“Yes, and she kept a journal—a diary of sorts—wherein she recounted all that happened to her. She buried that journal in Oklahoma more than one hundred years ago. I think it would be wise if you read it. If the danger that is coming is from Neferet, you’re going to need every piece of information available to defeat her.”
My mind was spinning and my stomach felt sick. “Don’t you mean defeat her again? And why the hell didn’t you mention this journal last year when she declared herself a goddess and tried to take over the world?”
He shuffled his feet and looked down. “I was embarrassed. It was through the energy that seeped from Neferet’s journal that I first began to influence her. I used her to free myself from imprisonment with A-ya. I made a terrible mistake and I feel great remorse, and embarrassment, because of it. When I joined you against Neferet I simply did not want to give you a reason to mistrust me again.”
I blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Okay, I get that. But you still should have told us about the journal.”
“I’m telling you now, even though I know it brings up the Darkness in my past. I hope that shows you how serious I am about the impending sense of danger I feel.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it definitely does that. So, where is this old journal?”
“She buried it at the base of the ancient Oklahoma rune stone in 1893.”
I blinked in surprise. “You mean the Heavener Runestone? I went there on a field trip in eighth grade. Ugh. Ticks.”
“Ticks?”
“Yeah, I remember picking like a zillion ticks off of my legs after we got back on the bus. Not important, just gross. At least it’s winter, so ticks won’t be an issue. There’ll be mud, though. It’s been raining like crazy, but I’ll take mud over ticks any day. Uh, 1893 was a long time ago. What if it’s all disintegrated and whatnot?”
“The journal is in delicate condition, but you won’t have to search through mud to find it. Neferet dug it up decades ago when she first came to be High Priestess at the Tulsa House of Night. She hid it under the floorboards beneath the bed in her chamber.”
“What? You mean it’s still there? Under my bed in my chamber?” It made me feel vaguely nauseous to think that Stark and I were at that very moment happily snoozing away just above Neferet’s crazy journal—almost like we were sleeping over her grave—if she wasn’t immortal and was actually dead, that is.
“Ah, of course. You took the High Priestess’ chamber.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m the High Priestess,” I spoke confidently. Almost one year ago, I’d become the first High Priestess of the New North American High Council—a position and title I’d only recently begun to feel comfortable with. Well, I was fairly comfortable when I wasn’t dealing with the grumpy old High Council that still liked to try to rule North America from Italy. Like it was still the dark ages. Or at the very least the out of date, pre-Internet ages.
Kalona was looking at me oddly. “What?” I asked.
“It is just difficult for me to imagine you in Neferet’s bedchamber.”
“I redecorated.” My voice sounded bitchy, but only because I didn’t want to remember that he had, of course, been in Neferet’s bedroom—and bed—many times when he was still a bad guy and they’d been plotting to take over the world. “You wouldn’t recognize it.”
He shrugged. “The chamber is of no importance to me. The journal isn’t even of any importance to me. I have never read it. Neferet told me about it, though. She named it a recounting of what made her strong. She used to liken herself to a sword forged in fire. One night she told me that she’d dug up the journal and put it to rest under the floorboards beneath her bed.”
“I wonder why she dug it up,” I heard myself asking.
“She said it was there lest she forget,” he said.
“Hum, well, okay. I’ll have Stark help me move the bed and find it. Good thing I decided against wall-to-wall carpet when I redecorated.”
“You truly will read it?” He seemed genuinely relieved.
“Well, yeah. Like you said, if what you sense has anything to do with Neferet, I’ll need all the help I can get.” I paused and added, more to myself than to him, “I wonder if I should tell the rest of my circle. I mean, they’re scattered all around the country right now, but maybe they should be prewarned, too.”
“Do what you believe is best, Zoey. Your circle is strong, even though you are not still together. Perhaps I give them more credit than does Nyx because of the time I spent with all of you, but I believe you and your circle can handle the worry.” He grinned a little sheepishly, lessening what I could have taken as his being critical of Nyx.
“Alright, I’ll get the journal and put my circle on prealert.”
“Excellent,” he said.
“Good,” I said. We just stood there and I finally blurted, “So, how’s your brother doing?”
“Erebus is well,” he said.
“And Nyx? The goddess is good, too?”
“Nyx is spectacular.”
“Good to hear it. Tell her I said hi.”
“I would rather not,” Kalona said, looking super awkward. Again.
“Huh?”
“She asked that I not worry you,” he said.
“Oh, right. I get it. Okay, so, have you talked to Rephaim lately?” I continued to try to make small talk with him, wishing Shaunee were with me. She was a lot better at talking normally to Kalona than me.
He opened his mouth to answer and then his words broke off as he tilted his head like he was listening to a voice on the wind only he could hear. “Forgive me, Zoey Redbird, but I must return to the Other World. The goddess calls. And I do apologize, again, if I went about this in the wrong way. I hope we part as friends.”
“Friends? Sure. And no problem about all of this.” I gestured out at the gorgeous Mediterranean Sea. “I do like it here. Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure I—” It was about then that I realized Kalona had gone. “Well, that’s typical. He’s not on the Dark Side anymore, but he can still be weird as hell.” Shaking my head, I stared out at the moonlit sea, trying to process the decidedly bad news he’d just delivered.
Preoccupied by the moon and the message, Zoey didn’t notice that as Kalona departed, his shadow wavered, shivered, and changed, morphing from the familiar winged immortal into swirling smoke—white smoke that formed the outline of an enormous bull before disappearing completely.
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