House Of Night - Untamed Part 22

"It didn't." I spoke through lips that felt numb and cold again. "It was cotton, and it washed up easily."

"So you know what I'm describing?"

"It's Grandma's quilt."

"Then it must have been your grandma who was holding the poem. I didn't see her face. I actually didn't see much of her at all. She was sitting cross-legged, and it was like I was standing behind her, peeking over her shoulder. Only, once I saw the poem, everything else went out of the vision and I was totally focused on it."

"Why did you copy it down?"

Her shoulders shrugged. "Don't really know. I just had to, that's all. So I wrote it down while I was still in the vision. Then I came out of it, looked up at Darius, told him to get you, and then I think I fainted."

"That's it?"

"What more do you want? I copied the whole d.a.m.n poem."

"But your visions are usually warnings about majorly bad stuff getting ready to happen. So where's the warning?"

"There wasn't one. Actually, I didn't have any bad feelings at all. There was just the poem. The field place was really nice- I mean for being all out in nature. Like I said, it was a pretty summer day. Everything seemed fine and dandy until I came out of the vision and my head and my eyes hurt like h.e.l.l."

"Well, I have a bad enough feeling about this for both of us," I said, pulling my phone from my purse. I glanced at the time.

It was almost 3 A.M. c.r.a.p! Grandma would be sound asleep. Also I realized I was going to miss all my cla.s.ses today except for that very public scene with Erik in Drama cla.s.s. Great. I sighed heavily. I knew Grandma would understand-I could only hope my professors would, too.

She answered on the first ring.

"Oh, Zoeybird! I'm so glad you called."

"Grandma, I'm sorry to call you so late. I know you're sleeping, and I hate waking you up," I said.

"No, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, I was not asleep. I woke hours ago from a dream of you, and I have been awake and praying ever since."Her familiar use of the Cherokee word for "daughter" made me feel loved and safe, and I suddenly wished so bad that her lavender farm wasn't an hour and a half outside Tulsa. I wished that I could see her now and let her hug me and tell me that everything would be okay, just like she used to do when I was little and I stayed with her after my mom married the step-loser and turned into an ultra-religious version of a Stepford Wife.

But I wasn't little anymore, and Grandma couldn't hug my problems away. I was becoming a High Priestess, and people depended on me. Nyx had chosen me, and I had to learn to be strong.

"Honey? What is it? What has happened?"

"It's okay, Grandma; I'm okay," I a.s.sured her quickly, hating to hear the worry in her voice. "It's just that Aphrodite has had another vision, and it has something to do with you."

"Am I in danger again?"

I couldn't help smiling. She'd sounded worried and upset when she thought something might be wrong with me, but when it was just herself that might be in danger, then she sounded all tough and ready to take on the world. I really heart my grandma!

"No, I don't think so," I said.

"I don't either," Aphrodite added.

"Aphrodite says you're not in danger. At least not at this instant."

"Well, that's good," Grandma said, sounding very matter-of-fact.

"That's definitely good. But, Grandma, the thing is we really don't understand what Aphrodite's vision was about this time.

There's usually a big warning that's clear. This time all she saw was you holding a piece of paper with a poem on it, and she felt like she had to copy the poem." I didn't mention the part about her copying it in Grandma's own handwriting. That felt like adding super weird to already majorly weird. "So she did, but it doesn't make sense or mean anything to either one of us."

"Well, perhaps you should read the poem to me. Maybe I'll recognize it."

"Yeah, that's what we thought, too. Okay, here goes." Sightlessly Aphrodite held up the sheet of paper with the poem on it.

I took it from her and started to read: Ancient one sleeping, waiting to arise When earth's power bleeds sacred red The mark strikes true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise Here Grandma stopped me. "It is p.r.o.nounced t-si s-gi-li," she said, with special emphasis on the last word. Her voice sounded strained and she spoke almost in a whisper.

"Are you okay, Grandma?"

"Go on reading, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya," she commanded, sounding more like herself. I kept reading, repeating the last line with the right p.r.o.nunciation: The mark strikes true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise He shall be washed from his entombing bed

Through the hand of the dead he is free Terrible beauty, monstrous sight Ruled again they shall be Women shall kneel to his dark might

Kalona's song sounds sweet As we slaughter with cold heat Grandma gasped and cried, "O Great Spirit protect us!"

