“Mother, I’m not pretending.”
“Nitpicking. Again.” With a grimace LaFont sat up a little straighter, rearranging the pillows behind her. “Ask me about my plan for us.”
“I don’t think you understand that—”
As usual, Frances LaFont talked over her daughter. “My plan is to win this election by rallying the righteous People of Faith,” she said sarcastically, “into a frenzy over getting rid of the vampyre scum amongst us. Like I’m the first politician to get elected by stirring up a little xenophobia?” She laughed softly—a deceptively sweet sound that sent chills over Aphrodite’s skin. “Actually, your little escapade at Woodward Park has worked right into my plan. Didn’t I hear something about those same creatures attacking that abomination restaurant at the depot?”
Aphrodite swallowed down the nausea threatening to choke her. She hasn’t changed. She’ll never change. “Yes, Mother. The creatures killed everyone who was at the Depot Restaurant last night.”
“Perfect. Where was I? Oh, I know. As soon as I’m elected I’m going to initiate a hefty tax on anything vampyre. Want to eat at a vampyre restaurant? Expect to pay more. A lot more. Want to buy a vampyre piece of art? Get out your platinum credit card. Want to attend one of the ridiculous farmers’ markets on the House of Night campus, or take one of their inflammatory classes? Better be prepared to pay at least double the price you would if you were supporting your own kind. Yes, I am going to make Tulsa strong again.”
Aphrodite shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why do you care so much? Vampyres and humans are finally coming together. We’re all getting along. It’s good for vampyres and humans.”
“Not all humans,” LaFont said with a sly glint in her eyes.
“Oh. I do get it. There’s something in it for you.”
“That took you long enough. I think the scum you’ve been hanging around with has addled your brains—though you were never exceptionally bright to begin with—pretty enough, but not too bright. It’s simple, really. Even you will understand it. There is a faction—a minority, but a very rich, very powerful minority—who wants to begin putting people in political power who will hear their voices and act on their ideals. They don’t like much that isn’t human, white, and upper middle class.”
“What?” Aphrodite felt nauseous. Her mother was literally on her deathbed, scheming like a super villain. It would be hilarious if it were a scene in a movie. But it was real. Too, too real.
“I said, human, white, and upper middle class. You know—people who make just enough money to think they have money, so they start donating to political campaigns. Anyway, it’s a very good thing that we are human, white, and rich. Truly rich and not nouveau riche. They’re useful, but so, so tacky.” She patted at a strand of her hair before continuing. “Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted—you by my side during the campaign would be perfect. It can be as if you’ve risen from the dead—the prodigal returned to your mother’s bosom after realizing the error of your ways and denouncing the monsters among us. The voters will love it.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors.”
“You get the point.”
“I do. Mother, whether it is convenient for you or not, I am not human.”
Her mother waved away Aphrodite’s words. “What does that matter? You look it. Play your cards right and you can pass.”
“Pass?”
“For human, you idiot.”
Aphrodite felt herself go very still inside. She stared at her mother, perhaps really seeing her for the first time. She is a monster.
“You’re a monster.” The words slipped from Aphrodite’s mouth before she knew she’d spoken.
LaFont’s laughter was edged with spite. “That’s ironic coming from you.”
“No, what’s ironic is that you are literally a monster. Or you will be one very soon. Mother, you were bitten by a red vampyre from an alternative world. In that world the bite of a red vampyre is infectious. You will die in three days. Then you will rise in three more, but you will be one of them. A monster. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
“Liar!” Her mother spat the word at her. “You’ve always been such a liar!”
“No, Mother. That’s one of the many things you’ve always been wrong about. I don’t lie. It’s one of my strengths and one of my faults. So let me tell you something else, honestly. Not only will you rise a monster, but you will also die a monster. Your puny human body can’t tolerate the Change. It’ll burn out. You will die. The end. And you know what? If I had the power to heal you—I would not. You don’t deserve it. The world is better off without you. Goodbye, Mother. I won’t be seeing you again.”
Aphrodite stumbled blindly for the door as her mother screamed obscenities at her.
“Miss LaFont?” The nurse rushed from the nurses’ station, sending concerned glances at the closed door through which her mother’s tide of obscenities could still be heard. “Is everything all right?”
“No. She knows she’s going to die. As is typical for my mother, she doesn’t take bad news well. She probably needs to be sedated.”
The nurse touched Aphrodite’s arm gently. “I meant with you. Is everything all right with you?”
Aphrodite blinked fast. I will not cry. “Again, no. But I’m used to it. My mother poisons everything she touches. Though she might be right about one thing—me thinking that she had changed even a little probably means I am an idiot.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said kindly. “It means you’re the daughter of an unpleasant woman.”
“Maybe it means both. Excuse me.”
Aphrodite fled for the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor. Before the elevator doors opened, she’d fished through her purse and found the flask she kept there. She pulled it out. It was a beautiful thing—silver, monogrammed with an ornate A. Aphrodite unscrewed the cap, lifted the flask to her lips, and drank deeply, grimacing only slightly at the peaty taste of the twenty-one-year-old single malt scotch.
20
Zoey
“Okay, Darius and his Warriors are all in place. There’s only fifteen minutes until sunrise. Time for us to go!” Stark shouted at me as he held open the door of the Escalade. I bolted from the warm, dry House of Night through the stinging snowy wind with my head ducked and my eyes half closed. He ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
“It’s getting bad. Real bad,” Shaunee said from the back seat.
“Which is the only reason I’m letting Stark come with us at all,” I said.
Stark shot me his cocky, half grin. “Z, I’m driving. It’s you who is coming with me.”
I shook my head at him. “I don’t like this. It’s going to be sunrise in half an hour.”