“Good,” Aphrodite said as she turned back to face me. “I’m all for having more Warrior time—if that Warrior is Darius.”
“Ah oh, speaking of humans who leave stuff for Neferet.” Stevie Rae squeezed my hand and jerked her chin toward the street behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see Stark striding toward a lone woman who was walking down the sidewalk that framed Twenty-First Street. I watched the Sons of Erebus Warriors close ranks so that she had a hard time seeing around them to where we were, but I wasn’t worried about gawkers—not really. Stark and I had already decided he would say the House of Night High Priestess and her circle were simply strengthening the protective spell around Neferet’s tomb—which was definitely a version of the truth.
“Nosy humans.” Aphrodite shook her head as she squinted through the lingering sage and sweetgrass smoke at the woman who had already turned around to head back in the direction she’d come. “Hey, Neferet is not your friend!”
Aphrodite hadn’t exactly shouted it, but the woman must have heard something because she looked back at our circle.
“Can you believe it? She’s a grown woman,” Aphrodite muttered. “You’d think she’d know better.”
“We have to keep it positive,” I reminded her.
Aphrodite’s brows pinched together. “Right. Sorry. I should know better.”
“No problem,” I told her. “I totally get the frustration. Let’s close the circle and head back to school. I can already taste the spaghetti waiting for us.”
Closing the circle was simple. I began where I’d left off, with spirit, thanking it and then gratefully releasing it as I blew out my purple candle. Then I moved counterclockwise around the circle, thanking and releasing each of the other four elements until the glowing thread that bound us dissipated and the spectral bison disappeared.
“What was up with that human?” I asked Stark as the Warriors joined us.
He shrugged. “She said she lives near here and works the graveyard shift at St. Johns Hospital. When she gets off she likes to walk around the park at night because the Warriors make her feel safe.”
“Aww,” I said. “That’s kinda sweet. It makes me feel good that the humans who live near the House of Night have begun trusting us.”
“Makes me feel good too. I told her she could come back tomorrow night and that the Sons of Erebus Warriors would be sure to look after her.”
“You’re a nice guy, James Stark.” I tiptoed to kiss him.
He put his arm around me as we followed the others back to the parking lot. “Just nice? Not sexy or courageous or even cute?”
“I’ll take nice over all those other things, but okay. You’re all of them.” I stuck my hand in his back pocket, appreciating his firm butt. “Hey, you wanta test the vamp repel spell?”
He snorted. “Hell no! My Warriors and I could feel it all the way outside your circle. Didn’t you see the guys I’d stationed above the tomb backing off when those giant buffalo appeared?”
“No, I was busy watching the bison,” I corrected.
“Well, it works. No need to rile up those beasts,” he said. “Ready for some spaghetti?”
“I’m always ready for psaghetti.” And, feeling safe, protected, and a lot better about everything in general, I sang my anticipatory psaghetti song all the way back to the House of Night—much to the amusement of Stark and the irritation of Aphrodite.
8
Other Lynette
Earlier that day
The mansion Vanessa and the other four college girls led Lynette and Neferet to was in the historic Midtown district of Maple Ridge, and as Vanessa had said, within easy walking distance of Woodward Park. It was a huge brown-brick Georgian villa with columns and what had to be more than eight thousand square feet of space over two stories.
“Oh, yes,” Neferet had said as they’d approached, noting the wide brick walkway and the tastefully ornate facade. But the instant they entered the majestic home, Neferet had met Lynette’s gaze and quietly corrected to, “Oh, no.”
The bones of the villa were exquisite, but the inside had been utterly ruined by a horrible interior decorator. As Lynette stared around them, taking in the magnificent woodwork, beveled windows, gleaming wood floors, twenty-foot ceilings, and exquisitely detailed and original crown molding, she decided that the theme within was a mixture of self-aggrandizement, immaturity, and bad taste. Each room was painted a different color—the entryway being blue, which wouldn’t have been terrible had they used moderation and understood that pastels work best with that type of color palette. Clearly, whoever was in charge of design didn’t understand that. The elegant structure was no match for poor judgment—midnight blue changed to emerald green, which then became a fierce mustard yellow.
The horridly colored walls should have held museum-quality masterpieces. Instead, they were filled with huge prints of the five young women ranging from over-the-top baby pictures to posed portraits of each wearing what they obviously thought was couture. The majority of the ornately framed photos were of Vanessa, but each of the five women was represented—over and over and over again.
In the middle of the glaringly green sitting room Vanessa threw out her arms and spun around. “Well, what do you think, my lady?”
Neferet paused only a moment before saying, “I think this is a lovely villa and it is clear you have a deep connection to it.”
“May I ask who did your interior design?” Lynette said.
Vanessa smiled smugly. “That would be me. I actually would love to have a career in interior design, but Daddy says it’s part of the service industry, and so, totally not for me.”
“Well,” Lynette struggled for a moment with how to respond, then followed Neferet’s lead and prevaricated, “you have a very distinctive eye.”
“Yes, I know,” Vanessa said dismissively.
“Show us to our rooms now. I must freshen and then find a feeder before the fog dissipates.”
Vanessa made a sweeping gesture toward the wide wooden staircase
