She’d thrown off the cape that had covered her, and I could see the white linen bandages on her wrists.
“I told you we needed to stick together.” She smiled weakly at me.
“Better hurry,” Shaunee said.
“Those ghosts are scaring the shit right outta your ex,” Erin said.
I looked over my shoulder to see the Twins standing beside the white-faced, open-mouthed Heath, and I felt a jolt of pure happiness. They hadn’t abandoned me! I wasn’t alone!
“Let’s get this done,” I said. “Keep him here,” I told Erik, who was staring at me with obvious shock.
Without needing to look back to be sure my friends were following me, I hurried up the steep stairs to the ghost-filled gazebo. When I reached the boundary of the circle I hesitated for a second. The spirits were slowly dissolving through it, their attention completely focused on Heath. I took a deep breath and stepped inside the invisible barrier, feeling an awful chill as the dead brushed restlessly against my skin.