Hidden (House of Night Novels) (18 page)

Erebus didn’t hesitate. He lifted both hands and commanded, “Conceal us!”

There was a rush of wind and a feeling of lightness that Kalona found so familiar, so bittersweet, that only two responses came to his mind—anger or despair. He would not allow Erebus to see his despair.

“You defy Nyx? She has proclaimed that I may not enter the Otherworld. How dare you take me here!” Kalona’s night-colored wings were fully extended and he tensed, ready to attack his brother.

“You always play the impetuous fool, brother. I would never go against my Consort’s proclamations. I did not bring you to the Otherworld. I only brought a piece of the Otherworld to you to shield us, if only for a few moments, from mortal eyes.” Erebus smiled again. This time he did not dim the beauty of his expression. Sunlight glowed from his body. His wings glistened with feathers of gold. His skin was perfect as if he had been fashioned from the rays of the sun.

He had been,
Kalona thought with disgust.
He had been fashioned when the sky kissed the sun. Just as I had been fashioned when the sky kissed the moon. The sky, like most immortals, is a fickle bastard who took as he pleased and then paid no attention to the offspring he left behind.

“How does it feel? Better than when you snuck in, chasing after that little fledgling, Zoey Redbird. Then you were only spirit. You could not feel the magick of Nyx’s realm against your skin. And you always were so impressed by anything you could touch, could physically claim as your own.”

Good,
Kalona thought,
he becomes angry. That will cause his perfection to blur.

It was Kalona’s turn to smile. The light he turned on his brother was not the hot, garish light of the sun. It was the cool, silver luminescence of the moon. “Still jealous that I touched her after all this time? You do remember Nyx is a goddess, do you not? She could not be touched had it not been her will, her desire, to be stroked, caressed, loved by—”

“I did not come here to speak of my Consort!” The words exploded in flashes of golden heat around Kalona.

“Such a display of godly temper!” Kalona chuckled sarcastically. “And they named you the good one. If only the lackeys that choose to remain in the Otherworld could see you now.”

“It is not that they named me the good one. They named you the usurper!” Erebus hurled the words at his brother.

“Truly? Ask again. I believe, after eons of careful consideration, they would name me the one who refused to share her,” Kalona said.

“She chose me.” Erebus’s voice was low; his fists were clenched at his sides.

“Did she? My memory differs.”

“You betrayed her!” Erebus shouted.

Kalona ignored his brother’s temper tantrum. He had witnessed them before. Instead he spoke with the coldness of the moon’s surface. “Why did you come? Say what you have to say and then be gone. The mortal world is not much of a realm, but it is mine. I will not share it with you, just as I would not share her with you.”

“I come to warn you. We heard your oath in the Otherworld. We know you have pledged to be Death’s Warrior and to become Sword Master of this school.”

“And Leader of the Sons of Erebus,” Kalona added. “Do not forget the rest of my title.”

“I could never forget that you intended to blaspheme my children.”

“Children? Are you mating with humans now and producing males that grow up to be vampyre Warriors? That is fascinating, especially as I was judged so harshly for creating my sons.”

“Walk away.” Erebus’s golden eyes began to glow. “Leave this place and stop meddling in the lives of Nyx’s vampyres and in the lives of the honorable Warriors who have pledged themselves to my service.”

“But are you not meddling by commanding me away? I am surprised Nyx allowed it.”

“My Consort does not know I am here. I came only because you are, again, causing her turmoil. I live to keep turmoil from her. That is the only reason I am here,” Erebus said.

“You live to lick her feet and you are, as always, jealous of me.” Kalona couldn’t help his surge of joy at what Erebus’s words had revealed,
I can still make Nyx feel! The Goddess watches me!
The immortal reined in his emotions. He must hide his joy from Erebus. When he spoke again, his voice was emotionless. “Know this—I did not swear into your service. I am sworn into the service of a High Priestess who personifies Death through her Goddess-given affinity. All your visit has done is to give me cause to make a clear distinction between those Warriors who call themselves your sons, and those who do not. I will not burden your
sons
with my leadership.”

“Then you will leave this House of Night,” Erebus said.

