Revealed (House of Night #11)(22)

“And now she’s hung over,” Stark said.

“And now she must rest,” Darius corrected him, seeming to stand straighter and grow taller.

Ah, crap. That’s all I needed—Stark and Darius butting heads.

“Rest is a good idea.” I moved so that I was standing between them. “I remember how terrible I felt after my mom was killed. You remember, too, don’t you, Stark?” I asked pointedly.

“I don’t remember you being drunk,” he said.

“And I don’t remember you being judgmental!” I’d finally had enough. “Jeesh, give the girl a break. Her dad was murdered and her mom disowned her—all in the same night. Any way you look at it, that sucks.”

“Getting wasted isn’t the right way to deal with it,” Stark said.

“Who the hell says so? You sound like you’re a zillion years old. Just leave it alone,” I said.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to see her. And now you’re here and she’s too hung over to even talk to you,” Stark said.

“No, I said I wanted to check on her.” I turned to Darius. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he said.

“There,” I turned back to Stark. “She’s been checked on.”

“I mean no disrespect, Priestess, but could the two of you find somewhere else to fight? My Prophetess truly does need to rest,” Darius said.

Stark’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his hand over his face. “Z and I aren’t fighting.” He glanced at me and smiled apologetically. “At least, I didn’t mean to start a fight. Sorry ’bout that.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “And I don’t want to fight, either.”

“Good.” His smile widened and he seemed his usual sweet, charming self again. “Hey, Darius, me wanting to act like a douche wasn’t the reason I came over here with Z.”

Darius’s lips tilted up. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Actually, I came to ask you if you know anything about a basement-like place here. Damien mentioned that he thought Dragon stored old shields and swords down there.”

“I do know of such a place. It stretches under the main part of the school building. The entrance to it is from the hallway that runs between the field house and the stables.”

“Do you know if there’s more than one entrance to it?” I asked.

“I am not certain. I have only been there a few times, and then my visits were brief. I was simply returning unneeded shields to their storage place. My memory is of a long, dark room. The ceiling is low, but the floor is stone and it’s as sturdily built as is the rest of the House of Night.”

“Sounds perfect,” Stark said. “Would you show us how to get there?”

“Of course.” He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door of the dorm room he shared with Aphrodite.

“You don’t have to be gone long,” I assured him. “Just show us to the basement, and then you can come back here and see if Aphrodite’s ready for something to eat.”

“A big, greasy hamburger and fries is good for a hangover,” Stark said.

Darius smiled. “Aphrodite says girls who eat cows start looking like them.”

“Of course she does,” I said. “You may want to bring her back something less bovine and more sex kitten.”

“Hey, I’d pay to watch what Aphrodite would do if Darius brought her a bowl of cream and a can of tuna,” Stark said.

The three of us laughed as we headed from the girls’ dorm to the field house. The night was unusually warm for February. I thought I might even smell spring on the soft breeze that blew through campus. I definitely heard sounds that meant spring—fledglings talking by lamplight and cats meowing at their chosen vampyre.

Cats!

“Ah, hell! Nala and all the other cats are still at the depot. They’re probably totally freaked that we didn’t come back,” I said.

“They’ll be fine for a couple of days,” Stark said. “They all have those big auto feeders and they like to drink from that shower up in the depot that won’t turn off, remember?”

“Their potty pans will get super nasty.” I grimaced, just thinking about how uber-grumpy that would make the already grumpy Nala.

“Yeah, that’s going to be disgusting,” Stark said. Darius grunted in agreement. “I feel sorry for poor Duchess being stuck with all of those cats.”

“Hey, she’s liking the cats,” I reminded him. “She was actually sleeping with Damien’s Cammy cat.”

“Everyone likes Damien’s Cammy,” Stark said, smiling.

“If we have to stay here for more than one more night, I’m going to tell Thanatos that we need to get our cats, and Duchess, no matter what the cops say about it,” I said.

“We are not criminals. We have done nothing wrong and should be allowed to leave—to go on about our normal lives,” Darius said. Even he sounded frustrated.

“And yet we’re basically locked up here,” I said.

Neither of them had anything to say about that. What was there to say? The truth was that a crazy immortal, who might still be more specter than solid body, had probably eaten the mayor. How were we going to prove that, and even if we could come up with proof, would the human police believe our evidence, or was it just too crazy? The depressing but true answer was: they weren’t going to believe it, because it was super, super crazy.