An excerpt from
HOUSE OF NIGHT
OTHER WORLD
• book two •
Stark
“Stevie Rae! There you are! Hey, we need to talk.” Stark rushed across the springy newly green grass toward the statue of Nyx standing proudly in the middle of the House of Night’s main courtyard. Beside Stevie Rae were two young fledglings who had just finished lighting the myriad of votive candles that flickered cheerily around the base of the Goddess. They bowed nervously but respectfully to greet Stark. “Hi, yeah, hi. Nice job with the candles and everything. Okay, time to get to your next class!” Stark waved his hand dismissively and shooed them away.
The two fledglings practically sprinted toward the rear entrance to the school. Stevie Rae scowled at Stark. “Great. You just scared ’em. Don’t you remember what it was like to be newly Marked? Those two have only been here for a week. They’re still cryin’ in their pillows at night for their mamas.”
“They’ll be fine, just like we were fine. Who’s not fine is Zoey.”
“What in the Sam Hell are you talkin’ about?”
“Have you seen her lately?” Stark fired the question at her.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I saw her for just a sec a little while ago. She was headin’ to the depot to try to keep Kramisha and Aphrodite from killing each other over the restaurant renovations.”
“That’s where she said she was going. But she only stopped by for about ten minutes and then made a lame excuse to take off. She’s been doing that lately. As in almost every day. Do you know what the hell is wrong with her?”
“No! I didn’t know anything was wrong. Ah, oh. Is it Other Kevin?” Stevie Rae’s blue-eyed gaze swept the schoolyard. “Is he back?” She squinted, half expecting him to materialize from one of the dusky shadows.
“No, he’s not. But yes. I think it has something to do with her brother and that Other World. And I do not think she’s okay.”
“You’re gonna have to give me more to go on than that. Since Rephaim and I moved back to T-Town I’ve been super crazy busy getting settled and figurin’ out lesson plans for this dang Spells and Rituals class I was moronic enough to volunteer to teach. Jeesh, who knew teaching was so hard?”
“Every real teacher in the world knows that, but that’s not the point. Stevie Rae, you need to listen to me—I do not think Z is okay.”
Stevie Rae motioned for Stark to join her on an ornately carved iron bench perfectly situated near the goddess statue.
“Now, tell me what’s stuck in your craw about Z.”
Stark blew out a long breath as he sat beside her. “She’s going to Heath’s grave. Every day. And she’s lying about it.”
Stevie Rae hiked her shoulders. “That’s not real bad. I mean, Z misses him. We all know that, and maybe she’s not telling the truth because she doesn’t want you to feel bad. And if she’s lying how do you know where she’s going?”
“I followed her. And before you give me crap about that let me say that I only did it because I’m worried. Real worried.”
Stevie Rae held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. And if you say there’s something to be real worried about, you have my full attention.”
Stark ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed again. “So, I followed her,” he repeated. “And watched her. She sits there. On his grave. And talks to him. A lot.”
“She talks to his gravestone?”
Stark shook his head. “No. She leans against his gravestone, but she stares to the side of it, like he’s sitting there—beside her—somewhere close. And by close I don’t mean Nyx’s Grove.”
“Well, okay, so it’s weird and sad, but maybe that’s how Z deals with her grief. You know it took a long time for her to even go to his grave. Maybe this is actually a good sign. How’s she been acting otherwise? And let me say sorry that I’ve been so dang busy moving here that I can’t answer that question myself, which as her bestie is something I should be able to do.”
Stark waved away her apology. “This isn’t on you. It’s on all of us. I think we’ve left her alone too much since Kevin went back to the Other World.”
“But we were givin’ her space. And she’s been seeing a lot of her brother. The one who isn’t a red vampyre. I thought that was helping her deal with Other Kevin not being here.” Stevie Rae chewed her bottom lip. “I haven’t asked her hardly anything about how she’s been feelin’. Like Kramisha always says, it’s not cool to be all up in Z’s business.”
“Yeah, well, space time is over. Since she’s starting ‘talking,’” he air quoted, “to Heath, she’s stopped actually talking to me. And, obviously, you.”
“Z’s not talkin’ to Damien or Aphrodite, either?” Stevie Rae asked.
“Oh, sure. Z talks to Damien and Aphrodite, me and you. But she never says how she’s feeling. She never says anything that isn’t just surface crap. Stevie Rae, she’s pulling away from me. And from you, Aphrodite, and Damien. She’s only really talking to dead Heath.”
“You seriously don’t think this is just Z dealing with her grief?”
“No, because this dead Heath talking crap didn’t start until after Other Kevin came from the Other World and—”
“And told her about Heath being alive over there,” Stevie Rae finished for him, eyes widening with understanding.
