Hidden (House of Night Novels) (2 page)

The Horse Mistress concentrated on her mare, shutting out the turmoil that the young cowboy’s arrival at her stables had caused within her.
Tomorrow,
she promised herself sleepily,
tomorrow I will make it clear to Travis that we will never be more than employer and employee. The color of his eyes and the way he makes me feel, all of that will begin to ease when I distance myself from him. It must … it must …

Finally, Lenobia slept.

Neferet

Even though the feline was not bonded to her, Shadowfax came willingly at Neferet’s call. Thankfully, classes were over for the night, so when the big Maine coon met her in the middle of the field house it was dimly lit and empty—no students were about; Dragon Lankford himself was also absent, but probably only temporarily. She had seen only a few red fledglings on her way there. Neferet smiled, satisfied at the thought of how she added the rogue reds to the House of Night. What lovely, chaotic possibilities they presented—especially after she ensured Zoey’s circle would be broken and her best friend, Stevie Rae, would be devastated, grieving the loss of her lover.

The knowledge that she was assuring future pain and suffering for Zoey pleased Neferet immeasurably, but she was too disciplined to allow herself to begin gloating before the sacrificial spell was complete and her commands were set into motion. Though the school was unusually quiet tonight, almost abandoned, the truth was anyone could happen into the field house. Neferet needed to work quickly and quietly. There would be ample time to revel over the fruits of her labors later.

She spoke softly to the cat, coaxing him closer to her, and when he was near enough she knelt to his level. Neferet had thought he would be leery of her—cats knew things. They were much harder to fool than humans, fledglings, or even vampyres. Neferet’s own cat, Skylar, had refused to relocate to her new Mayo penthouse suite, choosing instead to lurk in the shadows of the House of Night and watch her knowingly with his large, green eyes.

Shadowfax wasn’t as wary.

Neferet beckoned. Shadowfax came to her, slowly closing the last bit of distance between them. The big cat wasn’t friendly—he didn’t rub against her and mark her affectionately with his scent—but he came to her. His obedience was all that concerned Neferet. She didn’t want his love; she wanted his life.

The Tsi Sgili, immortal Consort of Darkness, and former High Priestess of the House of Night, felt only a vague shadow of regret as her left hand caressed the long length of the Maine coon’s gray tiger striped back. His fur was soft and thick over his lithe, athletic body. Like Dragon Lankford, the Warrior he’d chosen as his own, Shadowfax was powerful and in the prime of his life. Such a shame he was needed for a greater purpose. A higher purpose.

Neferet’s regret did not equate to hesitation. She used her Goddess-given affinity for felines and channeled warmth and reassurance through her palm and into the already trusting feline. While her left hand caressed him, encouraging him to arch and begin to purr, her right hand snaked out and with her razor-edged athame, she quickly, cleanly, slashed Shadowfax’s throat.

The big cat made no sound. His body spasmed, trying to jerk away from her, but her hand fisted in his fur, holding him so close that his blood sprayed, hot and wet, across the bodice of her green velvet dress.

The threads of Darkness that were always present around Neferet throbbed and quivered with anticipation.

Neferet ignored them.

The cat died faster than she’d imagined, and for that Neferet was glad. She hadn’t expected him to stare at her, but the Warrior cat held her gaze even after he had collapsed into the sandy field house floor and could no longer fight her, but lay breathing shallowly, twitching silently, and staring.

Working quickly, while the cat was still living, Neferet began the spell. Using the blade of her ritual athame, Neferet drew a circle around Shadowfax’s dying body, so that as blood pooled around him it poured into it, and a miniature moat of scarlet was formed.

Then she pressed one palm of her hand into the fresh, warm blood, stood just outside the circle, and lifted both hands—one bloody, one holding the scarlet-edged knife, and intoned:

“With this sacrifice I command

Darkness controlled by my hand.

Aurox, obey me!

Rephaim’s death it will be.”

Neferet paused, allowing the sticky threads of cold blackness to brush against her and gather all around the circle. She felt their eagerness, their need, their desire, their danger. But above all else, she felt their power.