“No. But you will. Bear this message to Nyx for me: Death does not differentiate between those who follow her and those who follow other gods. Death comes to all mortals. I do not need your permission, or the Goddess’s, to serve Death. Now, begone, brother. I have a funeral to attend.” Kalona brought his arms forward and slapped his palms together, causing a blast of frigid silver light to shockwave around him, shattering the small Otherworld bubble his brother had created and hurling Erebus up, away, and into the sky.

When the light around him faded, Kalona’s feet once more touched the earth and he was, again, standing beside Nyx’s Temple.

Aphrodite rushed around the corner. Stopped. And stared at him.

“Am I summoned?” he asked.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, as if she was having trouble clearing her vision. “Were you messing around with a flashlight over here?”

“I own no flashlight. Am I summoned?” he repeated.

“Almost. Some moron, meaning Kramisha because she was in charge of candle collection, forgot the spirit candle. I need to grab one from Nyx’s Temple. You’re supposed to follow me back to Dragon’s pyre. Thanatos will finish the circle, say some nice stuff about Dragon, and then introduce you.”

Feeling oddly uncomfortable under the gaze of the strange, abrasive human Nyx had, for reasons unfathomable to almost everyone, Chosen as her Prophetess, Kalona grunted a wordless response, and turned to open the side door to the temple.

It would not open.

Kalona tried again.

He strained, using all of his vast immortal strength.

It absolutely would not open.

It was then that he noticed the wooden door had disappeared. The handle protruded from thick, solid stone. There was no entryway. Nothing.

Suddenly Aphrodite was pushing him aside. She grabbed the handle, pulled it, and the stone faded, becoming a wooden door again, which opened easily for her. She glanced up at him before she stepped over the threshold of the Goddess’s temple. “You are so fucking weird.” She tossed her hair and went inside.

The door closed behind her. Kalona pressed his hand against it and, under his palm, it shivered and turned from welcoming wood to stone.

He backed away, feeling a horrible sinking within him.

It was only a few minutes later that Aphrodite emerged through a completely normal-looking door. She was holding a thick purple pillar candle and as she strode past him she said, “Well, come on. Thanatos wants you to stand at the edge of the circle and try not to look conspicuous. Though, you know, that would be a lot easier if you wore more clothes.”

Kalona followed her, trying to ignore the empty place inside him. He was exactly what Erebus had named him, impetuous fool and usurper. If Nyx had been watching him, it was with nothing except disdain. She denied him everything—entrance to the Otherworld, entrance to her Temple, entrance to her heart …

Centuries should have lessened his pain, but Kalona was beginning to understand that the opposite was true.

Aurox

Nyx, if you are, indeed, a forgiving goddess, please help me
 …
please
 …

Aurox didn’t flee from his earthen hiding place. Instead he repeated that one sentence, that one prayer, over and over. Perhaps Nyx rewarded diligence. At least he could offer the Goddess that.

It was during the litany of his silent prayer that the magick began to swirl around him. At first Aurox’s spirit leapt.
Nyx heard me!
It only took moments to realize how wrong he’d been. The creatures that materialized, oozing from the cool, dank air around him, could not be in the service of a forgiving goddess.

Aurox cringed away from them. Their stench was almost unbearable. Their sightless faces horrible to gaze upon. His heartbeat increased. Fear shivered through him and the beast inside him stirred. Had these things been sent to him as judgment for the deeds he had committed in Neferet’s service? Aurox used his own fear and began feeding the beast within him. He did not want it to awaken, but he would fight before he succumbed to the swirling mass of malevolence that threatened to envelop him.

Yet, Aurox was not enveloped. Slowly, the creatures climbed upward, riding in a magickal whirlpool. The higher they arose from the pit, the faster they moved. It seemed as if they had been summoned and were gradually awakening to a soundless call.

Aurox quieted his fear and the beast within him subsided. They did not want him. They paid him no attention whatsoever. The tail of the cylinder was trailing a black, fetid mist. Not sure what compelled him, Aurox reached out and brushed his hand through it.

