“Ma’am?” Chera asked, clearly as baffled as the rest of the crowd.
“Vampyres.” LaFont spoke the word as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “Vampyres are the vileness we’re harboring.”
“Ah oh,” I said softly. “Maybe now would be a good time for us to leave.”
“Not a chance,” Aphrodite said.
“But Mrs. LaFont, Tulsa has spent the past year working with the House of Night. There is even a new program in the works that will allow area students to take classes at the House of Night—tuition-free. There’s a farmers’ market on the school grounds every Thursday night, which is open to the public, and their new High Priestess, Zoey Redbird, has instituted a cat rescue program in conjuncture with Tulsa Street Cats. Human–vampyre relations have never been so good,” Chera said.
“And don’t forget, the House of Night saved us from Neferet!” called another reporter I didn’t recognize.
“Don’t you forget Neferet came from the House of Night. They are the reason she loosed her evil on our city. If it hadn’t been for the House of Night, those twelve hundred people, my husband included, would be alive today. How many of them were your brothers and sisters? Husbands and wives? Sons and daughters?” LaFont paused to let the crowd murmur restlessly.
Into the pause, Chera asked, “What is it you’re proposing, Mrs. LaFont? What will be your mayoral platform?”
“That’s simple. My platform is: Make Tulsa Strong Again. I believe that says it all.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then Chera said, “What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, it means that we need to depend upon the good Christian people of this community to come together to preserve our culture and identity. We’re strong when we’re Tulsa—not when we harbor a ticking time bomb in the heart of our beautiful city. If I am elected your mayor, I pledge to rescind the House of Night’s lease on the old Cascia Hall Preparatory School and to escort every last vampyre out of our city. We need to take Tulsa back!”
“Ooooh! Question! I have a question over here!” Aphrodite had stepped forward and was doing an excellent imitation of Damien, flailing her hand with way more enthusiasm than she had ever shown in class.
Her mother’s cold blue eyes lit on her daughter. I saw them widen for an instant as an emotion flicked over them—shock, maybe? Or sadness?
Then those eyes that were exactly the shape and color of her daughter’s narrowed, and I realized what the emotion had been—anger.
“Would my security detail please escort this young lady from the park.” Mrs. LaFont said in a dead voice.
“Um, no, Mother.” Aphrodite sounded like she was lecturing a petulant child. “This is a public park. I have every right to be here. Well, right now I do. If you’re elected I’m sure that’ll change. Hey, maybe you can bring back marking undesirables with a yellow star, you know, to encourage the good people of Tulsa,” she pitched her voice to sound exactly like her mother’s, “to jump on the bully bandwagon. Because, like we all know, a bully only has to beat up a few kids in the schoolyard and then the rest of the sheep will start to follow you or avoid you out of fear.”
“This press conference is over,” LaFont said. “And this person—”
“Who happens to be your daughter!” Aphrodite interrupted.
Which didn’t phase LaFont at all. “This person has proven my point. She and her vampyre family have disrupted a free human gathering. Again. I will see you all on the campaign trail. Good night and may God bless Tulsa!”
Smooth as a snake, Mrs. LaFont glided from the podium. Her security team closed around her, hurrying her to a waiting limo.
“And they called me a hag from hell,” Aphrodite said, shaking her head in disgust.
“Oh, some people still do,” Stark said, obviously trying to lighten the tension between us.
I was watching Aphrodite closely. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. Darius was practically velcroed to her side.
I understood what she was going through. My mom betrayed me, too. But I still loved her. I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t think Aphrodite could, either.
“Come on. Let’s circle around through the rose gardens. By the time we get back here the reporters should be gone,” I said.
“Aphrodite LaFont?” Suddenly the lights of a camera were shining in our direction and Chera Kimiko was pointing a puffy microphone at Aphrodite.
“Yes, I’m Aphrodite. I dropped my last name, though. Kinda like my mother dropped me.” She tossed back her hair and smiled directly into the camera.
I thought she deserved an Oscar. She definitely has the hair for it. I mean, seriously, that long blond stuff is Disney-princess quality.
“You are Frances LaFont’s daughter, though, aren’t you?”
“Frances LaFont gave birth to me, but the truth is she hasn’t been a mother to me for years.”
“What is your reaction to her announcement that she plans to run for mayor?”
“I’m super confused. I mean, my father was a decent mayor. Well, if you ignore the fact that he cut taxes for the top 1 percent and had an abysmal record of allowing Big Oil to totally screw up our environment—hello earthquakes in Oklahoma! Anyway, in spite of my father’s Republican shortcomings, he was a career politician. He did his homework. He knew this city and its people. Mother was never, well, how should I put this so that it’s not offensive …” She paused, shrugged, and continued, “Never mind. I just realized that there’s no reason for me not to be offensive. My mother has always been more concerned with shoes, cocktail parties, and appearances than law and government. And what she just said proves she has a lot of homework to do before she could even begin to run this city.”
“What do you mean?” Chera asked.
“Well, her first official announcement after her candidacy was that she plans to revoke the House of Night’s lease on our school. Mother better check her facts. The House of Night doesn’t lease anything. We own the property. Outright. No mortgage. She can’t kick us out. Save your votes, people, for someone who deserves them. Toodles!” She blew a kiss at the camera, flung back her Disney-princess hair, and twitched off as cameras flashed and reporters called questions at her back.
5
Aphrodite
Aphrodite walked away from the reporters and the cameras and the gawking people. Fast. She kept her head high and a purposefully blank but beautiful expression on her face—ironically, it was the expression her mother had schooled into her with stinging slaps and cutting insults. But it had worked. Even now. Even when her heart ached with every beat and her embarrassment was monumental—the cool, aloof, untouchable expression remained.