Burned

isn’t it?” Neferet’s voice was easy and conversational. “Vampyres have always been responsible for creating the greatest works of art in the world.”
    Aphrodite still refused to look at the ex–High Priestess. Instead, she shrugged. “Vamps have money. Money buys pretty things, whetherthey’re made by humans or nonhumans. And you don’t know for sure that vamps made that window. I mean, you’re old, but not
that
old.” As Aphrodite tried to ignore Neferet’s soft, condescending laughter, her gaze moved down to the center of the chamber. At first she didn’t really comprehend what she was seeing, and then when she got it, it was as if someone had punched her in the gut.
    There were seven carved marble thrones on the huge raised platform that made up the inner floor of the chamber. Vampyres were seated in the thrones, but they weren’t what caught Aphrodite’s gaze. What she couldn’t stop staring at was Zoey, lying on the dais in front of the thrones like a dead body stretched out on a funeral slab. And then there was Stark. He was on his knees beside Zoey. He was turned just enough so that Aphrodite could see his face. He didn’t make one sound, but tears were falling freely down his cheeks and pooling on his shirt. Darius was standing next to him, and he was saying something she couldn’t quite hear to the brunette sitting in the first throne whose thick hair was streaked with gray. Damien, Jack, and the Twins were huddled together, typically sheeplike, in a nearby row of stone benches. They were bawling, too, but their loud, messy tears were as different from Stark’s silent misery as was the ocean from a babbling brook.
    Aphrodite automatically started forward, but Neferet grabbed her wrist. And that finally made her turn to look at her old mentor.
    “You really should let go of me,” Aphrodite said softly.
    Neferet raised one brow. “Have you finally learned to stand up to a mother figure?”
    Aphrodite let the anger burn quietly within her. “You are no one’s mother figure. I learned to stand up to bitches a long time ago.”
    Neferet frowned and let loose her wrist. “I’ve never liked your coarse language.”
    “I’m not
coarse
; I’m
real
. Two different things. And you think I fucking care what you like or dislike?” Neferet took a breath to respond, but Aphrodite cut her off. “Just what the hell are you doing here?”
    Neferet blinked in surprise. “I am here because there is a wounded fledgling here.”
    “Oh, that’s such shit! You’re only here because somehow it’s gonna get you something you want. That’s how you work, Neferet, whether they know it or not.” Aphrodite jerked her chin at the High Council members.
    “Be careful, Aphrodite. You may need me in the very near future.”
    Aphrodite held Neferet’s gaze and felt a sense of shock as she realized the eyes that met hers had changed. They were no longer brilliant emerald green. They had darkened.
Was that red that glowed from deep in the middle of them?
As quickly as the thought came to Aphrodite, Neferet blinked. Her eyes cleared and were once again the color of expensive gemstones.
    Aphrodite drew a shaky breath, and the small hairs on her arms lifted again, but her voice was flat and sarcastic when she said, “That’s okay. I’ll take my chances without your ‘help.’ ” She air quoted around the last word.
    “Neferet, the Council recognizes you!”
    Neferet turned to face the Council, but before she descended the stairs to them, she paused and made a graceful gesture, which included Aphrodite.
    “I ask that the Council allow the presence of this human. She is Aphrodite, the child who makes claims of being Nyx’s Prophetess.”
    Aphrodite stepped around Neferet and looked squarely from one Council member to another. “I don’t
claim
to be a prophetess. I am Nyx’s Prophetess because the Goddess wants me to be. The truth is, if I had a choice about it, I wouldn’t want the job.” She kept speaking even though several of the Council members had gasped in shock. “Oh, and just FYI: I’m not telling you anything Nyx doesn’t already know.”
    “The Goddess believes in Aphrodite even though she is not quite as sure about herself,” Darius said.
    Aphrodite smiled at him. He was more than her big, hot, mountainlike Warrior. She could count on Darius; he always saw the best in her.
    “Darius, why do you speak for this human?” asked the brunette.
    “Duantia, I speak for