Chapter Text
“Zoey, I swear Heath wasn’t that drunk at the party.” Kayla Robinson told her best friend Zoey Montgomery.
The two girls stood in the empty hallway as Zoey dug through her locker looking for her geometry book. She had a test tomorrow and if she didn’t attempt to study she’d fail—not that she wasn’t already, but still.
The raven-haired girl looked over at her long-time friend, her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “Right and I’m the Queen of—” Her words got cut off by a cough. This cough had been stuck in her throat since Saturday and hadn’t gotten any better, just worse. She figured it was a cold and would go away on its own; the medicine she had taken didn’t show signs of helping.
After coughing up her left lung, Zoey took a ragged breath and looked at Kayla. “Look, K, the guy had a lot to drink. It’s what he always does at parties, and he even had a big reason to celebrate since his team beat Union.”
South Intermediate High School—SIHS—in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, hadn’t beaten their rival, Union High School, in years. So when they had finally done the impossible everyone had celebrated. Including Zoey’s ex-boyfriend Heath Luck.
“But can you really blame him? I mean, we beat them, Zoey! That’s huge for the football team. You would’ve understood if you had gone to the game Friday.” Kayla explained with an eye roll as she crossed her arms.
“Not my fault my parents wanted me to stay home.” She shrugged, closing her locker and holding her textbook close to her chest.
Zoey’s parents—well, mom and step-father or step-loser as Zoey liked to call him behind his back—had kept Zoey inside Friday for some ‘family bonding’ time. She saw them every day why would she need to spend more time with them? Either way, she had sat at the dining room table with her parents and siblings and played an intensely boring game of Scrabble. The whole time she had thought sticking bamboo splinters up her nails would’ve been more fun.
“You should’ve snuck out.” Kayla argued, lightly tapping Zoey on her arm, “Heath was so sad that you weren’t there. He was all puppy-dog eyes and pouty face.” Kayla imitated the look as she said it.
Zoey rolled her eyes, “I’m sure he was. Was he sobbing as he downed shots?”
Kayla scuffed, “You know, you’re his girlfriend—”
“Ex-girlfriend.” Zoey held up a hand. “As of two weeks ago.”
“Whatever. You should’ve come to support him, if you had he wouldn’t have gotten drunk.” Kayla started down the hallway toward the back doors of the school.
“Oh please, he would’ve been doing keg stands even if I was there. And then I’d have to take his drunk butt home. Again.” Zoey complained as she followed Kayla. “It’s why I dump him in the first place. His drinking is getting out of hand and I don’t want to be around that. Plus, kissing him had been like sucking on beer–soaked feet.”
“Ew.” Kayla wrinkled her perky nose, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah. And he’s gonna get fat if he keeps drinking all that beer.” Zoey added.
“Gross! Heath fat, not a pretty image.”
Zoey rolled her eyes at her friend, Kayla was nice but she could be really shallow sometimes. “Anyway, I don’t need to have a drunk boyfriend.” She shook her head, “Just a regular, sober, boyfriend.”
“But Zoey, Heath l—”
Zoey stopped hearing her friend’s words when they rounded the corner. Standing near the doors that lead out of the school was a guy in a black hoodie. He was tall and slim and his face was pale, eyes dark like his hair as they trained themselves on Zoey. But that wasn’t the only thing that had her stopping, had fear slithering down her spine like a snake. It was the Mark on his forehead; the filled-in, sapphire crescent moon in the middle of his forehead. It had intricate lines on either side of it, stopping at his high cheekbones, the shapes looking like lightning bolts.
Before she could run or scream or even pee her pants, the guy—the Tracker—lifted his hand and said: “Zoey Montgomery, thy death shall be thy birth. Harken to Her sweet voice, your destiny awaits you at the House of Night.”
The last thing Zoey heard was Kayla yelling for her to run.
* * *
Zoey woke up with an ache between her eyebrows that trailed all the way down to her cheekbones. She also heard the sounds of Kayla blubbering beside her. Groaning, Zoey opened her eyes and slowly sat up; she was in the hallway, the hooded guy was gone. She rubbed her eyes, the pressure making the ache ease a bit.
“Kayla, stop crying, I’m fine.” She growled as she opened her eyes and looked at her friend.
“O – Oh, Z – Zoey! He . . . he – that guy . . . M – Marked . . . Marked you!” Kayla sobbed, tears smudging her eyeliner and making mascara trail down her face like ink on a wet page.
