Lynette said nothing.
“I hope those young women were duly impressed last night. So much so that they will not cause too many problems for us today, though I can imagine that they will whine and complain about the weather.”
When Lynette still said nothing, Neferet turned from the wall of beveled glass. She realized she had been mistaken earlier. Lynette’s fingers were not flying across the keys as usual. She was staring at the computer screen, hands clasped in her lap, looking exceedingly pale.
Neferet left the windows and hurried to sit across from Lynette. “Dearest, are you unwell?”
Lynette’s gaze lifted to meet hers, and the depth of misery and fear within her eyes shocked Neferet to her core. She dropped the toast and put down her unfinished goblet, covering Lynette’s hand with her own. “What has happened?”
“I googled myself. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it earlier. Of course a version of me would exist here. I—I was just busy, preoccupied. But I had everything prepared for the day, and those girls are, thankfully, still sleeping, so I had some time. I found her—me.”
“Oh, no! Is she in trouble too? We shall rescue her. Just tell me where she is, and I will be certain it is done.”
“She’s in Oaklawn Cemetery off Eleventh.”
“She’s dead?”
Lynette nodded.
“How did she die? Shall we avenge her?”
Lynette opened her mouth to answer, but then shook her head slightly and turned the laptop around so that Neferet could see the story she’d been staring at.
As she read, Neferet began feeling something utterly alien to her—or at least alien to her for more than the hundred years since her mother had died trying to birth her brother. Neferet felt grief—a great sadness coupled with outrage and a healthy dose of fear for the woman sitting across the table from her—the woman who had become so very dear to her.
Neferet’s mouth went dry. “She killed her. This world’s Neferet killed her,” she almost couldn’t speak the terrible words.
Lynette nodded woodenly. “Keep reading. It gets worse.”
“Worse than death?” Neferet mused. “I do not see how—” She gasped, clutching her throat. “Oh! It is worse.”
“She could’ve escaped. But she willingly stayed with Neferet.” Lynette stood abruptly and went to the wall of windows to stare out as she rubbed her arms as if she was freezing.
Horrified, Neferet kept reading. Lynette was correct. The version of her who had lived in this strange world had been found with her blood drained, slumped on Neferet’s throne in the Mayo—dead, along with every human who had had the misfortune of being trapped in that building with the self-proclaimed Goddess of Tulsa. Police accounts, bystanders, and the House of Night all agreed that Lynette had remained with Neferet of her own free will, choosing to be the first human to worship her in goddess form. She had even gotten away from Neferet, yet she faithfully returned to her side only to be killed, drained of blood, and arranged on that monster’s throne in the Mayo.
Neferet felt sick. She finished the article and downed the glass of bloody wine. Then she went to the ornate liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, chose an expensive brandy, and filled the bottom of a snifter with it. She took the glass with her as she joined Lynette at the windows.
“Here, dearest. Drink this very quickly.”
Mechanically, Lynette took the glass and downed the brandy and then dropped it. It made a muffled sound as it bounced against the carpeted floor.
“Lynette, look at me.” Her handmaid turned to face her and Neferet gently took both of Lynette’s hands in her own. “This changes things.”
“Are we going to go home now?”
“Almost. I will still break the monster from her tomb. I cannot leave her there, just as you could not bear to leave this world’s version of you in danger.”
“I’m too late. She’s already dead.”
Neferet squeezed her hands. “I know, dearest. Were that not so, I would do everything in my power to help her—to be sure she was safe and happy.”
“If you release her from that tomb, she will try to kill me.”
Neferet swelled with anger. “I would never allow that!”
Lynette began to sob. “But she’s immortal. How will you stop her?”
“I am not without power—you know that. The sprites heed my call and Old Magick wields more power than an insane, starving goddess. I will protect you—always.” Neferet drew a deep breath before she continued. “Lynette, my dearest friend, there is one way I can protect you more fully than any other. Do you know what it is to Imprint with a vampyre?”
Lynette sniffled and said, “I know the basics of it. It usually happens between mated pairs, and most easily between a human and a vampyre.”
Neferet wiped the tears from Lynette’s face. “Yes, dearest. When it happens between a human and a vampyre, it creates an attachment like none other. The Imprinted pair may be able to communicate without words—may know each other’s location—and are always, always brought closer by the bond.
“Another very important side effect is that the blood of the Imprinted human changes. Its scent is repulsive to other vampyres, as they can smell and taste that it will never be freely given to them because it, and the human, completely belong to another vampyre. Dearest, if we were to Imprint, you would be safe from that monster’s bloodlust. You would also be clearly marked as belonging to me, and all other vampyres would know, should they wish to harm you, they must first vanquish me.”
Lynette stared at her. The
