“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.
Darius had remembered right—the basement was long and dark and had a cold, stone floor. There weren’t any electric lights down there, just gas lanterns hanging from really old iron hooks along the stone walls between the wall-mounted swords and shields. When Darius and Stark lit the lanterns, light danced off the metal surfaces as if they were living, breathing things.
“This could totally be a setting for Game of Thrones,” I said.
“Which is awesome,” Stark said.
“If by awesome you mean dungeon-like and creepy,” I said.
“But dry and underground,” Stark said. “Hey, there’re actually some electric outlets down here. Put up room dividers, bring down sleeping bags, beanbag chairs, and a few TVs with DVD players, and it’ll be better than camping.”
“That’s not saying much. Almost anything is better than camping,” I said.
“Getting toasted by the sun is not better than camping,” Darius said.
“Gotta agree with you there,” Stark said.
“Hey, are these actually real?” I asked, mesmerized by the hilt of one of the swords, which was jewel- or glass-encrusted and glittering.
“Be assured, Priestess,” Darius said. “All of the stones are real.”
“Holy crap!” I said. “They’re beautiful and they have to be worth a fortune. Why did Dragon keep them down here? Shouldn’t they be on display somewhere or locked in a vault or something?”
“I remember hearing Dragon comment that he didn’t believe in displaying all of our riches for everyone to see,” Darius said.
“Doesn’t sound like Neferet, though. She was all about displaying riches, and Neferet was his High Priestess,” Stark said.
“I am not certain if Neferet knew about this stash of weapons. It was something Dragon controlled. I do not ever remember Neferet coming here or speaking of any of the ancient swords or shields.” Darius spoke slowly, as if reasoning aloud. “She took little interest in any weapon but that of her own power.”
“You mean you don’t think she knows about this place at all?” I said.
“She may not,” Darius agreed.
“That would be really good for us,” Stark said. “Not only does it mean she wouldn’t know about the basement, but like Zoey said, there’s a fortune in jewels and gold hanging on these walls.”
“But every House of Night is independently wealthy,” Darius said. “Why would we need a hidden fortune in jewels and gold?”
“Each House of Night is rich,” I said. “But we’ve already begun breaking from the school by moving off campus. What if the issues between humans and vamps get worse because of the mayor’s death? Does either of you guys know if the cops could have our accounts frozen?”
Darius shook his head. “I do not know.”
“I have no clue, either. I still have the same debit card I used when I was at the House of Night in Chicago,” Stark said. “I never even think about it.”