Loved (House of Night Other World #1)(47)

“They’re commissioned by the school. They’re not from one artist. The star gets to choose his or her favorite artist. Don’t tell Erik, but if he wins the Golden Globe he’s nominated for, the Council is going to vote that he be the subject of the next portrait.”

“I’m going in there.” Jack walked straight up to the closest portrait. It was an older one of Blake Shelton, commissioned in 2011 after his album Red River Blue went platinum. (I only know that because the dates are on each of the plaques—I’m not the country music expert. That’s Stevie Rae’s thing.)

I was standing there, thinking about how much I heart one of Blake’s classics, “Honey Bee,” even though I’m more of a Zayn kind of girl, when Jack lifted his tied hands, grabbed the bottom of the ornate gold frame and tried to tug it off the wall.

“Hey! He’s tryin’ to mess up Blake’s picture!” Stevie Rae shouted.

Stark shoved Jack away from the painting saying, “What the hell?”

“They’re bolted to the wall,” Jack said.

“Uh, yeah. Just like they’ve always been,” Stevie Rae said as she marched to the portrait and studied it to be sure he hadn’t damaged it.

“And those museum-light things are bolted above them, too, in case you want to get a ladder and check them out,” I said.

“But your luck on ladders isn’t good,” Aphrodite said. “I’d skip that part, if I were you.”

“Aphrodite!” Damien gasped.

“What? It’s the truth. And, anyway, it wasn’t this Jack that fell off the ladder. This is Other Jack, not Jack Jack. You really need to keep them straight, Damien.”

Other Jack walked slowly back to the rest of us, still hanging out in the doorway. He was thinking so hard I could practically see the little gerbils scurrying around inside his head.

“Those portraits can’t just be taken down and put back up in a few hours,” he said.

“Nope,” I said. “This is how the auditorium—our auditorium—looks. I’m assuming it’s different than the one you were in just a few hours ago?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He was staring over my shoulder, open-mouthed. His already pale face had lost every bit of color it had almost had.

“Zoey—there you are. I need an update on what went on at Woodward Park. And what’s happening at the restaurant? Travis and I tried to change our reservation and—”

“Lenobia! You’re alive!” Jack tried to run to her, but Stark kept a tight hold on the rope that bound his hands in front of him.

Lenobia’s beautiful gray eyes went wide with shock. “Jack? My Goddess! Is it really you?”

“Not out here,” I said. “Let’s go in the auditorium and shut the doors.”

We all filed in, with Lenobia still gaping at Jack. As soon as the doors were securely closed, words spilled from Other Jack.

“But they killed you! I saw it. You and Travis. And your horses.” Other Jack had to pause then and look away from her to collect himself. But it was like he couldn’t stop looking at her because his gaze found her again right away. “I didn’t tell on you. I swear it. You were my favorite professor. I would never have told on you.”

Lenobia was still staring at Other Jack, but she spoke to me. “Zoey, who is this, why does he smell so foul, and what the hell is he talking about?”

“Remember Aphrodite’s vision?”

“Of course.”

“Well, it wasn’t metaphoric. This is Other Jack. He came through the bloody fountain thing. Along with a horde of really creepy, dangerous red vampyres. They all smell bad—like Stevie Rae and the other red fledglings used to before Aphrodite sacrificed her humanity for them. You can’t reach the Depot Restaurant because they attacked it. Aphrodite tased Other Jack. That’s why he’s here. We’re trying to convince him that he’s not in the same world he was in earlier today—a world where Neferet is High Priestess and is in charge of two vampyre armies, a red one and a blue one. And, apparently, humans are used as refrigerators in his world. There. You’re pretty much caught up.”

“You were part of the rebels,” Jack repeated, looking a little less shell-shocked than he had when Lenobia had first appeared. “Is—is Persephone still alive?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I rode her yesterday.”

He deflated, sitting heavily on one of the cushy velvet theater seats. “I’m glad. I’m really glad. And the rest of the horses, like Bonny, Mujaji, Anjo. They’re all okay?”

“Of course,” Lenobia said.

“Could I see them? Not this second. But would you mind if I visited the stables? Even if Stark keeps my hands tied.”

Lenobia looked haunted. “In the world you’re from, someone killed all of my horses.”

She didn’t ask it, but Jack answered. “Yes. I’m so sorry. Someone turned you in. You and Travis tried to escape. You—you didn’t make it. Neither did the horses.”

Lenobia’s gaze fell and she closed her eyes. I could see her lips move as she whispered an almost silent prayer. When she raised her face her eyes swam in tears that tracked down her cheeks. “I don’t know anything about rebels, or an army, be it red or blue, Jack Twist. In this world we fought to get rid of Neferet before her poison ruined us. I will tell you, though, that if I lived in a world where Neferet was in charge I swear on my life that I would step up and join anyone rebelling against her. My Travis would follow me. My horses would follow me. No matter the cost.”