While he and the cameraman set up, Thanatos took her position in the center of the bench. Quietly she said, "Zoey, Stark, beside me here." She pointed to her right. "Aphrodite, Stevie Rae, and Damien, over here." They settled on the bench to her left.

When Adam returned and officially began filming, I felt a flutter of nerves. Even my old friends at South Intermediate High School would see this!

"Thanatos, I was wondering if you could elaborate on the comment Neferet, the ex-High Priestess of this Tulsa House of Night, made about you last night. She said Death was the new High Priestess here." Adam paused and smiled. "You don't look like Death to me."

"Have you seen her often, young Adam?" Thanatos said in a soft, joking voice.

"No, actually, I've never died," he joked back.

"Well, Neferet's comment can be easily explained. I am not Death herself. It is simply that I have been gifted with an affinity for aiding the dead to pass from this realm to the next. I am no more Death than you are Humanity. We both are just representations of the two. It might help you understand if you would think of me as a very accurate medium."

"Neferet also mentioned a new type of vampyre-a red vampyre, and suggested that they might be dangerous." I watched the camera shift from Stark to Stevie Rae. "Could you elaborate on that, as well?"

"Certainly, but first I feel I need to make one point very clear. Neferet is no longer in the employ of the Tulsa House of Night. In truth, the way our society works, once a High Priestess loses her job, she has lost that position for life. She will never serve as High Priestess at any other House of Night. As you can imagine that can be a difficult and often embarrassing transition for the terminated employee, as well as for her employer. Vampyres do not have slander and liable laws. We use the oath and honor system. Obviously this time that system did not work."

"So what you're saying is that Neferet is..." His word trailed off, and he nodded, encouraging Thanatos to finish the sentence for him.

"Yes, it is a sad but true fact, Neferet is a disgruntled ex-employee with no whistle to blow," Thanatos said smoothly.

Adam glanced at Stark, who was standing beside me not far from Thanatos. "That ex-employee made some disturbing comments about one House of Night member in particular-James Stark."

"That's me," Stark said right away. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but I don't think anyone else, including the TV audience, would see anything except a very cute guy with red facial tattooing that looked like opposing arrows.

"So, Jim. Is it okay that I call you that?" Adam asked.

"Well, it is, but it'd be cool with me if you called me Stark. Everyone else does."

"Okay, Stark, Neferet said you killed your mentor at the Chicago House of Night, and she implied that you're a threat to the community here. Would you care to respond to that?"

"Well, that's a bunch of bullpoopie!" I heard my mouth saying.

Stark grinned his cocky half smile and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine for all of the video audience to see. "Z, don't almost cuss on film. Your grandma might hear and that wouldn't be cool."

"Sorry," I muttered. "How about I just let you talk."

Stark's grin got bigger. "Well, that'll be a first."

Annoyingly enough, my friends all laughed. I scowled. Stark kept speaking, even though I considered smothering him with a pillow next time we slept.

His voice was hesitant at first, but the longer he talked, the stronger and surer he became. "My mentor, William Chidsey, was awesome. He was nice. And smart. I mean, really smart. And talented. He helped me. Actually, he was more like a father than a mentor to me." Stark paused and wiped his hand across his face. When he started talking again it was as if it were just him and the reporter, alone, like he'd forgotten that the camera was there at all. "Adam, I found out pretty early, when I was what humans would call a sophomore in high school, that I'd been given this gift." Stark enunciated the word, not sarcastically, but not like it was an awesome thing, either. His voice said his gift was a responsibility, and not a cool responsibility at that. "I can't miss my mark. I'm an archer," he explained when Adam gave him a questioning look. "You know, bow and arrows. Well, whatever I aim at-I hit. Unfortunately, it's not as literal as that. Think about it-there's lots of wiggle room between what you're looking at, and what you're really thinking about, and what you're aiming at. Here's a simple example: imagine taking a bow and arrow and aiming at a stop sign. So, you draw the bow, point the arrow, and sight the middle of a big red sign. But what if, inside your head you're thinking, 'Okay, I want to hit that thing that stops cars.' Next thing you know your arrow has found its way smack through the radiator of the next car that drives by."