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House of Night 09 - Destined

House of Night 09 - Destined

Titel: House of Night 09 - Destined Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: P.C. Cast
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better. “She’ll be drunk and exhausted for the rest of tonight and probably into tomorrow. I need to hear about this vision before she’s too out of it to talk.”
    “Z’s right,” Aphrodite said before Darius could protest. “And anyway, this one was short.” I was glad to see she’d drained the water bottle, but she reached out a blind hand and said, “Water’s gone. Where’s my wine?”
    Darius brought her a wineglass that looked super simple, just crystal and a pretty shape, but it had a little Riedel mark written on the bottom, so I knew it was nice stemware from Williams-Sonoma. I knew that because Aphrodite had lectured me when I’d almost broken one a few days ago. (Like I care?) Anyway, Darius helped Aphrodite take a very long drink from the crystal glass. Then she exhaled slowly. “Get another bottle ready. I’ll need more.” He didn’t even glance at me for confirmation; he just looked defeated. “And tell Stark to quit lusting after your knives. He’s bowboy, not knifeboy.”
    “Are they super heroes now?” I asked, trying (probably unsuccessfully) to be funny.
    Her lips turned up in satisfaction, and for a second she looked way too much like her cat for comfort. “Well, mine’s a super hero in lots of ways. You’ll have to decide about yours on your own.”
    “Vision,” Stark mouthed to me from across the room where he was, indeed, checking out the ornamental knives.
    “Okay, so tell me what it was about this time,” I said.
    “It was one of those damn death visions again. One where I was inside the guy getting killed.”
    “Guy?” I felt a little bubble of panic build. Was it Stark?
    “Relax, it wasn’t your guy or mine. It was Rephaim. I was inside him when he was killed. And, by the way,” she hesitated, taking another long drink of wine. “Birdboy has some weird shit in his head.”
    “Give me the basics now. We’ll talk about the gossipy part later,” I said.
    “Well, as per usual when I’m inside the person who’s getting slaughtered, the vision was confusing,” she said, pressing her hand over the washcloth and grimacing with pain.
    “Just tell me what you remember,” I prompted. “How did he die?”
    “Sword almost sliced him in two. Totally gross, although his head didn’t come off like yours did in that other vision.”
    “Well, that’s nice for him,” I said, not sure if I was being serious or sarcastic. “Who did the cutting in half?”
    “That’s where the confusion kicks in. I’m not sure who actually kills him. I am sure Dragon is there.”
    “Dragon kills him? Ugh. That’s awful.”
    “Well, like I said, I’m not sure of that. I can tell you that I remember the look on Dragon’s face just before the sword sliced me. He was totally shut down. He looked even worse than he’s been looking recently. It’s like there was no hope or light or happiness anywhere in his life, and he was crying—really bawling, like with snot and everything.”
    “Then Rephaim gets killed by a sword ,” I said.
    “Yep,” she agreed. “I know. Should be a no-brainer. Seems like Dragon did it, but it just doesn’t feel one hundred percent to me, especially when you add in the bawling part and all the other confusion.”
    “Other confusion?”
    “Yeah, bizarre shit kept flashing all around. There was something white that looked dead. There was ice that was burning a circle. There were blood and boobs everywhere, and then I—meaning Rephaim—was dead. The end.”
    I rubbed my temple where I felt a headache brewing.
    “Boobs?” Stark perked up at that word.
    “Yes, bowboy. Boobs. Like there was a naked woman hanging around. Literally. I didn’t see her face because Rephaim was predictably mesmerized by her boobs, but I do know she had something to do with the blood and the white dead thing.”
    “Hey, wait,” I said. “Didn’t Kramisha’s last poem say something about fire and ice?”
    “Hmm, I’d forgotten about that. Easy for me to do because, well, fuck poetry.”
    “Don’t be so negative,” I said. “And it’s not just poetry. It’s prophetic poetry.”
    “Which makes it worse,” she said.
    “I remember. The poem also said something about Dragon’s tears,” Stark said.
    “Maybe he weeps because he kills Rephaim, even after he was tasked to be his protector because he is Sword Master of our House of Night,” Darius said.
    “But he’s not,” I said. “We have our own House of Night over here, so he’s not technically

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