“Exactly,” Stark nodded.
Stevie Rae sucked in a huge breath. “Ohmygoodness, Z’s gonna go to the Other World!”
“Exactly!” Stark repeated.
“Ah, hell!”
Zoey
I pulled my bug off Seventy-First Street onto Aspen, and took the immediate left to enter through the somber gates of Floral Haven Cemetery. It wasn’t long after dusk, but I’d timed it perfectly so that I could slip into the cemetery after most visitors had left, but before the gates were officially closed.
“I guess practice does make perfect,” I muttered.
As if it knew the way without me steering, my little aqua-colored bug wound around the curving roadways to what had become a familiar section of the graveyard. I stopped where I always did—by the big juniper tree that marked the beginning of the path I followed almost daily.
It always felt sad when I first got here. Floral Haven wouldn’t have been Heath’s first choice. Not because it was a bad cemetery or anything like that. I just knew that Heath would have liked somewhere more … well … colorful. Heath had liked crazy, and Floral Haven was immaculate, structured, organized, and well regulated. The opposite of crazy.
But as I walked down the path to the Luck family plot, my sadness lifted a little—then more than a little when I caught sight of my neighborly addition to the grounds. I went to Heath’s proper, modest, boring tombstone and sat right on top of his grave, which I knew he would’ve appreciated. I leaned against the cold gray stone that said in block letters: HEATH REGINALD LUCK—BELOVED SON, and looked to the side at the family plot closest to the Luck’s. There was only one tombstone—the one I’d purchased immediately after I’d purchased the family plot. It was as unboring as the very proper rules of the cemetery had allowed. I’d commissioned a stone made from smooth blue marble, the exact color of a perfect fishing hole. The artist, who had been more than mildly confused by my unorthodox idea, had carved a scene of Heath sitting on a small wooden dock casting his rod out into the water. I’d had him make it so that Heath was looking right at me, grinning like he always did when he went fishing.
“Hey there. How ya doin’?” I asked the carving of Heath. “Yep, it was one of those awesome Oklahoma spring days today. Not too hot, not too much ragweed and pollen, and not too ticky. Yet. You’d say it was good fishing weather, but then again you thought every day was good fishing weather.”
Okay, let me be clear. I haven’t lost my mind—at least not totally. I am not under any delusion that Heath is actually here, listening to me. I know where he is—or at least one version of him. Heath Luck is hanging out where I last saw him, with Nyx. He was probably fishing right now up there somewhere.
But I like pretending to talk to him.
I need to pretend to talk to him.
Especially now.
“Zoey? It is you! I thought I saw your bug turn in here.”
I jumped at the voice and spun around on my butt.
“Kev! Sheesh, you scared the bejezzus outta me. Make some sound next time.”
“How about you tell me when you’re gonna visit Heath’s grave next time and I’ll meet you here?” Kevin said, settling in beside me. “You don’t ever find this creepy?”
“What? Sitting on his grave? Heath would love it,” I smiled.
“Well, that and that.” He pointed to the carving of fisherman Heath.
“Heath would love that, too,” I said. “Do you not remember he had a sense of humor?”
“Sure. Do you not remember he’s dead?”
I jerked back as if Kevin had slapped me. “Of course I remember. I was there. Losing him almost killed me. Why the hell would you ask me that?”
“Because of what Other Kevin told you.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Since Other Kevin had slipped from his world into ours, and told me that Heath—the kid I’d been in love with since third grade—was alive back in that other world, I’d had one thought obsessively circling around and around my mind.
Go see Heath … go see Heath … Go. See. Heath.
“Zoey, I’ll go with you. All you have to do is ask.” Kevin spoke into the silence swirling between us.
My gaze snapped to his. “You can’t! I’m not alive in that world, so I could get away with sneaking over there, but you are—and you’re a rogue red vampyre who has probably been leading the resistance for the past several months. It’s not safe for you over there.”
“Z, it’s not safe for anyone over there.”
I looked away from Kevin and my gaze found Heath’s smiling image again.
“I understand that,” I muttered.
“Do you really?” Kevin cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers—a sure sign he was stressed.
I answered my brother’s question with one of my own. “You know I’m going, don’t you?”
“Yep, I do. And, Z, if I know it, so do your friends.”
Foreboding surged through my veins like ice water. “No! I haven’t said one word to any of them.”
“You haven’t said one word to me, either. I figured it out.”
“Which means they will, too,” I said.
“Uh, yeah. For sure.”
This is going to break Stark’s heart, I thought, swallowing against the lump building in my throat. “Ah, hell …”