Betrayed

were to happen to me, I would want something about me to live on here at the school.'

'Could we have plaques?' Stevie Rae asked, and I noticed she was suddenly looking unusually pale.

'Plaques?' I had no clue what she was talking about.

'Yeah. I think we should have a plaque or something that records the names of the ... the … what did you call them?'

'Prefects,' Damien said.

'Yeah, Prefects. The plaque, or whatever, could have the names of each year's Prefect Council, and it'll be displayed for ever and ever.

'Yeah,' said Shaunee, warming to the idea. 'But not just a plaque. We need something cooler than just a plain old plaque.'

'Something that's unique—like us,' Erin said.

'Handprints,' Damien said.

'Huh?' I asked.

'Our handprints are unique. What if we made cement casts of each of our handprints, then signed our names below them,' Damien said.

'Like the stars do in Hollywood!' Stevie Rae said.

Okay, it seemed kinda cheesy, which meant I couldn't help but like it. The idea was like us—unique—cool— and bordering on tacky.

'I think handprints are an excellent idea. And you know where the perfect place for them is?' They looked at me with bright, happy eyes, their worry about one of Aphrodite's friends joining us, as well as the pretty much constant fear of sudden death we all carried around with us, temporarily forgotten. 'The courtyard is the perfect place.'

The bell rang, calling us back to class. I asked Stevie Rae to tell our Spanish teacher, Proffe Garmy, that I had gone to see Neferet, so I'd be late. I really wanted to tell her about my ideas while they were still fresh in my mind. It wouldn't take long—I'd just give her a basic outline and see if she liked the direction I was heading. Maybe ... maybe I'd even ask her to come to the Full Moon Rit­ual Sunday, and be there when I announced the new selection process for membership to the Dark Daughters and Sons. I was thinking about how nervous I'd be if Neferet was there, watching me cast a circle and lead my own ritual, and was telling myself sternly that I'd have to get rid of my nerves ... that it was the best thing for the Dark Daughters if Neferet was there showing her support of my new ideas and—

'But that's what I saw!' Aphrodite's voice, carrying from the cracked door of Neferet's classroom, jarred my thoughts and made me stop short. She sounded awful—totally upset and maybe even scared.

'If your sight is no better than that, then perhaps it's time you quit sharing what you see with others.' Neferet's voice was ice, terrifying, cold, and hard.

'But, Neferet, you asked! All I did was tell you what I saw.'

What was Aphrodite talking about? Ah, hell. Could she have run to Neferet about seeing Loren touch my face? I looked around the deserted hall. I should get out of here, but no damn way I was going to leave if that hag was talking about me— even if it seemed Neferet wasn't believing anything she was saying. So instead of leaving (like a smart girl), I walked quickly and quietly into the shadowed corner near the partially opened door. And then, thinking fast, I took off one of my silver hoop earrings and tossed it into the corner. I come and go from Neferet's classroom a lot—it's not beyond all reason that I'd be looking for a lost earring outside her door.

'You know what I want you to do?' Neferet's words were so filled with anger and power that I could feel them crawl across my skin. 'I want you to learn to not speak of things that are questionable.' She drew the word out. Was she talking about gossiping about Loren and me?

'I—I just wanted you to know.' Aphrodite had started crying, and she choked the words between sobs. 'I th —thought there might be something you could do to stop it.'

'Perhaps it would be wiser for you to think that because of your selfish actions in the past, Nyx is withholding her power from you because you are no longer in her favor and that what you are now seeing are false images.'

I'd never heard the kind of cruelty that filled Neferet's voice. It didn't even sound like her, and it scared me in a way that was hard for me to define. The day I'd been Marked, I'd had an acci­dent before I got to the House of Night. When I was unconscious I'd had an out-of-body experience, which ended with me meet­ing Nyx. The Goddess told me that she had special plans for me, and then she kissed my forehead. When I woke up my Mark had been filled in. I had a powerful connection with the elements (al­though I didn't realize that till much later), and I also had a weird new gut feeling that sometimes told me to say or do certain things—and sometimes told me very clearly to keep my mouth shut. Right now my gut feeling was telling me that Neferet's anger was all wrong, even if it was in response to Aphrodite's malicious gossip about me.

'Please don't say that, Neferet!' Aphrodite sobbed. 'Please don't tell me that Nyx has rejected me!'

'I don't have to tell you anything. Search within your soul. What is it telling you?'

If Neferet had spoken the words gently, they might have been nothing more than a wise teacher, or priestess, giving someone who was troubled some direction—as in look inside yourself to find, and fix, the problem. But Neferet's voice was cold and sneer­ing and cruel.

'It's—it's telling me that I've—I've, uh, made m-mistakes, but not that the Goddess hates me.'

Aphrodite was crying so much that she was getting harder and harder to understand.

'Then you should look closer.'

Aphrodite's sobs were wrenching. I couldn't listen anymore. Leaving my earring, I followed my gut and got the hell out of there.

CHAPTER 5

My stomach hurt all through the rest of Spanish class, so much so that I even figured out how to ask Proffe Garmy, 'puedo it al baño,' and spent so much time in the bathroom that Stevie Rae followed me in there asking what was wrong.

I know I was worrying the hell out of her—I mean, if a fledg­ling starts looking sick, that tends to mean that she's dying. And I'm positive I looked awful. I told Stevie Rae that I was getting my period and the cramps were killing me—although not literally. She didn't seem convinced.

I was incredibly glad to get to my last class of the week, Eques­trian Studies. Not only did I love the class, but it always calmed me. This week I'd graduated to actually cantering Persephone, the horse that Lenobia (no prof title for her, she said the name of the ancient vampyre queen was title enough) had assigned to me the first week of class, and practiced changing leads. I worked with the beautiful mare until both of us were sweating and my stomach felt a little better, then I took my time cooling her off and grooming her, not caring that the bell had signaled the end of the school day a good half an hour before I emerged from her stall. I went to the immaculately kept tack room to put away the curry combs, and was surprised to see Lenobia sitting on a chair outside the door. She was rubbing saddle soap into what looked like an already spotlessly clean English saddle.

Lenobia was striking-looking, even for a vampyre. She had amazing hair that reached her waist and was so blond it was al­most white. Her eyes were a weird color of gray, like a stormy sky. She was tiny, and carried herself like a prima ballerina. Her tattoo was an intricate series of knots entwining around her face—within the sapphire design horses plunged and reared.

'Horses can help us work through our problems,' she said without looking up from the saddle.

I wasn't sure what to say. I liked Lenobia. Okay, when I started her class she had scared me; she was tough and sarcastic, but after I got to know her (and proved I understood horses were not just big dogs), I'd come to appreciate her wit and her no-nonsense at­titude. Actually, next to Neferet, she was my favorite teacher, but she and I hadn't ever talked about anything except horses. So, hesitantly, I finally said, 'Persephone makes me feel calm, even when I don't feel calm. Does that make any sense?'

She looked up at me then, her gray eyes shadowed with con­cern. 'It makes perfect sense.' She paused, and then added, 'You've been given many responsibilities in a very short amount of time, Zoey.'