Destined (8 page)

“Z, what is your problem? So he’s not just a pretty guy. That’s so awful?” Aphrodite said.

I stopped and turned to face them. They were all there, trailing along after me like baby ducks: Stark, Aphrodite, Darius, the Twins, Damien, Stevie Rae, and even Rephaim. It was to Rephaim I addressed my question, “You saw it, too, didn’t you?”

He nodded soberly. “If you mean his change, yes.”

“Saw what?” Stark asked, sounding exasperated.

“He was turning into a bull,” Stevie Rae said. “I saw it, too.”

“That pretty white boy was turnin’ hisself into a bull? That ain’t right,” Kramisha said, peeking back at the crowd we’d left behind.

“White boy—white bull,” Stevie Rae said. Then, sounding a lot like me she added, “Ah, hell.

CHAPTER SIX

Erik

He’d been walking slowly back to the drama room, wishing hard that instead of entering a class he was going to be making a grand entrance to a movie set in L.A., New Zealand, Canada … Hell! Anywhere but Tulsa, Oklahoma! He’d also been wondering how he’d gone from the hottest fledgling on campus and the next Brad Pitt according to the top vampyre casting agent in L.A., to a Drama Professor and a vampyre Tracker.

“Zoey,” Erik mumbled to himself. “My shit started to go downhill the day I met her.”

Then he felt crappy about saying that, even if there was no one around to hear him. He really was okay with Z. They were kinda even friends. What he wasn’t okay with was all the crazy stuff that went on around her.
She’s a damn freak magnet,
he thought to himself. No wondered they’d broken up. Erik was no freak.

He rubbed the palm of his right hand.

Several fledglings rushed past him and he reached out and snagged one kid by the scruff of his plaid school jacket. “Hey, what’s the rush and why aren’t you in class?” Erik scowled fiercely at the kid, more because he was pissed that he sounded like one of
those
teachers, the get-back-to-class-young-man kind, than that he actually cared where the fledgling was going.

Annoying Erik even more, the kid cringed and looked like he was going to piss his pants.

“Somethin’s going on. Some fight or somethin’.”

“Go on.” Erik let go of him with a little push and the kid scampered off.

Erik didn’t even consider following him. He knew what he’d find. Zoey in the middle of a mess. She had plenty of people to help get her out of her mess. She wasn’t his damn responsibility, just like ridding the whole damn world of Darkness wasn’t his damn responsibility.

It was as he reached for the doorknob of his classroom that his right palm began to burn. Erik shook it. Then he stopped and stared.

The spiral labyrinth-like mark had become raised, like a fresh brand.

Then the compulsion hit him. Hard.

Erik gasped, turned, and started jogging toward the student parking lot and his red Mustang. As the urge increased to a level that was feverish, he couldn’t stay quiet and thoughts burst from him in jagged pieces of sentences.

“Broken Arrow. Twenty-eight-oh-one South Juniper Avenue. Walking. In thirty-five minutes. Gotta get there. Gotta be there. Shaylin Ruede. Shaylin Ruede. Shaylin Ruede. Go go go go go…”

Erik knew what was happening to him. He’d been prepared. The House of Night’s last Tracker, who called himself Charon, had told him exactly what to expect. When it was time for him to Mark a fledgling his palm would burn; he would know a place, a time, and a name; he would have an uncontrollable compulsion to go there.

Erik had thought he’d been ready, but he hadn’t realized the depth of the yearning that would come over him—the singular power of the focus that pounded through him in time with the pulse beat he felt hot and urgent in his palm.

Shaylin Ruede would be the first fledgling he would ever Mark.