Marked me? Zoey thought before remembering what that meant.
“Ah Hell.” She gasped, panic filling her throat just as a cough passed through her lips.
Marked. She was Marked as a fledgling-vampyer. Yes, vampyers were real, yes people knew about them, you had to be living under a rock not to know. Vampyers were in Tulsa, Oklahoma—they were all over—and they had a school there. The House of Night, where Marked kids, fledglings they were called, went there to learn about vampyer life and complete the Change. Everyone knew their kid had a fifty-fifty shot at getting Marked but it was still a shock to see it happen. The kid’s whole life changed, they were no longer a human; they had to leave that behind as they transitioned into a vampyer. Or they died.
And now Zoey was one of them. She had only heard of one other kid getting Marked in Broken Arrow. It had been at school and Zoey had seen the kid rush out of the bathroom. He’d been pale-faced and crying, the Mark on his forehead blazing like a neon sign. He hadn’t come back to school for six months and then when she did hear about him it was because he had died.
What if that happens to me? She thought as another cough had her shoulders shaking.
“Zoey!” Kayla’s blubbering broke through her thoughts. “What are you gonna do? What are we gonna do? You – You can’t . . . can’t leave! You can’t go to that . . . freak school!” She wiped her eyes, makeup getting even more smudged in the process.
Freak school? Did that make Zoey a freak now? And just when I thought I was actually fitting in here. She thought bitterly.
“I—I don’t know, K. Just . . . just come down.” She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll do the same and I’ll talk to my mom—” If she’d even listen that is, “—and I’ll call you later.”
“O – Okay. Okay.” Kayla nodded, making her high ponytail bounce. She wiped her face again and helped Zoey up. “Call me as soon as you can.”
“Okay, I will.” Zoey said, voice suddenly choked. Was this really happening? Was she really going to have to leave her friends and family behind? What about Grandma Redbird? The thought clouded her head and had tears welling in her eyes. She shook her head at that. No, I’d never lose her. She loves me.
After seeing Kayla walk out the door, Zoey picked up her textbook and her backpack and dashed toward the girl’s bathroom. Inside—and after checking to see if it was empty—she went toward the line of sinks and splashed cool water on her face. She knew what she’d see when she looked up but it was still startling.
The mirror showed a girl, a girl that Zoey knew but didn’t, a familiar stranger. She had Zoey’s long, round face, and almond shaped hazel eyes. Same olive skin. Same Cherokee features that had been given to her by her Grandma Redbird. Long, straight nose; high cheekbones, and full, wide mouth.
And yet, the outline of the sapphire crescent made all those things look . . . foreign. Like they weren’t hers.
“No.” She whispered to her reflection. “This is me. I’m still Zoey, that hasn’t changed.”
But even as she said the words she felt something deep inside her, in her soul, break free.
* * *
Just keep your head down and no one will notice you. Zoey told herself as she pulled up her hood and opened the door to the parking lot. If she just made it to her car without anyone stopping her then she’d be fine. She started across the lot, the only other person near her was a guy in baggy pants listening to his iPod. But he was far too concentrated on keeping his pants up to notice her or her Mark.
She was almost to her car, a powder-blue Bug, when she heard the sound of a truck’s tires squealing into the lot. A heavy metal song blasted through the windows of the truck and Zoey looked up to see that the vehicle had stopped beside her.
Oh no. She moaned as she saw the driver of the truck.
It was Dustin Hoffman, along with his brother Drew who sat in the passenger seat. They looked like they were bickering over something, each holding a cigarette. They weren’t the only ones that caught her attention though. Sitting on the truck’s open bed was the one person Zoey had hoped to avoid. Heath.
He sat with his legs dangling off the edge and a pack of beer beside him; he had one in his hand and was currently guzzling it.
Before she could make a break for it though, Heath saw her.
“Baby!” He thrilled, crushing the empty can and hopping down from the truck. He landed on his feet but he wobbled before steading.
“Seriously, Heath!” Zoey hissed, eyes narrowing, “You’re drinking at school now? You’ve really hit a new low.”
Heath chuckled, the sound happy and reminding Zoey of simpler times with him. Back when he was fun to be around and not drinking like a fish.
