Nyx in the House of Night

inconvenience than a threat. Instead, the sheer exoticism of the place seems to heighten already powerful emotions, from dread and terror to joy and triumph.
    This fits well with the reputation the Philbrook enjoys among Tulsans. After an apparently happy tenure in Villa Philbrook, Waite Phillips donated his home to the city in 1938 as a showcase for his eclectic and extensive art collection. The museum opened in 1939. No guidebook or ghost tour marks the Philbrook as a “haunted” place, and yet a quick Google search will reveal half a dozen Tulsa-based blogs that report vague, unusual happenings there: painted portraits whose eyes follow visitors, for instance, or outdoor sculptures that turn their heads to watch passersby. None of the accounts suggests anything malevolent or unwelcoming—or even particularly specific. But it seems that some Tulsans want to think of the Philbrook as too grand, too spectacular to be contained by the natural, normal laws of the everyday world. In short, it’s an ideal spot for the Casts to use in their supernatural, paranormal reimagining of Tulsa.
    The Union Depot
    Another key Tulsa landmark that appears often in the House of Night series is the Union Depot. This heavyset, imposing structure offers a contrary note to the architectural chorus of downtown Tulsa. Some of the surrounding buildings sprang up in the oil boom days of the 1920s and reflect the extravagance of that time, from the Gothic Philtower, complete with leering gargoyles, to the elegant Philcade building, adorned with wrought-iron embellishments. (Both buildings were named for Waite Phillips.) A number of the structures reflect early art deco sensibilities—so many, in fact, that Tulsa once was called “Terra Cotta City” because of the terra cotta art deco tiles carved in geometric and zigzag patterns that grace both the exteriors and interiors of the buildings. Even today, travel guides such as 2010’s Insiders’ Guide to Tulsa by Elaine Warner include special art deco tours of downtown Tulsa.
    After the Stock Market Crash of 1929, however, architectural tastes changed. The Tulsa Union Depot was built in 1931 and represents what’s known as the PWA (Public Works Administration) art deco style. Its solemn lines project calm stability, almost severity, rather than flashy extravagance, but the design still boasts the classic art deco zigzag pattern. The sheer scale of the structure certainly suggests permanence, and the size was needed, for in its heyday the Union Depot served three separate railroads and their passengers. After closing its doors in 1967, the proud building sat empty and deserted for years. Looters stripped its interior, and the deteriorating roof collapsed.
    Here the Casts’ version of Tulsa diverges from actual Tulsa history. Today the Union Depot, fully renovated, houses the impressive Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame and the Tulsa Symphony Orchestra. In the House of Night series, however, the depot remains empty and forlorn. In Zoey’s words from Betrayed , “It looked like something that should be in the Gotham City of the Batman Dark Knight comics.” Stevie Rae describes it in Tempted as having a “ Blade Runner meets Amityville Horror ” look.
    The Casts accomplish several things by reimagining the Union Depot in this way. First and foremost, the idea of that elegant yet austere building sitting dark and ravaged is downright spooky. Not many people would be lining up to take a midnight tour, I can assure you. The city might be too young to boast the ageless, windswept moors of Wuthering Heights or the legendary castle of Dracula , but this depiction of the depot adds to the notion of Tulsa—especially Tulsa at night—as an old, forbidding, haunted place straight out of a classic Gothic romance.
    The authors’ choice also enhances the story line most closely linked to the Union Depot in the novels, that of the self-imposed exile of the red vampyres who live beneath it. The abandoned depot represents something dead, decayed, and absolutely wrong, which is exactly how readers first view the once deceased and now transformed red fledglings. This Gothic sense of wrongness is doubly potent for Tulsa readers, who recognize that the depot isn’t in this dire condition in “real life.” The disturbing unnaturalness of the neglected depot mirrors the disturbing unnaturalness of these vamps, their origins, and their dark appetites.
    Last, leaving the Union Depot abandoned frees the space