Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own anything. P.C. and Kristin Cast do.
A/N: First one shot in the series about how each member of Zoey's gang got Marked. There gonna be seven of them, in alphabetical order (Aphrodite, Damien, Erik, Erin, Jack, Shaunee, Stevie Rae). Most likely I won't write about Stark for only one reason: I know nothing about his background (but this can change after I read Tempted, so there might be a Stark one shot later). Don't hate me. Genre and rating will change with each story.
About Aphrodite's pre-Marked name: my roomie, who is actually called Judith, is a big fan of Aphrodite, and asked me to name our Vision Girl after her 
Genre: Angst/General
Rating: K+
Word count: 2604
Dedicated to the sweetest of all roomies, Judith (IceGirl), for her support and friendship, for the funny moments, when we talk about HoN like she was Aphrodite and I was Zoey, and for always bugging me to translate it to her 

One: Aphrodite

Spring came late this year to Oklahoma. Though it was already well into the spring break, the weather was still cool, almost chilly, and it rained without a decent break for days.

The weather mirrored well the mood of the young girl, who was sitting on the windowsill in one of the old-time oil mansions. Her shoulder-length blond hair neatly combed, her expensive-looking clothes perfectly unwrinkled, icy-blue eyes wandering out the window, not even sensing the room around her.

She should have been downstairs right now, ready to go out with her parents to another speech or charity banquet or grand opening or whatever.

You have to do a lot of shit if your father is the mayor of your hometown, and the election is coming up.

It was all about the election, anyway, and she knew it. Last year, when she was Freshman in High School her parents weren't even bothering to bring her home for the spring break. But now only appearances mattered: keep up with the illusion of the perfect, happy family, whose members love each other dearly, with a handsome, confident and totally trustworthy father, a mannequin-like mother, who looked like she'd just stepped out from a TV advertisement and a trouble- and zit- free teenage daughter with great grades and attitude beyond reproach. A perfect family, in who the people would trust.

What a lie.

But this was the way things were since she was little. She was taught that money and power were the only things that mattered, and to get these things you have to be beautiful, confident and sly, and you have to lie, and some cases you have to pretend to be someone else.

And as she has already experienced, this someone else sometimes grows upon you.

'Judith, we've got to go. Your father is going to be late.' Called a cold, almost emotionless voice behind her back, and she could also see the reflection of her mother's face on the ran-stained glass. She was a real ice queen; the kind of woman who you think beautiful, but only until you got to know her – then the picture shatters.

The girl stood up slowly, smoothing her clothes. Her mother nodded in approval; she liked the view. Her daughter is – well, not perfect, but good enough to be seen by the reporters as Mayor LaFont's famous "precious little girl". The media will love her, she smiles to herself.

The girl didn't say a word, just walked silently to her desk, grabbing a coat and her purse, and was already out the door, slipping beside her mother. She didn't have a mood for a small talk. She just wanted to get out of there.

***

In front of the City Hall, well, it's an another story. This is the time of pretending; smiling and waving. And she plays her part well. She always has.

She stood beside her mother, under the edge of the roof which protected her from the rain, watching her father reciting a speech he didn't write. But he spoke with such an intense passion, that the people at his feet believed all the lies. That's the way politics work.

In spite of the shitty weather more than a thousand people gathered to the square; they watched her father with awe; they were only a step from worshipping him.

The girl's stomach clenched.

If they've only known the real mayor…

Her gaze wandered over the mob, but she only saw umbrellas and cheap raincoats. Faceless people. The electors.

She'd been always told that she's better than them, and by now, she believed in it. And to tell the truth, she did feel like she was better than them. Her parents may haven't been the best persons in the world, but she wasn't either. She was just like them.

So she straightened her spine and turned her chin to the grayish sky.

Cameras flashed.

She looked over the crowd again, this time lingering on them longer, but she saw nothing more than the first time.

Then was when she first saw Him.

He stood at the end of the square, tall and confident, and so strange, that the girl wondered, how the people didn't gawk at Him, or better, ran away from Him, screaming. But no. It was like they didn't even see Him. It was like He was only visible to her.

And it scared the girl.

Because she knew very well who – or more like what – He was. The sapphire blue tattoos on his face could've been clearly seen even from such a distance.