It took him thirty minutes to get from midtown Tulsa to the little condo complex tucked within the quiet suburb of Broken Arrow. Erik pulled into a visitor’s spot in the parking lot. His hands were shaking as he got out of his Mustang. The compulsion pulled him to the sidewalk that ran in front of the complex, parallel to the street. The condo complex had soft white lights that looked like giant opaque fishbowls resting on wrought iron poles, so pools of cream illumination were thrown on the sidewalk. Mature cedars and oaks lined the street side of the walkway. Erik glanced at his watch. It was 3:45
A.M.
A weird time and place to Mark a kid. But Charon had told him the Tracker compulsion would never be wrong—that all he had to do was to follow it, to let his instincts lead him, and he’d be fine. Still, there was absolutely no one around and Erik was starting to panic when he heard a small
tap-tap-tap-tap.
In front of him a girl turned the corner from inside the complex and came into view. She moved slowly down the sidewalk, coming toward him. Each time she walked through the bubbles of light, Erik studied her. She was small—a petite girl with lots of dark brown hair. So much hair, in fact, that he was actually distracted for a moment by how thick and shiny it was and he didn’t notice anything else about her—until the tapping sound broke into his consciousness. She was holding a long white cane that she kept continually sweeping in front of her,
tap-tap-tapping,
so that it was by sound and touch that she navigated her way. Every few feet she stopped and gave a terrible, wet cough.

Erik knew two things at once. First, this was Shaylin Ruede, the teenager he was meant to Mark. Second, she was blind.

He would have stopped himself if he could have, but no mortal power and, according to Charon, no magickal power, either, could take Erik from this kid until after he’d Marked her. When the girl was just a few feet in front of him he raised his hand, palm out, and pointed at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“Hi? Who is it? Who is there?”

“Erik Night,” he blurted. Then he shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, that’s not right.”

“You’re not Erik Night?”

“Yes. I mean no. Wait, that’s not right, either. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be saying.” His hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.” She coughed. “Do you have the same flu I have? I’ve felt awful all day.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just that I have to say something else to you, and it’s not supposed to be my name or anything like that. Oh, man. I’m really messing this up. I never screw up lines. This is all wrong.”

“Are you practicing for a play?”

“No. And you don’t even know how ironic that question is,” he said, rubbing his sweaty face and feeling confused.

She cocked her head to the side and frowned. “You aren’t going to mug me, are you? I know it’s late and all, and I’m blind and not supposed to be out here by myself. But it’s the easiest time of day for me to go on a walk alone. I don’t get much alone time.”

“I’m not going to mug you,” he said miserably. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then what are you doing out here, and what have you messed up?”

“This is so not going the way it’s supposed to!”

“And kidnapping me won’t do you any good. I’m living here with my foster mom. She doesn’t have any money at all. Actually, since I’ve been working after school at the South BA Library down the street, I have more money than her. Uh, not that I have any of it with me at this second.”

“Kidnap you? No!” Then Erik doubled over, holding on to his gut. “Crap! Charon didn’t tell me it’d hurt if I didn’t do it.”

“Charon? Are you in a gang? Am I supposed to be an initiation sacrifice?”

“No!”

“Good, ’cause that would really suck.” She smiled in his general direction, and then started to turn back the way she’d come. “Okay, well, then. If that’s all. It was nice to meet you, Erik Night. Or at least I think that’s your name.”

With a huge effort, Erik straightened up enough to lift his hand again, palm out. “This is what I’m supposed to be doing.” In a voice that was suddenly filled with magick and mystery and purpose, Erik Night intoned the ancient Tracker words,
“Shaylin Ruede! Night has Chosen thee! Thy death will be thy birth! Night calls to thee; harken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night!”

All of the heat that had been building in his gut, making him feel sick and confused and too hot shot out of his palm. He could actually see it! It smacked right into Shaylin’s forehead. She made a small, surprised, “Oh!” sound and dropped gracefully to the ground.

Okay, he knew he was supposed to be very vampyre-like and melt into the shadows and return to the House of Night, letting the fledgling find her own way there. Charon told him that’s how it was done. Or at least that’s how it was done in the modern world.

Erik thought about melting into the shadows. He even started to back away, and then Shaylin lifted her head. She’d fallen in the middle of a splotch of light, so her face was illuminated. She looked absolutely perfect! Her full pink lips tilted up in a surprised smile and she was blinking as if to clear her vision. If she hadn’t been blind he would have sworn she was staring at him with those huge black eyes. Her pale skin was flawless, and in the middle of her forehead her new Mark seemed to glow a bright, beautiful scarlet.

Scarlet?