To complete the spell she dipped the athame into the blood, and wrote directly into the sand with it, closing the incantation:

“Through payment of blood, pain, and strife

I force the Vessel to be my knife!”

Holding an image of Aurox in her mind, Neferet stepped inside the circle and plunged the dagger into Shadowfax’s body, pinning him to the field house floor while she loosed the tendrils of Darkness so that they could consume their feast of blood and pain.

When the cat was thoroughly drained and absolutely dead, Neferet spoke, “The sacrifice has been made. The spell cast. Do as I command. Force Aurox to kill Rephaim. Make Stevie Rae break the circle. Cause the reveal spell to fail. Now!”

Like a nest of seething snakes, the minions of Darkness slithered into the night, heading away from the field house and toward a lavender field and the ritual that was already underway there.

Neferet gazed after them, smiling in satisfaction. One particular thread of darkness, thick as her forearm, whipped through the door that opened from the field house to the stables. Neferet’s attention was pulled its way by the muffled sound of breaking glass.

Curious, the Tsi Sgili glided forward. Being careful to make no noise, and cloaking herself in shadow, Neferet peered into the stables. Her emerald eyes widened in pleased surprise. The thick thread of Darkness had been clumsy. It had knocked one of the gas lanterns from its resting place on a peg that hung not far from the piles of neatly stacked hay Lenobia was always so meticulous about choosing for her creatures. Neferet watched, fascinated, as first one tuft of hay caught fire, sputtered, and then with a renewed surge of yellow, and a mighty
whoosh!
it fully caught.

Neferet looked down the long line of closed, wooden stalls. She could see only the faint, dark outlines of a few of the horses. Most were sleeping. Some were lazily grazing, already settled down for the approaching dawn and the rest the sun would bring them until it set and students arrived for their never ending classes.

She glanced back at the hay. An entire bale was engulfed in flame. The scent of smoke drifted to her, and she could hear crackling as, like a loosed beast, the fire fed and grew.

Neferet turned away from the stable, closing the thick door between it and the field house securely.
It seems likely that Stevie Rae may not be the only one who will be grieving after tonight.
The thought satisfied Neferet, and she left the field house and the carnage she’d caused there, not seeing the small white cat who padded to Shadowfax’s motionless body, curled beside him, and closed her eyes.

Lenobia

The Horse Mistress awakened with a horrid feeling of forboding. Confused, Lenobia rubbed her hands over her face. She’d fallen asleep in the rocking chair near her window and this sudden awakening seemed more nightmare than reality.

“This is foolishness,” she muttered sleepily. “I must find my center again.” Meditation had helped quiet her thoughts in the past. Resolutely, Lenobia drew a deep, cleansing breath.

It was with that deep breath that Lenobia smelled it—fire. A burning stable to be specific. She clenched her teeth together.
Begone, ghosts of the past! I am too old to play these games.
Then an ominous cracking sound had Lenobia shaking off the last of the sleep that had clouded her mind as she moved quickly to the window and drew aside the heavy black drapes. The Horse Mistress looked down at her stables and gasped in horror.

It hadn’t been a dream.

It hadn’t been her imagination.

Instead it was a living nightmare.

Flames were licking the sides of the building and as she stared, the double doors just at the edge of her vision were thrown open from the inside and against a backdrop of billowing smoke and consuming flames was the silhouette of a tall cowboy leading a huge gray Percheron and a night black mare from within.

Travis let loose of the mares, shooing them into the school grounds and away from the flaming stables, and then he ran back into the flaming mouth of the building.

Everything within Lenobia came alive as the sight extinguished her fear and doubt.

“No, Goddess. Not again. I am no longer a frightened girl. This time his end will be different!”

CHAPTER TWO

Lenobia

Lenobia bolted from her chamber, raced down the short stairwell that led from her quarters to the ground floor and the stables. Smoke was seeping snake-like from under the door. She controlled her panic and pressed her palm against the wood. It wasn’t warm to the touch, so she yanked open the door, assessing the situation rapidly as she moved into her stables. The fire burned most fiercely at the far end of the building in the area where the hay and feed were stored. It was also the area closest to Mujaji’s stall as well as the large foaling stall the Percheron, Bonnie, and her Travis had taken up residence in.

