**AN: I do not own the House of Night series, etc. etc. Ok, so a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. It really means a lot to me. And don't forget to spend a few seconds reviewing afterwards and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome so feel free to exercise it. Also, please note that some of the dialogue is quoted from "Betrayed" pages 49-53. But other than those few quotes, the rest is mine. Thanks, NC**
Loren
I didn't really know what to expect, walking into the Professor's dining hall upstairs. Part of me believed I would still see the scared, trembling Neferet, humbly bowed over a light salad. Maybe pushing the leafy green pieces of lettuce around for added dramatic effect. But when I strolled in towards the end of the meal, hoping to snag a quick sandwich, my high priestess was nowhere in sight. Curiosity overpowered me, and I turned on my heel and crept through the dark hallways of the House of Night, heading for Neferet's office. That's when I saw her again.
Instinct told me to hide before my conscious mind could register what I was seeing. Suspect number one, Zoey Redbird, was crouched down in front of Neferet's door, listening through the small crack still open. I couldn't make out the conversation, nor could I risk getting closer and alerting her to my presence, so I settled for where I was, hoping I could pick up a strand or two of the verbal exchange. I craned my neck closer, tensing my ears for a whisper, but I could only hear the faint sounds of a girl crying on the other side of the door. Crying, being the understatement.
This girl was clearly miserable. I could hear her sobs drift through the crack of the door and down the hall to my ears. Yet, the soft, broken words that accompanied the agony were lost in their travels. Zoey suddenly stood up and ran down the hallway, past my hiding spot. Her normal olive skin was a pale ghost white and her expressive eyes held pain and sorrow for only select few to see and actually understand.
I held my ground as I watched her long raven hair flick around the stone corner, before Neferet's door flew open and a tall blonde pixie ran from the room. That blonde hair could be recognized anywhere. I knew without a doubt in my mind, that Aphrodite was the broken girl now stumbling blindly down the hallway, one arm brushing away the tears that littered her face. Ignoring the tardy bell, I followed down the hallway after her, trying to maintain a look of innocence in my expression.
Aphrodite had collapsed in tears in an alcove not far from Neferet's office when I finally caught up to her. I squatted down in front of her, gently placing a hand on her shaking shoulder, "Aphrodite? What happened?"
Aphrodite looked up from her arms, giving me her best bitchy sneer. "Nothing that concerns you, Professor," She hissed, and pushed herself up from the wall. "You assholes think you've got everything figured out don't you? You think you know whose good, who's bad. Well guess what, dickweed? You've got it all wrong! And those people are going to die because of it! Just like last time, when you wouldn't listen!"
It suddenly dawned on me the state she was in. Tears pooling down her cheeks, eyes red and puffy, face white, hands shaking… Neferet had told me about Aphrodite's gift. "What did you see?" I asked her.
"Like it fucking matters. You assholes don't give a damn," She tried to push past me, but I caged her in.
"Aphrodite, let me help you." My eyes met hers and a silent battle of wills ensued. "Tell me what you saw," I commanded.
She held on for a few moments before her eyes dropped and her dainty shoulders sank in defeat, "People dying. It was a plane crash on a runway strip. A private jet for the House of Night in Chicago. Only one person on board, but all I saw was the back of his head and his seriously furry yellow suitcase. It was a fashion nightmare." Leave it to Aphrodite to comment on someone's choice in luggage while recounting a death and destruction vision.
"Focus, what exactly happened to cause the plane to crash?" I tried to get her to center back in on the details before she lost them. Aphrodite squeezed her eyes shut, and I could see them move behind her eyelids, looking at a completely different scene from her dark lids.
Aphrodite shook her head and slowly opened her eyes, "I can't tell. I see… ice? Yes, ice. A bad landing?" She sighed. "I do know one thing. We have a little while. The airport billboard has a massively tacky 'Happy Holidays' sign flying its Christmas colors."
That would be enough information for me. I smiled, "Thank you, I will contact the Chicago House of Night immediately. Do not fear. It will be tended to. If you ever need any assistance, my classroom door is always open to you."
