12
General Dominick
There was a dark, feral intelligence that went with the horde. It wasn’t a community consciousness, though they did share thoughts, as their psychic gifts were vast. At the moment they were released from the spell that rent the fabric of their world, transporting them to an alternative reality, two thoughts were foremost in their minds—feed and flee to the tunnels!
Dominick led them. He’d been the first to enter the strange opening, drawn by the scent of the blood of a High Priestess and by her intent as well. He felt her. He heard her. Dominick was well used to listening to the commands of a High Priestess. He was, after all, her second-favorite general.
As soon as the Warriors realized how to kill them, Dominick ordered his small army to flee. It was obvious where they were—Woodward Park in Tulsa. Only this Woodward Park was drastically changed from the one he knew, and not only because everything was carpeted with snow. The park looked off. Where were the old oaks? The mounds of huge azalea bushes?
Dominick pushed aside such inconsequential thoughts.
He was a Warrior. A leader of the Red Army. He had one job—to do his High Priestess’ bidding. He had only one desire beyond that: to feed.
And as this strange summons had awakened him and this small portion of his army in the middle of their coma-like sleep, so his need to feed was strong—so strong it even surpassed his confusion at where or when he really was.
He’d ordered his unarmed men to flee the barrage of arrows and the deadly sword the Son of Erebus wielded against them—against them! They must be part of a rebel pack. How had they captured the High Priestess? Where was her Red Guard? More importantly, where was she?
Dominick shook himself. Search for the High Priestess later. They must get to safety. They must find weapons. But first, they must feed.
Huddling beneath the snow-shrouded arched bridge that was east of the area they’d materialized, Dominick paused, trying to order his thoughts. It was difficult. Even he—the leader of the Red Army—had trouble concentrating when the hunger filled him.
“Feed!” hissed the pitiful few of his army that pressed close around him.
“Quiet!” he barked at them. They cringed away from him, well aware of what would happen should they become the focus of his wrath. “Wait here,” he commanded. Then he stepped out from under the concealment of the bridge.
The vampyres whose circle had drawn him here were gone.
The humans were not. Foolishly, they were leaving the cars they’d fled to earlier, and had returned to the bloody circle.
Dominick whistled once. The sound split the snowy air. He saw the humans pause and glance around nervously.
But they were human. Their night vision was inadequate, even if the darkness hadn’t been shrouded in thickly falling snow. And soon they continued to gather the equipment they’d dropped, oblivious to their own danger.
Dominick waited until the shadows stirred and the second half of his people joined him. They grouped around him, whispering their hunger. One of them approached.
“General, where are we? What has happened?”
Dominick recognized the lieutenant immediately. Lieutenant Heff was the youngest red fledgling to ever have been Marked—and was also the youngest to have gone through the Change. Barely sixteen, he was also one of the red vampyres who maintained some self-control over the hunger that overwhelmed the vast majority of the Red Army.
“We answered the call of the High Priestess. We are home, but not home. We must feed and get to the tunnels. Gather our weapons. And keep watch for the High Priestess. I believe she may have been taken by the rebels.”
“The High Priestess? Do you mean the one who closed the circle, trapping us here?”
“No. I did not recognize that priestess. We need to find Neferet. She is our only High Priestess.”
“It will be as you command, General. But the soldiers must feed.”
Dominick snarled and backhanded the lieutenant. “Lieutenant Heff, never presume to tell me about my men!” He pointed to the group of humans in the distance. “We feed there.” He faced the milling, whispering horde. “Quietly. Quickly. Feed on the humans. Then we flee to the tunnels from where we will begin to search for our High Priestess.” And we will try to figure out where the hell we are, he added silently to himself. “Lieutenant, you watch our rear. If the rebels return, we have nothing but our teeth and hands to protect ourselves.”
“Our teeth and hands are stronger than theirs,” the lieutenant said.
Dominick backhanded him again. “But they are not stronger than arrows or swords. Do as I command or I will sever your head from your body myself.”
Lieutenant Heff cowered. “Yes, General.”
