P.C. Cast - Hidden

He shook his head. “No, you are different than everyone else. No one will believe me. They will only see the beast. No one will care enough to trust me.”

“Zoey shielded you from the Warriors. It was because of her protection that you were able to flee.”

Aurox blinked in surprise. He hadn’t even thought of that. His emotions had been in such turmoil that he hadn’t realized the extent of Zoey’s actions. “She did protect me,” he said slowly.

Grandma patted his hand. “Do not let her belief in you be wasted. Choose Light, child.”

“But I already tried to and failed!”

“Try harder,” she spoke sternly.

Aurox opened his mouth to protest, but Grandma’s eyes stopped his words. Her gaze said that her words were more than a command—they were a belief.

He bowed his head again. This time not in shame, but in response to a tentative glimmer of hope. Aurox took one small moment to savor the new, wonderful feeling. Then, gently, he took his hand from under Grandma’s and stood. In answer to her questioning look he said, “I must learn how to prove you right.”

“And how will you do that, child?”

“I must find myself,” he spoke with no hesitation.

Her smile was warm and bright. Unexpectedly, it reminded him of Zoey, which made the tentative glimmer of hope expand until it warmed the center of him. “Where will you go?”

“Where I can do the most good,” he said.

“Aurox, child, know that as long as you control the beast, and do not kill again, you may always find sanctuary with me.”

“I will never forget it, Grandma.”

When she hugged him at the door, Aurox closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of lavender and the touch of a mother’s love. That scent and that touch stayed with him as he drove slowly back to Tulsa.

The February day was bright and, as the man on the radio said, warm enough to start wakin’ up the ticks. Aurox parked Neferet’s car in one of the empty spaces at the rear of Utica Square, and then he let instinct guide his steps as he walked from the busy shopping center along the backstreet called South Yorktown Avenue. Aurox smelled smoke before he reached the great stone wall that encircled the House of Night.

This fire was Neferet’s work. It reeks of her Darkness, Aurox thought. He didn’t allow himself to consider what that fire might have destroyed. He focused only on following his instinct, which was telling him he had to return to the House of Night to find himself and his redemption. Aurox’s heart was beating hard as he slipped within the shadow of the wall and made his way silently and swiftly around the east boundary of the school until he came to an old oak that had been split so violently that part of it rested against the school’s wall.

It was a simple thing, really, to scale the rough wall, grasp the winter nude branches of the shattered tree, and then drop to the ground on the other side. Aurox crouched in the shadow of the tree. As he’d hoped, the brightness of the sun had emptied the school grounds, keeping fledglings and vampyres within the stone buildings, behind darkly curtained windows. He moved around the split base of the tree, studying the House of Night.

It was the stables that had burned. He could see that easily. It didn’t seem that the fire had spread, though it had left an exterior wall to the stables collapsed. That damaged opening had already been draped by a thick black tarp. Aurox pressed closer to the tree. Picking his way over the splintered fragments of its broken base, and its tangled mess of limbs, Aurox wondered why no one had thought to clear the wreckage of the tree from the otherwise meticulously cared for grounds. But he didn’t have time to wonder for long. A huge raven suddenly landed on a drooping limb right before him and began a terrible and loud series of croaks and whistles and oddly disturbing clucks.

“Go! Be gone!” Aurox whispered, making shooing noises at the big bird, which only made the creature explode in more of the croaking noises. Aurox lunged forward, intent on throttling the thing and his foot caught on an exposed root. He fell forward, hitting the ground heavily. To his shock, he kept falling as the earth opened under the weight of his body and he hurled, headfirst, down … down …

There was a terrible pain in his right temple, and then Aurox’s world went black.

Zoey

I’d fallen asleep wrapped in Stark’s arms, so waking up to him shaking me while he glared and almost shouted, “Zoey! Wake up! Stop it! I mean it!” was totally confusing.

“Stark? Huh?” I sat up, dislodging Nala, who’d made herself into a fat orange donut on my hip. “Mee-uf-ow!” Nala grumbled and padded to the end of the bed. I looked from my cat to my Warrior—they were both staring at me like I’d committed mass murder. “What?” I said around a big yawn. “I was just sleeping.”

Stark grabbed his pillow and wadded it behind him so that he was propped up in bed. He crossed his arms, shook his head, and looked away from me. “I think you were doing a lot more than just sleeping. ”

I wanted to strangle him.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” I asked him.

“You said his name.”

“Whose name?” I blinked, having a flashback to that creepy old movie Invasions of the Body Snatchers and wondering if Stark had turned into a pod person.

“Heath’s!” Stark scowled. “Three times. It woke me up.” Still not looking at me, he said, “What were you dreaming?”

What he’d said had shocked the hell out of me, making me mentally scramble. What the hell had I been dreaming? I thought back. I remembered Stark kissing me before I went to sleep. I remembered the kiss was super hot, but I’d been super tired and instead of doing more than kissing him back, I’d put my head on his shoulder and totally passed out. After that I didn’t remember a thing until he was shaking me and yelling at me to stop it.

“I have not one clue,” I said honestly.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Stark, I wouldn’t lie to you.” I brushed my hair from my face and then touched his arm. “I don’t remember dreaming about anything.”

He looked at me then. His eyes were sad. “You were calling Heath. I’m sleeping right here next to you, but you were calling for him.”

The way he sounded made my heart squeeze. I hated that I’d hurt him. I could have told him it was ridiculous of him to be mad at me for something I’d said when I was asleep—something I hadn’t even remembered, but ridiculous or not, Stark’s hurt was real. I slid my hand in his.

“Hey,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He threaded his fingers with mine. “Do you wish he was here instead of me?”

“No,” I said. I’d loved Heath since I was a kid, but I wouldn’t trade Stark for him. Of course, the rest of the truth was that had Stark been the one killed, I wouldn’t have traded Heath for him, either. But that was definitely something Stark didn’t need to hear—not now—not ever.

Loving two guys was a confusing mess, even when one of them was dead.

“So, you’re not calling out for him because you want to be with him instead of me?”

“I want you. Promise.” I moved forward and he opened his arms to me. I fit perfectly against his chest and breathed in his familiar smell.

He kissed the top of my head and hugged me. “I know it’s stupid of me to be jealous of a dead guy.”

“Yep,” I said.

“Especially when I actually liked the dead guy.”

“Yep,” I agreed.

“But we belong together, Z.”

I leaned back so that I could look into his eyes. “Yes,” I said seriously, “we do. Please don’t ever forget that. No matter what amount of crazy is going on around us—I can handle it, but I need to know my Warrior is here for me.”