Aphrodite readopted her bitchy sneer, "Yeah, thanks for the fucking offer. But I'm not one to wait in line." She flipped her blonde hair, and I watch her twitch up the hallway in the direction of the girl's dorm. Goddess, she was going to be a hand full. Now, the real question was: why didn't Neferet do something about Aphrodite's vision?
I needed to get out of here. I needed to think. Without interruptions. Without Neferet around. I darted out of the school building, away from all the classes and drama, fully intending upon leaving campus. When I reached the grass outside the front door and saw the moon shimmering faint light like snow on the House of Night, I was inspired. I knew exactly what I needed right now. My fingers grasped the leather-bound journal I constantly kept with me. It was one of the last gifts from my mother, before she died.
My mother died when I was about eighteen. It was two short years after I had been marked. She visited the House often, always bringing her fresh baked fudgy chocolate brownies that were my favorite. She knew we were supposed to be eating healthy, but she always said, "It's okay to be spoiled once and awhile. And if I want to make my son his favorite foods, then I will make my son his favorite foods and no vampyre is going to stop me." In the end, it wasn't the vampyres that stopped her. A robber, intent on a watch my mother was wearing, attacked and murdered her on her way home from visiting me one night. It's the one dark smudge on my otherwise clean record. I had relished in his death, but I refused to drink his blood. I felt guilty afterwards; killing the man didn't make me feel any better about my mother's death. Only worse, I had felt like I had insulted her memory. Tarnished and slandered it with the blood of murder. That was a dark time for me. But it was when I discovered poetry, and from there life grew and I felt I had redeemed myself in my mother's eyes.
I stood out under the large old tree by the school's wall, trying to channel my poetry. My fingers had yet to write anything on the blank page I had been staring at for two hours when I heard the snap! I spun around, my adult vampyre sight slicing through the mist of darkness to a slender delicate figure frozen in the shadows on the path. "Zoey? Is that you?" My voice cut the distance between us.
The figure emerged from the darkness and the beautiful Cherokee angel, Zoey, stood before me, "Loren?" I could not help the odd tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach when I heard my name on her tongue. I cleared my throat to dispel the awkward dry feeling growing in my mouth.
"What are you doing out here?" I looked around. She was completely by herself, save a small orange tabby she clutched to her chest. The House of Night was certainly safe, but wandering around alone wasn't the best option. Even the safest places still have their dangers.
She grinned impishly and traced her way under the tree beside me, "Hi." I watched her tan cheeks tinge a light pink before she said, "Oh, I was walking back from the stables and Nala and I decided to talk a long-cut." Long-cut? Truly one of a kind. I laughed, the second time this tiny temptress had brought me joy that had just recently seemed forever lost.
"A long-cut, huh? Hello again, Nala." I scratched the top of the tiny cat's head before it flopped from Zoey's arms and sauntered into the bushes.
"Sorry. She's not very sociable," Zoey chuckled.
"Don't worry about it. My cat, Wolverine, reminds me of a grumpy old man," I joined in her light carefree laughter. It felt good to share these tiny details with someone.
"Wolverine?" Her right brow rose curiously to her hairline.
I smiled lopsidedly and felt like a teenager again. "Yeah, Wolverine," I noticed I had dropped my formal tongue and used the same slang I had before I was Loren Blake, first male vampyre poet laureate in two centuries. Back before I was being used and abused. Before, when I could talk to a woman just like this, without fear of her using me for my reputation. I sighed and brought myself back to happier memories, "He chose me as his when I was a third former. That was the year I was completely into the X-Men." I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth and walk away right then. She had a habit of getting me to say things I would normally never mention. That was not safe when you were investigating a person. Alright, so that was only part of the reason. The other half of me was screaming, way to go idiot! Now she knows you were that dorky kid in high school with the all the action figures!
Instead she laughed and said, "The name could account for why he's so grumpy."
