Destined

echoed through her mind.

Neferet turned almost in a complete circle before she caught sight of his luminous, magickal coat, his massive horns, his cloven hoofs. He was approaching her from behind the tomb over which the statue of an angelic young girl looked down, head bowed. Time had crumbled one of her stone hands and Neferet thought her expression made it seem as if the angel had given part of herself as an offering, perhaps to the white bull.

The thought made Neferet burn with jealousy.

She walked to meet her bull, moving slowly, languorously. Neferet knew she was beautiful, yet still she felt compelled to pull power from the surrounding shadows to enhance herself. Her long, thick hair glistened, much like the liquid silk of her black gown. She’d chosen it because it reminded her of Darkness—reminded her of her bull.

Neferet stopped before him and dropped gracefully to her knees. “The pursuit of chaos goes well, my lord.”

So, I am your lord? How interesting.

Neferet tilted her head back and smiled seductively up at the massive god. “Would you rather I call you my Consort?”

Ah, the naming of a thing. There is power in it.

“There is, indeed.” Neferet lifted her hand and touched one of his thick horns. It glistened like opals.

I approve of your name for the vessel. Aurox, after the great and mighty auroch bulls of old. There is something fitting and right in that name.

“I am glad you approve, my lord,” she said, thinking that still he hadn’t said whether she could or could not call him Consort.

And how does he serve you, this creature created through an imperfect sacrifice?

“He serves me well. I see no imperfection when I look at him, only a gracious gift from you.”

You will remember that I warned you, though, will you not? The vessel may be cracked.

“The vessel himself is unimportant,” Neferet said dismissively. “He is simply a means to an end.” She stood and moved closer to him. “We need not waste precious moments speaking of Aurox. He will serve me, and serve me well—or he will cease to exist.”

You cast aside my gifts so easily?

“Oh, no, my lord!” she assured him. “I simply listen to you and hear your warning. Can we not speak of something more pleasurable than an empty vessel?”

You mentioned Consort. It brought to mind something I would like to show you—something you might, perhaps, find interesting.

“I am yours to command, my lord.” Neferet curtseyed.

The enormous incarnation of Darkness knelt, offering his back to her. Come, my heartless one.

Neferet climbed astride him. His coat was ice—slick and cold and impenetrable. He carried her into the night, sliding inhumanly fast through shadows, riding the currents of night, using the hidden, horrible things that always, always did his bidding, until he finally halted in the thickest shadows under ancient, winter nude trees on a ridge southwest of Tulsa.

“Where are we?” Neferet shivered as she clung to him.

Quietly, my heartless one. Observe silently. Watch. Listen.

Neferet watched, listened, and very soon what she believed to be a tall, muscular man descended from one of three stilted wooden shacks that sat atop the ridge before her. He walked to the edge of the ridge and sat on a huge, flat sandstone boulder.

It was only after he sat that she saw his wings. Kalona! She thought his name, did not speak it, but the bull answered her. Yes, it is your old Consort, Kalona. Let us move closer. Let us observe. The night around them rippled and reformed, cloaking the bull and Neferet eerily, so that it seemed they were only part of the fabric of shadows and the lazy mist that had suddenly begun to unfurl over the ridge.

Neferet held her breath as the bull moved silently and invisibly closer to Kalona, so close that she could see over his broad shoulder and realized he was holding a cellular phone. He began touching the screen, and Neferet could see it light up. The winged immortal hesitated, his finger hovering indecisively.

Do you know what you are seeing?

Neferet stared at Kalona. His shoulders slumped. He rubbed his forehead. He bowed his head as if in defeat and finally, reluctantly, placed the phone gently on the rock beside him.

No, Neferet thought. I do not know what I’m seeing.

Kalona, fallen Warrior of Nyx, longs for someone who is absent from him. Someone he does not have the courage to contact.

Me? She couldn’t stop the thought.

The bull’s humorless laughter drifted through her mind. No, my heartless one. Your old Consort longs for the company of his son.

Rephaim! Neferet’s anger began to build. He longs for that boy?

He does, though he has not yet put words to the feeling. Do you know what that means?

Neferet thought before she spoke. She discarded jealously and envy and all the trappings of mortal love. Then, and only then did she truly understand. Yes. It means Kalona has a very big weakness.

It does, indeed.

They began to fade away from the ridge, slipping from shadow to shadow, riding the night. Neferet stroked the bull’s neck, thought about new possibilities, and smiled.

Rephaim

“We gotta talk about Aphrodite’s vision,” Stevie Rae said.

Rephaim took one of her curls and twirled it around a finger. When he’d completely captured it, he tugged playfully. “You talk. I will touch your hair.”

She smiled, but gently pushed his hand away. “Rephaim, stop. Be serious. Aphrodite’s vision is scary.”

“Did you not tell me Aphrodite foretold Zoey’s death? Twice. As well as her grandmother’s? Each time the foretelling of those deaths made it possible for them to have been averted.” Rephaim caressed her cheek and kissed her gently before saying, “We will use this vision to avert my death as well.”

“’Kay. That sounds good to me.” She nuzzled his hand with her cheek. “But we gotta be clear about somethin’. Dragon’s some kinda key, so you really do need to stay away from him.”

“Yes. I know.” He caressed the side of her head, loving the softness of her hair, and let his fingers trail slowly down her neck and shoulder.

“Rephaim, please listen to me.” Stevie Rae took his face between her hands and made him stop touching her hair and her skin.

“I’m listening to you.” Reluctantly, he focused his attention on her words.

“I’ve been thinkin’ that maybe I was wrong. Maybe you do need to stay here and not go to school, and for sure not go to whatever ritual we do out at Z’s g-ma’s farm, or at least you need to stay away until we figure out more of the details about Aphrodite’s vision.”

Rephaim took her hands from his face and held them in his own. “Stevie Rae, if I begin hiding now, when will it end?”

“I don’t know, but I do know you’ll be alive.”

“There are worse things than death. Being trapped by your fear of it is one of those things.” He smiled. “Actually, I find the whole thing curiously positive. The vision means that I am truly human.”

“What the heck do you mean? Of course you’re human.”

“I look human, or at least I do until the sun rises. Being mortal makes me truly what I appear to be.”