Page 59 of Lost

15

Other Aphrodite

Aphrodite turned her bitch level up to cover her nervousness. She didn’t need to say anything. She simply changed her expression from resting bitch face to active bitch face, and soldiers, Warriors, and even the priestesses parted before her like she carried the plague.

I carry something worse—Neferet’s disdain. And they all know it.

Aphrodite had hastily decided that her performance would be best played out in the middle of the crowded auditorium, so instead of going on stage to serve as an attractive backdrop to whatever drama Neferet had cooked up for her minions today or joining the other priestesses huddled together in their typically sheeplike manner in seating reserved for them in the rear, Aphrodite made her way down the center of the auditorium, found the seat she wanted in the front row next to the aisle, and glared at the current occupant, who hastily removed himself.

She didn’t thank him. She sat. And worried. Aphrodite had never done anything like she was planning. She hadn’t meant to—not until Stark, the arrogant douche, had made that crack about her joining the Red Army. So, really, what she was about to do wasn’t her fault. It was Neferet’s. And, probably, somehow Stark’s. But definitely,definitelynot Aphrodite’s fault.

She’d never meant to tell Neferet the rest of the vision. Aphrodite hadn’t told Neferet all of the details of any of her visions since the Red Army had slaughtered Lenobia and Travis. And the horses. Aphrodite hated thinking about the dying horses. Hearing their screams in her nightmares was bad enough.

My fault. That had been my fault. I should’ve known!She clenched her hands together over her lap and sat ramrod straight. Anyone who looked at her—and a lot of people were always looking at her—would only see a beautiful, aloof young Prophetess looking confident and calm. They wouldn’t see her hands tremble. They wouldn’t see her soul shake. They wouldn’t see her doubts and fears. That was one positive thing her harpy of a mother had taught her—show only one face in public, and that face should be exquisite and in control at all times, regardless of whether she was actually exquisiteorin control.

Aphrodite sat very still, breathing slowly and steadily, as she readied herself for what was to come, but in the middle of one of her slow, steady breaths she caught a whiff of death and decay. Annoyed at the disgusting smell, she craned her head around, sniffing delicately, and, sure enough, sitting two rows behind her in an aisle seat just like hers was that young red vampyre Stark had been babysitting. Aphrodite shot Bow Boy an annoyed look. Red vampyres weren’t allowed to sit in the floor seats of the auditorium or they’d reek up the place. Only officers from the Red Army were allowed to attend briefings, and then they were supposed to remain in the mezzanine. But there was Stark, all full of himself in his general’s uniform of solid black, breaking the rules. Again. And letting some stinky red vamp kid sit right there next to him.

Aphrodite swore to herself that when she was back in Neferet’s good graces, she was going to do everything she could to undermine Stark’s influence on the High Priestess. Not because he was particularly dangerous, but because he was particularly annoying.

“Room! Atten… tion!” commanded Artus, the Swordmaster of the Tulsa House of Night.

As the room stood, Aphrodite averted her eyes from Artus. Neferet’s Swordmaster wasn’t just ugly, old, and scarred. There was something off about him—something that made Aphrodite uncomfortable at a visceral level.

And then Neferet swept onto the stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the packed room. She was wearing a long, formfitting silk dress the color of new blood. Over her left breast in exquisite silver embroidery rested an image of Nyx cupping a crescent moon. The only jewelry she wore was a coronet of diamonds and rubies. One of the rubies dropped like a fat tear from the delicate crown to touch the top of the sapphire crescent moon tattooed in the middle of her forehead.

Aphrodite had to give it to her—Neferet knew how to command the attention of a crowd of males. She looked like a silver-screen goddess come to life, which proved once again one of Aphrodite’s biggest disappointments in life—not everything that looks like it’s filled with beauty and light on the outside isactuallyfilled with beauty or light.

“You may be seated,” Neferet said after taking her time to get to her glass podium.

Aphrodite sat and tried not to roll her eyes. Every instant of Neferet’s briefing was scripted by her—from what she was wearing to how long she made her soldiers stand to the clear podium, which gave her audience an unhindered view of her flawless body.

Not that Aphrodite could blame her for that. Neferet was beautiful to look at, and as another great beauty, Aphrodite knew how easy it was to manipulate males.Might as well use what we have!

Then Neferet launched into her speech, and Aphrodite had no energy to waste on anything except deciding when her own performance should begin.

“I come before you today with grave news. I believe the tide of the war is turning.”

There were sounds of pleased agreement from the throng of officers and soldiers present.

“I see my armies misunderstand me, which I find highly upsetting. The tide isnotturning favorably!Do none of my officers understand that?” Her anger-filled voice echoed off the walls, electrifying the room with a charge of power and leaving no doubt about Neferet’s level of irritation. Her only answer was the rustle of anxious bodies.

And then one of her generals stood. Aphrodite muffled a sarcastic snort.Of course Loren Blake would feel the need to say something. Goddess, did that smarmy vamp ever stop talking?

“High Priestess, may I have permission to speak?”

“Of course, General Blake. I am always willing to consider the wise counsel of my officers.”

Blake’s smile was too intimate for the venue, but everyone knew Neferet’s generals were often also her lovers—and practically every male in the room aspired to be her lover—so, whatever.

“High Priestess, you know I mean no disrespect. I am your loyal servant, but maybe your officers don’t understand because what we’re seeing in the field is the opposite. The militias of our neighboring states have stopped crossing into our territory. There hasn’t been a major human uprising within the area under our control for months. The only real problem we’re still having is with the Goddess-be-damned Resistance, and we’re working hard on tracking every one of them down and exterminating them. If anything, the tide has turned for us—for the better.”

“You may sit, General Blake,” Neferet said with a deceptively warm smile. “What you say would seem true to someone with your limited connection to Nyx, which is why our society will never be ruled by males—they cannot possibly be as intimate with the Goddess as are her priestesses. Most especially her one and only High Priestess—me.You see, Nyx has shown me otherwise. Our neighboring states and the humans that infest them have, indeed, withdrawn from their attempts to enter our territory and take from us what is ours. But they have not withdrawn in peace. They are plotting together to overthrow us!” Neferet spread out her arms dramatically, causing her perfect breasts to press against the silk of her gown and her nipples to be fully outlined and visible.

Aphrodite thought that move was an excellent touch as it had every male eye in the room traveling to her boobs, and every male mind in the room clouding as blood rushed from their brains to the organ that actually controlled them.

There was movement behind her, and Aphrodite turned her head in time to see Stark stand.

“High Priestess, may I have permission to speak?”