He was a vampyre.

She has already met a few vampyres. Two summers ago they opened one of their creepy schools in the city, and for it they needed her father's permission, so for two weeks or so vampyres were coming and going in their house - they didn't even bother to go to her father's office. She remembered their beauty, their confidence, and how scared she was when she first saw them.

Her father has never liked vampyres; she thought he was even afraid of them, but at least surely jealous. But he knew that the vamps had money, and her father loved money. So after a few short consultations he gave the permission for the school. And anyway, no-one wanted to piss off the vampyres.

But this vamp was different that the ones from two years ago. She couldn't grip the difference, but she could feel that there was something about Him. It sent shivers down her spine.

Then He looked up and met her curious gaze.

She could see His irises like He was standing in front of her. They were like a bottomless ocean in storm. Cold silver.

She gasped.

'Judith, what are you doing?' her mother spoke to her, her tone scolding. The girl shook her head, signaling that nothing's wrong, thought she knew that her mother didn't ask this.

Then she coughed. It was just a soft cough, but it bothered her.

Because she finally understood what she was seeing. Because she could see the light interest in His eyes. Because she could feel the next, more powerful cough coming up. Because the hairs stood up on her neck.

He was a Tracker and he's come for her.

To tell the truth, the recognition didn't even freak her out. All she could think of was 'not now. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of my parents'.

Just like He could read her mind, He nodded, then in blink of the eye, He disappeared.

The girl knew He wasn't gone for ever, but how could He? She knew so much about vampyres that once the Change is started – and she was sure, it has in her case -, there was no turning back.

So she stood confident till the end of her father's speech, despite her coughing fits, what were getting stronger.

Because she could feel that this was the last event she is present for a while.

And deep inside she was glad about it.

***

By the time her father finished his speech, about an hour later, she was coughing almost constantly. Until they got into the BMW her mother was patting her back, and even caressed her hair and face a few times. In one word, she acted like a perfect mother – after all, people were watching. But when they were settled in the leather seats she dropped her façade.

'Don't tell me you're getting sick right now. We're to go to the church tomorrow.' She said with thick annoyance.

'Don't tell me we're going to a stupid People of Faith mass?' The girl managed to say between two coughs.

'Don't you dare to speak to me with that tone, young lady! And of course we're going. The People of Faith have a great influence on people, and…' With that she went on a tirade how important is the religion and such. The girl didn't even pay attention to her. She'd heard all too many times already. Her father didn't say a word. Not about her mother's preach, not about his speech, not even about his daughter's condition. But she was used to it as well.

When they pulled up to the driveway ten minutes later it was still raining heavily. And through the thick curtain of raindrops she could see Him again. He was standing the other side of the road, just watching, waiting. Like he was saying: I'm not in hurry. Take your time.

When they finally reached the house, she scattered up to her room, without saying something.

In her beautifully decorated room, which was furnished the best and the most expensive furniture, her own little world, she finally let herself relax.

She sat on the silk comforter which covered her bed, and thought about what was happening to her.

She was turning into a vampyre, that was sure. She was going to leave her parents, drop out of the prep school she was attending. This, in itself, wasn't a bad thing. And she was going to say goodbye to her horde of "friends" (not that she actually had real friends. She didn't need them. The only thing they could do was break your heart), her position in the cheerleaders and the school council, the boys she'd been flirting with – in short, her popularity and power. Well, this wasn1t that good.

But she could start a new, independent life, and she could achieve this all again. It was just matter of time, considering that she had everything to get them.

But, sitting there in her room, totally alone, without anyone watching, she shed one solitary tear for her lost life. And she swore that this was the last.

With that she stood up and headed to her bathroom for a hot, long, relaxing bath.

***

It was already well into the evening and it was getting dark outside. The rain has finally stopped, but there was no wind to blow the clouds away.

The girl was lying on her stomach on her bed, clad in a bathrobe, an open magazine in front of her. But she wasn't really reading. She didn't even see what was on the pages as she flipped through them; it was just something to keep her hands busy.

She was waiting.

Waiting for the doorbell to rang, for the shattering of the breaking window, for a shriek from her mother, from a yell from her father. For anything that signaled that the Tracker got bored by waiting, and finally came for her.

But nothing happened so far.

It was started to make her anxious.

