Chosen (3 page)

My absolutely clueless friends came together and we all did a kinda awkward group hug that left us laughing. Just then the door swung open and the light from the hall glistened on very blond, very big hair.

“Here.”

Thankfully, my turning-into-vampyre reflexes were pretty good, and I caught the box she tossed at me.

“Mail call came for you while you were back here with your nerd herd,” she sneered.

“Go away, Aphrodite, ya hag,” Shaunee said.

“Before we throw some water on you and you melt,” Erin added.

“Whatever,” Aphrodite said. She started to turn away, but paused and gave me a wide, innocent smile before saying, “Nice snowman necklace.” Our eyes met and I swear she winked at me before tossing her hair and flitting away, her laughter floating in the air after her like mist.

“She's such a total bitch,” Damien said.

“You'd think she would have learned her lesson when you took
the Dark Daughters from her, and Neferet proclaimed that the Goddess has withdrawn her gifts from Aphrodite,” Erik said. “But that girl will never change.”

I looked sharply at him.
So says Erik Night, her ex-boyfriend.
I didn't need to say the words aloud. I knew by the way Erik looked hastily away from me that they were easy enough to read in my eyes.

“Don't let her mess up your birthday, Z,” Shaunee said.

“Ignore the hateful hag. Everyone else does,” Erin said.

Erin was right. Since Aphrodite's selfishness had caused her to be publicly kicked out of leadership of the Dark Daughters, the school's most prestigious student group, and the position of Lead Dark Daughter as well as priestess in training had been given to me, she had lost her standing as most popular and powerful fledgling. Our High Priestess, Neferet, who was also my mentor, had made it clear that our goddess, Nyx, has withdrawn her favor from Aphrodite. Basically, Aphrodite was shunned where she was once put on a big ol' popularity pedestal and worshipped.

Unfortunately, I knew there was more to the story than what everyone else believed. Aphrodite had used her visions, which had clearly
not
been taken away from her, to save my grandma as well as Heath, my human boyfriend. Sure, she'd been bitchy and selfish during the saving, but still. Heath and Grandma were alive, and a good part of the credit for that goes to Aphrodite.

Plus, recently I'd found out that Neferet, our High Priestess—my mentor, the vamp most looked up to at the school—was also not what she appeared to be. Actually, I was coming to believe that Neferet was probably as evil as she was powerful.

Darkness does not always equate to evil, just as light does not
always bring good.
The words that Nyx had said to me the day I was Marked flitted through my mind, summarizing the problem with Neferet. She wasn't what she appeared to be.

And I couldn't tell anyone—or at least not anyone who was alive (which left me with my undead best friend who I hadn't managed to talk to during the entire past month). Thankfully, I also hadn't talked to Neferet for the past month. She'd left for a winter retreat in Europe and wasn't scheduled to be back until the New Year. I figured I'd come up with a plan about how to deal with her when she returned. So far my plan consisted of just that: coming up with a plan. Which was no plan at all. Crap.

“Hey, what's in the package?” Jack said, pulling me out of my mental nightmare back to my birthmas party nightmare.

We all looked at the brown paper package I was still holding.

“I dunno,” I said.

“I'll bet it's another birthday present!” Jack cried. “Open it!”

“Oh, boy . . . ,” I said. But when my friends gave me confused looks I got real busy unwrapping the box. Inside the generic brown wrapper was another box, this one wrapped in beautiful lavender paper.

“It
is
another birthday present!” Jack squealed.

“Wonder who it's from?” Damien asked.

I was just wondering the same thing, and thinking that the paper reminded me of my grandma, who lived on an awesome lavender farm. But why would she send my present through the mail when I was meeting her later tonight?

I uncovered a smooth, white box, which I opened. Inside was another, much smaller white box fitted snuggly inside a bunch of lavender tissue paper. Curiosity completely killing me, I lifted the
little box from its lavender tissue nest. Several pieces of the paper clung all static-electricified to the bottom of the newly freed box, and I brushed them off before opening it. As they floated to the table I peeked inside the box and sucked in a shocked breath. Lying on a bed of white cotton was the most beautiful sliver bracelet I'd ever seen. I picked it up, oohing and ahing at the twinkling charms. There were starfish and seashells and seahorses, and each of them was separated by adorable little silver hearts.