"Grandma! What is it?"

"First the Tsi Sgili and then Kalona. This is bad, Zoey. This is very, very bad."

The fear in her voice was totally freaking me out. "What's a Tsi Sgili and a Kalona? Why is it so bad?"

"Does she know the poem?" Aphrodite asked, sitting up and taking the washcloth off her face. I noticed her eyes were starting to look more normal and her face had gotten some of its color back.

"Grandma, do you care if I put you on speaker phone?"

"No, of course not, Zoeybird."

I pressed the speaker b.u.t.ton and went over to sit on the bed beside Aphrodite. "Okay, you're on speaker now, Grandma.

It's just me and Aphrodite here."

"Aphrodite and me," she automatically corrected me.

I rolled my eyes at Aphrodite. "Sorry, Grandma, Aphrodite and me.""Mrs. Redbird, do you recognize the poem?" Aphrodite asked.

"Sweetheart, call me Grandma. And, no, I don't recognize it, as in having read it before. But I've heard of it, or at least I've heard of the myth, pa.s.sed down from generation to generation in my people."

"Why did you freak out about the Tsi Sgili and the Kalona part?" I asked.

"They are Cherokee demons. Dark spirits of the worst type." Grandma hesitated, and I could hear her rustling around with something in the background. "Zoey, I'm going to light the smudge pot before we speak any more of these creatures. I'm using sage and lavender. I'll be fanning the smoke with a dove's feather while we talk. Zoeybird, I suggest you do the same."

I felt an awful jolt of surprise. Smudging had been used for hundreds of years in Cherokee rituals-especially when cleansing, purifying, or protection was needed. Grandma smudged and cleansed herself regularly-I'd grown up believing it was just a way of honoring the Great Spirit and of keeping my own spirit clean. But never in my life had Grandma ever felt the need to smudge at the mention of anyone or anything.

"Zoey, you should do it now," Grandma said sharply.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As always, when Grandma told me to do something, I did it. "Okay, yeah. I'm going. I have a smudge stick in my room. I gotta run and get it." I gave Aphrodite a look and she nodded, shooing me toward the door with a hand flutter.

"Which herbs?" Grandma asked.

"White sage and lavender. It's the one I keep in my T-s.h.i.+rt drawer," I said.

"Good, good. That's good. It's personal to you, but its magic hasn't been released yet. Good."

I rushed back to Aphrodite's room.

"I got the pot part covered," Aphrodite said, handing me a lavender-colored bowl that was decorated with three- dimensional grapes and a vine that twined all the way around it. It was absolutely gorgeous and looked expensive and old. She shrugged her shoulders at me. "Yeah, it's expensive."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Okay, I have the bowl, Grandma."

"Do you have a feather? From a peaceful bird, like the dove, or a protective bird, like a hawk or an eagle would be best."

"Uh, Grandma, no. I don't have any feathers." I looked questioningly at Aphrodite.

"No feathers here, either," she said.

"No matter, we can make do. Are you ready, Zoeybird?"

I waved the small wandlike stick of tightly woven dried herbs until the fire went out and smoke began to waft gently from it.

Then I put it in the purple bowl and set it between us. "I'm ready. It's smoking perfectly."

"Waft it around you. Girls, both of you need to concentrate on protection and positive spirits. Think of your G.o.ddess and how much she loves you."

We did as Grandma told us. Both of us were fanning the smoke gently around with our hands as we inhaled slowly.

Maleficent sneezed, growled, and jumped off the bed to disappear into Aphrodite's bathroom. I can't say I was sorry to see her go.

"Now keep the pot close to you while you listen carefully to me," Grandma said. I heard her draw three deep cleansing breaths before she began. "First you should know that the Tsi Sgili are Cherokee witches, only do not be deceived by the t.i.tle 'witch.' They do not follow the peaceful, beautiful ways of Wicca. Nor are they the wise priestesses you know and respect who serve Nyx. A Tsi Sgili lives as an outcast, separate from the tribe. They are evil, through and through. They delight in killing; they revel in death. They have magical powers granted through the fear and pain of their victims. They feed on death. They can torture and kill with the ane li sgi."

