There was a dark struggle going on within Stark that was reflected in his entire body. From the glowing red of his heated eyes to the feral grimace of his lips to the tightrope tension that radiated from him, he looked like he was on the brink of an explosion.
But here’s the deaclass="underline" I’d had just about enough. Saying my reaction to Kalona’s kiss had freaked me out was the new understatement of the year. My body still ached. My head was woozy. I was so weak I didn’t think I’d win an arm-wrestling contest with, well, Jack. Now Darius was hurt, and I didn’t have a clue how badly. Seriously, you could stick a fork in me and call me so done with all this stress.
“Stark, just get the hell out of here!” I rounded on him, glad my voice sounded lots stronger than I felt. “I don’t want to zap the crap outta you with fire, but if you take one more step into this room, I swear I’m going to burn your butt up.”
That got through to him. Stark’s red eyes locked on me. He looked pissed and dangerous. There was a darkness that surrounded him like an aura, making the red in his eyes blaze. I stood, glad that the sheet was staying tucked around my body, and lifted my arms, holding them up and ready. “Do not push me right now. I promise you won’t like it if I lose my temper.”
Stark blinked a couple of times at me, like he was trying to clear his vision. The scarlet of his eyes faded, the darkness in the air around him dissipated, and he wiped a shaky hand across his face. “Zoey, I—” he began, sounding almost normal. Darius shifted in his defensive stance, taking a step closer to me. Stark snarled at him—actually snarled—like he was more animal than human, spun around, and ran out of the room.
I somehow managed to stagger to the door and slam it closed, then dragged a chair from near the bedside and propped it under the door handle, just as I’d seen people do in the movies, before I went back to Darius.
“I am glad you are on my side, Priestess,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m fierce.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t close to passing out by sounding like Christian from Project Runway. I was pretty sure Darius didn’t know Project Runway from a science project, but it did make him chuckle as we helped each other over to the end of the bed, where he sat heavily and I stood beside him, concentrating on not swaying like I was drunk. Which, sadly, I wasn’t anymore.
“There should be first aid supplies in the cabinet over there.” He motioned to the long stainless steel cabinet that stretched halfway across the far wall. There was also a sink built into it and a bunch of scary hospital-looking items (they were sharp and very stainless steel) stored neatly in trays and whatnot beside the sink.
Wearily, I ignored the sharp things and started pulling open drawers and cabinets, which was when I noticed my hands were shaking like crazy.
“Zoey,” Darius called, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked terrible. The left side of his face was a bloody mess. The slash extended from his temple, all the way down his jawline, messing up the bold geometric design of his tattoo. But his eyes smiled at me and he said, “I’m going to be just fine. This is little more than a scratch.”
“Well, it’s a big scratch,” I said.
“I believe it will annoy Aphrodite,” he said.
“Huh?”
He started to smile, but ended the attempt with a grimace as the movement caused more blood to pour from the wound. He pointed at his face. “She won’t like the scar.”
When I had a bunch of bandages and alcohol wipes and gauze and stuff, I came back to him. “If she gives you crap about it, I’ll kick her butt. After I’ve rested up.” I stared at the awful “scratch,” ignoring the delicious scent of his blood and swallowing hard to keep myself from puking.
Okay, yes, it does sound like a total contradiction: the fact that I love the taste and smell of blood, but that seeing it pouring out of a friend’s body grosses me out. Wait, no. Maybe it’s not a contradiction, because, hello! I don’t eat my friends! I thought about Heath and decided to amend my thought: I don’t eat my friends under normal circumstances and unless they give me their permission.
“I can clean it,” Darius said, reaching for the alcohol wipe I was balling up in my fisted hand.
“No,” I said, then repeated more firmly, shaking my head to try to clear away the wooziness in it. “No, that’s ridiculous. You’re hurt; I’ll do it. Just walk me through what I need to do.” I paused, before I continued, “Darius, we have to get out of here.”
“I know,” he said solemnly.
“You don’t know all of why. I overheard Kalona and Neferet talking. They said they were planning some kind of a new future, and then said it would involve ‘swaying the Council.’”
Darius’s eyes widened in shock. “Nyx’s Council? As in the High Council of Vampyres?”
“I don’t know! They didn’t say anything else about it. I guess they could have been talking about the Council here at the House of Night.”
He studied my face. “But you do not believe that is what they were referring to?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Sweet Nyx! It cannot be done!”
I frowned, wishing my gut wasn’t disagreeing with him. “I’m afraid there’s a chance it can be done. Kalona is powerful, and he has that magical draw-people-to-him thing going on. Look, the bottom line is we can’t be trapped under Neferet’s control while she and the bird guy put their disgusting plan in motion—whatever that plan might be.” Actually, I was scared that they’d already put their disgusting plan in motion, but saying it out loud felt like a spell that would make it be true. “So can’t we just get you fixed up, grab Aphrodite, the Twins, and Damien, and go back to the tunnels?” I felt precariously close to bursting into tears. “I’m all better, and I think it’s worth the chance of drowning in my own blood to get the hell out of here.”
“Agreed, and I believe Neferet has healed you enough that you will not be in danger of rejecting the Change, even if you are not among a full fold of vampyres.”
“Are you okay enough to leave?”
“I told you I am fine, and I was speaking the truth. Let us get this cleaned up and then we will leave this place.”
“I like the tunnels better.” I surprised myself by admitting out loud what I had been thinking, but Darius nodded solemnly in agreement. “It is because it feels safe there, and it is definitely no longer safe here,” he said.
“Did you notice Neferet?” I asked him.
“If you mean did I notice the Priestess’s power seems to have increased—yes, I did.”
“Great. I almost wish I was just imagining things,” I muttered.
“Your instincts are good, and they’ve been warning you about Neferet for quite a while.” He paused. “Kalona’s hypnotic power is unusual. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“Yeah,” I said, cleaning the blood off his face. “But I think I’ve broken whatever hold he was having over me.” I refused to admit, even to myself, that though the hypnotic effect was gone, I still had had a powerful reaction to his kiss. “Hey, did Kalona look different to you?”
“Different? How so?”
“Younger, like he’s not even as old as you.” I guessed that Darius was somewhere in his early to mid-twenties—or at least that’s how old he appeared to me.
Darius gave me a long, considering look. “No, Kalona appeared the same as when first I’d seen him—ageless, but not in a way that could ever be mistaken for a teenager. Perhaps he has the ability to alter his appearance to please you.”
I wanted to deny it, and then I remembered what he’d called me just before he kissed me. It had been the same name he’d called me during my nightmare. My response to him is almost automatic, as if my soul recognizes him, my mind whispered traitorously. A terrible fear shivered through my body, causing the little hairs on my arms and the back of my neck to stand straight up. “He calls me A-ya,” I said.