“Relax, Zo, school’s over.” He walked toward her, his steps easy and long. “No one here to bust us.” He rolled his cornflower blue eyes and gave her that boyish grin she used to love.
“Thought you had football practice? Your coach won’t be too happy if you show up buzzed.” She raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way her heart sped up at his closeness.
“Don’t have it today. He gave us the day off since we won the game Friday. Which you missed by the way.” He poked her arm and his hand trailed down it to hold hers. “I missed you, Zo. I play much better when you’re in the stands cheering me on.” His voice got soft and low, like it used to when he was about to kiss her.
“No, Heath.” Zoey pulled her hand out of his, though she could still feel the spark it had left on her palm. “You aren’t sweet-talking your way out of this. We’re over. Done.” She took a step back from him, arms crossed.
“Oh, c’mon, baby, don’t be like that.” Heath caught her elbow and pulled her towards him. She was against his chest, inhaling his beer-soaked breath and cologne. “You love me and I love you and that’s never going to change.” He rested his forehead against hers, his hands moving to rest on her hips.
“Heath, I mean it. Back—”
Zoey stumbled back just as Heath pitched forward; she tried to catch herself but she ended up landing on her butt. Heath fell to his knees, his hands slapping the concrete with a sharp smack. She looked up to see that the truck had backed up an inch or so toward them. Dustin and Drew screaming at each other from the inside.
“Jesus Christ, fuckers, quit messin’ around!” Heath yelled at them.
Idiots, Zoey thought as she stood up. “Look, Heath, we can’t—” But her words fell away when she smelled it. The sharp, metallic, salty scent of the blood in the air. Heath’s blood. Trance-like, Zoey saw him stand up and look at his palms; they were scrapped and bleeding lightly. Even so the scent had Zoey’s mouth watering.
“Shit.” Heath sighed, “Frikin’ idiots.” He wiped his hands on his jeans.
“H – Heath . . . .” Zoey gasped lowly, her feet moving on their own accord towards him.
“Yeah?” He asked, his frown turning into a grin when he saw her nearing him.
The scent of the blood had her breathing shallowly, her eyes trained on his palms, the blood smeared over the white skin. Her stomach growled and her jaw ached. “I . . . I . . . .” She rasped, voice hitched and hands clutching his wrists. She slowly brought his hand to her face. The scent making her dizzy.
“What? What do you want, Zo?” Heath asked, eyes heavy lidded and voice slow.
“I – I want . . . want—”
“Get the fuck off him!” Dustin screamed, he was suddenly out of the truck and bounding toward Heath.
Zoey broke from her haze and cried out in fear as she backed away from Heath. What the hell was I about to do? She thought as Dustin dragged Heath toward the truck.
“Get off, man!” Heath huffed, trying to fight off Dustin, but the kid was no use for Broken Arrow’s linebacker.
“Dude, she has that – that thing on her forehead!” He said, exasperated.
“What thing?” Heath tried to shove Dustin away but it was no use.
“That Mark!” Dustin yelled.
Zoey stumbled backwards as if she had been hit, she felt fear and pain fill her.
“Mark?” Heath asked, looking confused. He hadn’t noticed the outline of the crescent moon on her forehead.
Get out of here! Now! Zoey told herself. Picking up her dropped book and bag, Zoey turned and ran towards her car. Heath’s voice calling after her even as she pulled out of the parking lot.
* * *
Zoey shook all the way to her house, a large, brick Victorian home, and tried to calm herself down. You were not about to drink his blood. You were not about to drink his blood! But even as she thought the words she couldn’t deny the truth of them. She had been about to drink from Heath. Had been about to drink his blood like it was soda pop. But that’s not me! I don’t drink from my exs! I don’t drink blood at all!
She pulled into the driveway and turned the car off; tears falling from her eyes. How could this have happened? Why did she have to get picked to be a vampyer? Why couldn’t it have been someone else?
Hopefully Mom will understand. Hopefully she’ll be on my side for once. Zoey and her mother, Linda, used to be close. Linda used to be close with all her children but that had changed when she had started dating John Heffner. He was a lawyer and also ran the People of Faith, a Christian group that was too annoying for words. John was a God-fearing man and Linda’s husband of three years. And in those three years he had taken Zoey’s mom and changed her. Now she was this cookie-cutter, submissive, perfect little housewife for him. She always sided with him and did what he told her to do. He told her what to wear and how to act in public; always made her go to Church with him and controlled every aspect of her life. It was pathetic.