"I don't know what that means, Grandma."

"It means they are powerful psychics and can kill with their minds."

Aphrodite looked up at me. Our eyes met and I could tell we were thinking the same thing: Neferet is a powerful psychic.

"Who is this queen the poem talks about?" Aphrodite asked.

"I know of no Tsi Sgili queen. They are solitary beings and have no hierarchy. But I am not an authority on them."

"So is Kalona one of the Tsi Sgili?" I asked.

"No. Kalona is worse. Much worse. The Tsi Sgili are evil and dangerous, but they are human and can be dealt with as any human can." Grandma paused, and I could hear her drawing in three more deep cleansing breaths. When Grandma began to speak again, her voice was lowered, as if she was worried about being overheard. She didn't exactly sound scared. She sounded cautious. Cautious and very, very serious.

"Kalona was the father of the Raven Mockers and he was not human. We call him and his twisted offspring demons, but that's not really accurate. I guess the best way I can describe Kalona is as an angel."

A cold chill went through my body when Grandma said the words Raven Mockers; then I realized what else she had said, and I blinked in surprise. "An angel? Like in the Bible?"

"Aren't they supposed to be good guys?" Aphrodite asked.

"They are supposed to be. Keep in mind that the Christian tradition says that Lucifer himself was the brightest and most beautiful of the angels, but he fell."

"That's right. I'd forgotten about that," Aphrodite said. "So this Kalona was an angel who fell and turned bad guy?"

"In a way. In ancient times, angels walked the earth and mated with humans. Many peoples have stories to describe this time. The Bible called them Nephilim. The Greeks and Romans called them Olympian G.o.ds. But whatever they have been called, all of the stories agree on two points: First, that they were beautiful and powerful. Second, that they mated with humans."

"Makes sense," Aphrodite said. "If they were so hot, of course women would want to be with them."

"Well, they were exceptional beings. The Cherokee people tell of one particular angel, beautiful beyond compare. He had wings the color of night, and he could change form into a creature that looked like an enormous raven. At first our people welcomed him as a visiting G.o.d. We sang songs to him and danced for him. Our crops thrived. Our women were fertile.

"But gradually everything changed. I don't really know why. The stories are too old. Too many of them have been lost to time. My guess is that it is difficult to have a G.o.d live among you, no matter how beautiful he is.

"The song I remember my grandmother singing tells that Kalona changed when he began to lie with the maidens of the tribe.

The story goes that after the first time he bedded a maiden, he became obsessed. He had to have women-he craved them constantly, and he also hated them for causing the l.u.s.t and need he felt for them."

Aphrodite snorted. "I bet it was him feeling the l.u.s.t, not them. No one wants a guy who's a man ho, no matter how hot he is."

"You're right, Aphrodite. My grandmother's song said that the maidens turned their faces from him, and that's when he became a monster. He used his divine power to rule our men while he defiled our women. And all the while his hatred for women grew with an intensity that was all the more frightening because of his obsession with them. I heard an old Wise Woman speak once, and she said that to Kalona the Cherokee women were water and air and food-his very life, though he hated that he needed them so desperately." She paused again, and I could easily envision the look of disgust on her face that was mirrored in her voice as she continued her story.

"The women he raped became pregnant, but most of them gave birth to dead things, unrecognizable as infants of any species. But once in a while, one of his offspring would live, though it was clearly not human. The stories say that Kalona's children were ravens, with the eyes and limbs of man."

"Eeewww, the body of a crow and the legs and eyes of a man? That's disgusting," Aphrodite said.

A s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed through me. "I've been hearing ravens, a lot of them. I think one of them tried to attack me. I swiped at it, and it scratched my hand."

"What! When?" Grandma snapped.

"I've been hearing them at night. I thought it was weird that they were making so much noise. And . . . and then last night something I couldn't really see flapped around me, like a nasty invisible bird. I hit at it and then ran inside the school and called fire to make the cold it brought with it go away."

"And it worked? Fire chased it away?" Grandma said.