Hidden: House of Night: Book 10

that I see it and if I don’t think about it too much it usually makes sense to me.”
    “Okay, give me an example of how it usually makes sense to you.”
    “That’s easy. I’ll use you as my example. Your colors don’t change very much. Most of the time you’re purple with silver flecks. Even when you were getting ready to go to the ritual at your grandma’s place, and you knew it was gonna be a hard thing to watch, your colors stayed the same. I checked because …” Her voice trailed off.
    “You checked because?” I prompted.
    “Because I was curious. I checked the nerd herd’s colors before you left, but, well, I just realized how invasive that sounds.”
    I furrowed my forehead at her. “It’s not like you’re reading our minds or anything like that. Is it?”
    “No!” she assured me. “But the longer I have this True Sight stuff, and the more I practice it, the more real it gets for me. Zoey, I think it tells me things about people—things that they sometimes would rather keep hidden.”
    “Like Neferet.You said she’s dead-fish-eye color on the inside, and on the outside she’s gorgeous.”
    “Yeah, like that. But also like what I’m seeing with you. It’s like Kramisha would say, I’m not keeping to my own business.”
    “Why don’t you tell me what you’re seeing with me, and then I’ll tell you whether I think you’re poking too much into my business.”
    “Well, since you’ve been back from the ritual at your grandma’s house, your colors are darker.” She paused, stared at me, shook her head, and then corrected herself. “No, that’s not totally accurate. It’s not that they’re just darker—it’s that they’re murkier. Like the purple and the silver got swirled together and muddied.”
    “Okay,” I said slowly, starting to understand what she meant by
violation
. “I get that you see a difference in me, and that’s kinda strange, especially when you said my colors don’t usually change. But what does it mean to you?”
    “Oh, yeah, sorry. I think it means you’re confused about something—something serious. It’s bothering you. Really messing with your head. Is that kinda right?”
    I nodded. “That’s kinda right.”
    “And does it make you feel weird that I know that?”
    I nodded again. “Yeah, a little.” I thought about it for a second and then added, “But here’s the truth—I’d feel less weird if I knew I could trust you not to blab to everyone that my colors are murky and I’m real confused about something. That’s the violation part.”
    “Yeah.” She sounded sad. “That’s what I thought, too. I want you to know that you can trust me. I’ve never been a blab-er. Also, this gift Nyx gave me when I was Marked, well, it’s totally incredible. Zoey,
I can see again.
” Shaylin looked like she could burst into tears. “I don’t want to mess it up. I’m going to use the gift the way Nyx wants me to.”
    I could tell she was seriously upset, and I felt bad for her—I especially felt bad that I had had something to do with her being upset. “Hey, Shaylin, it’s okay. I understand what it’s like to have a gift you feel a big responsibility for and don’t want to mess up. Hell, you’re talking to the Queen of Mess Up.” I paused, and then added, “It’s part of what I’m confused about right now. I do
not
want to make one more immature, stupid, wrong decision. What I do and say affects way more people than just me. When I make crappy decisions it’s like a domino mess up. Fledglings, vampyres, and humans can all be screwed. That sucks, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do have a gift from Nyx, and I am responsible for how it’s used.”
    Shaylin thoughtabout that for a while, and I sipped my brown pop. I was actually liking talking to her. It was way better than brooding about Aurox and Heath and Stark and Neferet and—
    “Okay, how about this,” Shaylin interrupted my internal non-brooding brood. “What if I see colors change for a person? Is it my responsibility to tell someone—someone like you?”
    “What do you mean? Like come to me and say ‘Hey, Zoey, your colors are all murky. What’s up?’”
    “Well, maybe, but only if we’re friends. What I was thinking about was more like today when I saw Nicole. Her colors were like the rest of Dallas’s group—all blood-like, swirled together with browns and blacks—like something bleeding in a sandstorm. Last night, at the stables, hers had changed.