“We need to think about it,” I said. “We’ve all been taking for granted the way the House of Night takes care of us.”
“I cannot believe the Vampyre High Council would stay silent and leave our school adrift among the human legal system,” Darius said.
“But if they do, we’re going to need safety and money. There’s definitely money hanging on these walls, and there might even be safety down here—if Neferet doesn’t know about it.” I thought for a second and then added, “I’ll bet Kalona would know for sure if she does or does not.”
“Well, then, let’s go ask the winged immortal,” Stark said.
“I do not like thinking about breaking totally from the House of Night,” Darius said grimly. “But I do agree with your reasoning. Let’s talk to Kalona.”
The three of us had hurried up from the basement and decided it’d be smart if we nonchalantly meandered from there to the main school building—and then made a big circle back to the field house area and Dragon Lankford’s old office, which now belonged to Kalona.
“No need to have anyone paying attention to us coming and going from that hallway,” Darius said.
“Yeah, and then calling attention to the hallway.” I agreed with him and, with what was probably more enthusiasm than necessary, forced a smile and sent a big wave to Kramisha and Shaylin as they emerged from the cafeteria. “Espionage,” I muttered and sighed.
“What about it?” Stark asked.
“I’m crappy at it,” I said.
He’d taken my hand and Darius was chuckling softly when we turned to our right to follow the hallway to the front of the school—and the three of us stopped, blinking dots of bright light from our eyes and gawking at the little group in the foyer.
“What’s going on? Is that a camera?” Stark asked.
“This is great! There’s one of the new red vampyres. Follow me!” A woman carrying a mic gestured to the cameraman and the two guys carrying the lights, and headed in our direction.
The uncomfortably bright lights closed on us, along with the woman, the cameras, and Diana, the very flustered-looking vampyre who usually served as a kind of secretary for the school—and who usually stayed calm and cool about everything.
“Ohmygod! I thought I saw the Fox 23 van outside, but I didn’t think you’d actually be here!” Damien squealed as he burst into the foyer from the hallway that led to the cafeteria. “Chera Kimiko! I can hardly believe it! I am such a huge fan!”
I squinted against the camera lights. Holy crap! It was the Fox News anchor. My first thought was: Wow, she’s even prettier in person. My second wasn’t so positive: Wow, there must be some major poo hitting the fan if Fox 23 sent Chera here.
“Thank you so much! I really appreciate all of my fans,” Chera was saying to Damien, who, totally star struck, was still grinning at her.
“Damien, why don’t you tell Thanatos there’s a reporter here?” I smiled and gave him a little push toward the stairway that led to Thanatos’s office.
“Oh, absolutely! I’ll be right back!” As Damien hurried past Chera he paused and added, “I really do just love you!”
Chera beamed a beautiful smile at him and opened her arms. “Damien, you are precious. How about a hug?”
“Ohmygod, yes!” Damien’s grin lit up his face as he hugged Chera. I heard her whisper, “Adam told me to say hi.”
“Oooh! Tell him hi for me right back!” Damien finished squeezing her and then he hurried toward Thanatos’s office.
I swear if he’d been a puppy he would have wagged himself to death.
“You’re the first red vampyre I’ve seen in person! Your tattoos are quite beautiful.” Chera and the camera were now focused on Stark.
“Yeah, uh, I’m a red vampyre,” Stark said, glancing nervously back and forth from the camera to Chera.
“Your name is Stark, right?” Chera asked him.
“Right.”
Way conscious of the camera that was blinking the red record light, I’d opened my mouth to try to figure out something to say that didn’t end up with me hysterically shrieking, grabbing Stark, and bolting from the room, but Chera was peering up at Stark, smiling, and looking captivated as she studied his Mark. She moved closer to him. Sounding friendly and totally harmless she said, “The pattern is intriguing. It looks like arrows. You’re not from Broken Arrow, are you?”
“Uh, no. I’m from Chicago.”
“Are the arrows symbolic?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m a pretty good archer,” he said.
Chera turned her big brown eyes on me and smiled as if she and I were BFFs. “Your tattoos are amazing, too. And you have them everywhere! I think I see birds and flowers and, wow, even flames and waves within that filigree design. You must be a very special young vampyre.”
I opened and closed my mouth. I had no clue what to say. If Chera had been blunt and pushy and reporter-like it would have been easy to do the whole “no comment” thing and walk away, but she seemed genuinely nice and just politely curious. Sounding as nervous as Stark looked, I said, “Well, I’m not really comfortable with the whole special label, even though our Goddess Marked me with extra tattoos.”
“Oh, I get it.” Chera motioned to the cameraman. “Jerry, cut that part.” Then she turned her attention back to me. “I apologize. I’m not here to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“To get an inside reaction to the killing of Tulsa’s mayor.”
“We didn’t kill the mayor,” I said.
“I didn’t mean to accuse you! Any of you! Not at all,” Chera assured us, sounding as sincere as she looked.
“Is someone making accusations?” Thanatos hurried up, with Damien following closely behind.
Chera glanced at the cameraman. “Jerry, stop recording, please.” She held her hand out to Thanatos. “High Priestess, I am Chera Kimiko, Fox 23 News.”
Thanatos took her hand. “I am Thanatos, this House of Night’s High Priestess. And I recognize you, Miss Kimiko.”
“Please, call me Chera. I’m not here to accuse anyone of anything. I’m only trying to show the whole story, the real story behind Charles LaFont’s death.” She held out her hand to one of the guys with the lights. “Andy, let me see my iPad.” The guy handed it to her—she tapped the screen and then held it up so that we could see Aphrodite’s mom being interviewed by a concerned-looking man in a suit that didn’t fit very well.
“Mrs. LaFont, please accept our condolences on the death of your husband, our beloved mayor,” said the reporter.
“I do appreciate the sentiment, but I will not be consoled until my husband’s vampyre murderer is brought to justice.”
Diana and I sucked air. Thanatos seemed to turn to stone. Darius and Stark looked like they might explode. But Aphrodite’s mom, Mrs. Charles LaFont, looked beautiful and devastated and mesmerizingly passionate in her sleek black dress and her pearls. She dabbed a lace handkerchief at the corners of her tear-filled blue eyes before she continued.
“So, you are sure your husband was killed by a vampyre?” the reporter prompted.
“Absolutely sure. I was there. I found his brutalized, blood-drained body.” Mrs. LaFont looked from the reporter straight into the camera. “Something has to be done about the House of Night.”
The interview broke for a commercial and Chera tapped the screen off.
“The only side that is being heard is that of Mrs. LaFont, and while I sympathize with her loss, I am a journalist, and I believe in telling the whole story.”