Home > Lost (House of Night Other World #2)(12)

Lost (House of Night Other World #2)(12)
Author: P. C. Cast

   I didn’t show how shocked I was to find out I’d slept for hours instead of twenty minutes or so. Instead I nodded and tried to appear enthusiastic. “Psaghetti always makes me feel better.”

   “That’s what I thought,” said Stark, taking my hand. “It’s been a long day for me too. Let’s go eat.”

   “Sounds good.” I kissed Persephone one more time and smiled sheepishly at Lenobia as we left the stall. “Sorry about scaring you. I really do feel stupid about that.”

   Lenobia was looking at me with her sharp, gray eyes. “You are forgiven,” she said. “And, High Priestess, if you need to talk, please remember I am here for you.”

   “Thank you! I’ll remember.” I closed the stall door. Hand in hand, Stark and I left the stables, heading to the dining hall.

   I’ll talk about it, but only when I’ve decided exactly what I’m going to do and how I’m going to do it. Truth be told, I already had an idea. I glanced at Stark, knowing he would be my biggest obstacle. He was going to be mad. Real mad.

   Ah, hell …

 

 

5

   Other Kevin

   “You look cold, G-ma. Next time I stop to move one of those logs from the path I’ll get you a blanket from that box behind us. I don’t want you getting sick.”

   The old woman waved away her grandson’s worry. “U-we-tsi, I still cleanse myself in the stream that runs behind my house. It is always cold. I am fine. And we’re almost to the top of the ridge. I believe next time we stop, we won’t be alone.”

   “What is this land?” Kevin peered around them, looking through the darkness at the wilds of an Oklahoma ridge filled with old-growth oaks, waist-tall grasses, and lots and lots of sandstone boulders.

   Grandma gestured at the rough dirt path the sturdy Polaris had been bumping along. “These are old oil trails—and I do mean old. They were established right around 1901 and, lucky for us, they dried up in 1902, well before they thought to tame all of this, or at the very least widen these paths and pave them. Tina’s people on her mother’s side were leaders of the Creek Nation, and the ownership of this huge section of land passed to her. She’s been protecting it for decades.”

   “So, the electric fence happened before the war started?”

   “No. That was an addition she made this past year—quietly, using only those of us who are allied with the Resistance. She knows it won’t stop an attack by the Red Army, but it certainly dissuades random snoopers and poachers.”

   “I’ll bet this is really pretty during the day. It’d be easy to imagine we were living a hundred years ago.”

   “It would, indeed.”

   “It’d be more fun imagining if there weren’t so many spiders, though. With no windshield or top to this thing, we’re like spider magnets.” Kevin grimaced as he raised the thick stick he’d broken off at their first stop, waving it in front of him and G-ma, trying to let it snag spiderwebs before their faces did.

   “Spiders eat ticks and mosquitoes, u-we-tsi. They are merely a nuisance for us.” Her brows lifted. “Unless, like Zoeybird, you’re afraid of them?”

   “G-ma, my manliness says that it’s better if I don’t answer that question.”

   Kevin drove on enjoying the sound of his grandma’s sweet laughter. Soon, though, he found that he had no choice but to let the spiderwebs decorate his face as he had to keep both hands on the wheel and concentrate so the Polaris wouldn’t tip over when the way grew more and more treacherous. His headlights caught a huge tree, fallen like a sleeping giant over the path, and he slowed down to a crawl.

   “That must be the final barricade,” he said.

   “Ready yourself, u-we-tsi. Drive directly up to the tree and then stop. Cut the motor immediately.

   Kevin swallowed his nerves and did as she told him to do. He drove to the huge felled tree, put the vehicle in park, and cut the engine. And as he did so, his little old grandma totally shocked him by climbing lithely up to stand on the bench seat of the Polaris, so close to him her leg pressed against his arm. She poked her head up through the roll bars, drew a big breath, and then shouted.

   “I’m trying to harvest mustard plants by the light of the moon. That’s when they are most potent!”

   “Is that true, G-ma?”

   “Of course not. It’s my code phrase. Now, shush.”

   There was a sound like the rustling of wind through tall grass and from the huge oaks surrounding them, half a dozen blue vampyres dropped—swords held up at the ready as they formed a tightening circle around the Polaris.

   A short, powerfully built vampyre whose face held an intricate tattoo of two dragons roaring fire stepped to within a few feet of Kevin. He held a longsword with both hands and his attention was centered on Kevin. “Red vampyre—set Sylvia Redbird free. She does not deserve to lose her life along with you tonight.”

   Sylvia stepped carefully across Kevin, so that she perched between her grandson and the blue vampyre’s sword.

   “Merry meet, Dragon.”

   Dragon Lankford’s eyes narrowed, and still he didn’t speak directly to the old woman, but continued to command Kevin. “Free her.”

   Slowly, carefully, Kevin lifted his hands from the steering wheel, holding them up, palms out. “My grandma is completely free.”

   “Sylvia, come to me,” said Dragon.

   “Only if you give me your word you will hear me out before you behead my grandson.”

   Dragon’s gaze flicked to the old woman. “Your grandson?”

   “Yes, my friend. This is Kevin. He comes in peace as your ally, just as I do.”

   Hard and flat, Dragon’s gaze went back to Kevin. “Then I am sorry for the pain his death will cause you.”

   “Dragon, you must listen to me. If you don’t, if you slaughter without thought, how are you different than Neferet and her army of red monsters?”

   Dragon Lankford paused long enough to glance sadly at Sylvia again. “I do not blame you for leading him here. You are clearly under his influence. You will forgive me when you are yourself once more.”

   Kevin’s sight, which was preternaturally sharp, caught the cues an instant before Dragon struck. All Kevin could imagine was what that razor-like longsword could do to his little old grandma. He moved with blurring speed as Dragon lunged, grabbing his spider stick and deflecting the sword while he hurled himself in front of her. Knocked to the side, the blow that was meant to sever his head from his neck streaked across his back from shoulder to shoulder.

   At first, he didn’t feel any pain—just a tug and the sudden heat of his blood gushing down his back.

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