“Follow me!”
Dominick darted out of the concealment of the bridge and the deep shadows surrounding it, followed closely by those who had been pulled from their sleep and wrenched into this changed world with him. They were almost completely silent. The snow aided them in that, though stalking humans was a simple thing. They had ears, but they did not use them to hear. Just as they did not use their eyes to see into the night.
The red vampyres and fledglings attacked silently, too.
The humans were not silent, though their screams did not last long.
His men were so ravenous that they fell to the feeding, rending arms and legs from living bodies with their bare hands. They did not notice one of the humans had escaped. She actually made it to the van that waited beside Twenty-First Street.
“Do not let her leave!” Dominick growled as he tore hunks of flesh from a warm body.
Five of his men darted after the woman. She started the van. It lurched forward as the vampyres swarmed the roof. They broke the driver’s window and pulled her from behind the wheel as the van ran headfirst into a truck that had just come over the hill at the top of the street. Both vehicles burst into flame. The man behind the wheel of the truck exploded through the front window, which was lucky for Dominick’s men. It gave them someone else on which to feed.
Dominick stood and wiped the blood from his mouth.
Lights were already going on in the homes that bordered Woodward Park. In his world humans knew their place.
This was not his world.
He whistled again. Instantly his small army regrouped.
“Enough! We need to get to the tunnels. Now. We stay as a group as long as we’re not attacked. Should an attack come, scatter. Those of you who are strong enough will make it to the tunnels. Those of you who are not should not be in my army. Understood?”
His men hissed and nodded as they finished gulping down the last of the human flesh. Dominick searched the group and found the lieutenant.
“Heff, stay with me. But if we’re attacked, get as many men as you can to the tunnels. I name you my Second. If I fall it is up to you to complete this mission. Find the High Priestess. She called us here. As always, we live to serve her will.”
“We live to serve her will …” whispered the horde.
Lieutenant Heff nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”
“Cloak yourselves with shadow. We run!”
Heff
Kevin Heffer ran, though his mind was in tumult. He’d been asleep, as had the rest of the soldiers, and had awakened as he was wrenched from his bed and spewed in a bloody tide with his brother soldiers into this strange version of Woodward Park.
But that wasn’t why his mind was in tumult. That was just strange. It was the priestess. The one who had closed the circle. He’d recognized her. Of course he’d recognized her.
But how could it have been her? She’s dead!
“Lieutenant, wake the hell up and pay attention! One of the soldiers just took off after a woman in the alley. Get him back here!” The general barked, pointing down a dark side street.
“Yes, sir!” Heff did as he was told. He raced into the street to find one of the more feral of the soldiers bent over a well-dressed, middle-aged woman. He’d already taken a bite out of her shoulder and she was screaming hysterically. He grabbed the red vamp, and tossed him aside. “You heard the general! We get to the tunnels. Now. No stopping.”
The vampyre gnashed his teeth, but cringed when Heff raised his fist, threatening to beat him into submission. “Yesssss, ssir,” he hissed.
“Go!” Heff pointed at the rear of their group, and the soldier sprinted after them. Heff turned to the woman.
“No! Get away from me!” she screamed. She tried to stand and run from him, but she slipped on her own blood and fell heavily to the snowy street.
Heff met her gaze, locking it in his own. “No more screaming,” he commanded her. She instantly complied.
“No more screaming,” she repeated mechanically.
He considered feeding from her. He wouldn’t rip and tear, as the feral vampyre would have. Heff didn’t do that. He never did that. And she was under his mind control, so he could taste her, just a little, and she wouldn’t protest. He wouldn’t even hurt her much more than she’d already been hurt. He was still hungry. He was always hungry. But one glance at the disappearing column of soldiers had him racing away. There will be more feeding later. There will also be time to try to understand how my sister could be alive …
Zoey
CRACK! We automatically cringed as an enormous explosive sound echoed throughout the night.
“Oh, shit! Was that a transponder?” Shaunee said.
“Seems like it,” Shaylin said. “And it’s not even icy.”
