P.C. Casr - Betrayed

"Let's go, Heath." I grabbed his hand so I could guide him quickly down the darkness of the tunnel. The light in my palm had gone out when I'd called earth to me, and no way was I going to take a chance on relighting it. It might guide her to us. As we ran down the tunnel I heard Stevie Rae's whispered "Please don't forget me ..." follow us.

Heath and I ran. The surge of energy his blood had given me didn't last long, and by the time we came to the metal ladder that led up to the grate in the basement, I wanted to collapse and sleep for days. Heath was all for rushing up the ladder and into the basement, but I made him wait. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the side of the tunnel and fished my cell phone out of my pants pocket, along with Detective Marx's card. I flipped open the phone and I swear my heart didn't beat until the bars started to light up green.

"Can ya hear me now?" Heath said, grinning at me.

"Sssh!" I told him, but smiled back. Then I punched in the de­tective's number.

"This is Marx," the deep voice answered on the second ring.

"Detective Marx, this is Zoey Redbird. I only have a second to talk, then I have to go. I've found Heath Luck. We're in the base­ment of the Tulsa Depot, and we need help."

"Hang tight. I'll be right there!"

A noise from above made me cut off the connection and switch the phone off. I pressed my finger to my lips when Heath started to speak. Heath put his arm around me, and we tried not to breathe. Then I heard the coo-coo of a pigeon and the flutter­ing of wings.

"I think it's just a bird," Heath whispered. "I'm going to go look."

I was too tired to argue with him, plus Marx was on his way and I was sick of the damp, nasty tunnel. "Be careful," I whis­pered back.

Heath nodded and squeezed my shoulder, then climbed up the ladder. Slowly and carefully he lifted the metal grate, sticking his head up and peering around. Pretty soon he reached down and motioned for me to climb up and take his hand. "It's just a pi­geon. Come on."

Wearily, I climbed to him and let him pull me up into the basement. We sat in the corner by the grate for several long min­utes, listening intently. Finally, I whispered, "Let's go outside and wait for Marx there." Heath had already started to shiver, but I re­membered the blanket Aphrodite had made me bring. Plus, I'd rather take my chances with the weather than stay in the creepy basement.

"I hate it in here, too. It's like a damn tomb," Heath said softly between chattering teeth.

Hand in hand, we walked across the basement, passing through the slatted grayish light that reflected down from the world above. We were at the iron door when I heard the distant wail of a police siren. The terrible tension in my body had just begun to relax when Neferet's voice came from the shadows.

"I should have known you would be here."

Heath's body jerked in surprise and my hand tightened in warning on his. As I turned to face her, I was centering myself and could feel the power of the elements beginning to shimmer in the air around me. I drew a deep breath and carefully blanked my mind.

"Oh, Neferet! I'm so glad to see you!" I squeezed Heath's hand one more time before I let go of him, trying to telegraph play along with whatever I say through touch. Then I ran, sobbing, into the High Priestess's arms. "How did you find me? Did Detec­tive Marx call you?"

I could see indecision in her eyes as Neferet smoothly disen­tangled herself from my arms. "Detective Marx?"

"Yeah." I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve, forcing my­self to beam relief and trust to her. "That's him coming right now." The sound of the siren was very close, and I could hear that it had been joined by at least two other cars. "Thank you for find­ing me!" I gushed. "It was so terrible. I thought that crazy street person was going to kill both of us." I moved back to Heath's side and took his hand again. He was staring at Neferet, looking a lot like he was in shock. I realized that he was probably remembering pieces of the only other time he'd seen the High Priestess—the night the vampyre ghosts had almost killed him—and imagined his mind was too freaked out for Neferet to make much sense of what was going on inside his head. Good thing, too.

Then car doors were slamming and heavy feet were crunching through the snow.

"Zoey, Heath ..." Neferet moved swiftly to us. She lifted her hands, which glowed with a weird, reddish light, suddenly re­minding me of the undead things' eyes. Before I could run or scream or even take a breath, she grabbed our shoulders. I felt Heath go rigid as pain shot through my body. It blasted against my mind and my knees would have buckled had her hand not been like a vise, holding me up. "You will remember nothing!" The words echoed through my agony-filled mind, and then there was only darkness.

I was in a beautiful meadow that was in the middle of what looked like a dense forest. A warm, soft breeze was blowing the scent of lilacs to me. A stream ran through the meadow, its crys­tal water bubbled musically over smooth stones.

"Zoey? Can you hear me, Zoey?" An insistent male voice in­truded on my dream.

I frowned and tried to ignore him. I didn't want to wake up, but my spirit stirred. I needed to wake up. I needed to remember. She needed me to remember.

But who was she?

"Zoey ..." This time the voice was inside my dream and I could see my name painted against the blue of the spring sky. The voice was a woman's ... familiar … magical … wondrous. "Zoey ..."

I looked around the clearing and found the Goddess sitting on the other side of the stream, gracefully perched on a smooth Ok­lahoma sandstone rock with her bare feet playing in the water.

"Nyx!" I cried. "Am I dead?" My words shimmered around me.

The Goddess smiled. "Will you ask that of me each time I visit you, Zoey Redbird?"

"No, I'm, uh, sorry." My words were tinged pink, probably blushing like my cheeks.

"Don't be sorry, my daughter. You have done very well. I am pleased with you. Now, it is time you awakened. And also I wish to remind you that the elements can restore as well as destroy."

I started to thank her, even though I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but the shaking of my shoulder and a sud­den blast of cold air interrupted me. I opened my eyes.

Snow swirled all around me. Detective Marx was bending over me, shaking my shoulder. Through the weird fog in my mind I found one word. "Heath?" I croaked.

Marx jerked his chin to his right and I tilted my head to see Heath's still body being loaded into an ambulance.

"Is he …" I couldn't finish.

"He's fine, just banged up. He's lost a lot of blood and they've already given him something for the pain."

"Banged up?" I was struggling to make sense of everything. "What happened to Heath?"

"Multiple lacerations, just like those other two kids. Good thing you found him and called me before he bled to death." He squeezed my shoulder. A paramedic tried to move Marx from my side, but he said, "I'll handle her. She just needs to get back to the House of Night and she'll be fine."

I saw the paramedic give me a look that clearly said freak, but Detective Marx's strong hands were helping me sit up and his tall body blocked my view of the muttering EMT.

"Can you walk to my car?" Marx asked.

I nodded. My body was feeling better, but my mind was still all mushy. Marx's "car" was really a huge, all-weather truck with giant wheels and a roll bar. He helped me up into the front seat, which was warm and comfortable, but before he closed the door I sud­denly remembered something else, even though the effort made my head feel like it was going to split open. "Persephone! Is she okay?"