Awakened

“I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry that I didn’t—”

“Ssh,” Grandma shushed me. “There is no need for apologies. You did your best, and your best has always been good enough for me.”

“I was weak, Grandma. I’m still weak,” I said honestly.

“No, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, you are young, that is all.” She touched my face gently. “I am sorry about your Heath. I will miss that young man.”

“I will, too,” I said, blinking hard so I wouldn’t start crying again.

“But I feel you two will know one another again. Perhaps in this lifetime, perhaps in the next.”

I nodded. “That’s what Heath said, too, before he moved on to the next realm of the Otherworld.”

Grandma’s smile was serene. “The Otherworld—I know that it was under heartbreaking circumstances, but you were given a great gift when you were allowed to travel there and back.”

Her words made me think—really think. Since I’d returned to the real world I’d been tired and sad and confused and then, finally, with Stark I’d been content and in love. “But I haven’t been thankful,” I said the words aloud as I realized them. “I haven’t understood the gift I’d been given.” I wanted to smack myself in the head. “I’m a crappy High Priestess, Grandma.”

Grandma laughed. “Oh, Zoeybird, if that were true you would not question yourself or call yourself to task for your mistakes.”

I snorted. “I don’t think High Priestesses are supposed to make mistakes.”

“Of course they are. How else would they learn and grow?”

I started to say that I’d made enough mistakes that I should have grown to be, like, a zillion feet tall, but I knew that wasn’t what Grandma meant. I sighed and said, “I have a bunch of faults.”

“It is a wise woman who recognizes that.” Sadness made her smile fade. “It is one of the key differences between you and your mother.”

“My mother.” I sighed again. “I’ve been thinking about her lately.”

“As have I. Linda has been close to my mind during the past several days.”

I raised my brows at Grandma. Usually when someone was “close to her mind” it meant something was going on with that person. “Have you heard from her?”

“No, but I believe I soon will. Hold good thoughts for her, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya.”

“I will,” I said.

My Bug puttered up then, looking familiar and cute with its shiny aqua blue paint and sparkly chrome.

“Best be getting back to your school, Zoeybird. You’ll be needed there tonight,” she said in her no- nonsense-Grandma-voice.

We stood and hugged again. I had to make myself let go of her. “Are you staying in Tulsa tonight, Grandma?”

“Oh, no, honey. I have too much to do. There’s a big powwow in Tahlequah tomorrow and I’ve made lovely new lavender sachets.” She smiled at me. “I beaded redbirds into them.”

I grinned and hugged her one last time. “Save one for me, okay?”

“Always,” she said. “I love you, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya.”

“I love you, too,” I said.

And then I watched as Stark jumped out of the Bug and took Grandma’s arm, helping her cross the busy street between the airport arrivals terminal and short-term parking. He jogged back to me, dodging cars. When he opened the door of the car for me I paused, pressed my hand to his chest, and tugged at his shirt until he bent down so I could kiss him. “You’re the best Warrior in the world,” I whispered against his lips.

“Aye,” he said, eyes sparkling.

Scrunching myself into the back of my Bug I met Stevie Rae’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Thanks for giving me some alone time with my grandma.”

“Not a problem, Z. I heart me your grandma.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said softly. Then I straightened my shoulders and, feeling totally empowered, continued, “Okay. So. Tell me about the bullpoopie I’m getting ready to step into back at school.”

“Hold on to your horses ’cause it really is one red-hot mess,” Stevie Rae said as she signaled and pulled away from the curb.

“You don’t even like horses,” I said.

“Exactly,” she said, which made absolutely no sense, but also made me laugh. Yep, hot mess of bullpoopie or not, I was seriously glad to be home.

* * *

“I still can’t believe the High Council could be that naïve,” I said for what felt like the gazillionth time as Stevie Rae helped me decide on what outfit I was gonna wear to light Jack’s funeral pyre. I shuddered.

Without knocking, Aphrodite breezed into the room. She took one look at the black, long-sleeved, high-necked sweater and black jeans I was holding up and said, “Oh, for shit’s sake. You can’t wear that. You’re lighting the funeral pyre of a gay. Do you know how mortified Jack would be if he saw you in that, not to mention Damien? It looks like an early 1990s Anita Blake reject outfit.”

“Who’s Anita Blake?” Stevie Rae asked.

“Vampire killer chick written by a human chick who has a Totally Tragic fashion sense.” Aphrodite was wearing a skintight sapphire-colored dress that was a little shimmery, but not so much so that it looked like one of those prom rejects from David’s Bridal. Actually, she looked gorgeous and classy like she usually does. Probably because Victoria, her personal shopper at super posh Miss Jackson’s at Utica Square, had pulled the dang thing for her as soon as it came in and charged her mommy’s platinum credit card. Sigh. It kinda made my head hurt.

Anyway, she marched over to my closet, opened it, and after one disdainful look at my wardrobe took out the dress she’d given me the night I’d gone to my first Dark Daughters’ Ritual. It was black, long-sleeved, and (unlike the sweater and jeans) flattering. It was also trimmed around the low, round neckline, the flowy sleeves, and the hem with little red glass beads that sparkled whenever I moved and matched perfectly the Leader of the Dark Daughters triple moon that rested around my neck. I met her eyes. “This dress doesn’t have such nice memories attached to it,” I said.

“Yeah, well, it looks good on you. It’s appropriate. And, most important, Jack would totally love it. Plus, according to my mother, memories change like people do, especially if there’s enough alcohol involved.”

“Look, Aphrodite, do not tell me you are gonna be drinkin’ tonight. That’s just not appropriate,” Stevie Rae said.

“No, bumpkin. Or at least not until afterward.” She tossed the dress at me. “Now put this on and hurry up. The Twins and Darius are bringing Damien up here so we can all walk out to the pyre together—a show of nerd herd solidarity and all, which I believe is a good decision,” she added quickly when Stevie Rae sucked in air and opened her mouth to interrupt. “Oh, and hi. It’s good to see you and your hypochondriac boyfriend back in the real world.”

“Fine. I’ll wear this.” I ducked into our bathroom, then popped my head out and met Aphrodite cool blue eyes. “Oh, and Stark is my Guardian and Warrior first, my boyfriend second. And he is darn sure not a hypochondriac. You know that. You saw what happened to him.”

“Huh,” Aphrodite scoffed under her breath.

I ignored the rude sound but kept the door open so I could still talk to them while I got dressed. When I saw the seer stone I paused, and decided to let it hang down beneath the top of the dress—no way did I feel like answering questions about Skye and Sgiach tonight. I combed my hair quickly and said, “Hey, do you guys think Neferet’s letting me light the pyre because she expects me to mess it up?” Hell, I expected to mess it up, why wouldn’t she?

“Well, I think her plan’s much more nefarious than you fumbling around with some words ’cause you’re bawling, ’cause you actually cared ’bout Jack,” Stevie Rae said.

“Nef what?” said Shaunee as she, too, walked right into my room without so much as a howdy do.

“Arious who?” chimed in Erin. “What’s she doing, Twin? Tryin’ to pick up the Damien vocab slack?”

“Totally sounds like it, Twin,” Shaunee replied.

“I like words, and you two can go suck a lemon,” Stevie Rae said.