“Dang, the snow was pretty. Now it’s super cray,” Stevie Rae said.
“Oklahoma weather,” Aphrodite grumbled. “It. Sucks.”
“Hurry, Stark,” I said, trying to peer through the SUV’s tinted window. The snow was falling so fast it had already covered the lines in the road. And now the wind had picked up, causing whiteout conditions.
“Doing my best,” Stark said without taking his eyes from the street.
“He’s a red fledgling! Why is he a red fledgling?” Damien was turned completely around, staring back at Jack, who was still unconscious, trussed like a roped goat, and seat belted between Darius and Rephaim in the rear of the school’s new Escalade. Aphrodite, Stevie Rae, and I were in the second seats. Stark was driving and Damien was in the passenger seat. Shaylin and Shaunee were smashed into the back like groceries.
“No clue,” I told Damien. “Can’t you go faster?” I asked Stark.
He gave me a look in the rearview mirror. “Have you noticed the snow? I’m doing my best, but Utica is already a mess.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I just can’t tell where we are. Um, because of the snow.”
“He’s still unconscious. What did you do to him?” Damien asked for the umpteenth time.
“I already told you. I tazed him,” Aphrodite said. “And it’s a good thing I did. He was either going to eat one of us or get dead. Again.”
“Jack would never hurt any of us!” Damien insisted.
“Honey,” I touched his shoulder gently. “You have to remember that this isn’t your Jack. Your Jack is dead. This Jack is like those things that came out of the bloody tree fountain. I know it’s hard. Of course you’re emotional, but—”
“He recognized me. He was attacking Darius, but he stopped when I called his name,” Damien insisted. “And I’m not being overly emotional.”
Aphrodite snorted.
Damien skewered her with his eyes. “What if it was Darius? What if Darius had been killed last year, and suddenly appeared out of nowhere—changed, but alive? What would you do? Or rather, what wouldn’t you do?”
Aphrodite met Damien’s gaze. “My heart would break. I don’t know how else to answer your questions. Damien, we’re only trying to keep you from getting hurt, or worse.”
“Don’t,” Damien said. “I’m not a child. I don’t need protection. I need answers and I need your trust.”
“But can we trust you not to put yourself in danger?” I spoke gently. When he didn’t answer, I added, “We’re your best friends. We love you. We want Jack back, too. But we’re not as emotionally involved as you are. We see with more than our hearts, and what we see is a kid who is, and isn’t, Jack. Can you please trust that we’re not patronizing you?”
Damien’s shoulders slumped, though he didn’t take his gaze from Jack. “I hear you, Z. I hear all of you. My mind understands, but my heart doesn’t. Not at all.”
“Let us help you,” Shaunee said.
“We’re all here for you,” Stevie Rae added.
“He’s breathing okay,” Rephaim said. “He’ll be fine when he wakes.”
“He smells wrong,” Darius said.
“He smells like I used to,” Stevie Rae said.
“And me,” Stark added. He glanced at Damien. “And you know what that means.”
Damien nodded jerkily. “He’s a red fledgling who has not retained all of his humanity.”
“Or maybe any of it,” Stevie Rae said. When Damien opened his mouth to respond, she lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I know more about this than you do. So does Stark. You gotta listen to us.”
“I know. Forgive me. I’ll listen to you.”
“There’s nothin’ to forgive,” Stevie Rae told him gently. “We get it. We all get it.”
“It’s why he’s not dead,” Aphrodite said.
“You saved him for me?” Damien’s eyes spilled over as silent tears tracked down his cheeks.
“Of course,” Aphrodite said. “Stevie Rae and Stark found their humanity, maybe—”
Jack jolted awake, struggling against the zip ties that kept him tightly bound as he hissed and snarled.
“Jack! Jack, it’s okay! Everything’s going to be okay! It’s me—Damien.”
Jack turned his red-eyed glare on Damien. I saw it. I saw the flash of recognition. Then Jack’s lip curled. “Dead! You’re dead!” His voice was bizarre—a terrible dark twin of Jack’s sweet softness. It shocked us all into silence.
