Destined

stars, which were really easy to see through the winter branches of the big oaks that dotted the campus grounds.

“So, he’s cute, huh?”

I pretended clueless. “Who? Stark? Definitely.”

She knocked her shoulder into mine. “I’m talkin’ ’bout Rephaim.”

“Oh, him. Yeah, I guess he’s okay.” I hesitated, and almost didn’t ask, but then I decided to go ahead. I mean, we were BFFs. And BFFs could ask each other anything. “So, did you see him turn into a bird?”

I could feel the tension that entered her body, but she sounded almost normal when she said, “Yeah, I did.”

“What was it like?”

“Awful.”

“Did he, uh, stay around? Or did he fly right off?” I couldn’t help it. I was totally, morbidly, car-wreck curious.

“Flew right off. But as soon as the sun set he came back. He says he’ll always find his way back to me.”

“Then he will,” I said, hating to hear the worry in her voice.

“I love him, Z. He really is good. I promise.”

I was opening my mouth to tell her I believed her when a shout interrupted me. For a second I didn’t understand what the voice was saying, all I reacted to was the danger in it. Stevie Rae understood, though.

“Oh, no! It’s Dragon! He’s calling Warriors to him!”

She dropped my arm and began to run toward Dragon’s voice. With a terrible sense of foreboding, I sprinted after her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Rephaim

“Why are you here?!” Rephaim shouted at the three Raven Mockers perched above him. He looked hastily around. If he’d had time he would have breathed a sigh of relief that this part of the campus remained empty; all the fledglings had found their way to second-hour classes. “You must go before anyone sees you,” he said in a much quieter voice.

“Rephaim? How?”

Though there were three Raven Mockers in the tree, only one of them was actually speaking. Of course Rephaim recognized him instantly as Nisroc, one of the more human-like of his brothers.

“I chose the path of Nyx. The Goddess forgave and accepted me, and when she did she changed my form to completely human.” Rephaim wasn’t sure why he didn’t add “at night.” What he was sure of was that anything he told Nisroc would be reported directly back to his father.

“Forgivenessss? Why?”

Rephaim stared at his brother, almost overwhelmed by pity. He doesn’t realize there is any other way than that which our father leads him, and he doesn’t understand that what he does in Kalona’s name is wrong.

“Nisroc, when we—” Rephaim paused. No, he thought, I can only speak for myself. “When I harmed others, when I killed and raped and took whatever I wished simply because I could—that was wrong.”

Nisroc cocked his head back and forth. His other brothers, two of the nameless, bestial horde that did their father’s bidding, hissed softly, disturbed but not high enough evolved to comprehend why.

Finally his brother said, “Father’sss command. Not wrong.”

Rephaim shook his head. “Even Father can be wrong.” He drew a deep breath and added, “And even you can choose a different path.”

The two nameless ones stopped hissing and stared at him in shock. Nisroc narrowed his scarlet colored, human eyes. “She did thisss. The female. As Father sssaid!”

“No one did anything to me. I decided for myself.” Then with a start of fear, realization hit him. “Nisroc, the Red One, Stevie Rae, she didn’t make me do anything. I chose her and her Goddess. You can never harm the Red One. Ever. She belongs to me. Do you understand?”

“Yours. High Priestessss to kill we cannot.” Nisroc repeated as if by rote, but Rephaim saw the hard, mean glint in his glowing eyes.

“You need to leave. Now,” Rephaim said. “You can’t let anyone see you, and you can’t return.”

“First, Father’s messssage.” Nisroc dropped from the thick middle branches of the oak, landing in front of Rephaim, followed by the other two Raven Mockers, who flanked him. “By Father’s ssside you will be. But here. Watching. Waiting. Ssspying.”

Rephaim shook his head again. “No. I will not spy for Father.”

“Yesss! As Father willsss!” Nisroc spread his wings, an action mimicked by the other two Raven Mockers. Highly agitated, he bobbed his head and fisted his hands.

Rephaim didn’t feel threatened. The physical danger he was in didn’t register in his mind. He was too used to his brothers—too used to being one of them. No, it was more than that. Rephaim was too used to being their leader to fear them.

“No,” he repeated. “It’s not as Father wills for me anymore. I’ve changed. Inside and outside. Go back to him. Tell him that.” Rephaim hesitated and then continued, “Tell him my choice stands.”

“Hate you, he will,” Nisroc said.

“I know that.” Rephaim felt the hurt of it deep inside him.

“Hate you, I will,” Nisroc said.

Rephaim frowned. “You don’t have to.”

“I mussst.”

Slowly, Rephaim reached out, offering his forearm to Nisroc in the traditionally respectful greeting and parting gesture between Warriors. “You don’t have to. We can part as friends, as brothers.”

Nisroc paused, cocking his head side to side. His narrowed eyes relaxed. His aggressive stance shifted. He began to move, to speak, but Rephaim would never know his brother’s true intent because at that moment Dragon Lankford’s cry of “Sons of Erebus! To me!” shattered the night and the Sword Master descended upon them.

Rephaim experienced an instant of body-numbing panic. He stood frozen in the middle of chaos as his brothers, hissing and snarling, met Dragon’s attack. He watched with the terrible, fatalistic knowledge that very soon Warriors would begin spilling from the field house, swords drawn and arrows notched. They would join Dragon and utterly overwhelm his three brothers.

“Dragon, no!” he cried. “They weren’t attacking!”

From the midst of battle, Dragon Lankford’s voice carried to him. “You are either for or against us! There is no middle ground.”

“There is middle ground!” Rephaim yelled back, holding his arms wide as if in surrender. “It is where I stand!” He took a step toward Dragon. “They weren’t attacking!” he repeated. “Nisroc, brothers, stop fighting!”

Rephaim believed Nisroc actually hesitated. He was quite certain his brother was listening to him, understanding, wanting to retreat. Then Neferet’s voice sliced through the night.

“Aurox! Protect! Destroy!”

Neferet’s creature exploded into the scene.

He came from the wall side of the grounds, facing Rephaim. At first he appeared to be human. He had a human male’s form, youthful and unmarked as a fledgling or a vampyre. But his movements were too fast to be human. In a blur he struck. Attacking from behind he grasped the closest Raven Mocker by his upraised wings and in a single, horrible motion ripped them from his body.

Over his centuries of existence Rephaim had seen terrible things—he’d committed vile, dark deeds. But somehow seeing from his new, human point of view made the violence he was witnessing more awful. His scream