Burned

Council.”

“But Sgiach is a woman. She should be able to be voted onto the Council,” Damien said.

“No,” Darius said. “No Warrior can sit on the Council. That is vampyre law.”

“And that probably pissed off Sgiach,” Aphrodite said. “I know it’d piss me off. She should be able to sit on the High Council.”

Thanatos bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I agree with you, Prophetess, but many did not. When the training of the Sons of Erebus Warriors was taken from her, Sgiach withdrew to the Isle of Skye. She spoke to no one about her intention, but she didn’t need to. We all felt her anger. We also felt the protective circle she cast around her Isle.” Thanatos’s eyes were filled with the shadows of memories of the past. “No one had experienced its like since the mighty vampyre Cleopatra cast a protective circle around her beloved Alexandria.”

“No one enters the Isle of Women without the permission of Sgiach,” Darius said.

“If they attempt to do so—they die,” Thanatos said.

“Well, how do I get permission to enter the Isle?” Stark asked.

There was a long, awkward silence, and then Thanatos said, “Therein lies the first of your problems. Since Sgiach cast her protective circle, no outsider has been given permission to enter her Isle.”

“I’ll get permission,” Stark said firmly.

“How are you going to do that, Warrior?” Thanatos asked.

Stark blew out a long breath, and said, “I know how I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to be civilized. And right now that’s about all I know.”

“Hang on,” Damien said. “Thanatos, Darius, you both know things about Sgiach and this ancient barbaric religion. So, where did you learn it?”

“I’ve always liked to read.” Darius shrugged. “So I was drawn to the old scrolls at the House of Night where I studied the blade. In my off time, I read.”

“Dangerous and sexy. That’s an excellent combination,” Aphrodite purred, snuggling into him.

“Okay, we’ll all barf later,” Erin said.

“Yeah, right now, stop interrupting,” Shaunee said.

“What about your knowledge of the bulls and Sgiach?” Damien asked Thanatos, giving the Twins and Aphrodite “be quiet” looks.

“From ancient texts here in the palace archives. When I first became a High Priestess, I spent many hours studying here by myself. I had to; I had no mentor,” Thanatos said.

“No mentor? That’d be hard,” Stark said.

“Apparently our world only needs one High Priestess at a time who has been gifted with an affinity for death,” Thanatos said with a wry smile.

“That’s a sucky job description,” Jack said, and then clamped his hand over his mouth, and squeaked, “Sorry!”

Thanatos’s smile widened. “I take no offense at your words, child. To be allied with Death is not an easy career path.”

“But because of that, and because Darius is a reading Warrior, we have something to go by,” Damien said.

“What are you thinking?” Aphrodite said.

“I’m thinking that I’m really good at one thing—and that’s studying.”

Aphrodite’s blue eyes widened. “So we just need to point you to something to study.”

“The archives. You need access to the palace archives,” Thanatos said, already heading toward the door. “I’ll speak with Duantia.”

“Excellent. I’ll get ready to study,” Damien said.

“I’ll help,” Jack said.

“Nerd herd, as much as I hate it, it looks like we’re all gonna get ready to study.”

Stark watched Thanatos go. He vaguely registered that the rest of the kids were excited that they had somewhere to focus their energy, but his gaze went back to Zoey’s pale face.

And I’ll get ready to ally myself with death.

Zoey

Nothing seemed right.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know where I was. I mean, I knew I was in the Otherworld but not dead, and that I was with Heath, who definitely was dead.

Goddess! It was so weird that it was becoming more and more normal to think of Heath as DEAD.

Anyway, besides that, stuff just wasn’t right.

At this moment I was curled up with Heath. We were spooning like an old married couple at the base of a tree on a mossy mattress made by the joining of ancient roots in a roughly bedlike oval. I should have been majorly comfortable. The moss was definitely soft, and it really did seem like Heath was alive. I could see him, hear him, touch him—he even smelled like Heath. I should be able to relax and just be with him.

So why, I wondered as I stared at a gaggle of dancing blue-winged butterflies, am I so restless and generally “out of sorts” as Grandma would say?

Grandma . . .

I did miss her. Her absence was like a mild toothache. Sometimes the feeling went away, but I knew it was there, and it would come back—probably worse.

She must really be worried about me. And sad. Thinking of how sad Grandma would be was hard, and my mind skirted away from it quickly.

I couldn’t keep lying there. I moved away from Heath, careful not to wake him up.

Then I started to pace.

That helped. Well, it seemed to for a little while. I walked back and forth, back and forth, making sure I could see Heath. He did look cute while he slept.

I wished I could sleep.

I couldn’t, though. If I rested—if I closed my eyes—it was like I lost pieces of myself. But how could that be? How could I be losing myself? It reminded me a little of the time I had strep throat and such a high fever that I had a super weird dream where I kept spinning around and around until pieces of my body started to fly off me.

I shivered. Why was that so easy to remember when a bunch of other stuff in my head was so foggy?

Goddess, I was really tired.

Distracted, I kinda tripped over one of the pretty white rocks that jutted up out of the grass and moss, and caught myself from falling by throwing up a hand and grabbing the side of the closest tree.

That’s why I saw it. My hand. My arm. It didn’t look right. I stopped and stared, and I swear my skin rippled, like in one of those gross horror movies where nasty stuff gets under an almost naked girl’s flesh and crawls around, making her—

“No!” I wiped frantically at my arm. “No! Stop!”

“Zo, babe, what’s wrong?”