“It's absolutely perfect!” I said, fastening it to my wrist. “I wonder who could have sent it to me?” Laughing, I turned my wrist this way and that, letting the gaslights that were so easy on our sensitive fledgling eyes catch the polished silver and make it glisten like faceted jewels. “It must be my grandma, but that's weird because we're meeting in just . . . ,”and I realized everyone was totally, absolutely, uncomfortably silent.

I looked from my wrist to my friends. Their expressions ranged from shock (Damien) to annoyance (the Twins) to anger (Erik).

“What?”

“Here,” Erik said, handing me a card that must have slipped out of the box with the clinging tissue paper.

“Oh,” I said, instantly recognizing the scrawling handwriting.
Oh, hell!
It was from Heath. Better known as boyfriend no. 2. As I read the short note I felt my face getting hot and knew I was turning a totally unattractive shade of bright red.

 

Zo—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I know how much you hate those lame birthmas presents that try to mush your b-day with Christmas, so I sent you something I know you'll like. Hey! It doesn't have anything
to do with Christmas! Duh! I'm hating the stupid Cayman Islands and this boring vacation with my parents and I'm counting the days till I can be with you again. See you on the 26th! I heart you! Heath

 

“Oh,” I repeated like a total moron. “It's, uh, from Heath.” I wished I could make myself disappear.

“Please. Just please. Why didn't you tell anyone that you don't like birthday presents that have anything to do with Christmas?” Shaunee asked in her usual no-nonsense way.

“Yeah, all you had to do was say something,” Erin said.

“Uh,” I said succinctly.

“We thought the snowman theme was a cute idea, but it's not if you hate Christmas stuff,” Damien said.

“I don't hate Christmas stuff,” I managed to say.

“I like snow globes,” Jack said softly, looking like he was about to cry. “The snowy part makes me happy.”

“Looks like Heath knows more about what you like than we do.” Erik's voice was flat and emotionless, but his eyes were dark with hurt, which made my stomach clench.

“No, Erik, it's not like that,” I said quickly, taking a step toward him.

He moved back like I had some kind of awful disease he might catch, and suddenly it really pissed me off. It wasn't my fault that Heath had known me since I was in third grade and had figured out the mushed birthmas present issue years ago. Okay, yes, he knew stuff about me that the rest of them didn't. There was nothing weird about that! The kid had been in my life for seven years.
Erik and Damien, the Twins and Jack had been in my life for two months—or less. How was that my fault?

Purposefully, I made a show of looking at my watch. “I'm supposed to meet my grandma at Starbucks in fifteen minutes. I better not be late.” I walked over to the door, but paused before I left the room. I turned around and looked at my group of friends. “I didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings. I'm sorry if Heath's note made you guys feel bad—but that's not my fault. And I did tell someone that I don't like it when people try to mush my birthday together with Christmas—I told Stevie Rae.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Starbucks at Utica Square, the cool outdoors shopping center that was right down the street from the House of Night, was a lot busier than I'd thought it would be. I mean, sure, it was an unusually warm winter night, but it was also December 24, and almost nine o'clock. You'd think people would be home getting ready for visions of sugarplums and whatnot, and not out looking for a caffeine buzz.

No,
I told myself sternly,
I am not going to be in a bad mood for Grandma. I hardly ever get to see her, and I'm not going to spoil the little time we have together.
Plus, Grandma was totally hip to the fact that birthmas presents were lame. She always got me something as unique and wonderful as she is.

“Zoey! I'm over here!”

At the far edge of the Starbucks sidewalk area I could see Grandma's arms waving at me. This time I didn't have to plant a fake smile on my face. The rush of happiness seeing her always brought me was authentic and had me dodging through the crowd as I hurried to her.

