As a group, the five had turned to their right after placing their candles and whatever else they’d been carrying in niches in the wall. They all froze, staring into the fog, before they began walking forward. Then it was like the fog swallowed them.
“What the hell?” Stark said.
“Can you rewind that?” Damien asked.
“Yeah, no problem.” Stark picked up a remote and pressed the rewind button.
“Okay, stop there.” Damien leaned forward studying the screen. “Now let it play, but slowly, and when I tell you to stop—pause it.”
“Will do,” said Stark.
We all watched the hooded figures walk forward as one and place their offerings on the wall. They waited a moment, and as they turned, in obvious response to something to their right, Damien said, “Stop!”
Stark hit pause, and I sucked in a breath. “What is that on that person’s face?”
Aphrodite said, “Her face. They’re women. Look at how the cloaks cling to their bodies as they turn. Those are definitely boobs—five sets of them.”
I nodded. “Good catch, Aphrodite. But what’s that on her face?”
One of cameras, the one farthest to the right and, like the others, situated in the limbs of the oaks that stood sentinel above the tomb, had just caught the face of the woman in the purple cloak. For a second I thought she was just one of those girls who liked to put on so much mascara and eyeliner that she looked raccoonish, but as I studied the grainy, indistinct picture I realized it was much more than that.
The tip of Damien’s finger touched the screen. “She’s painted a triple moon on her forehead. And this,” he traced the girl’s face, “is like a black mask, though I think it’s also painted on. Is there any way to magnify this?”
Aphrodite scoffed. “Like we’re the FBI?”
“Actually, I could get one of the computer fledglings on it,” said Stark.
“Yeah, the new budget I approved at the end of last year had a lot of computer stuff on it.”
“I’ll take a screenshot and get it to them,” said Stark.
Aphrodite plopped down in a chair and shook back her long blonde hair. “It’s still hard for me to believe humans have such damn short memories. A year ago Neferet ate a couple hundred of them. What didn’t they get about that? Do they think she’s having a restful little vacay walled up in that grotto and will emerge to hold hands with them and have a fucking tea party?”
Kacie snorted as she entered the room. “Humans are morons.”
We turned to see that Stevie Rae had returned with Kacie. I hadn’t known the kid long—actually, I’d just been introduced to her a week before. That same day she’d rejected the Change and died in a pool full of blood, chlorine, and water during the first human-fledging swim meet in House of Night history. But she’d kinda, sorta accidentally been granted a second chance by Aphrodite and resurrected as a fully Changed red vampyre with affinities for water and fire. Now, she was standing just inside the room with her hands on her curvy waist, and I was struck again by how pretty she was—and by the unique red tattoo that framed her face with waves that morphed into flames. Today she was wearing adorable overalls over a short little pullover made of the Tulsa House of Night’s black, purple, and dark green plaid, which looked great against her brown skin.
Kacie took her hands from her waist and shrugged. “No offense. I know some of you have human friends. But, seriously, all the humans I know are total morons.”
“Less commentary, Ice Cream Shoes, and more information,” said Aphrodite. “Though I must say I tend to agree with you about the moronic nature of humans.” She pointed at the still-shot of the face-painted human on the screen. “Let me present exhibit one.”
“What’s that in the fog?” Kacie asked, coming forward to stand between Aphrodite and me.
I shifted my weight and sighed. “Well, I’m afraid it’s a moronic human. But that’s not the point. Or at least not why Stevie Rae brought you here. See all that fog?”
“Yeah. Where is that?”
“Woodward Park—this mornin’,” said Stevie Rae, moving up so that she stood near Kacie.
“Here? In Tulsa?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“That’s weird. I didn’t think you guys got fog here like we did in Chicago. Plus, it’s really the wrong time of year for it. Most Chicago fog is in the spring or fall.”
“We get fog, but not a lot,” Damien said as he peered over my shoulder at the screen. “Especially not in the middle of winter when the temperature has been the same for days and days.”
“How long did it last?” Kacie kept staring at the picture. “And what’s wrong with that woman’s face?”
“Yeah,” Stevie Rae asked. “What’s goin’ on with her makeup? She kinda looks like the Lone Ranger.”
“The who?” Aphrodite uncrossed and crossed her legs.
“It’s from an old TV show. He wore a mask. My mama and me used to watch reruns when I was little. I really only remember the mask and his horse.”
“Which has nothing to do with the fog,” said Damien. “Kacie, we don’t know what’s going on with those humans, but that really isn’t important right now.”
“Damien’s right—as always.” I grinned at him. I’ll always love how studious Damien is—how he keeps learning and growing. “What’s important is the weird fog and why it covered this city this morning. It could be a weather fluke, but we need to be sure. Could you ask water about it?”
Kacie’s gaze went from the screen to me. Her big, dark eyes looked surprised and maybe even a little frightened.
“Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay if you’re not ready or if it’s too hard. We get it, and no one will be mad at you.”
“It’s not that. I’ll definitely try, but is water gonna actually talk to me?”
Aphrodite covered a laugh with a cough, and I talked over her, shooting her an exasperated look. “No, at least not with words.”
Stevie Rae, whose affinity was earth, took over for me. “You’ll get a feelin’ from your element. You should be able to tell if it’s upset, and especially if it’s been messed with recently. It may even give you an image of somethin’. Like, remember when all those trees just outside the wall that surrounds the Chicago House of Night started dyin’ and we couldn’t figure out why?”
Kacie nodded.
“Well, I checked in with earth and knew right away someone was poisonin’ ’em—shooting some crap into their roots that was killin’ ’em. I couldn’t see who it was, but I knew it was a human doin’ it and not a disease that was makin’ ’em die.”