“You could not. I value your honesty.”
“Well, then the difference is that this Tulsa feels somehow lighter. If that makes sense.”
Neferet nodded. “It does. It was exactly what I was thinking. They have not known war, my dear. Or at least not a human-vampyre war.”
“Obviously,” Lynette agreed. “Which means they will be weaker than vampyres from our world.”
Neferet’s smile was fierce. “Indeed. And oh, so surprised I am here. Though I am determined not to lose focus. I am not here for vengeance. I am here to attain immortality and return to our world.”
Lynette nodded in agreement. “Of course. You’re very wise not to get distracted. What now, my lady?”
“I want to get a closer look at the prison they’ve walled this world’s version of me up in. But first I need a little help with concealment.”
It was a simple spell that any mature vampyre—and many of the more adventurous fledglings—could easily cast. It was the first spell fledglings learned upon entry to the House of Night. One that kept them safe from human eyes should they get caught outside the walls of their school and surrounded by hostile humans. But Neferet was more than a century older than a newly Marked fledgling and even though she had renounced her position of High Priestess she still carried in her blood and in her spirit the magick granted to all vampyres—and she was well versed in how to use it. Neferet could cast a conceal spell that didn’t just hide herself and Lynette from potential onlookers, Neferet could cast a conceal spell that covered all of Tulsa. She faced west, the direction from which water was conjured and also, coincidentally, the direction she would travel should she want to walk the few blocks to the Arkansas River. She drew in several deep breaths to center herself, and then spoke softly, coaxingly.
“Water, I call you.
Come to me in the form of mist,
conceal me from spying eyes,
and make me one with thee.”
Neferet imagined thick, soup-like fog covering not just Lynette and her, but blanketing all of midtown and the heart of downtown Tulsa so that whomever was watching the cameras from the House of Night would be fooled into believing that there was nothing amiss—nothing at all to see but morning fog rolling in from the river.
From the west gray clouds billowed over midtown. They blanketed Woodward Park in a mist so thick that within minutes the grotto was completely obscured.
“Come, but stay close,” she told Lynette. “We could easily get separated in this.”
Neferet felt her way along the porous boulders until she reached the wall that jutted from the otherwise natural-looking ridge. The instant she touched it Neferet gasped and pulled her hand back.
“What is it?” Lynette whispered from beside her.
“It feels cold. And wrong.” The tiny hairs on Neferet’s arms prickled as they lifted, and her stomach rolled. For a moment she thought she might actually be sick. Then she shook herself. It is not me. I am not entombed there. Then she pressed her hand firmly against the stone.
It was frigid. Neferet forced herself to keep her hand on the wall. She closed her eyes and concentrated, and through the rock she sensed several things at once: rage, restlessness, and hunger. An all-consuming hunger that was like a gnawing pain pouring into her palm and spreading throughout her body with each new beat of her heart.
With the rage and hunger an image began to form in Neferet’s mind. She couldn’t actually see within the tomb, but she could sense the trapped goddess. She was surrounded by darkness that seethed and moved restlessly like a nest of vipers.
Neferet pressed her palm harder against the icy stone, until she felt more—the thing that kept the goddess sealed within. It was incredibly powerful, and it was causing the cold. She sensed that the seal was round, and it covered the entire wall, extending to the top of the rock so that it pressed into the side of the ridge. It pulsed like it was alive and sent waves of ice into her body. She began to shiver.
Still Neferet kept her hand there—pressed against the wall of the tomb—until her children, the loyal tendrils of Darkness that had become so precious to her, began to move in agitation. They circled her legs, crawling up to her waist. They draped around her arms and neck like living jewels. They lent her their warmth as they clung to her and Neferet felt their worry as surely as she felt their protection.
“Oh!” Lynette gasped.
Neferet glanced at her handmaid and was shocked that her children had become visible and were also encircling Lynette’s waist as well as hanging from her neck.
“My lady, they seem upset,” Lynette said as she stroked the fat tendril that wrapped around her middle.
“Of course they are.” Neferet gestured at the wall. “I assume they are agitated because they can sense that one like me is trapped within. I imagine they, too, know something very powerful has sealed her in there—something that is not friendly to them or to me.” She caressed the tendrils decorating her neck and shoulders. “All is well, children, but Lynette and I do appreciate your concern. Do not fret. I shall break the seal and free the goddess within, who will, in return, provide us the knowledge I need to become immortal.”
“And then we will go back to our world,” Lynette said, still stroking the tendril.
“Indeed, we will—”
A girl’s voice blasted across the fog. “Jesus Christ! I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Oh, Amber, stop bitching. At least those Sons of Erebus assholes are gone.”
“Seriously,” said a third girl, her voice moving closer than the other two. “I don’t know why they get so butt hurt about us leaving offerings. Neferet is a goddess and she’s trapped in there. I mean, the least we can do is worship her.”
Silently, Neferet moved away from the wall, motioning for Lynette to follow. Carefully ensuring the fog continued to cover the cameras mounted in the trees above the grotto, she concentrated on clearing a small portion of it directly before the tomb, just enough so that she could see who approached while remaining hidden herself.
Five people suddenly came into view. They were all women, young, though not as young as the fledglings at the House of Night. They were dressed in short, tight skirts, ridiculous boots with stiletto heels that kept sinking into the soft, winter grass, and fur coats. They approached the wall and stopped in front of it. Each young woman carried a large satchel from which they took velvet capes in the five colors that represented the elements: yellow for air, red for fire, blue for water, green for earth, and purple for spirit. They hastily donned the garments before they dug into their bags and brought out tea lights in colors corresponding to their capes, along with lighters and other trinkets—crystals, feathers, and even a small stone carved in the shape of a cat.