Hidden (House of Night Novels)

fell in time with the beating of her bare feet as she strung necklaces of turquoise around her neck, adding one on another, so that their weight felt familiar and warm.
    Sylvia circled her thin wrists with cuffs of turquoise and smaller, thinner ribbons of silver and turquoise—always turquoise—until both forearms were almost entirely filled, wrist to elbow.
    Only then did Sylvia Redbird pick up her smudge stick and a long box of wooden matches, and walk from her bedroom.
    She let her spirit guide her bare feet. Her spirit did not take her to the bubbling stream that ran behind her house where she usually greeted the dawn. Instead Sylvia found herself in the middle of her wide front porch. Continuing to follow her instincts, she lit the smudge stick. With graceful, practiced movements, Sylvia began circling herself with the scents of sweet grass and lavender. It was when she was engulfed in smoke, foot to head, and singing a Wise Woman’s war song, that Neferet stepped from a pool of Darkness, materializing before her.
    Neferet
    Sylvia Redbird’s voice sounded like chalk screeching on a blackboard. “By your own belief system it is impolite not to welcome a guest.” Neferet raised her voice so she could be heard over the old woman’s horrible song.
    “Guests are invited. You have no invitation to my home. That makes you an intruder. According to my beliefs I am greeting you appropriately.”
    Neferet curled her lip. The old woman’s singing had ended, but her bare feet still beat out a repeating rhythm. “That song is almost as annoying as that smoke. Do you really think the stink of it will protect you?”
    “I think many things, Tsi Sgili,” Sylvia said, still wafting the thick wand of herbs around her as she danced in place. “At this moment I am thinking that you broke an oath you made to me when my u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya first joined your world. I call you to task for that.”
    Neferet was almost amused by the old woman’s insolence. “I made no oath to you.”
    “You did. You promised to mentor and protect Zoey. Then you broke that oath. You owe me the price of that broken oath.”
    “Old woman, I am an immortal. I am not bound by the same rules as you are,” Neferet scoffed.
    “Immortal you may have become. That does not change the Earth Mother’s laws.”
    “Perhaps not, but it does change how they are enforced,” Neferet said.
    “An oath-breaking is only one of the debts you owe me, witch,” Sylvia said.
    “I am a goddess, not a witch!” Neferet felt her anger rise and she began moving slowly closer to the porch. The tendrils of Darkness slithered with her, though Neferet sensed their hesitation as wisps of white smoke drifted down, seeming to melt around them.
    Sylvia continued dancing and waving the wand around her. “The second debt you owe me is greater than an oath-breaking. You owe me a life debt. You killed my daughter.”
    “I sacrificed your daughter for a greater good. I owe you nothing!”
    The old woman paid no attention to her. Instead she paused in her dance long enough to bend and place the smoking herbs at her feet. Then she lifted her face and opened her arms, as if embracing the sky. “Great Earth Mother, hear me. I am Sylvia Redbird, Wise Woman of the Cherokee, and Ghigua of my tribe, that of the House of Night. I beg mercy from you. The Tsi Sgili, Neferet, who was once a High Priestess of Nyx, is forsworn. She owes me an oath-breaking debt. She is also the murderess of my daughter. She owes me a life debt. I invoke your aid, Earth Mother, and call both debts due. The payment I demand is protection.”
    Ignoring the tendrils of Darkness that were cowering around her, Neferet approached Sylvia, climbing the steps up to her porch as she spoke. “You are vastly mistaken, old woman. I am the only goddess listening. I am the immortal to whom you should be begging protection.”
    Neferet stepped onto the smoke-filled porch when Sylvia spoke again. The old woman’s voice had changed. Before it had been powerful as she evoked the one she called Earth Mother. Now her voice had gentled, become softer. Her arms were no longer spread. Her face no longer raised in supplication. Instead her dark eyes met Neferet’s gaze steadily. “You are no goddess. You are a mean-spirited, broken little girl. I pity you. What happened to you? Who broke you, child?”
    Neferet’s anger was so intense that she felt as if she would explode. Threads of Darkness forgotten, she struck out at