P.C. Cast - Burned

“Remember when you told me to think harder ’bout my poems and such to try to get somethin’ that might help Zoey?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Well, I did. And I got somethin’.” She dug around in her huge bag until she brought out a well-worn notebook with pages that were her signature purple color. “I think everbody, including me until I focused myself, is forgetting ’bout this.” She opened the notebook and waved a page with her cursive print at Stevie Rae.

“Kramisha, you know I can’t read that while I’m drivin’. Just tell me what you remembered.”

“The poem I wrote right before Zoey and the rest of the kids took off for Venice. The one that sounds like it’s from Kalona to Zoey. Here, I’ll read it to ya:

“Ohmygood ness ! I had totally forgotten ’bout that! Okay, okay, read it again, only slower.” Stevie Rae listened closely while Kramisha read the poem again. “It has to be from Kalona, doesn’t it? That part about being trapped by the earth makes it definitely from him.”

“I’m practically sure it’s from him to her.”

“It must be, even though that’s kinda scary, what with the whole double-edged sword beginning, but the end seems like a real good thing.”

“It says, ‘then we shall both be free,’ ” Kramisha quoted.

“Sounds to me like Z’s gonna get free from the Otherworld.”

“And so will Kalona,” Kramisha added.

“We’ll deal with that when it happens. Gettin’ Z free is what’s most important. Hang on! I think some of it’s already come true! What was the part about water?”

“It says: ‘Find me on water.’ ”

“And she did. San Clemente Island is definitely on water.”

“It also says that Zoey has to ‘follow truth.’ What do you think that means?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I might have an idea. The last time I talked to Z, I told her to follow her heart, no matter that it might seem to everyone else in the world that she was messin’ up royally, just follow what everything inside her said was the right thing to do.” Stevie Rae paused, blinking hard against the sudden urge to bawl. “I-I’ve felt real guilty about sayin’ that, though, ’cause of what happened to her right afterward.”

“But maybe you was right. Maybe what’s happenin’ to Z is supposed to happen, ’cause I’m thinkin’ to follow your heart and to hold on to what you believe is right, even when everbody else says you’re dead-assed wrong, is a powerful kind of truth.”

Stevie Rae felt a flutter of excitement. “And if she keeps doin’ that, keeps holdin’ to the truth she has in her heart, the end of the poem will happen, and she’ll be free.”

“It feels right to me, Stevie Rae. Real right, like down deep in my bones.”

“Me, too,” Stevie Rae said, grinning at Kramisha.

“Okay, but Z needs to know all this. The poem is like a map to the end. The first step, findin’ him on water, already happened. Next she has to—”

“Purify him through fire,” Stevie Rae broke in, remembering the line. “And then doesn’t it say something ’bout earth and air?”

“Yeah, and spirit. It’s all five of the elements.”

“All of Z’s affinities, ending in spirit, which is her most powerful affinity.”

“And the one in charge of the realm she’s in right now,” Kramisha said. “Okay, I ain’t gonna say this just ’cause I wrote me a kick-ass poem, so you gotta seriously listen up: Zoey has to know this stuff. It’s gonna make the difference between her comin’ back and her being killed dead by whatever’s goin’ on over there.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

“Then how you gonna do it?”

“Me? I’m not. I can’t. I’m into earth. No way can my spirit take off and get to the Otherworld.” Stevie Rae shivered. Just the thought gave her the heebie-jeebies. “But Stark’s gonna get his butt there. He has to—that disgusting cow said so.”

“Bull,” Kramisha said.

“Whatever.”

“You want me to call Stark and read the poem to him? You got his number?”

Stevie Rae thought about it. “No. Aphrodite says Stark’s head is seriously messed up right now. He might ignore your poem, thinkin’ he has other, more important stuff to deal with.”

“Well, he’d be wrong.”

“Yeah, I agree. So, what we need to do is get the poem to Aphrodite. She’s hateful and all, but she’ll understand how important it is.”

“And ’cause she’s so hateful, there’s no way she’ll let Stark ignore her or the poem.”

“Exactly. Text it to her right now and tell her I said to make Stark memorize it for Zoey. And to remember it’s a prophecy, not just a poem.”

“You know, I seriously question her amount of good sense ’cause she don’t like poetry.”

“Girl, you are preaching to the dang full-gospel Pentecostal choir,” said Stevie Rae.

“Um-hum, that’s all I have to say.” And while Stevie Rae pulled into the newly plowed parking lot of the Benedictine Abbey, Kramisha bent her head over her phone and got busy texting.

Right away, Stevie Rae could tell that Grandma Redbird was getting better. The terrible bruises on her face had faded, and instead of being in bed, she was sitting in a rocking chair by the fireplace in the abbey’s main lounge, so into the book she was reading that she didn’t even notice Stevie Rae at first.

“Blue-Eyed Devil?” Even though she was there to tell Z’s grandma awful news, Stevie Rae couldn’t help smiling as she read the title. “Grandma, that sounds like a romance book to me.”

Grandma Redbird’s hand went to her throat. “Stevie Rae! Child, you startled me. And it is a romance—an excellent one at that. Hardy Cates is a magnificent hero.”

“Magnificent?”

Grandma lifted her sliver brows at Stevie Rae. “I’m old, child. Not dead. I can still appreciate a magnificent man.” She motioned to one of the padded wooden chairs not far away. “Pull that up, honey, and let’s have a chat. I’m assuming you have news of Zoey all the way from Venice. Just think of it—Venice, Italy! I would love to visit . . .” The old woman’s voice trailed off as she looked more closely at Stevie Rae. “I knew it. I knew something was wrong, but my mind has been so muddled since the accident.” Sylvia Redbird went very, very still. Then, in a voice that that was rough with fear, she said, “Tell me quickly.”

With a sad sigh, Stevie Rae sat in the chair she’d pulled beside the rocker and took Grandma’s hand. “She’s not dead, but it’s not good.”

“All of it. I want all of it. Don’t stop, and don’t leave anything out.”

Grandma Redbird held on to Stevie Rae’s hand as if it were a life-line as Zoey’s best friend told her everything—from Heath’s death to the bulls to the present and Kramisha’s prophetic poem, leaving out only one thing: Rephaim. When she was finished, Grandma’s face had gone as pale as it had been right after her accident, when she’d been in a coma and near death.

“Shattered. My granddaughter’s soul is shattered,” she said slowly, as if the words carried thick layers of grief all their own.