Stevie Rae's POV
A vibrating sound on my cell phone made me jump. I looked up at Zoey to make sure she wasn't watching me. She wasn't. Z was to busy looking at all the things Neferet kept in her room. I lglanced at the name on the text. The screen read:
Rephaim
How did he get my number? I wondered. Oh well, I thought as I opened and read the text.
"Stevie Rae
I am worried. Things are not right. I notice that my fellow Raven Mockers-as much as I try to stay away from them-are not behaving averagely. Something is up. You sense it, too. Please come."
I texted him back:
"Rephaim
On my way. Don't do anything that could hurt you. Stay safe."
"Who are you messaging?" Zoey asked.
I sent my text and put my phone away in a rush. I didn't realize she was watching me.
"No one." I said. I hoped my face didn't look as guilty as I was.
"I have to go. Now. Sorry, Z!"
I ran out of the room before Z even responded. Rephaim wouldn't have contacted me unless it was one-hundred percent necessary. It worried me. It took me until I was far outside the House of Night to realize that we (Rephaim and I) hadn't decided upon a meeting place. It finally hit me I could use our connection to find Rephaim. Yes, connection. Rephaim and I have an imprint, a fact I try to keep from everyone.
I sat in the grass and closed my eyes. I focused everything on Rephaim. Finding Rephaim. I sat their for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than minutes.
"Rephaim. Rephaim. Rephaim," I said. "Where are you?" I was surprised when he answered me back.
"Close. I am nearly a mile north from where you are. You will come upon a clearing of trees. I am perched in the highest one. Please hurry, Red One . . ." His voice faded off.
"Rephaim? REPHAIM!" I screamed. I worry about Rephaim, sometimes. Even though he is fully healed, he is an easy target. He sticks out, and has few friends. Yes, I love him. And I will admit it.
"I love Rephaim," I whispered into the abundance of trees.
Rephaim's POV
The Red One walked over to the tree where I should have been waiting for her. Should. But, unfortunately for her, I was not.
Any second, it would start. The Red One would be gone. That is good right?
The lady (she likes to be refered to as ' boss', but I have no boss. I do what I please.) will take care of everything. I must do nothing. But nothing is harder than doing something, sometimes.
The Red One stood by the tree, her face wore a confused look.
The "boss" (ugh) was inches from The Red One, holding a silver dagger that shone more than the moon in the night sky. She was poised and ready to strike. In a single swipe, the dagger flew forward into the Red One. It pierced in the exact center of her back.
I could not look. It was to much. I felt . . .guilt. This was my fault.
I turned and flew away, The Red One's screams dying down, just like her.