Awakened

darkest, creepiest corner stuck all over here. You blew them candles out so it’d be even darker. And you sitting here moping so loud I can almost hear your thoughts.”
    “You can’t hear my thoughts.”
    The hard edge to Stevie Rae’s voice had Kramisha’s eyes widening. “ ’Course I can’t. They’s no need for you to get all huffy. I said almost. I ain’t Sookie Stackhouse. Plus, even if I was I wouldn’t listen in to your thoughts. That’d be rude and my mama raised me better than that.” Kramisha sat next to Stevie Rae on the little wooden bench. “Speaking of—am I the only one who thinks that werewolf is hotter than Bill and Eric put together?”
    “Kramisha, do not mess up season three of True Blood for me. I haven’t finished my DVDs of season two.”
    “Well, I’m just sayin’, prepare for some serious four-footed hotness.”
    “Seriously. Don’t you dare tell me anything else.”
    “Okay—okay, but the whole wolf-monster-hotness-guy thing is somethin’ I need to talk to you ’bout.”
    “This bench is made of wood. Wood equals earth. Which means I can probably figure out a way to make it smack the living crap right outta you if you mess up True Blood for me.”
    “Would you please relax? I’m already offa that. I got somethin’ else we gotta discuss before we go into what I know is gonna be one majorly boring Council Meeting.”
    “It’s part of what we gotta do. I’m a High Priestess. You’re a Poet Laureate. We have to go to the Council Meetings.” Stevie Rae let out a long puff of air and felt her shoulders slump. “Dang, I’ll be glad when Z gets back here tomorrow.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is what’s got you so messed up in the head you seem turned inside out.”
    “My boyfriend has lost his dang mind and disappeared off the face of the earth. My best friend almost died in the Otherworld. The red fledglings—the other ones—are still out there somewhere doin’ Bubba-knows-what, which I’m pretty sure means eating people. And to top it all off I’m supposed to be a High Priestess, even though I’m not even sure what all that means. I think that’s enough to mess up anyone’s head.”
    “Yeah, it is. But it ain’t enough to keep givin’ me weird-assed poems that all have the same freaky theme. They about you and beasts, and I want to know why.”
    “Kramisha, I do not know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”
    Stevie Rae started to stand up, but Kramisha reached into her huge bag and pulled out a piece of violet-colored paper that had her bold writing scrawled across it. With another heavy exhale of breath, Stevie Rae sat down and held out her hand.
    “Fine. Let me see.”
    “I wrote ’em both on this paper. The old one and the new one. Somethin’ told me you might need your memory refreshed.”
    Stevie Rae didn’t say anything. Her eyes went to the first poem on the paper. She took her time reading it. Not because she needed her memory refreshed. She didn’t. Every line of the poem had been burned into her mind.

    The Red One steps into the Light

    girded loins for her part in

    the apocalyptic fight.

    Darkness hides in different forms

    See beyond shape, color, lies

    and emotional storms.

    Ally with him; pay with your heart

    though trust cannot be given

    unless the Darkness you part.

    See with the soul and not your eyes

    because to dance with beasts you

    must penetrate their disguise.
    Stevie Rae told herself she wouldn’t cry, but her heart felt bruised and broken. The poem had been right. She’d seen Rephaim with her soul, not with her eyes. She’d parted Darkness and trusted and accepted him—and because of that, because she’d allied herself with a beast, she had paid with her heart. She was still paying with her heart.
    Reluctantly, Stevie Rae looked to the second poem on the page—the new one. Reminding herself not to react, not to let her face give away anything, she started reading:

    Beasts can be beautiful

    Dreams become desires

    Reality changes with reason

    Trust your truth

    Man … monster … mystery … magick

    Hear with your heart

    See without scorn

    Love will not lose

    Trust his truth

    His promise is proof

    The test is time

    Faith frees

    If there is courage to change.
    Stevie Rae’s mouth felt dry. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I don’t know what these things are about.” She tried to hand the piece of paper back to Kramisha, but the poet’s hands were folded across her