Marked

head still hurt?”
    My hand automatically found its way up to my temple. I could only feel the prickle of a stitch or two today when there had been at least ten yesterday. Very, very weird. And, even weirder, I hadn't thought about the cut once this morning.
    I also realized I hadn't thought about my mom or Heath or even Grandma Redbird.…
    "No," I said, suddenly realizing Neferet and Damien were waiting for me to answer. "No, my head doesn't hurt at all.”
    "Good! Well, you two better go before you're late. I know you'll love Drama. I think Professor Nolan has just begun working on monologues.”
    I was halfway down the hall, hurrying to keep up with Damien when it hit me.
    "How did she know I was going to take Drama? I just decided it this morning.”
    "Adult vamps know way too much sometimes," Damien whispered. "Scratch that. Adult vamps know way too much all the time, especially when that vamp is a High Priestess.”
    In light of what I hadn't been telling Neferet I didn't want to think about that too long.
    "Hey, y'all!" Stevie Rae rushed up. "How was Vamp Soc? Did y'all start the Amazons?”
    "It was cool." I was glad to change the subject from the too mysterious vampyres. "I had no idea they really cut off their right breasts to keep them out of the way.”
    "They wouldn't have had to if they'd been as flat as me," said Stevie Rae, looking down at her own chest.
    "Or me," sighed Damien dramatically.
    I was still giggling when they pointed me to the Drama room.
    Professor Nolan didn't ooze power like Neferet. Instead she oozed energy. She had an athletic, but somehow pear-shaped body. Her brunet hair was long and straight. And Stevie Rae had been right―she had a serious Texas twang.
    "Zoey, welcome! Have a seat anywhere.”
    I said hi and sat beside the Elizabeth girl I recognized from Vamp Soc. She looked friendly enough and I already knew she was smart. (It never hurts to sit next to a smart kid.)
    "We're just about to begin choosing the monologues that each of you will present to the class sometime next week. But first, I thought you'd like to have a demonstration of how a monologue should be performed, so I asked one of our talented upperclassmen to stop by and recite the famous monologue from Othello, written by the ancient vampyre playwright, Shakespeare.” Professor Nolan paused and glanced out of the window in the door. "Here he is now.”
    The door opened and oh my dear sweet lord I do believe my heart totally stopped beating. I'm positive my mouth flopped open like a moron. He was the most gorgeous young lad I had ever seen. He was tall and had dark hair that did that adorably perfect Superman curl thing. His eyes were an amazing sapphire blue and…
    Oh. Hell! Hell! Hell! It was the guy from the hall.
    "Come on in, Erik. As usual, your entrance timing is perfect. We are ready for your monologue." She turned back to the class. "Most of you already know fifth former, Erik Night, and are aware that he won last year's worldwide House of Night monologue competition, the finals of which were held in London. He is also already creating a buzz in Hollywood as well as on Broadway for his performance last semester as Tony in our production of West Side Story. The class is all yours, Erik." Prof Nolan beamed.
    As if my body were suddenly on automatic, I clapped with the rest of the class. Smiling and confident, Erik stepped up on the little stage that was situated front and center in the large, airy classroom.
    "Hi. How are you guys doing?”
    He spoke directly to me. I mean, directly to me. I could feel my face getting really hot.
    "Monologues seem intimidating, but the key is to get your lines down, and then to imagine that you're actually acting with a full cast of actors. Trick yourself into thinking you're not up here all alone, like this…”
    And he began the monologue from Othello. I don't know much about the play, except that it's one of Shakespeare's tragedies, but Erik's performance was amazing. He was a tall guy, probably at least six feet, but as he began to speak he seemed to get bigger and older and more powerful. His voice deepened and he took on an accent I couldn't place. His incredible eyes darkened and narrowed into slits, and when he said Desdemona's name it was like he was praying. It was obvious he loved her, even before he spoke the concluding lines:
    She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.
    As he said the last two lines his eyes locked