Untamed

'That's right. I'd forgotten about that,' Aphrodite said. 'So this Kalona was an angel who fell and turned bad guy?'

'In a way. In ancient times, angels walked the earth and mated with humans. Many peoples have stories to describe this time. The Bible called them Nephilim. The Greeks and Romans called them Olympian gods. But whatever they have been called, all of the stories agree on two points: First, that they were beautiful and powerful. Second, that they mated with humans.'

'Makes sense,' Aphrodite said. 'If they were so hot, of course women would want to be with them.'

'Well, they were exceptional beings. The Cherokee people tell of one particular angel, beautiful beyond compare. He had wings the color of night, and he could change form into a creature that looked like an enormous raven. At first our people welcomed him as a visiting god. We sang songs to him and danced for him. Our crops thrived. Our women were fertile.

'But gradually everything changed. I don't really know why. The stories are too old. Too many of them have been lost to time. My guess is that it is difficult to have a god live among you, no matter how beautiful he is.

'The song I remember my grandmother singing tells that Kalona changed when he began to lie with the maidens of the tribe. The story goes that after the first time he bedded a maiden, he became obsessed. He had to have women—he craved them constantly, and he also hated them for causing the lust and need he felt for them.'

Aphrodite snorted. 'I bet it was him feeling the lust, not them. No one wants a guy who's a man ho, no matter how hot he is.'

'You're right, Aphrodite. My grandmother's song said that the maidens turned their faces from him, and that's when he became a monster. He used his divine power to rule our men while he defiled our women. And all the while his hatred for women grew with an intensity that was all the more frightening because of his obsession with them. I heard an old Wise Woman speak once, and she said that to Kalona the Cherokee women were water and air and food—his very life, though he hated that he needed them so desperately.' She paused again, and I could easily envision the look of disgust on her face that was mirrored in her voice as she continued her story.

'The women he raped became pregnant, but most of them gave birth to dead things, unrecognizable as infants of any species. But once in a while, one of his offspring would live, though it was clearly not human. The stories say that Kalona's children were ravens, with the eyes and limbs of man.'

'Eeewww, the body of a crow and the legs and eyes of a man? That's disgusting,' Aphrodite said.

A shiver passed through me. 'I've been hearing ravens, a lot of them. I think one of them tried to attack me. I swiped at it, and it scratched my hand.'

'What! When?' Grandma snapped.

'I've been hearing them at night. I thought it was weird that they were making so much noise. And . . . and then last night something I couldn't really see flapped around me, like a nasty invisible bird. I hit at it and then ran inside the school and called fire to make the cold it brought with it go away.'

'And it worked? Fire chased it away?' Grandma said.

'Yeah, but I've felt eyes on me ever since.'

'Raven Mockers.' Grandma's voice was hard as steel. 'What you've been dealing with are the spirits of the demon children of Kalona.'

'I've heard them, too,' Aphrodite said, looking pale again. 'Actually I've been thinking how annoying they've been the last few nights.'

'Ever since Professor Nolan was killed,' I said.

'I think that's when I started noticing it, too. Ohmygod, Grandma! Could they have had something to do with Professor Nolan and Loren's deaths?'

'No, I don't think so. The Raven Mockers lost their physical forms. They only have their spirits left and can do little harm except to those who are old and very near death. How badly did they hurt your hand, sweetheart?'

Automatically I looked down at my unmarked hand. 'Not bad. The scratch went away in just a few minutes.'

Grandma hesitated before saying, 'I have never heard of a Raven Mocker being able to really hurt a vibrant young person. They are mischief makers—dark spirits that take pleasure from annoying the living and tormenting those at the cusp of death. I do not believe they could cause a healthy vampyre's death, but they could be drawn to the House of Night by the deaths of those vampyres, and have somehow become stronger because of them. Be wary. They are terrible creatures, and their presence is always an ill omen.'

As Grandma had been talking, my eyes had wandered back to the poem. Over and over I kept reading the line Through the hand of the dead he will be free.

'What happened to Kalona?' I asked abruptly.

'It was his insatiable lust for women that eventually destroyed him. The warriors of the tribes tried for years to overpower him. They simply could not. He was a creature of myth and magic, and only myth and magic could defeat him.'

'So what happened?' Aphrodite said.

'The Ghigua called a secret council of Wise Women from all tribes.'

'What's a Ghigua?' I asked.

'It is the Cherokee name for the Beloved Woman of the tribe. She is a gifted Wise Woman, a diplomat, and often very close to the Great Spirit. Each tribe chooses one, and she serves on a council of women.'

'Basically they're High Priestesses?' I said.

'Yes, that's a good way to think of them. So a Ghigua called the Wise Women together, and they met in secret in the only place where Kalona would not eavesdrop on them—a cave deep in the earth.'

'Why wouldn't he hear them there?' Aphrodite asked.

'Kalona had an aversion to the earth. He was a creature of the heavens, which is where he belonged.'

'Well, why didn't the Great Spirit or whoever make him go back to where he belonged?' I said.

'Free will,' Grandma said. 'Kalona was free to choose his path, just as you and Aphrodite are free to choose your paths.'

'Free will sometimes sucks,' I said.

Grandma laughed and the familiar happy sound made my insides relax a little. 'Indeed it sometimes does, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. But in this case, the free will of the Ghigua women is what saved our people.'

'What did they do?' Aphrodite said.

'They used the magic of women to create a maiden so beautiful, she would be impossible for Kalona to resist.'

'Created a girl? You mean they did some kind of magical makeover on someone?'

'No, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, I mean they created a maiden. The Ghigua who was the most gifted potter formed a maiden's body from clay, and painted a face for her that was beautiful beyond compare. The Ghigua known as the most gifted weaver in all the tribes wove long, dark hair for her that fell in waves around her slim waist. The Ghigua dressmaker fashioned a dress for her that was the white of the full moon, and all of the women decorated it with shells and beads and feathers. The Ghigua who was the most fleet of foot stroked her legs and gifted her with speed. And the Ghigua who was known as the most talented singer of all the tribes whispered sweet, soft words to her, giving her the most pleasing of all voices.

'Each of the Ghigua cut their palms and used their own blood as ink to draw on her body symbols of power representing the Sacred Seven: north, south, east, west, above, below, and spirit. Then they joined hands around the beautiful clay figure and, using their combined power, breathed life into her.'

'You've got to be kidding, Grandma! The women made what was basically a doll come alive?' I said.

'That's how the story goes,' she said. 'Young lady, why is that any more difficult to believe than a girl having the ability to call forth all five of the elements?'

'Huh,' I said, feeling my cheeks getting warm at her mild rebuke. 'I guess you have a point.'

'For sure she has a point. Now be quiet and let her tell the rest of the story,' Aphrodite said.

'Sorry, Grandma,' I muttered.

'You must remember that magic is real, Zoeybird,' Grandma said. 'It is dangerous to forget that.'

'I'll remember,' I assured her, thinking how ironic it was that I could doubt the power of magic.

'So, to continue,' Grandma said, drawing my attention back to the story. 'The Ghigua women breathed life