P.C. Cast - Burned

“Is it true you died and were resurrected?” the queen asked.

“Yes.” Stark said the word quickly, hoping she wouldn’t question him more on that subject.

“Intriguing . . .” Sgiach murmured.

“Was it during daylight when your queen’s soul shattered? Is that why yie failed tae protect her?” Seoras asked.

It felt like the Warrior had shot the questions through his heart, but Stark met his gaze steadily and spoke only the truth. “No. It wasn’t daylight. I didn’t fail her because of that. I failed her because I made a mistake.”

“I’m sure the High Council, as well as the vampyres at your House of Night, have explained to you that a shattered soul is a death sentence for the High Priestess, and quite often for her Warrior as well. Why do you believe coming here will change that certainty?” Sgiach said.

“Because, like I said before: Zoey’s not just a High Priestess. She’s different. She’s more. And because I’m not just going to be her Warrior; I want to be her Guardian.”

“So yer willing tae die for her.”

The Warrior didn’t speak it as a question, but Stark nodded anyway. “Yes, I’d die for her.”

“But he knows if he does, then he’ll have no chance of getting her back into her body,” Aphrodite said, as she and Darius stepped up beside him. “Because that’s what other Warriors have tried, and none of them have been successful.”

“He wants to use the bulls and the ancient way of the Warrior to find a door to the Otherworld while he’s alive,” Darius said.

Seoras laughed humorlessly. “You cannae be expectin’ tae enter the Otherworld by chasing myths and rumors.”

“You fly the flag of the black bull over this castle,” Stark said.

“You speak of the tara, ancient symbolism long forgotten, like my island,” Sgiach said.

Stark countered with: “ We remembered your island.”

“And the bulls aren’t so forgotten in Tulsa,” Aphrodite said. “Both of them manifested there last night.”

There was a stretch of silence in which Sgiach’s face showed utter shock, and her Warrior’s expression flattened to a dangerous readiness.

“Tell us,” Seoras said.

Quickly and with surprisingly little sarcasm, Aphrodite explained how Thanatos had told them about the bulls, how that had led Stevie Rae to evoking the aid of the wrong bull at the same time Damien and the rest of the kids were researching, which, in turn, had them discovering Stark’s blood tie to the Guardians and Sgiach’s island.

“Tell me again exactly what the white bull foretold,” Sgiach said.

“The Warrior must look to his blood to discover the bridge to enter the Isle of Women, and then he must defeat himself to enter the arena. Only by acknowledging one before the other will he join his Priestess. After he joins her, it is her choice and not his whether she returns,” Stark recited.

Sgiach looked up at her Warrior. “The bull has given him passage to the Otherworld.”

Seoras nodded. “Aye, but only passage. The rest is his to be doing.”

“Explain it to me!” Stark couldn’t keep a handle on his frustration any longer. “What the hell do I have to do to get into the damn Otherworld?”

“A Warrior cannot enter the Otherworld alive,” Sgiach said. “Only a High Priestess has that ability, and not many of them can actually gain access to that realm.”

“I know that,” Stark said through gritted teeth. “But, like you said, the bulls are letting me in.”

“No,” Seoras corrected. “They’re allowing you passage to , nae entry. You cannae ever gain entry as a Warrior.”

“But I am a Warrior! So how do I get in? What’s the part about defeating myself mean?”

“That’s where the old religion comes in. Long ago, male vampyres could serve the Goddess or the gods, in more than a Warrior’s capacity,” Sgiach said.

“Some of us were Shamans,” Seoras said.

“Okay, so, I need to be a Shaman, too?” Stark asked, utterly confused.

“There is only one Warrior I’ve ever known who also became a Shaman.” To convey her meaning, Sgiach rested her hand on Seoras’s forearm.

“You’re both,” Aphrodite said excitedly. “So tell Stark how to do it! How he can become a Shaman along with being a Warrior.”

The ancient Warrior’s brows went up, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “Ach, ’tis quite simple really. The Warrior within must die tae give birth to the Shaman.”

“Great. Either way I have to die,” Stark said.

“Aye, so it would seem,” Seoras said.

In his imagination, Stark could almost hear Zoey’s “Ah hell!”

She knew she’d catch a bunch of crap when she got back to school, but Stevie Rae didn’t expect Lenobia herself to be waiting in the parking lot for her.

“Look, I just needed some time by myself. As you can see, I’m fine and—”

“On the evening news there was a bulletin about a gang break-in at the Tribune Loft apartments. Four people were killed. Their throats were cut out, and they were partially drained of blood. The only reason the police are not on our doorstep accusing us is the report from several witnesses who all swear it was a gang of human teenagers. with Red eyes.”

Stevie Rae swallowed down the sick taste of bile in the back of her throat. “It was the red fledglings I left at the depot. They messed with the witnesses’ memories, but none of them are Changed, so they don’t have the ability to cover up everything.”

“They couldn’t wipe those blazing red eyes from the humans’ memories,” Lenobia said, nodding in agreement.

Stevie Rae was out of the car and moving toward the school. “Dragon hasn’t gone after them, has he?”

“No. I’ve kept him busy with small groups of fledglings. He’s already started going over self-defense skills with them in case of another attack from Raven Mockers.”

“Lenobia, I seriously think that one in the park was a fluke. I’ll bet he’s miles away from Tulsa by now.”

Lenobia made a dismissive gesture. “One Raven Mocker is one too many, but whether he’s alone or with a flock, Dragon will hunt him down and destroy him. And unless Kalona and Neferet are goading them, I don’t think we need to worry about them attacking the school. I’m much more concerned about the rogue red fledglings.”

“Me, too.” Stevie Rae was eager to change the subject. “The news report said the people had only been partially drained of their blood?”

Lenobia nodded. “Yes, and their throats were ripped out—not cut or bitten and then bled as you or I would feed.”

“They aren’t feeding. They’re playing. They like terrorizing people; it’s a kind of high for them.”

“That’s truly an abomination of Nyx’s ways.” Lenobia’s words came fast; her voice filled with anger. “Those from whom we feed should only feel our mutual pleasure. That is why the Goddess gave us the ability to share such a powerful sensation with humans. We don’t brutalize and torture them. We appreciate them—we make them our consorts. The High Council has even banished vampyres who misuse their power over humans.”

“You haven’t told the High Council about the red fledglings, have you?”

“I wouldn’t do that without discussing it with you first. You are their High Priestess. But you must understand that their actions have taken them beyond where they can be ignored by the rest of us.”

“I know, but I still want to deal with them myself.”

“Not alone again. Not this time,” Lenobia said.

“You’re right about that. What they did today shows me how dangerous they are.”