Well, all of us except Aphrodite.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked him.
His eyes turned to her. “Priestess?”
“Well, sure. You can call me Priestess. Who are you?”
“You know me. I am Jack. Why do you cover your Mark?” His words were short, hard, clipped—as if speaking took too much effort. “I must feed!” He twisted his head, obviously checking out Rephaim’s neck.
Aphrodite raised the Taser. “Um, no. You won’t be eating anyone. We’ll get you a nice blood smoothie when we’re home.”
“What did you mean by dead?” I found my voice again. “Were you talking about Damien?”
Jack stared at me. “Yes. And you. Dead.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Stark snapped.
Jack’s eyes flew to where Stark was fighting against the blowing snow. “General?”
I saw Stark’s startled reflection in the rearview mirror. “My name is Stark. Do you know me?”
“We all know you, General. You lead the Blue Army. But your Mark is wrong. Why is it red?” His gaze searched the SUV. “Where is the High Priestess?”
“Well, there are several of them in this car,” Stark neatly avoided Jack’s question about his Mark. “Which one are you looking for?”
“Neferet, of course,” he said.
“Fuck,” Aphrodite said. She turned all the way around in her seat so she could face Jack. “Do you mean High Priestess Neferet, or Goddess Neferet?”
Jack looked confused. “There is only one Neferet. She is our High Priestess. Our only High Priestess.”
“But you called me ‘High Priestess.’”
“No. I called you ‘Priestess,’” he said.
“Okay, so, Neferet isn’t an immortal?” I asked.
Jack stared at me. Then, very deliberately, he pressed his lips together and stopped speaking.
“Jack?” Damien spoke gently to him. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you answer Zoey?”
Jack refused to look at Damien. When he spoke his voice was flat—emotionless. “You are rebels.”
“We’re rebels? What kind of rebels?” Damien said.
Jack didn’t answer.
Damien tried again. “Talk to me, Jack. Please.”
Jack’s gaze lifted reluctantly to find Damien. I saw it again. Saw the shock of recognition flash through his red-tinged eyes. “You are dead,” he repeated stubbornly.
Damien’s throat moved spasmodically as he swallowed several times, obviously trying to collect himself. Finally, he said, “But I’m not. You see me. You hear me. I’m alive. And I love you.”
Jack shook his head. “Not enough to live.”
“What? I don’t understand,” Damien said.
“My Damien killed himself six months and two days ago. He didn’t love me enough to live for me. You aren’t my Damien.”
Damien gasped, his hand going to his throat. He opened and closed his mouth, though no words came out.
“We’re at the gate,” Stark said. “How about putting our, uh, guest in one of the basement rooms under the Field House? I could rig a lock on one of them pretty easily.”
“Gate? Field House?” Jack looked frantically out the window. “No! Not here. This is not where I belong. Take me to the tunnels. I belong in the tunnels.”
A terrible foreboding wrapped around my stomach and squeezed. “You mean the tunnels under the depot?”
When he didn’t speak, Stark shouted, “Answer her!”
“Yes. The depot tunnels. You all know it. It is where the Red Army lives.”
“Double fuck!” Aphrodite said. “That’s probably where the rest of those things took off to.”
“Ah, hell!” I said. “The restaurant!” I didn’t have to check the time. The Depot Restaurant, run by the House of Night, was open all night—every night. It was still several hours before dawn, which meant it was still open and still serving late-night Tulsa diners, along with any vampyre or fledgling who wanted to splurge on fine dining. I scrambled for my phone. “No service! Does anyone have service?”
Everyone frantically checked their phones—no one had service.
“It’s the snow. It probably knocked out the downtown cell tower about when it hit that transponder,” Damien said.
Stark slid to a stop beside the Field House entrance. “I’m getting to a landline and calling the restaurant. Darius, gather the Sons of Erebus. I’ll meet you in the basement.” I was out of the door and running through calf-deep snow before Stark shut off the SUV’s engine.
Please let me be in time … please let me be in time …