His hand became the mist, like they were formed of the same substance. The whirlpool felt like nothing, yet it appeared to have dissolved Aurox’s flesh. Wide-eyed, he tried to pull his hand free, but it was gone. He had no hand, and then a shudder went through him as the mist began to absorb his flesh. Helplessly, Aurox watched his forearm disappear, then his bicep, then his shoulder. He tried to awaken the beast—to tap into the power that slumbered within him, but the mist buffered his feelings. It numbed him as it drew him. When it absorbed his head Aurox became the mist. He felt nothing except a vast longing—an unfulfilled seeking—an unrelenting need. For what? Aurox could not tell. All he knew was that the Darkness had engulfed him and was carrying him on a tide of despair.

There must be more to me than this!
he thought frantically.
I have to be more than mist and longing, darkness and a beast!
But it seemed he was no more than those things. Despair overwhelmed him as he realized the truth. He was all of those things and none of those things. Aurox was nothing … nothing at all …

Aurox thought the retching sound might be his own. Somewhere, somehow, his body must still be his and it was revolted by what was happening. Then he saw her.

Zoey was there. She held the white stone in front of her. Just like she had the night before, at the ritual where he had tried to make a choice—tried to do the right thing.

He felt the mist shift. It, too, saw Zoey.

It was going to absorb her.

No!
His spirit cried deep within him.
No!
Aurox’s mind echoed that cry. Instead of despair, he began to feel something else as he watched Zoey. He felt her fear and her strength. Her resolve and her weakness. And Aurox realized something that surprised him. Zoey felt just as unsure about herself and her place in the world around her as he did. She worried about not having the courage to do the right things. She questioned her decisions and was ashamed of her mistakes. Once in a while even Zoey Redbird, gifted fledgling touched by her Goddess, felt like a failure and considered giving up.

Just as he did.

Compassion and understanding flowed through Aurox, and as it did he felt a surge of white hot power. In a blinding flash, he dropped from the center of the disintegrating whirlpool, landing firmly in his reformed body, gasping for fresh air and trembling all over.

He did not rest there long. Still shaking and weak, Aurox found hand and footholds in the gnarled maze of broken roots. Slowly, he pulled himself up to the lip of the pit. It took a very long time. When he finally reached the top, he hesitated, listening hard.

He heard nothing but the wind.

Aurox lifted himself from the ground, using the broken trunk as concealment. Zoey was gone. He studied the area around him and his eyes were immediately drawn to a huge mound of timbers and planks, topped by a figure wrapped in a shroud. Even though it was encircled by what appeared to be the entire House of Night, Aurox had no trouble recognizing what he was seeing.
It is Dragon Lankford’s pyre,
was his first thought
. I killed him,
was his second. Like the despair in the magickal mist, the funeral drew him.

It was not difficult to get close to the circle of fledglings and vampyres. Sons of Erebus Warriors were heavily and obviously armed, but everyone’s attention was focused within the circle and on the pyre at its center.

Aurox moved stealthily, using the large old oaks and the shadows beneath them as cover until he was close enough to make out the words Thanatos was saying. Then he gathered himself and leaped. Grasping a low-hanging limb, Aurox climbed up and out, which was where he crouched, having an unimpeded view of the macabre spectacle.

Thanatos had just finished the casting of the circle. Aurox could see that four of the vampyre professors were holding candles and representing each of the elements. He expected to see Zoey in the center of the circle, near the pyre, and was surprised instead to see that Thanatos was holding the purple spirit candle in one hand, and a large torch in the other.

Where was Zoey? Had the creatures in the mist captured her? Was that what had caused their dissipation? Frantically, he searched the circle. When he found her standing beside Stark, surrounded by her circle friends she looked sad, but unwounded. She was watching Thanatos attentively. There appeared to be nothing wrong with her except that she mourned the loss of the Sword Master. Aurox became so weak with relief that he almost lost his perch in the tree.

Aurox stared at her. She had begun this internal conflict he felt. Why? He was almost as baffled by her as he was by the feelings she had awakened within him.

He shifted his attention to Thanatos. She was walking gracefully around the circumference of the circle, speaking in a voice that calmed even his frayed nerves.