"Well, it could have been worse," I joked, falling easily into her light simple banter. "The year before, I couldn't stop watching Spider-Man. He came within an inch of being Spidey or Peter Parker." I chuckled. My mind's eye was filled with the hilarious image of my grumpy cat, trotting throughout the poet's loft with his head held high despite his name, Spidey. Laughter swirled to a stop as my eyes caught hers, enraptured by the bright crystals emanating from them. That stubborn fight in them, where they couldn't decide if they were going to be brown or green entranced me. Light versus darkness was embodied in this small, fragile, yet dangerous woman.
"Clearly, you're a great burden for your cat to bear." Zoey's playful tone shook me from my reverie.
"Wolverine would most definitely agree with you!" I laughed. It was so easy to get caught up in Zoey.
"So, what are you doing way out here?"
"Writing haiku." I lamely lifted my journal, briefly displaying the fact that I had not actually gotten any writing accomplished. "I find inspiration being out here, alone, in the hours before dawn," I smiled down at her. For some odd reason her face flushed red and embarrassment crept across her delicate features.
"Oh, gosh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you." Interrupt me? Could she not see how I desperately craved her company? Not to mention how pathetic I was because of it. I mean, I am a professor—part time or otherwise—and she is a student—gifted, special, chosen one, future high priestess fledgling or not. "I'll just say bye and leave you alone," she waved her arm awkwardly and turned to leave.
My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could walk away from me. "You don't have to go. I find inspiration in more things than being out here alone." I instantly regretted it. Great. Just wonderful. She's going to slap your hand aside and go running for the hills. But so far Zoey had never done anything I had expected, and she certainly didn't disappoint me this time.
Her forehead creased in worry, "Well, I don't want to bother you."
"Don't worry about that," I insisted. "You're not bothering me," I gave her tiny hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. My skin instantly recognized the loss. It was as if she held a piece of my soul, and I of course, was not whole without it.
The tiny priestess in training took a deep breath, "Okay, so. Haiku." She blinked a few times, gathering her thoughts. "That's Asian poetry with a set meter count, right?" She knew poetry? I grinned ear to ear. I probably looked an idiot. It was as if Nyx had created this tiny being just to tempt me, putting all of my dreams and desires into this small fiery Cherokee shell. Perhaps she shared my passion for verbal artwork?
"That's right. I prefer the five-seven-five format." I thought back to this morning, opening my eyes to see the ocean of Haikus strewn across the floor of my loft. "Speaking of inspiration—you could help me out." Damn it! Smooth Blake, real smooth! Why don't you just tell her that her 'eyes sparkle like the glow of a thousand moons'?
"Sure, I'd be happy to," she smiled shyly, shifting ever so slightly towards me. Just above the line of her jacket I saw the swirling tattoos on her olive skin dance down, teasing me, just below her collar and out of sight.
I reached my hand out to the agonizing brushstrokes of sapphire and rubbed my fingers on the skin there, trailing down to her shoulder were the jacket hid my view. "Nyx has Marked you there," I whispered.
I wasn't sure whether it was a question or a statement, but she blessed me with an answer anyway. "Yes," she nodded her head, causing a strand of her long straight black hair to dance just above her shoulder.
"I would like to see it," I wished aloud. I looked at her innocent face, blushing red with embarrassment and added, "If it wouldn't make you too uncomfortable." Purely for academic research purposes though. Her tattoos were highly unusual; an idiot wouldn't miss out on a chance to see them. At least, that was the excuse I was using.
My heart skipped a beat when I heard her say, "I'll show it to you." Slowly, she shrugged out of the dark black jacket she was wearing, revealing a deep purple tank top. I watched the black fabric in slow motion as it slid down her olive toned skin, in stark contrast with each other.
I shook my head out of my daze, finally remembering the manners my mother had dutifully instilled in me. "Here, let me help you," My hands gentle wrapped around the collar of her jacket, pulling it down slowly as my eyes followed the tattoos down her shoulder. Spirals interspersed with ancient runes danced on the skin there, teasing me with the essence of forbidden fruit. Zoey's hazel eyes flashed up to meet my own and I lost myself within their depth. I saw a future there that I never imagined I could have. One with love, passion, normalcy. I saw a day of waking up next to the amazing woman I loved. Kissing her on the nose to wake her up. Playful banter, as I carry her laughing out to the kitchen to share breakfast. Maybe the patter of little feet dancing around on hardwood floors. Maybe, just maybe that future was here, with her.