“Travis!” she shouted, lifting her arm to shield her face from the heat of the growing flames as she raced down into the stables and began opening stalls, freeing the horses closest to her.
Out, Persephone—go!
Lenobia nudged the roan mare, who was frozen from fright and refusing to leave her stall. When she darted past her and through the exit, Lenobia called again, “Travis! Where are you?”

“Gettin’ the horses out that are closest to the fire!” he yelled as a young gray mare bolted from the direction of Travis’s voice and almost trampled over Lenobia.

“Easy! Easy, Anjo.” Lenobia soothed, steering the terrified horse to the exit.

“East exit is blocked by flames and I—” Travis’s words broke off as the tack room windows exploded and hot glass shards flew through the air.

“Travis! Get out of there and call 911!” Lenobia yelled as she opened the closest stall and freed a gelding, hating that she’d not grabbed her phone and made the call herself before she’d run from her room.

“I just did!” replied an unfamiliar voice. Lenobia looked through the smoke and flames to see a fledgling jogging toward her, leading an utterly panicked sorrel mare.

“All is well, Diva,” Lenobia calmed the horse automatically, taking the rope from the girl. At her touch the mare quieted, and Lenobia unhooked her lead rope, encouraging her to gallop through the nearby doorway after the other escaping horses. She pulled the girl back with her, away from the increasing heat, saying, “How many more horses are—” Lenobia’s words broke off as she saw that the crescent on the girl’s forehead was red.

“I think there are only a few left.” The red fledgling’s hand was shaking as she wiped sweat and soot from her face, gasping the words. “I—I grabbed Diva ’cause I always liked her and thought she might remember me. But even she was scared. Real scared.”

Then Lenobia recognized the girl—Nicole. She’d had an aptitude for horses and a natural seat, before she’d died and then undied and joined Dallas’s rogue group. But there was no time to question the child. No time for anything except getting the horses—and Travis—to safety. “You did well, Nicole. Can you go back in there?”

“Yes.” Nicole nodded jerkily. “I don’t want them to burn. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

Lenobia rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I just need you to open the stalls and get out of the way. I’ll guide them to safety.”

“Okay, okay. I can do that.” Nicole nodded. She sounded breathless and frightened, but without hesitation she followed Lenobia and they jogged back into the swirling heat of the stables.

“Travis!” Lenobia coughed, trying to see through the increasingly thick smoke. “Can you hear me?”

Over the crackling flames he yelled. “Yes! I’m back here. Stall stuck!”

“Get it open!” Lenobia refused to give in to her panic. “Get them all open! I can call the horses to me, to safety. I can get them out. Follow them. I can guide you all out!”

“Got ’em open!” Travis yelled a moment later from the pit of the smoke and heat.

“These are all open, too!” called Nicole from much closer.

“Now follow the horses and get out of the stables! Both of you!” Lenobia shouted before she began sprinting, backward, away from the fire and to the double doors of the exit she’d left open wide behind her. Standing in the doorway she lifted her arms, palms open, and imagining she was pulling power directly from the Otherworld and the mystical realm of Nyx, Lenobia opened her heart, her soul, and her Goddess-given gift and cried, “Come, my beautiful daughters and sons! Follow my voice and my love and live!”

Horses seemed to explode from out of the flames and the inky smoke. Their terror was so palpable to Lenobia it was almost a living being. She understood it—this terror of flames and fire and death—and she channeled strength and serenity through herself and into the horses that galloped past her and into the school grounds.

The red fledgling staggered, coughing, after them. “That’s it. That’s all the horses,” she said, collapsing into the grass.

Lenobia barely spared Nicole a nod. Her emotions were focused on the restless herd behind her, and her eyes were focused on the thickening smoke and the licking flames before her from which Travis did not emerge.

“Travis!” she shouted.

There was no answer.

“The fire’s spreading fast,” said the still-coughing red fledgling. “He might be dead.”