The color jolted through him and he started to move to her saying, “Wait, no. That’s not right.” At the same time Shaylin said, “Ohmygod! I can see!”

Erik hurried over to her and then stood helplessly, not sure what to do, as she collected herself and got to her feet. She was a little wobbly, but she was blinking and staring all around them, a huge smile filling her pretty face.

“I can really see! Ohmygod! This is incredible!”

“This isn’t right. I’ve so messed this up.”

“I don’t care if you messed up or not—thank you so much! I can see!” she shouted and threw her arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time.

Erik kinda patted her back. She smelled sweet, like strawberries or maybe peaches—or some kind of fruit. And she felt really soft.

“Oh, god! Sorry.” She suddenly released him and took a step back. Her cheeks were pink and she wiped her eyes. Then those wet, dark eyes widened at something over his shoulder and he spun around, hands up and ready to knock the crap out of someone. “Oh, no. Sorry again.” Her fingers rested on his arm for just a second as she took a slow step past him. He looked down at her to see that she was gawking at a big, old oak. “It’s so beautiful!” With steps that were becoming surer with each stride, she walked to the tree and pressed her hand against it. Staring up into the branches, she said, “I had images in my mind. Things I remember from before I lost my sight, but this is so, so much better.” She wiped her eyes again and then her bright eyes came back to him, and they widened even more. “Oh,
wow
!”

In spite of the weirdness of everything, Erik couldn’t help smiling back at her with his hundred-watt movie star grin. “Yeah, before I was zapped into being a Tracker I was on the road to Hollywood.”

“No, I’m not wowing about how hot you are, even though you are hot. I suppose,” she said quickly, still staring at him.

“I am,” he assured her, reminding himself that she was probably in some kind of shock.

“Yeah, well, what I mean is that I can
really
see you.”

“Yeah, and?”
Goddess, Shaylin Ruede, Marked or unMarked, was one strange girl
.

“I lost my sight when I was a just a kid, right before my fifth birthday, but I seriously don’t remember being able to see the insides of people. And I think if that was common I’d at least have heard about it on the Internet.”

“How can you use the Internet if you’re blind?”

“Really? Are you really asking that? Like you don’t know about stuff for disabled people?”

“How could I? I’m not disabled,” Erik said.

“Again, really? That’s not what the inside of you says.”

“Shaylin, what the hell are you talking about?”
Was she a crazy kid? Had his messing up the Tracker stuff made her not just a red fledgling, but a crazy red fledgling? Crap! He was in so much trouble!

“How do you know my name?”

“All Trackers know the name of the fledglings they’re sent to Mark.”

Shaylin touched her forehead. “Oh, wow! That’s right! I’m going to be a vampyre!”

“Well, if you live. Actually, I’m not sure what’s going on. You have a red Mark.”

“Red? I thought fledglings have blue Marks and, eventually, blue tattoos. You do.” She pointed at his tattoo, which framed his Clark Kent blue eyes like a mask.

“Yeah, well, you should have a blue tattoo. But you don’t. It’s red. And could we go back to the stuff you were saying about seeing inside me?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s amazing. I can see you, and then I can also see all kinds of colors surrounding you. It’s like what’s inside you is glowing around you.” She shook her head, as if in wonder, staring even harder at him. Then she blinked, frowned, and blinked again. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“Colors? That doesn’t make any sense.” He realized she was clamping her lips together, as if she didn’t want to say any more, which for some reason really annoyed him, so he asked, “What colors are around me?”

“Lots of pea green all mixed with something watery. It reminds me of the mushy peas some places try to give you when you order fish and chips, not that that makes any sense whatsoever.”

Erik shook his head. “None of this makes any sense. Why the hell do I have mushy pea color around me?”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. When I focus on it I can see what it means about you.” She closed her mouth then and shrugged. “Plus you have some little bright specks that show up once in a while, but I can’t tell what color they are and only a little of what they mean. Sounds crazy, right?”

“What does the pea green and the watery stuff say about me?”

“What do you think it says?”

“Why are you answering my question with a question?”

“Hey, you just answered my question with a question,” Shaylin said.

“I asked you first.”