Hunted

Night because of blood.”
    “And his humanity is missing. Like the rest of the red fledglings,” Aphrodite said.
    “Hey, I don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout. I got me plenty of humanity,” Kramisha said, clearly offended.
    “But you didn’t have your humanity when you first rose, did you?” Damien said.
    His voice was so clinical that Kramisha’s feathers instantly unruffled. “No. You right about that. I had no damn sense about me at first. None of us did.”
    “Sounds like a good guess about the meaning of the second one,” Damien said. “And because we have Kramisha on our side, her gift with words gives us a glimpse into the possible future. The first poem . . . I don’t know. I’ll think about it. What we need is to spend some time brainstorming possible meanings—time we don’t have right now. But that’s really inconsequential. We should still appreciate Kramisha.”
    “Hey, not a problem,” Kramisha said. “It’s all part a bein’ the Poet Laureate.”
    “The who?” Aphrodite said.
    Kramisha fixed a sharp look on Aphrodite. “Zoey made me the new Vamp Poet Laureate.”
    Aphrodite opened her mouth, but I beat her to speaking. “Actually, let’s have a quick vote of my Prefect Council on whether Kramisha should be our new Poet Laureate.” I looked at Damien. “What’s your vote?”
    “Yes, definitely,” Damien said.
    “I say yes, too,” Shaunee said,
    “Ditto. We’re due for a female Poet Laureate,” Erin said.
    “I already gave my yes vote,” Erik said.
    We all looked at Aphrodite.
    “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said.
    “And I can promise Stevie Rae will vote yes, too,” I said. “So it’s official.”
    Everyone smiled at Kramisha who looked totally pleased with herself.
    “Okay, so, to summarize,” Damien said, “we’ve pretty much decided that Kramisha’s first poem is outlining a way Kalona can be forced to run away, even though we don’t really have a good understanding of the details provided in the poem. The second is saying that Zoey’s return to the House of Night might somehow save Stark.”
    “Yeah, that’s what it sounds like.” I handed the pieces of paper on which the poems were written to Aphrodite. “Would you put those in my purse, please?” She nodded and folded them neatly, tucking them into my cute little bag. “I wish both poems had come with more instructions,” I said.
    “I think you should start by paying special attention to Stark,” Damien said.
    “Or at least she should be on her guard around him,” Erik said. “The poem does mention being cut, and right now that’s way more than a poetic metaphor.”
    I listened while Damien semi-agreed with him and I looked away from Erik’s penetrating gaze and right into Heath’s sad brown eyes.
    “Let me guess. Stark’s another guy, isn’t he?” Heath said.
    When I didn’t answer, he took a long drink from the bottle of wine.
    “Well, uh, yeah, Heath,” Jack said, sitting next to Heath on the bed and looking concerned. “Stark is a fledgling who, I guess, was kinda a friend of Zoey’s before he died and then un-died. He was a new kid, so none of us had gotten to know him very well.”
    “But you knew things about him no one else did. Like that his gift from Nyx was that he never missed any mark he aimed at, right?” Damien said.
    “Yeah. I knew stuff about him no one else knew, except Neferet and the professors,” I said, trying not to watch Heath guzzle down the bottle of wine and avoiding Erik’s sharp gaze.
    “I didn’t know that about his gift, and I’m a professor,” Erik said.
    I closed my eyes and leaned heavily back on the pillow. “Then maybe that was more info Neferet kept to herself,” I said wearily.
    “So why would he tell you about something that was top secret?” Erik said.
    Annoyed that he sounded like he was interrogating me, I didn’t say anything, and against my closed eyes I easily recalled the image of Stark’s cute, cocky half smile and how I’d felt a sudden connection with him and even kissed him as he died in my arms.
    “Well, let’s see—a not-so-wild guess says that Stark told Z about his gift because she’s top-shit fledgling and he wanted her to know the real deal with him,” Aphrodite broke in. “Can’t you see you’re wearing her the hell out with all of these questions!”
    As my friends—well, all of them except for my “consort” and my possible “mate”—mumbled apologies, I kept my eyes closed and