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Then I saw him. The dead guy. Okay, I realized pretty quick that he wasn’t technically “dead.” He was undead. Or un-human. Whatever. Scientists said one thing, people said another, but the end result was the same. There was no mistaking what he was and even if I hadn’t felt the power and darkness that radiated from him, there was no frickin’ way I could miss his Mark, the sapphire-blue crescent moon on his forehead and the additional tattooing of entwining knot work that framed his equally blue eyes. He was a vampyre, and worse. He was a Tracker. Well, crap! He was standing by my locker. “Zoey, you’re so not listening to me! Then the vampyre spoke and his ceremonial words slicked across the space between us, dangerous and seductive, like blood mixed with melted chocolate. “Zoey Montgomery! 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!” He lifted one long, white finger and pointed at me. As my forehead exploded in pain Kayla opened her mouth and screamed. When the bright splotches finally cleared from my eyes I looked up to see K’s colorless face staring down at me. As usual, I said the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. “K, your eyes are popping out of your head like a fish.” “He Marked you. Oh, Zoey! You have the outline of that thing on your forehead!” Then she pressed a shaking hand against her white lips, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a sob. I sat up and coughed. I had a killer headache, and I rubbed at the spot right between my eyebrows. It stung as if a wasp had bit me and radiated pain down around my eyes, all the way across my cheekbones. I felt like I might puke. “Zoey!” K was really crying now and had to speak between wet little hiccups. “Oh. My. God. That guy was a Tracker—a vampyre Tracker!” “K.” I blinked hard, trying to clear the pain from my head. “Stop crying. You know I hate it when you cry.” I reached out to attempt a comforting pat on her shoulders. And she automatically cringed, and moved away from me. I couldn’t believe it. She actually cringed, like she was afraid of me. She must have seen the hurt in my eyes because she instantly started a string of breathless K-babble. “Oh, God, Zoey! What are you going to do? You can’t go to that place. You can’t be one of those things. This can’t be happening! Who am I supposed to go to all of our football games with?” I noticed that all during her tirade she didn’t once move any closer to me. I clamped down on the sick, hurt feeling inside that threatened to make me burst into tears. My eyes dried instantly. I was good at hiding tears. I should be; I’d had three years to get good at it.
The House Of Night
hotkittykat added this comment 2010-01-21 15:47:04-06:00
Nice, That is a good series.
hotkittykat added this comment 2010-01-21 15:47:04-06:00
Nice, That is a good series.