Tempted

I kissed Grandma lightly on her forehead, being careful not to hurt any of her cuts and bruises. “I love you, Grandma.”

“And I love you, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. Go with the Goddess, and the blessings of our ancestors.”

My hand had just touched the doorknob when her voice rang between us, sounding strong and sure and wise as ever.

“Hold to the truth, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. Do not ever forget, as our people have always known, there is a deep power in words that speak the truth.”

“I’ll try my best, Grandma.”

“And that is all I will ever ask of you, my Zoeybird.”

CHAPTER 21

Zoey

The ride back to the House of Night was slow and weird and awkward.

It was slow because even with Shaunee and me directing fire to warm the hooves of the horses so that we could trot down Twenty-first Street and take a left at the Utica Street light (which was totally dark), it was still a slick, frigid, difficult trek.

It was weird because everything was so darn dark. Here’s what happens when your city loses light: it doesn’t look right. It sounds simplistic, especially coming from a kid who is supposed to be one of the children of the night or whatnot, but the world doesn’t look the same when the lights go out.

And it was awkward because Shaunee and Erin kept throwing looks at me like they thought I was a bomb that might explode. Johnny B and Kramisha hardly talked to me at all, and Stark, who was sitting behind me on my amazing mare, Persephone, wouldn’t so much as rest his hands on my waist.

Me? I just wanted to go home.

Darius drove the Hummer behind us at I’m sure what must have felt like a crawl to him, even though the three horses were managing a steady trot. The red fledglings, led by Stevie Rae and Erik, followed the Hummer. Except for the car and the hooves of the horses, the night was as silent as it was dark, though once in a while, creepily, a branch would give up under its icy weight and, with a terrible crack! a tree would break.

We’d turned left on Utica before I said anything.

“So are you just not going to ever talk to me again?” I asked Stark.

“I’ll talk to you,” he said.

“Why does it seem like there should be a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”

He hesitated and I could practically feel the tension that radiated off him. Finally he let out a long breath and said, “I don’t know whether to be pissed at you, or to say I’m sorry for the messed-up shit that happened in the cafeteria.”

“Well, the cafeteria wasn’t your fault. Or at least most of it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, see, I know that, but I also know your feelings were hurt by the whole Erik thing.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so we rode on in silence for a while until Stark cleared his throat and said, “You were pretty hard on everyone back there.”

“I had to shut up the bickering, and that seemed like the quickest way.”

“Next time you could try saying something like, ‘Guys, shut up your bickering!’ I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but that makes more sense than freaking on your friends.”

I stifled the urge to snap back and say I’d like to see him do any better. Instead I thought about what he’d said. He might be right. I didn’t feel comfortable with the fact that I’d snapped at everyone—especially since a bunch of the “everyones” were my friends.

“I’ll try to do better next time,” I finally said.

Stark didn’t gloat. He didn’t turn all tough-guy—like and patronize me, either. He just rested his hands on my shoulders, squeezed, and said, “The fact that you actually listen to other people is one of the things I like best about you.”

I could feel my cheeks get warm at his unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” I said softly. I ran my fingers through Persephone’s cold, wet mane, liking how her ears twitched back in response. “You’re a really good girl,” I crooned to her.

“Thought you mighta noticed by now that I’m not a girl,” Stark said with a cocky smile in his voice.

“I noticed.” I laughed and the tension between us evaporated. The Twins, Johnny B, and Kramisha looked our way with tentative smiles.

“So, uh, you and I are okay?” I asked him.

“You and I will always be okay. I’m your Warrior, your protector. No matter what else is going on, I’ll have your back.”

When my throat cleared enough for me to speak, I said, “Being my Warrior might not always be an easy job.”

He laughed, full and loud and long. He also slid his arms around my waist and said, “Zoey, sometimes being your Warrior will suck royally.”

I was going to mention that, just perhaps, his mom sucked royally, but his arms were warm around me and his touch was soothing. So I grumbled something about him being full of bullpoopie, and let myself relax back against him.

“You know,” he said. “If you could forget all the craziness the storm is causing, and the whole Kalona-Neferet mess, the ice really does look cool. It’s almost like it’s taken us out of the real world and transported us to a weird winter land. Like someplace the White Witch would really like.”

“Oooh, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe! That was a great movie.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t see it.”

“You didn’t see it?” My eyes widened and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You read the book?”

“Books,” he said, putting special emphasis on the plural. “C. S. Lewis wrote way more than one Narnia book.”

“You read?”

“I read,” he said.

“Huh,” I said, feeling befuddled (as Grandma would have said).

“What’s wrong with that? Reading’s good,” he said defensively.

“I know! It’s cool you read. Actually it’s hot that you read.” And it was. I loved it when cute guys showed they had brains.

“Really? Well, you’d definitely be interested in the fact that I just read To Kill a Mockingbird.”

I smiled and elbowed him. “Everyone’s read that.”

“I’ve read it five times.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yep. I can quote parts of it.”

“That’s bullpoopie.”

And then Stark, my big, bad, macho Warrior, raised his voice, put on a little girl’s Southern drawl, and said, “ ‘Uncle Jack? What’s a whore-lady?’”

“I do not think that’s the most important quote from that book,” I said, but laughed anyway.

“Okay, how about: ‘Ain’t no snot-nosed slut of a schoolteacher ever born c’n make me do nothin’!’ That one’s really my favorite.”

“You got a twisted mind, James Stark.” I was smiling and feeling warm and happy when we turned into the long driveway that led to the House of Night. I was just thinking how magical it looked, all lit up and welcoming, when I noticed there was more light than usual coming from the school’s backup generators and old-fashioned oil lanterns. Then I realized the light wasn’t coming from any of the school buildings. Instead it was flickering from an