Revealed

to me. I have a bad feeling about this.”
    Oh, Goddess! Please, don’t let it be another kid dying …
was all I could think as we cut through the field house and jogged to the school’s parking lot.
    We were coming from a different direction than everyone else, so no one noticed us at first, and Stark and I got to get a good look at the creepy scene. In the middle of the parking lot—surrounded by dazed locals, and a gaggle of Benedictine nuns who were herding her from her headlong run from the front gates of the school—was a tall blond woman having an absolute and utter hysterical meltdown. She was wearing meticulously tailored black slacks; a light blue, skintight cashmere sweater; and a thick strand of expensive-looking pearls. Her hair had come loose from a rich lady updo, and blond wisps were sticking out from her head like she’d been electrocuted. Even though the nuns had managed to get her to stop running in circles, she was shrieking and flailing her arms like a crazy person.
    I admit that my first reaction was to feel super relieved that it was a freaked-out local and not another dying fledgling.
    Sister Mary Angela stepped from the crowd and began trying to calm the woman down. “There, there, madam. I know it is distressing when a young person dies, but we all know death is never far from every fledgling. They accept it, and so must we.”
    The screaming woman paused in her hysterics and blinked at Sister Mary Angela as if she’d just realized where she was. She drew a deep breath and her face twisted, changed, going from terror to anger so quickly it was scary. Later I realized that should have made me recognize her.
    “You think I’m crying about a
fledgling
? That’s absurd!” the woman hurled the words at the nun.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t understand wh—”
    Aphrodite rushed up, interrupting the nun and looking wide-eyed at the crying woman. “Mom? What’s wrong with you?”
    “Oh, shit!” Stark spoke under his breath to me. “That’s Aphrodite’s mom.”
    I’d dropped his hand and was moving forward before my mind had time to catch up with my actions.
    “They’ve killed him!” her mom shrieked at her.
    “Him? Who?”
    “Your father! The mayor of Tulsa!”
    The crowd gasped along with me. Aphrodite’s face went bloodless and white. Before she could speak again, Lenobia rushed up, saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, some of you have already met me. I am Lenobia, Horse Mistress of this House of Night, and on behalf of our High Priestess and our faculty, I am sorry that you were witness to the tragic events of this evening. Let me help you find your vehicles so that you may make your way home in safety.”
    “It’s too late for that!” Aphrodite’s mom screamed at Lenobia. “There is nothing
safe
about tonight. None of us will ever be
safe
as long as we coexist with you bloodsuckers!”
    When Aphrodite just stood there staring at her mother, I stepped forward, surprised by how calm my voice sounded. “Lenobia, this is Aphrodite’s mom. She says her husband has been killed.”
    “Mrs. LaFont,” Lenobia reacted instantly. “There must be some mistake. It was one of our fledglings who met an untimely death tonight.”
    “The only mistake about it is that more of
you
didn’t die tonight.” Mrs. LaFont whirled around, pointing an accusing finger toward the school wall where it met the main entrance and the open iron gate. I could just make out what looked like someone lying on the ground. “He is still there. Where he was left dead and drained by a vampyre!” Then she dissolved once more into hysterical sobs, this time clutching brokenly at her daughter.
    “I will go.” Darius’s voice was strong and steady. He touched Aphrodite’s shoulder gently before he jogged to the dark shape. Once there, he crouched. He hesitated before he returned to us, standing and taking off his jacket, and draping it over what had to be a body. Then he returned to Aphrodite. She was still holding her sobbing mother. “I am sorry,” he told her. “It is your father, and he is dead.”
    Mrs. LaFont’s sobs became a horrible, keening wail. The rest of the crowd had begun to whisper with a restlessness that felt like anger and fear combined. The panic that was building was almost a tangible thing. I knew if someone didn’t say or do something quickly, an already awful night could potentially turn dangerous. I raised my voice, glad I still sounded way calmer than I