Untamed

slight discussion, they agreed the idea was a good one."
    I noticed the hardening in her voice and the way her already straight spine seemed to grow even straighter. "Not everyone is okay with fledglings, huh?" I said.
    Her hard look warmed. "That is not for you to worry about, Zoey. I've often forged my own path and am used to taking a machete to weeds and other bothersome barriers."
    I felt my eyes get big and didn't doubt for a minute that this tough nun's meaning might not be only figurative. And then part of what she'd said made me ask, "When you said that you had to check with your Board of Church Directors, did you mean they were from your church, or others?"
    "They aren't from our abbey, which isn't exactly a church, because our only congregation is made of Benedictine sisters. The Church Board of which I was speaking is made of several of the leaders of local churches."
    "Like the People of Faith?"
    She frowned. "Yes. The People of Faith have a rather large representation on the Board, which reflects their congregation size."
    "Bet they were the weeds you had to chop down," I muttered.
    "Pardon me, Zoey. I didn't quite catch that," she said, eyes squinting impishly with the smile she was trying (unsuccessfully) to hide.
    "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking out loud."
    "A terrible habit, and one that can get you in much trouble if you're not careful," she said, smiling fully.
    "Don't I know it," I said. "So you're sure the flea market will be okay? You know, if it's too much hassle, we can figure out some other way to—"
    Sister Mary Angela's raised hand shut me right up. She simply said, "Get with your High Priestess and see what day next month would be good for your school for the flea market. We shall accommodate ourselves to your schedule."
    "Okay, good," I said, feeling proud of myself for how well my community service idea was working out. "I better get Aphrodite and go now, though. We were excused from only the first part of our classes today, and we gotta get back."
    "I believe your friends have been finished for a while now, but they have been rather—" She paused, eyes twinkling again. "—distracted."
    "Huh?" I was feeling kinda shocked. It was cool that Sister Mary Angela wasn't freaked about fledglings and vampyres in general, but to have her be oh-so-amused by Aphrodite's gross flirtation with Darius was totally too liberal—even for me.
    Obviously the nun must have been able to guess what I was thinking by the look on my face, because she laughed, turned me around by my shoulders, and gave me a gentle push out of her office and toward the cat kennel. "Go on—you'll see what I mean," she said.
    Totally confused, I walked down the short hallway to the room that held cats available for adoption. There were no nuns around, but (sure enough) Aphrodite and Darius were sitting over in the "playground for cats" corner, snuggled together like lovers with their backs turned to me. They were doing something (ugh) with their hands. Actually, it looked like they were doing a lot of something with their hands (double ugh). I cleared my throat dramatically. Instead of jumping apart guiltily as they should have, Darius glanced over his shoulder at me and grinned—Aphrodite (the ho) didn't even turn to look to see who had just walked in on them. Jeesh, I could have been a nun or someone's mom.
    "Uh, I really hate to interrupt this cozy little scene, but we gotta go," I said sarcastically.
    With a big sigh, Aphrodite finally turned around, saying, "Fine. Let's go. But I'm taking her with us." And I saw what it was that she and Darius had been doing with their hands.
    "It's a cat!" I said.
    Aphrodite rolled her eyes. "No shit? Imagine that—there's a cat at Street Cats."
    "It's an ugly cat," I continued.
    "Don't call her that." Aphrodite was instantly defensive as she struggled to stand up while clutching the ginormic white cat in her arms. Taking her elbow, Darius made sure Aphrodite didn't fall back on her butt. "She's not ugly. She's unique, and I'm sure quite expensive."
    "She's a Street Cats cat," I said. "She only costs an adoption fee, same as all the rest of them."
    Aphrodite stroked the cat absently, and it closed the beady eyes that sat in its totally smushed face and started to purr, skipping beats every now and then, like a missing engine, which probably meant she was full of hairballs. Aphrodite ignored the messed-up purring and smiled lovingly down into the cat's flat face. "Maleficent is