Was she just imagining the Tracker?

Then she coughed again, and she knew she wasn't.

There was a soft knock on the door, and before she could have answered, their housekeeper poked her head into the room.

'Miss, dinner is ready. Your parents are waiting for you.' Her tone was cold, almost rude. With that, she left. The girl had never really liked her, but she could point out why. Maybe it was because she'd never pretended to like her and her parents; she did her job, because she needed the money, but she rarely had a nice word to them. Secretly, Judith adored her for it.

She stood reluctantly, slipped into her slippers, and spine straightened, she left the room gracefully. Let's her parents don't see what was going inside her.

***­­

The dinner went smoothly, as always. Well, if you can call "smooth" when a family sits around a table, eating and don't saying anything to each other, just formalities.

She had enough of it.

'So… what about the election?' She tried to start a small talk; she knew the best way to do it was ask her father about politics.

He didn't answer instantly; he chewed for a good minute, looking like he was considering his answer.

'We're good.' He said finally. In reality, she wasn't a man of words. At least not in front of his family. He could only rant well when he was furious. 'There's no doubt that this period is mine as well.' With that he continued eating. Her mother didn't even say a word. The girl looked down to her plate, and coughed again.

Then it happened.

'What are thinking you're doing?' The words sounded like the housekeeper was getting nearer, but she couldn't hear the other person's footsteps. So it was Him. 'I didn't give you a permission to go!' They reached the dining room.

Her parents gasped.

The Tracker looked nonchalant – or more like, there was no emotion on his face. The housekeeper, on the other hand, looked like she could blast in any moment. She was only a step from start beating the chest of the vampyre.

'What the hell it means?' Her father stood up. He suddenly found his voice, showing that he was angry. Finally some emotion.

The housekeeper stopped trying to get the Tracker out of the room.

'Excuse me, Mr., I couldn't do anything. The… the Sir just walked in the front door, without ringing the bell, or anything. I tried to stop him, but-' Her father cut in.

'I command you, Mister, to leave my house until I don't call the police.' He talked to him like he was the vampyre, and their "visitor" the human. The Tracker didn't even flinch. 'If you want to discuss anything, I suggest you to ask an appointment from my secretary…'

This was the point when she the girl couldn't stand any longer aside.

'Father, leave him alone.' She said, standing up. 'He's come for me.'

Everybody in the room, except the Tracker looked at her with wide eyes. The housekeeper let out a high pitched and ran out of the room. No-one said anything for a long moment.

'No.' That was all what her mother said, breaking the silence. 'I won't let it happen. I won't… such a shame in our family…'

The laughed a cold, sarcastic laugh, which turned into a cough.

'Like you could control it.'

'We can, there must be a way…' her father lost all of confidence in such a crisis, and looked like a little boy. 'I can't happen. Not right now. Not before…'

The girl's heart clenched. All he could think about was the election. It was so usual of him, but it still hurt.

'Believe me, there isn't.' The girl said in a cold, determined tone. 'There isn't, is there?' She turned to the Tracker. He nodded solemnly. 'See? There isn't anything to do.'

'But… but…' Her mother babbled.

'There are no buts, Mother. Some things just have to happen.' With that, she turned away from her parents. She didn't even realize that these were the last words she told them before getting Marked. Like she would have cared. She turned to Tracker again. 'Do it. Do it now. Let's get over it.'

In somewhere, deep inside her soul, she was eager to get out of the old oil mansion, out of her parents' claws. Eager to start a new life. Would it be different than the one she has lived until now? Would she be different?

She wasn't sure.

The Tracker nodded grimly, the started to recite the ancient words:

Judith La Font! Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee; hearken to her sweet voice! Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night!

House of Night… how promising…

This was the last thing, alongside with her mother's scream to go through her mind before she passed out.

A/N To be continued…
The next one: Damien

About Fallen Priestess: I'm in the process of planning the plot of the continuation, which I plan to be a multi-chapter story under a different title. I plan to upload the first chapter on Samhain night – it gives me enough time to finish the plot and hopefully a few chapters, and it's enough to you guys to go nuts :P

Back to this story: I plan to dedicate each one shot to someone, but I don't know yet who they'll be :D

Now, if you liked this story, would you be so kind to push that green button below?