Betrayed

and heading to the dorm when I realized that I hadn't said anything to Neferet about the ghosts, but no way did I want to go back upstairs and start that subject. The conversation I'd already had with Neferet had completely exhausted me, and despite the beautiful dining room with its great view and its crystal and linen, I'd been eager to get out of there. I wanted to go back to the dorm and tell Stevie Rae about the whole Loren thing and then do nothing but veg out and watch bad reruns on TV and try to forget (at least for one night) that I had a terrible premonition about Chris's disappearance and that I was A Big Deal now and in charge of the most important student group at the school. Whatever. I just wanted to be me for a while. As I'd told Neferet, Chris was probably safely at home already. And there was plenty of time for everything else. Tomorrow I'd write down an outline of what I was going to say to the Dark Daughters on Sunday. I guess I'd also have to work on a Full Moon Ritual ... my first real public circle casting and formal ritual. My stomach started to gurgle. I ignored it.
    I was halfway to the dorm when I remembered that I also had an essay due Monday for Vamp Soc. Sure, Neferet had excused me from most of the third former work in that class so I could focus on reading ahead in the higher level Soc text, but I'd been trying really hard to be "normal" (Whatever that was—hello—I'm a teenager and a fledgling vampyre. How could any of that be normal?), which meant I made sure I turned in papers when the rest of the class did. So I hurriedly backtracked to my homeroom class, where my locker and all of my books were kept. It was also Neferet's room, but I'd just left her having wine with several of the other profs upstairs. For a change I didn't have any worries about overhearing something awful.
    As usual, the door was unlocked. Why have locks when you had vamp intuition to scare the bejeezus out of kids instead? The room was dark, but that didn't matter. I'd only been Marked one month, but already I saw just as well with the lights off as with them on. Actually, better. Bright lights hurt my eyes—sunlight was almost unbearable.
    I hesitated as I opened my locker, realizing that I hadn't seen the sun in almost a month. I hadn't even thought about it till now. Huh. Weird.
    I was considering the bizarreness of my new life when I noticed the piece of paper that had been taped to the inside shelf of my locker. It fluttered in the temporary breeze I'd created by opening the door. My hand lifted to calm it, and I felt a jolt of shock when I realized what it was.
    Poetry.
    Or, more accurately, a poem. It was short and written in a bold, attractive cursive. I read it and reread it, registering specifically what it was. Haiku.

    Ancient Queen awake
    A chrysalis not yet formed
    Will your wings unfold?
    I let my fingers brush the words. I knew who had written it. There was only one logical answer. My heart squeezed as I whispered his name, "Loren ..."

    "I'm serious, Stevie Rae. If I tell you, you have to swear you won't say anything to anyone. And when I say anyone I especially mean Damien and the Twins.”
    "Dang, Zoey, you can trust me. I said I swear. What do you want me to do, open a vein?”
    I didn't say anything.
    "Zoey, you really can trust me. Promise.”
    I studied my best friend's face. I needed to talk to someone—someone who was not a vamp. I searched inside myself, to the core of what Neferet would call my intuition. It felt right to confide in Stevie Rae. It felt safe.
    "Sorry. I know I can trust you. I'm just … I don't know." I shook my head, frustrated by my own confusion. "Okay, weird stuff has happened today.”
    "You mean more than the normal weirdness that goes on around here?”
    "Yeah. Loren Blake came into the library today while I was there. He was the first person I talked to about the Prefect Council idea and my new ideas for the Dark Daughters.”
    "Loren Blake? As in the most gorgeous vamp any of us have ever seen? ness . I better sit down." Stevie Rae collapsed on her bed.
    "That's who I mean.”
    "I can't believe you haven't said anything about this until now. You must have been dying.”
    "Well, that's not all. He … uh ... touched me. And more than once. Okay, actually I saw him more than once today. Alone. And I think he wrote me a poem.”
    "What!”
    "Yeah, at first I was sure it was perfectly innocent and I was imagining anything else. In the library we just talked