Hidden (House of Night Novels)

of the voice. To question her about joy. To try to understand how he could create that feeling for himself. Aurox opened his eyes and sat up. He’d collapsed not far from the farmhouse, near the bank of the little stream. It was a winding ribbon of clear water that drifted softly, musically, over sand and stone. Aurox’s gaze followed the stream down, to his left, where the woman, wearing a sleeveless dress fringed with long strands of leather decorated with beads and shells, stood. She danced gracefully, beating out the rhythm of her song with bare feet. Even though the sun was just lifting over the horizon and the early morning was cool, she was flushed, warm, alive. Smoke from the bundle of dried plants in her hand drifted around her, seemingly in time with her song.
    Just watching her made Aurox feel good. He didn’t need to channel her joy—it was palpable around her. His spirit lifted because the woman was so filled with the emotion that she overflowed. She flung back her head and her long hair, silver streaked with black, easily reached her slender waist. She raised her bare arms, as if embracing the rising sun, and then began to move in a circle, keeping time with her feet.
    Aurox was so caught up in her song that he didn’t realize she was turning to face him, and would see him, until their eyes met. He recognized her then. This was Zoey’s grandmother, who had been in the center of the circle the night before. He expected her to gasp or scream at the sight of him suddenly appearing there in the long grass at the edge of her stream. Instead her joyous dance came to an end. Her song ceased. And she spoke in a clear, calm voice. “I see you, tsu-ka-nv-s-di-na . You are the shapeshifter who killed Dragon Lankford last night. You tried to kill Rephaim as well, but you did not succeed. You also charged my beloved granddaughter as if you meant her harm. Are you here to kill me, too?”
    She lifted her arms again, drew a deep breath of the cool, clean morning air and concluded, “If so, then I will tell the sky that my name is Sylvia Redbird, and today is a good day to die. I will go to the Great Mother to meet my ancestors with joy filling my spirit.” Then she smiled at him.
    It was her smile that broke him. He felt himself shatter and in a trembling voice he barely recognized as his own, Aurox said, “I am not here to kill you. I am here because I have no other place to go.”
    Then Aurox began to weep.
    Sylvia Redbird hesitated for only a small heartbeat of time. Through his tears Aurox watched her tilt her head up again and nod, as if she’d received an answer to a question. Then she walked gracefully to him, the long leather fringe on her dress rustling musically with her movements and the touch of the cool morning breeze.
    She did not hesitate when she reached him. Sylvia Redbird sat, folding her bare feet beneath her, and then she put her arms around him and drew his head to her shoulder.
    Aurox never knew how long they sat like that together. He only knew that as he sobbed she held him and rocked him gently, back and forth, softly singing a chant and patting his back in time to her heartbeat.
    Finally, he pulled back, turning his face away in shame.
    “No, child,” she said, taking his shoulders and forcing him to meet her gaze. “Before you turn away, tell me why you wept.”
    Aurox wiped his face, cleared his throat, and in a voice that sounded young and, he thought, very foolish, said, “It is because I am sorry.”
    Sylvia Redbird held his gaze. “And?” she prompted.
    He blew out a long breath and admitted, “And because I am so alone.”
    Sylvia’s dark eyes widened. “You are more than you appear to be.”
    “Yes. I am a monster of Darkness, a beast,” he agreed with her.
    Her lips tilted up. “Can a beast weep in sorrow? Does Darkness have the capacity to feel loneliness? I think not.”
    “Then why do I feel so foolish for weeping?”
    “Think on this,” she said. “Your spirit wept. It needed to mourn because it felt sorrow and loneliness. It is for you to decide whether or not that is foolish. For me, I have already decided there is no shame to be found in honest tears.” Sylvia Redbird stood and held one small, deceptively frail hand out to him. “Come with me, child. I open my home to you.”
    “Why would you do that? You watched me kill a Warrior last night, and wound another. I could have killed Zoey as well.”
    She cocked her head to the side and studied him.