Revealed (House of Night #11)(83)

“Yes, Kalona, but Sgiach is an ancient queen who has been wielding Old Magick for all those centuries on the Isle of Skye, a place that has long been devoted to preserving Old Magick. Tulsa, Oklahoma, is not the Isle of Skye, and there is no ancient vampyre queen here experienced in the use of Old Magick.” Erebus spoke in a patronizing tone as if he lectured the empty-headed village idiot.

“I know exactly where I am and who is with me. My facts are correct, unlike yours. I beheaded a vampyre who had been condemned for attempted murder by my High Priestess. She did not wield Old Magick. She simply invoked ancient law. And the vampyre I executed was not a child,” Kalona added, as usual not appreciating his brother’s tone.

“The boy was barely eighteen.”

“If you wish to take issue with the execution of a confessed murderer, then take issue with Thanatos, the school’s Council, two Prophetesses of Nyx, and Zoey Redbird.”

“Yet none of them lifted the sword that severed the vampyre’s head, just as none of them left two fledglings to certain death,” Erebus said.

“I am sworn Warrior to Thanatos. If she commands something of me I am bound to obey.”

“It is sad, for you, that you did not show Nyx that type of blind loyalty while you were her sworn Warrior,” Erebus said.

Kalona met his brother’s amber gaze steadily. “I have learned from the mistakes in my past. Have you?”

Erebus looked away.

“Pass along the warning you were sent here to deliver and begone. You bore me,” Kalona said.

“Very well, you are warned that by invoking ancient laws Old Magick has been awakened. Nyx cautions that you are playing with forces you may not be able to control.”

“Shouldn’t Nyx be telling this to Thanatos? It is her High Priestess who has begun trafficking with those forces.”

“And yet it is you who can tip the scales in a battle between Light and Darkness. The Goddess has seen it happen before near you. Raven Mockers were fashioned from Old Magick.”

Kalona felt a terrible stab of guilt, but still he said, “My sons were fashioned from rape and rage.”

Erebus nodded solemnly. “Yes. Old Magick.”

“Nyx wields Old Magick!” Kalona said.

“Have you become so delusional, so arrogant, that you believe you can wield the same power as the Goddess?”

“I harbor no delusions! My mind has not been so clear since I Fell.” Kalona advanced on Erebus. “And my arrogance is nothing compared to yours, little brother. Without me to provide balance, it is you who believes he is as mighty as Nyx.”

“Balance is exactly my point, brother. The bulls are Old Magick, and should be eternally locked in combat,” Erebus said.

“I have naught to do with the white and black bulls.”

“Do you truly believe that? You were by her side long enough to know that Old Magick is as tricky as it is powerful. Be wise! Be thoughtful! Have a care for the powers you are awakening before it is too late. That is the Goddess’s warning!”

Kalona squinted and looked away as the ball of sunlight engulfed Erebus and then disappeared, leaving annoying gold glitter that the immortal had to brush from his own wings.

“Nyx!” Kalona spoke to the sky. “He calls me arrogant, and yet he disappears in a sunburst of golden glitter. I do not understand how you continue to bear his foppish presence!”

Familiar laughter that had always reminded the immortal of a full harvest moon echoed around Kalona. He closed his eyes against the pain of her absence, even as hope increased his heartbeat.

“You watch me. I know you do,” Kalona whispered.

The laughter faded. Kalona opened his eyes. Feeling as if he carried a great weight, he started walking. He needed to get back to watch over the fledglings. That one thing he could do, and do well.

“No other fledgling will be allowed to do anything stupid enough to be condemned for—not as long as I watch over them,” he spoke his thoughts aloud. What Kalona didn’t say, didn’t even like to admit silently to himself, was how he could not get the two fledglings’ cries for mercy from his mind. Beheading the vampyre hadn’t been difficult. Dallas had attempted to murder a vampyre and had been justly condemned. It was the two fledglings who haunted him. They had been boys who had simply chosen unwisely and followed the wrong leader, he thought.

“Compassion.”

The whispered word halted Kalona’s. “Nyx?”

“Compassion.”

The word was repeated. It was spoken too softly for Kalona to be certain, but the warmth, the infinite love in it, had to be Nyx. And then Kalona realized where he had stopped. He was standing before the wooden door to Nyx’s Temple.

The door that turned from wood to stone under his touch as his Goddess denied him entrance.

Slowly, as if moving up through the centuries of longing for her, Kalona lifted his hand. He pressed his palm against the door and waited for it to turn to unyielding stone.

It remained wood.

Kalona’s hand trembled when it touched the door handle. He turned it and pushed, and with the sound of a woman’s sigh, the wooden door opened.

Kalona stepped into the foyer of Nyx’s Temple. He heard running water, though he hardly glanced at the glistening amethyst fountain that was recessed into the niche in the thick stone wall. He passed beneath an arched doorway and entered the heart of the Goddess’s temple.