Loved (House of Night Other World #1)(34)

I’d drawn four of the five lines when it happened.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to insist you leave. This area of the park is closed for a private event.”

Darius’ voice—deep and firm—broke through my concentration. I glanced up, squinting as I tried to look through the glowing thread of power that held our circle together. There was a small group of people. I could see that one of them was carrying a camera, and that they were following a woman, who was striding quickly toward our circle.

“This is a public park. It cannot be closed for private events.” I was struck by the familiarity of the voice, though my mind, which was still trying to focus on the spell I was almost done casting, felt fuzzy—slow.

I heard Aphrodite gasp just before the woman spoke again.

“Just as I suspected! The vampyres are trafficking with Satan! Look at that unholy circle! And the vampyre in the middle—she’s drawing Satan’s mark, the pentagram! Fox News, are you getting this? When I am elected mayor of Tulsa I will put an end to this kind of dangerous blasphemy against our good Christian community.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake, Mother. Go away!” Aphrodite shouted.





11


Zoey


I blame myself for what happened next. The thought was only in my mind for an instant, but I should have controlled it. I should have ignored everything outside my circle and held firm to my intent. An older High Priestess would have. A wiser High Priestess would have.

I’m not old or wise, and I messed up.

If a zombie apocalypse caused Aphrodite’s mom to be eaten, I think I’d consider it #winning. As my mind registered the thought, I drew the last line of the pentacle—and something happened. Something terrible. My grip on the athame slipped midstroke. My hand slid awkwardly down the handle of the ritualistic yet razor-sharp dagger—cutting a deep gash across my palm.

From my position on my knees, I stared at my hand. The athame was so sharp that I didn’t register any pain at first. All I felt was a rush of heat and warmth as blood dripped from my palm, spattering the rowan twig and the ground in the center of the sacred pentagram.

Then time seemed to fast-forward, and everything happened with blinding speed.

A great inrush of power knocked me from my knees. I rolled so hard I would have broken the circle had Shaunee’s strong arms not caught me.

“Z, are you okay?” She stared at my bloody hand as I scrambled to my feet.

“I—I’m not sure.” I pressed my hand against my waist. I could feel the wetness soaking through my shirt, and I played a child’s game with myself. If I don’t look at it, it can’t be that bad. “I feel weird. Dizzy. Tired. I don’t know what’s—”

“Oh, Goddess, no!”

Aphrodite’s cry had me staggering around to face the center of the circle. The rowan was no longer a twig. It had shot up to form a fully grown tree. But this wasn’t like any rowan I’d ever seen—and I’d seen a lot, both on the Isle of Skye and in the Goddess’ Grove in the Other World. This tree’s delicate, frond-like leaves weren’t the verdant, healthy green of a young tree. Nor were they the vibrant red of a rowan in the fall. This tree’s leaves were twisted and long, curled like arthritic fingers, and they were the dark rust of old blood. Its branches were misshapen, and not the magickal way healthy rowans bend and shape themselves, often twining with another rowan or, as I often saw in the Goddess Grove, a mystical hawthorn. This tree’s limbs moved restlessly, wrapping around and around itself in a bizarre, serpentine fashion. The trunk of the tree began to quiver, expand, pulse—as if it was breathing—then with a great tearing sound, the rowan broke open and a fountain of blood geysered from beneath it.

As if washed up by a crimson wave from the bowels of the earth, bodies began to appear. The first one lifted his head. His red-eyed glare roved around the circle in obvious confusion before he hauled himself from the broken tree to crouch, staring around as if he had no idea where he was. More creatures followed him, vomiting from the center of the circle. They all seemed disoriented, falling over one another to crouch together with uncertainty as more and more of them swam up from the bloody fountain.

I shook my head, trying to shake off a deep, pulling exhaustion. It felt like I was running a marathon, only I was standing there—dizzy, breathing heavily, unable to ground myself.

“Goddess, I don’t know what’s wrong with my head.” Behind me Shaunee sounded as dazed and drained as I felt. I glanced at her, and right away noticed that the flame of the red candle she was still clutching was burning so low it was in danger of being put out by the snow.

But Shaunee is fire. She never has a problem keeping a flame lit.

I looked quickly around my circle. Shaylin, Stevie Rae, and Aphrodite were all staring gape-mouthed at the red vampyre things that continued to pour from the tear in the ground. Shaylin looked so pale it seemed she’d turned ghostly. Stevie Rae rubbed at her eyes as if to try to clear them. Aphrodite stumbled, like she might fall over.

And I understood what was going on.

“Zoey, get out of there!” Stark shouted from the ridge above us.

“No one gets out of here until I close this circle!” I yelled.

“Those vampyre zombie things are siphoning the power of our circle,” I told Shaunee. “I gotta close it and cut off their power.”