“If we have to stay here for more than one more night, I’m going to tell Thanatos that we need to get our cats, and Duchess, no matter what the cops say about it,” I said.
“We are not criminals. We have done nothing wrong and should be allowed to leave—to go on about our normal lives,” Darius said. Even he sounded frustrated.
“And yet we’re basically locked up here,” I said.
Neither of them had anything to say about that. What was there to say? The truth was that a crazy immortal, who might still be more specter than solid body, had probably eaten the mayor. How were we going to prove that, and even if we could come up with proof, would the human police believe our evidence, or was it just too crazy? The depressing but true answer was: they weren’t going to believe it, because it was super, super crazy.
Darius had remembered right—the basement was long and dark and had a cold, stone floor. There weren’t any electric lights down there, just gas lanterns hanging from really old iron hooks along the stone walls between the wall-mounted swords and shields. When Darius and Stark lit the lanterns, light danced off the metal surfaces as if they were living, breathing things.
“This could totally be a setting for Game of Thrones,” I said.
“Which is awesome,” Stark said.
“If by awesome you mean dungeon-like and creepy,” I said.
“But dry and underground,” Stark said. “Hey, there’re actually some electric outlets down here. Put up room dividers, bring down sleeping bags, beanbag chairs, and a few TVs with DVD players, and it’ll be better than camping.”
“That’s not saying much. Almost anything is better than camping,” I said.
“Getting toasted by the sun is not better than camping,” Darius said.
“Gotta agree with you there,” Stark said.
“Hey, are these actually real?” I asked, mesmerized by the hilt of one of the swords, which was jewel- or glass-encrusted and glittering.
“Be assured, Priestess,” Darius said. “All of the stones are real.”
“Holy crap!” I said. “They’re beautiful and they have to be worth a fortune. Why did Dragon keep them down here? Shouldn’t they be on display somewhere or locked in a vault or something?”
“I remember hearing Dragon comment that he didn’t believe in displaying all of our riches for everyone to see,” Darius said.
“Doesn’t sound like Neferet, though. She was all about displaying riches, and Neferet was his High Priestess,” Stark said.
“I am not certain if Neferet knew about this stash of weapons. It was something Dragon controlled. I do not ever remember Neferet coming here or speaking of any of the ancient swords or shields.” Darius spoke slowly, as if reasoning aloud. “She took little interest in any weapon but that of her own power.”
“You mean you don’t think she knows about this place at all?” I said.
“She may not,” Darius agreed.
“That would be really good for us,” Stark said. “Not only does it mean she wouldn’t know about the basement, but like Zoey said, there’s a fortune in jewels and gold hanging on these walls.”
“But every House of Night is independently wealthy,” Darius said. “Why would we need a hidden fortune in jewels and gold?”
“Each House of Night is rich,” I said. “But we’ve already begun breaking from the school by moving off campus. What if the issues between humans and vamps get worse because of the mayor’s death? Does either of you guys know if the cops could have our accounts frozen?”
Darius shook his head. “I do not know.”
“I have no clue, either. I still have the same debit card I used when I was at the House of Night in Chicago,” Stark said. “I never even think about it.”
“We need to think about it,” I said. “We’ve all been taking for granted the way the House of Night takes care of us.”
“I cannot believe the Vampyre High Council would stay silent and leave our school adrift among the human legal system,” Darius said.
“But if they do, we’re going to need safety and money. There’s definitely money hanging on these walls, and there might even be safety down here—if Neferet doesn’t know about it.” I thought for a second and then added, “I’ll bet Kalona would know for sure if she does or does not.”
“Well, then, let’s go ask the winged immortal,” Stark said.
“I do not like thinking about breaking totally from the House of Night,” Darius said grimly. “But I do agree with your reasoning. Let’s talk to Kalona.”
The three of us had hurried up from the basement and decided it’d be smart if we nonchalantly meandered from there to the main school building—and then made a big circle back to the field house area and Dragon Lankford’s old office, which now belonged to Kalona.
“No need to have anyone paying attention to us coming and going from that hallway,” Darius said.
“Yeah, and then calling attention to the hallway.” I agreed with him and, with what was probably more enthusiasm than necessary, forced a smile and sent a big wave to Kramisha and Shaylin as they emerged from the cafeteria. “Espionage,” I muttered and sighed.
“What about it?” Stark asked.
“I’m crappy at it,” I said.
He’d taken my hand and Darius was chuckling softly when we turned to our right to follow the hallway to the front of the school—and the three of us stopped, blinking dots of bright light from our eyes and gawking at the little group in the foyer.
“What’s going on? Is that a camera?” Stark asked.
“This is great! There’s one of the new red vampyres. Follow me!” A woman carrying a mic gestured to the cameraman and the two guys carrying the lights, and headed in our direction.
The uncomfortably bright lights closed on us, along with the woman, the cameras, and Diana, the very flustered-looking vampyre who usually served as a kind of secretary for the school—and who usually stayed calm and cool about everything.
“Ohmygod! I thought I saw the Fox 23 van outside, but I didn’t think you’d actually be here!” Damien squealed as he burst into the foyer from the hallway that led to the cafeteria. “Chera Kimiko! I can hardly believe it! I am such a huge fan!”
I squinted against the camera lights. Holy crap! It was the Fox News anchor. My first thought was: Wow, she’s even prettier in person. My second wasn’t so positive: Wow, there must be some major poo hitting the fan if Fox 23 sent Chera here.
“Thank you so much! I really appreciate all of my fans,” Chera was saying to Damien, who, totally star struck, was still grinning at her.
“Damien, why don’t you tell Thanatos there’s a reporter here?” I smiled and gave him a little push toward the stairway that led to Thanatos’s office.
“Oh, absolutely! I’ll be right back!” As Damien hurried past Chera he paused and added, “I really do just love you!”
Chera beamed a beautiful smile at him and opened her arms. “Damien, you are precious. How about a hug?”
“Ohmygod, yes!” Damien’s grin lit up his face as he hugged Chera. I heard her whisper, “Adam told me to say hi.”
“Oooh! Tell him hi for me right back!” Damien finished squeezing her and then he hurried toward Thanatos’s office.
I swear if he’d been a puppy he would have wagged himself to death.
“You’re the first red vampyre I’ve seen in person! Your tattoos are quite beautiful.” Chera and the camera were now focused on Stark.
“Yeah, uh, I’m a red vampyre,” Stark said, glancing nervously back and forth from the camera to Chera.
“Your name is Stark, right?” Chera asked him.
“Right.”
Way conscious of the camera that was blinking the red record light, I’d opened my mouth to try to figure out something to say that didn’t end up with me hysterically shrieking, grabbing Stark, and bolting from the room, but Chera was peering up at Stark, smiling, and looking captivated as she studied his Mark. She moved closer to him. Sounding friendly and totally harmless she said, “The pattern is intriguing. It looks like arrows. You’re not from Broken Arrow, are you?”
“Uh, no. I’m from Chicago.”
“Are the arrows symbolic?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m a pretty good archer,” he said.
Chera turned her big brown eyes on me and smiled as if she and I were BFFs. “Your tattoos are amazing, too. And you have them everywhere! I think I see birds and flowers and, wow, even flames and waves within that filigree design. You must be a very special young vampyre.”
I opened and closed my mouth. I had no clue what to say. If Chera had been blunt and pushy and reporter-like it would have been easy to do the whole “no comment” thing and walk away, but she seemed genuinely nice and just politely curious. Sounding as nervous as Stark looked, I said, “Well, I’m not really comfortable with the whole special label, even though our Goddess Marked me with extra tattoos.”