“Oh, Zoeybird! I've missed you so,
U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya!
” The
Cherokee word for daughter wrapped around me, along with my grandma's warm, familiar arms that held the sweet, soothing scent of lavender and home. I clung to her, absorbing love and security and acceptance.

“I've missed you, too, Grandma.”

She squeezed me one more time and then held me back at arm's length. “Let me look at you. Yes, I can tell that you're seventeen. You look so much more mature, and I think a little taller than you did when you were merely sixteen.”

I grinned. “Oh, Grandma, you know I don't look any different.”

“Of course you do. Years always add beauty and strength to a certain type of woman—and you're that type.”

“So are you, Grandma. You look great!” I wasn't just saying that. Grandma was a zillion years old—at least somewhere in her fifties—but she looked ageless to me. Okay, not ageless like vamp women who looked twenty-something at fifty-something (or one hundred and fifty something). Grandma was an adorable human ageless with her thick silver hair and her kind brown eyes.

“I do wish you didn't have to cover your lovely tattoos to meet me here.” Grandma's fingers rested briefly on my cheek where I'd hastily patted the thick concealing makeup fledglings were required to wear when they left the House of Night campus. Yes, humans knew vampyres existed—adult vamps didn't conceal themselves. But the rules for fledglings were different. I guess it made sense—teenagers didn't always handle conflict well—and the human world did tend to conflict with vampyres.

“That's just the way it is. Rules are rules, Grandma,” I shrugged it off.

“You didn't cover the beautiful Marks on your neck and shoulder, did you?”

“No, that's why I'm wearing this jacket.” I glanced around to make sure no one was watching us, then I brushed back my hair and flipped down the shoulder of the jacket so that the sapphire lacework on the back of my neck and shoulder was visible.

“Oh, Zoeybird, it's just so magical,” Grandma said softly. “I'm so proud that the goddess has Chosen you as special and Marked you so uniquely.”

She hugged me again, and I clung to her, incredibly glad that I had her in my life. She accepted me for
me.
It didn't matter to her that I was turning into a vampyre. It didn't matter to her that I was already experiencing bloodlust and that I had the power to manifest all five of the elements: air, fire, water, earth, and spirit. To Grandma I was her true
u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya,
the daughter of her heart, and everything else that came along with me was just secondary stuff. It was weird and wonderful that she and I could be so close and so much alike when her real daughter, my mom, was so completely different.

“There you are. The traffic was just awful. I hate leaving Broken Arrow and fighting my way to Tulsa during the holiday rush.”

As if my thoughts had somehow tragically conjured her, my mother's voice threw cold water on my happiness. Grandma and I let go of each other to see my mom standing beside our table, holding a rectangular bakery box and a wrapped present.

“Mom?”

“Linda?”

Grandma and I spoke together. It was no surprise that
Grandma looked as shocked as me by my mother's sudden appearance. Grandma would never have invited my mother without letting me know. Both of us saw totally eye to eye about my mother. One, she made us sad. Two, we wished she would change. Three, we knew she probably wouldn't.

“Don't look so surprised. Like I wouldn't show up at my own daughter's birthday celebration?”

“But, Linda, when I talked with you last week you said you were going to send Zoey's birthday present to her through the mail,” Grandma said, looking as annoyed as I felt.

“That was before you said you were meeting her here.” Mom told Grandma, then she frowned at me. “It's not like Zoey invited me to come herself, but then I'm used to having an inconsiderate daughter.”

“Mom, you haven't talked to me in a month. How was I supposed to invite you anywhere?” I tried to keep my tone neutral. I really didn't want Grandma's visit to deteriorate into a big drama scene, but my mom hadn't said ten sentences and she was already totally pissing me off. Except for the stupid Christmas-birthday card she'd sent me, the only communication I'd had with my mom had been when she and her awful husband, the step-loser, had come to parent visitation at the House of Night a month ago. It had been a complete nightmare. The step-loser, who was an Elder for the People of Faith Church, had been his usual narrow-minded, judgmental, bigoted self and had ended up basically being thrown out and told never to come back. As usual, my mom had scampered along after him like a good little submissive wife.