Still Neferet kept her hand there—pressed against the wall of the tomb—until her children, the loyal tendrils of Darkness that had become so precious to her, began to move in agitation. They circled her legs, crawling up to her waist. They draped around her arms and neck like living jewels. They lent her their warmth as they clung to her and Neferet felt their worry as surely as she felt their protection.
“Oh!” Lynette gasped.
Neferet glanced at her handmaid and was shocked that her children had become visible and were also encircling Lynette’s waist as well as hanging from her neck.
“My lady, they seem upset,” Lynette said as she stroked the fat tendril that wrapped around her middle.
“Of course they are.” Neferet gestured at the wall. “I assume they are agitated because they can sense that one like me is trapped within. I imagine they, too, know something very powerful has sealed her in there—something that is not friendly to them or to me.” She caressed the tendrils decorating her neck and shoulders. “All is well, children, but Lynette and I do appreciate your concern. Do not fret. I shall break the seal and free the goddess within, who will, in return, provide us the knowledge I need to become immortal.”
“And then we will go back to our world,” Lynette said, still stroking the tendril.
“Indeed, we will—”
A girl’s voice blasted across the fog. “Jesus Christ! I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Oh, Amber, stop bitching. At least those Sons of Erebus assholes are gone.”
“Seriously,” said a third girl, her voice moving closer than the other two. “I don’t know why they get so butt hurt about us leaving offerings. Neferet is a goddess and she’s trapped in there. I mean, the least we can do is worship her.”
Silently, Neferet moved away from the wall, motioning for Lynette to follow. Carefully ensuring the fog continued to cover the cameras mounted in the trees above the grotto, she concentrated on clearing a small portion of it directly before the tomb, just enough so that she could see who approached while remaining hidden herself.
Five people suddenly came into view. They were all women, young, though not as young as the fledglings at the House of Night. They were dressed in short, tight skirts, ridiculous boots with stiletto heels that kept sinking into the soft, winter grass, and fur coats. They approached the wall and stopped in front of it. Each young woman carried a large satchel from which they took velvet capes in the five colors that represented the elements: yellow for air, red for fire, blue for water, green for earth, and purple for spirit. They hastily donned the garments before they dug into their bags and brought out tea lights in colors corresponding to their capes, along with lighters and other trinkets—crystals, feathers, and even a small stone carved in the shape of a cat.
Then they dropped their purses on the ground and turned to face the wall, and Lynette gasped softly beside her. She didn’t blame her handmaid. She’d never seen anything like it, either. Neferet looked more intently at the women’s faces, trying to understand what she saw there.
The young women were obviously human. They had none of the signs that bespoke vampyre. Their eyes were the muted colors of human eyes and not the more brilliant orbs of vampyre eyes, which enabled them to see so well in the dark. They were attractive, but not otherworldly so. Their fingernails were well groomed but not particularly sharp and obviously not capable of slicing skin to allow them a sip of blood.
Still, Neferet sniffed the air. Yes, their scent was definitely human.
But then, how had these women come to have Marks on their foreheads? Neferet peered closer. Each of them had painted on their foreheads an unusual Mark. In black, thick and dark as kohl, they had drawn the triple moon sign—a full moon in the middle flanked by two crescents. The Marks did not extend down their faces as would a true vampyre Mark. Instead, across their eyes they’d also painted a thick line of black that made them look like they were wearing masks.
The women lifted the hoods of their capes so that their faces were obscured just enough that they could be mistaken for ancient priestesses. Then they carried the tea lights and the small offerings to the wall, lighting them and tucking them into the small niches and dips in the stone. They bowed their heads and clasped their hands like they were at Saturday mass, lighting and leaving candles to the Virgin Mary.
“They worship Neferet,” Lynette whispered.
“Which means they are our allies and exactly what we need until I can discover how to break that seal and free her.” Neferet stroked a tendril fondly. “Darling children, cloak yourselves. Do not let these humans see you.” The tendrils disappeared. “Lynette, stand behind me, there—in the mist—so that they see only me.”
“Be careful,” Lynette murmured while she did as her mistress commanded. “Remember there are cameras around the grotto.”
Neferet nodded. She smoothed her form-fitting black sweater and stood straight and proud, shoulders back, head high. Then she flicked her long, elegant fingers at the grotto. “Cover the tomb, but part before me.”
The fog swirled, wafting up and over the wall of the tomb in a thick wave of gray.
“This is super freaky weather,” said one of the women as all five stepped back and the mist billowed in front of them.
Neferet cleared her throat and the five hooded figures turned their heads in unison. As one, their eyes widened in shock. Neferet wished she could see herself at that moment through their eyes. She must look magnificent, seeming to materialize from the fog before them.
The young woman wearing the purple cloak opened her mouth, but Neferet shook her head and pressed her finger to her lips before pointing up at the fog-shrouded cameras. Then she crooked her finger, motioning
