Awakened

follow me to Italy?”
    Head still bowed, Rephaim answered. “I was mortally wounded. I have only just recovered. I thought it wise to await you here.”
    “Wounded? Yes, I recall. A gunshot and a fall from the sky. You may rise, Rephaim.”
    “Thank you, Father.” Rephaim stood and faced his father, and then was glad his face didn’t betray emotions easily. Kalona looked as if he had been ill! His bronze skin had a sallow tint to it. His unusual amber eyes were shadowed by dark circles. He even looked thin. “Are you well, Father?”
    “Of course I am well; I am an immortal!” the winged being snapped. Then he sighed and brushed a hand wearily across his face. “She held me within the earth. I was already wounded, and being trapped by that element made my recovery before my release impossible—and since then it has been slow.”
    “So Neferet did entrap you.” Carefully, Rephaim kept his tone neutral.
    “She did, but I could not have been so easily imprisoned had Zoey Redbird not attacked my spirit,” he said bitterly.
    “Yet the fledgling lives,” Rephaim said.
    “She does!” Kalona roared, towering over his son and causing the Raven Mocker to stumble backward. But just as quickly as his rage exploded, it fizzled, leaving the immortal looking tired again. He blew out a long breath, and in a more reasonable voice repeated, “Yes, Zoey does live, though I believe she will be forever changed by her Otherworld experience.” Kalona stared off into the night. “Everyone who spends time in Nyx’s realm is altered by it.”
    “So Nyx did allow you to enter the Otherworld?” Rephaim couldn’t stop from asking. He steeled himself for his father’s reprimand, but when Kalona spoke, his voice was surprisingly introspective, almost gentle.
    “She did. And I saw her. Once. Briefly. It was because of the Goddess’s intervention that that gods-be-damned Stark is still breathing and walking the earth.”
    “Stark followed Zoey to the Otherworld, and he lives?”
    “He lives, although he shouldn’t.” As Kalona spoke he absently rubbed a spot on his chest, over his heart. “I suspect those meddling bulls have something to do with his survival.”
    “The black and white bulls? Darkness and Light?” Rephaim tasted the bile of fear at the back of his throat as he remembered the slick, eerie coat of the white bull, the unending evil in his eyes, and the white-hot pain the creature had caused him.
    “What is it?” Kalona’s perceptive gaze skewered his son. “Why do you look thus?”
    “They manifested here, in Tulsa, just over a week ago.”
    “What brought them here?”
    Rephaim hesitated, his heart beating painfully in his chest. What could he admit? What could he say?
    “Rephaim, speak!”
    “It was the Red One—the young High Priestess. She invoked the presence of the bulls. It was the white bull who gave her the knowledge that helped Stark find the way to the Otherworld.”
    “How do you know this?” Kalona’s voice was like death.
    “I witnessed part of the invocation. I was wounded so badly that I did not believe I would recover, that I would ever fly again. When the white bull manifested, it strengthened me and drew me to its circle. That was where I observed the Red One getting her information from it.”
    “You were healed, but you didn’t capture the Red One? Didn’t stop her before she could return to the House of Night and aid Stark?”
    “I could not stop her. The black bull manifested and Light banished Darkness, protecting the Red One,” he said honestly. “I have been here since, regaining my strength and, when I felt that you had returned to this realm, I have been awaiting you.”
    Kalona stared at his son. Rephaim met his gaze steadily.
    Kalona nodded slowly. “It is good that you awaited me here. There is much that is left undone in Tulsa. This House of Night will soon belong to the Tsi Sgili.”
    “Neferet has returned, too? Is the High Council not holding her?”
    Kalona laughed. “The High Council is made up of naïve fools. The Tsi Sgili blamed me for recent events, and has punished me by publically lashing me and then banishing me from her side. The Council has been pacified.”
    Shocked, Rephaim shook his head. His father’s tone was light, almost humorous, but his look was black—his body weakened and wounded. “Father, I do not understand. Lashed? You allowed Neferet to—”
    With immortal speed, Kalona’s hand was suddenly around his son’s