Zoey's movements brought me back to reality. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she reached up and slid the purple strap of her tank down her shoulder where it pooled with the black jacket at her elbows. She lifted her long dark hair, pulling it over the opposite shoulder and angled her back towards me, giving me a full view of her spiraling tattoos. I met her eyes again, and in them I saw it… permission, acceptance, desire. Fingers gently wrapped around her upper arm, I pulled myself closer.
Her sapphire tattoos seemed to glow in the moonlight, caressing her skin with a warm tantalizing glow. The spirals danced down her shoulder blade, interspersed with ancient runes of hidden meanings. "It's incredible," I breathed. I allowed my fingers to trace down the labyrinth of her sapphire paintings, circling the ancient symbols inscribed on her. "I've never seen anything like this," I admitted honestly. I looked at her face in the dim moon glow and saw the ancient priestess within. Her head cocked towards the sky, her black hair forming a crown, the defined cheekbones and hazel eyes. "It's as if you're an ancient priestess who has materialized in our time. How blessed we are to have you, Zoey Redbird." I couldn't help the warm feeling the enveloped me at her name on my lips. I noticed the skin I had been circling with my fingertips was covered in goose bumps as she shivered.
"I'm sorry. You must be cold." I lifted up the slender sleeve of her tank and pulled the jacket up to cover her shoulders. She hadn't Changed yet, so the weather probably still affected her a bit.
"I wasn't shivering because I was cold," she whispered boldly. As the seconds passed, my mind played tricks on me, trying to convince me that I didn't really hear those musical words. My little Cherokee princess reminded me of so much that I loved.
"Cream and silk as one
How I long to taste and touch
The moon watches us."
I recited the poem with ease. It reminded me so much of her. A fact I would be unwilling to readmit when she asked me her next question. "Did you write that just now?" Her face was a warm delicious red and she sounded breathless.
I shook my head slightly, smiling at my tiny priestess's blush, "No. It was written centuries ago by an ancient Japanese poet about how his lover looked naked under the full moon." It was my turn to turn red under embarrassment. A grown man, falling to the teenage delicacies of embarrassment! But there didn't seem to be anything teenage about Zoey Redbird. She was a woman in her own right. Not only physically, but mentally. She teased and pulled at the poet within me. The real one, the poet from before all the demands and expectations. The poet in which freedom rang from every line and emotion dipped like valleys through mountains of passion and words.
"It's beautiful," she finally said.
I couldn't believe what I did next. My hand sought her cheek and I whispered, "You're beautiful." I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. I felt like the love-struck teenage boy, bumbling around again. She did things to me, made me feel different. Not a bad different but not the same as what every other woman makes me feel. She's like… and she's… I sighed. This tiny temptress had me speechless for once. Her skin was so soft and warm under my hand, and I knew what to write. The words formed in my brain, writing themselves into my memory.
My tiny temptress
All my thoughts are consumed
My heart beats with you.
"And tonight you have been my inspiration. Thank you." I felt the magnetic pull between us and was tempted. I leaned closer. Just one tiny kiss wouldn't hurt. One small piece of affection between this tiny Cherokee angel before me and I, would not damage us. No. It would. I being a professor and she a student, she would get the worst of it. I had seen before what happens to girls that get involved with professors. It wasn't a life I wanted for her. She deserved more.
I dropped my hand from her face regrettably, and stepped back. The rejection showed momentarily in her features and nearly killed me, before she carefully constructed the mask that hid them. My words pained even me, "It was nice to see you, Zoey" I put on my best professor smile, "And thanks again for allowing me to look at you Mark." I bowed somewhat formally and practically ran away without looking back. I would definitely have to be more careful around her.
**AN: Don't forget to take a few seconds to review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, where I can improve, I'm open to hearing about anything =) Thanks! NC**