"It's—it's telling me that I've—I've, uh, made m-mistakes, but not that the Goddess hates me."

Aphrodite was crying so much that she was getting harder and harder to understand.

"Then you should look closer."

Aphrodite's sobs were wrenching. I couldn't listen anymore. Leaving my earring, I followed my gut and got the hell out of there.

My stomach hurt all through the rest of Spanish class, so much so that I even figured out how to ask Proffe Garmy, "puedo it al baño," and spent so much time in the bathroom that Stevie Rae followed me in there asking what was wrong.

I know I was worrying the hell out of her—I mean, if a fledg­ling starts looking sick, that tends to mean that she's dying. And I'm positive I looked awful. I told Stevie Rae that I was getting my period and the cramps were killing me—although not literally. She didn't seem convinced.

I was incredibly glad to get to my last class of the week, Eques­trian Studies. Not only did I love the class, but it always calmed me. This week I'd graduated to actually cantering Persephone, the horse that Lenobia (no prof title for her, she said the name of the ancient vampyre queen was title enough) had assigned to me the first week of class, and practiced changing leads. I worked with the beautiful mare until both of us were sweating and my stomach felt a little better, then I took my time cooling her off and grooming her, not caring that the bell had signaled the end of the school day a good half an hour before I emerged from her stall. I went to the immaculately kept tack room to put away the curry combs, and was surprised to see Lenobia sitting on a chair outside the door. She was rubbing saddle soap into what looked like an already spotlessly clean English saddle.

Lenobia was striking-looking, even for a vampyre. She had amazing hair that reached her waist and was so blond it was al­most white. Her eyes were a weird color of gray, like a stormy sky. She was tiny, and carried herself like a prima ballerina. Her tattoo was an intricate series of knots entwining around her face—within the sapphire design horses plunged and reared.

"Horses can help us work through our problems," she said without looking up from the saddle.

I wasn't sure what to say. I liked Lenobia. Okay, when I started her class she had scared me; she was tough and sarcastic, but after I got to know her (and proved I understood horses were not just big dogs), I'd come to appreciate her wit and her no-nonsense at­titude. Actually, next to Neferet, she was my favorite teacher, but she and I hadn't ever talked about anything except horses. So, hesitantly, I finally said, "Persephone makes me feel calm, even when I don't feel calm. Does that make any sense?"

She looked up at me then, her gray eyes shadowed with con­cern. "It makes perfect sense." She paused, and then added, "You've been given many responsibilities in a very short amount of time, Zoey."

"I don't really mind," I assured her. "I mean, being leader of the Dark Daughters is an honor."

"Often things that bring us the most honor can also bring us the most problems." She paused again and maybe I was imagin­ing it, but she seemed to be trying to decide whether to say more or not. Then she drew her already straight spine up even straighter and continued. "Neferet is your mentor, and it is only right that you go to her with your confidences, but sometimes High Priest­esses can be difficult to talk with. I want you to know that you can come to me—about anything."

I blinked in surprise. "Thank you, Lenobia."

"I'll put these up for you. Run along. I'm sure your friends are wondering what has happened to you." She smiled and reached out to take the curry combs from me. "And feel free to come by the barn to visit Persephone anytime. I have often found that groom­ing a horse can somehow make the world seem less complex."

"Thank you," I said again.

As I left the barn I could swear that I heard her call softly after me something that sounded a lot like May Nyx bless and watch over you. But that was just too weird. Of course, it was also too weird that she had said I could talk to her. Fledglings formed spe­cial bonds with their mentors—and I had an extra-special men­tor in the High Priestess of the school. Sure, we liked the other vamps, but if a kid had a problem she couldn't solve on her own, the kid took that problem to his or her mentor. Always.

The walk from the stables to the dorm wasn't a long one, but I took my time, trying to stretch out the sense of peace working with Persephone had given me. I meandered off the sidewalk a little, heading toward the old trees that lined the eastern side of the thick wall surrounding the school grounds. It was almost four o'clock (A.M., of course), and the deepness of the night was beau­tiful lit by the fat setting moon.

I'd forgotten how much I loved walking out here by the school wall. Actually, I'd avoided coming out here for the past month. Ever since I'd seen—or thought I'd seen—the two ghosts.

"Mee-uf-ow!"

"Crap, Nala! Don't scare me like that." My heart was beating like crazy as I lifted my cat into my arms and petted her while she complained at me. "Hello—you could have been a ghost." Nala peered at me and then sneezed right in my face, which I took as her comment on the possibility of her being a ghost.

Okay, the first "sighting" might have been a ghost. I'd been out here the day after Elizabeth had died last month. She'd been the first of two fledgling deaths to shake the school. Well, more accu­rately, to shake me. As fledglings who could—any of us—drop dead at any time during the four years it took the physiological Change from human to vampyre to happen within our bodies, the school expected us to deal with death as just another fact of fledgling life. Say a prayer or two for the dead kid. Light a candle. Whatever. Just get over it and go on with your business.

It still seemed wrong to me, but maybe that was because I was only a month into the Change and still more used to being hu­man than vamp, or even fledgling.

I sighed and scratched Nala's ears. Anyway, the night after Eliz­abeth's death I'd caught a glimpse of something that I thought was Elizabeth. Or her ghost, 'cause she was definitely dead. So it was no more than a glimpse, and Stevie Rae and I had discussed it without really deciding what was up with it. The truth was that we knew all too well that ghosts existed—the ones Aphrodite had conjured a month ago had almost killed my human ex-boyfriend. So I might very well have seen Elizabeth's newly freed spirit. Of course I might also have caught a glimpse of a fledgling and, be­cause it had been night and I'd only been here for a few days and had, in those few days, gone through all sorts of unbelievable crap, I might have imagined the whole thing.

I came to the wall and turned to my right, meandering along it in the direction that would eventually lead me near the rec hall, and then, in turn, the girls' dorm.

"But the second sighting definitely wasn't my imagination. Right, Nala?" The cat's answer was to burrow her face into the corner of my neck and purr like a lawn mower. I snuggled her, glad she'd followed me. Just thinking about the second ghost still freaked me out. Like now, Nala had been with me. (The similarity made me glance nervously around and step up my meandering.)

It had not been long after the second kid had drowned in his own lung tissue and bled out right in front of my Lit class. I shud­dered, remembering how awful it had been—especially because of my gross attraction to his blood. Anyway, I'd watched Elliott die. Then later that day Nala and I had run into him (almost lit­erally) not far from where we were right now. I'd thought he was another ghost. At first. Then he'd tried to attack me, and Nala (precious kitten) had launched herself at him, which had made him leap over the twenty-foot wall and disappear into the night, leaving Nala and me totally freaked out. Especially after I noticed that my cat had blood all over her paws. The ghost's blood. Which made no damn sense.