Hidden (House of Night Novels)

they seemed to quit listening.
    “Oh, for shit’s sake. You are no good at espionage at all.” Aphrodite lowered her voice and huddled us up. “Z, get a clue. It’s simple. What Shaylin is saying is that Erin looks like she used to—pretty, blond, popular, perfect. You know, typical. But the truth is that under the surface, there’s something rotting. You can’t see it. I can’t see it. But Shaylin can.” Aphrodite glanced over at the bus. We all looked with her in time to see Shaunee shake her head no, and disappear quickly up the black, rubber-treaded stairs while Erin stood there looking beautiful but very, very cold. “Seems like Shaunee might be able to see it, too. Not that we’d believe her. We’d believe she was just pissed at Erin because the Dorkamise Twins have been surgically separated.”
    “I think that’s pretty harsh,” I said.
    “So do I,” Stevie Rae said. “But my gut’s tellin’ me it’s the truth.”
    “Mine is as well,” Damien said, walking up to us. His cheeks were still flushed, and he waved gaily as the Fox 23 van pulled away, but his attention was focused on Erin. “My gut’s telling me something else, too.”
    “That you and News Boy are about to become butt-buddies?” Aphrodite’s voice was perky and polite, which was in direct contradiction to what she’d just said.
    “ That is none of your business,” Damien said, then transitioned smoothly to, “And you may want to pay attention, Aphrodite. What I’m getting ready to say is going to rock your world.”
    “That’s a seriously old saying,” Aphrodite said.
    “Old doesn’t equate to inaccurate,” Damien said. “You translated what Shaylin envisioned. That means you’re acting as an oracle.”
    “I’m not an effing oracle. I’m a Prophetess.” Aphrodite really looked pissed.
    “Oracle—Prophetess,” Damien held up first one hand then the other, as if he was measuring something in each palm and equaling them both out. “Seems the same thing to me. Check your history, Prophetess. Sibyl, Delphi, Cassandra! Do these names not ring a bell with you?”
    “No. Seriously. I try not to read too much.”
    “Well, I’d start if I were you. They are just the top three of many that come to my well-educated mind. Some name them Oracle. Some call them Prophetess. Same thing.”
    “Can I get the short version from the Internet?” Aphrodite was trying to sound like a smartass, but her face had lost all of its color and her eyes looked giant and even more topaz blue than usual. And scared. She looked super scared.
    “Okay, well, lesson learned. I say, well done, us!” I piped in perkily. When everyone just stared at me I attempted an explanation. “Thanatos said we had to practice our Gifts. I think what just happened is, like, extra credit for us. How ’bout we get on that bus and go back to the tunnels and watch some Fringe reruns?”
    “ Fringe? I’m in,” Shaylin said, and started off toward the bus.
    “I like Walter,” Aphrodite said. “He reminds me of my grandpa. Well, except Walter’s a little smarter and is high and crazy versus drunk and sociopathic. Yet oddly they’re both likeable.”
    “You have a grandpa? And you like him?” Stevie Rae beat me to the question.
    “Of course I have a grandpa. What are you, a biology moron?” Then Aphrodite shrugged. “Whatever. My family is kinda hard to explain. I’m going to follow it on the bus.” And she did. She followed Shaylin.
    Stevie Rae, Damien, and I were left alone.
    “Crazy Town,” was all I could think to say.
    “Indeed,” Damien nodded.
    “All right, well, do you think everyone else is on the bus?” I asked.
    “I hope so. I know Rephaim’s there, and we only have a couple of hours until sunrise. I can pretty much be sure he’s never seen any episodes of Fringe , and I think he’d like them. Watchin’ DVDs curled up with him sounds real good right now, even if we do have to do it with Crazy Town Aphrodite.” She grinned at me. “Can we order Andolini’s pizza?”
    “Totally,” I said.
    “Hurrumph…” Damien cleared his throat with staged precision.
    “Yes?” I asked.
    “Do, um, you guys think it’s awful if I, um, maybe, meet someone for coffee. Late. Tonight. At The Coffee House on Cherry Street?”
    “Are they still open?” I asked, glancing at my phone. Jeesh, it was almost 4:00 A.M.
    “They’ve started staying open 24/7. The ice storm killed business for weeks and they’re trying to make up for