Gone was the woman who used to wear make-up on weekends and read romance novels and drink wine with her group of fun, single mom-friends. The woman who was there for her children and loved them unconditionally. The woman who was fun and easy to talk to. She was dead. And in her place was a weaker, sadder version of who she used to be. But maybe that fun, loving mom was still inside of her. Zoey could only hope.
Taking a deep breath, she made her way into the house and toward the living room. Linda was sitting on the cream colored couch, she wore tan pants and a red, knitted blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail and her face was bare of any makeup, giving her a sickly, hallow look.
“Mama.” Zoey coughed out. She hadn’t called Linda that in years.
Her mother looked up from her book, a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul, “Yes, baby.” Her voice smooth and loving.
Zoey felt her heart squeeze. “I need help.”
“What’s wrong—” Her words froze, eyes going to the Mark on her daughter’s forehead. She stood up from her seat and let the book fall to the floor. “Oh. My. God. What happened to your face?” Tears sprang in her eyes and she pressed a hand over her mouth.
“Mama, please, don’t get mad at me! I didn’t cause this, it was done to me!” Zoey immediately argued. “Th – The Tracker came to school and he . . . he Marked me.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!” Linda gasped, her breathing ragged, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. “What are we going to do? What is your father going to say?” Fear colored her words.
Zoey gritted her teeth, “I don’t know? He hasn’t been around!” She knew bringing up her biological dad was a low blow but she didn’t care. John Heffner was not her father. “And why do we even have to tell John anything right now? Can’t we just keep this between us? Just until I get to the House of Night?” She coughed into her elbow, the sound rough and scratchy.
“You want me to lie to him?” Her mom looked as if Zoey had suggested they do cocaine at Church.
“Yes.” Zoey blurted, tears welling in her eyes all over again. “I need you, Mom, I need you to be there for me, just this once. I need you to help me deal with this awful, scary, new thing that’s happening to me.” She hiccupped a sob, “I – I need help getting to this new school and figuring out what to do. Please, please, just stop being his wife and be my mom.”
Linda’s face went from fearful to shocked, her eyes narrowing, mouth setting into a frown. “I’ve always been there for you, Zoey. I’ve never not been there for you. You just don’t acknowledge it. And John . . . John has been so helpful to us. He’s given us this beautiful home; nice things to have, your car, I might add. He’s made it so I don’t have to work at the store anymore, I can stay home and actually spend time with my family. He’s been our savior, Zoey, but you’ve never seen that. You don’t like him for whatever reason.”
Zoey knew this speech well, she had heard it so many times that she could recite it along with her mother. It was her go-to whenever Zoey, or Linda’s mother, Grandma Redbird, tried to make her see that John was bad for her. But she never listened, she didn’t want to.
“Mom, I know that.” Zoey reasoned, “But you have to know that John isn’t as great as he makes himself look. He’s awful. He’s completely changed you and you don’t even realize it. He’s told you what to wear, who to be friends with, and how to act. You’re brainwashed!”
“No I’m not! Zoey, your behavior is unacceptable. I didn’t let him change me. I chose this. And you are in no position to question it, seeing as it’s none of your business. Your brother and sister love John.” Linda argued back, voice heavy with anguish.
“No, they don’t. They hate him just as much as I do but they put up an act. I’m the only one who’s real. And they are acting out because of it.” Zoey paused, a cough interrupting her rant. “Your – your oldest daughter is a slut! She’s screwed half the football team and is smoking weed behind your back. Your son, Kevin, plays violent, disgusting video games and got caught cheating, again, in school. And you think I’m the bad one? Please!” She let out another cough, this one making her double over. “And if you think this is bad then it’s only going to get worse if I don’t go to the House of Night.” She added when she could breathe properly.
Linda lifted her chin, her eyes shining with tears, “Zoey, I will not be disrespected like this. I am your mother and you will listen to me. Now go to your room and stay there till John gets home.”
Zoey opened her mouth to argue, to tell her that she should rethink calling John, but she stopped herself. There was no point in trying; John had made her mother blind to any and all reason outside of his own.
“Fine.” Zoey glared at her mom and turned to walk down the hallway and towards her room.
In her bedroom, she dumped her backpack on her bed and sat down, pulling her stuffed fish, Ottis, into her lap.
“This sucks.” She told the fish.