Chosen

hag. Everyone else does," Erin said.
    Erin was right. Since Aphrodite's selfishness had caused her to be publicly kicked out of leadership of the Dark Daughters, the school's most prestigious student group, and the position of Lead Dark Daughter as well as priestess in training had been given to me, she had lost her standing as most popular and powerful fledgling. Our High Priestess, Neferet, who was also my mentor, had made it clear that our goddess, Nyx, has withdrawn her favor from Aphrodite. Basically, Aphrodite was shunned where she was once put on a big ol' popularity pedestal and worshipped.
    Unfortunately, I knew there was more to the story than what everyone else believed. Aphrodite had used her visions, which had clearly not been taken away from her, to save my grandma as well as Heath, my human boyfriend. Sure, she'd been bitchy and selfish during the saving, but still. Heath and Grandma were alive, and a good part of the credit for that goes to Aphrodite.
    Plus, recently I'd found out that Neferet, our High Priestess— my mentor, the vamp most looked up to at the school—was also not what she appeared to be. Actually, I was coming to believe that Neferet was probably as evil as she was powerful.
    Darkness does not always equate to evil, just as light does not always bring good. The words that Nyx had said to me the day I was Marked flitted through my mind, summarizing the problem with Neferet. She wasn't what she appeared to be.
    And I couldn't tell anyone—or at least not anyone who was alive (which left me with my undead best friend who I hadn't managed to talk to during the entire past month). Thankfully, I also hadn't talked to Neferet for the past month. She'd left for a winter retreat in Europe and wasn't scheduled to be back until the New Year. I figured I'd come up with a plan about how to deal with her when she returned. So far my plan consisted of just that: coming up with a plan. Which was no plan at all. Crap.
    "Hey, what's in the package?" Jack said, pulling me out of my mental nightmare back to my birthmas party nightmare.
    We all looked at the brown paper package I was still holding.
    "I dunno," I said.
    "I'll bet it's another birthday present!" Jack cried. "Open it!"
    "Oh, boy…" I said. But when my friends gave me confused looks I got real busy unwrapping the box. Inside the generic brown wrapper was another box, this one wrapped in beautiful lavender paper.
    "It is another birthday present!" Jack squealed.
    "Wonder who it's from?" Damien asked.
    I was just wondering the same thing, and thinking that the paper reminded me of my grandma, who lived on an awesome lavender farm. But why would she send my present through the mail when I was meeting her later tonight?
    I uncovered a smooth, white box, which I opened. Inside was another, much smaller white box fitted snuggly inside a bunch of lavender tissue paper. Curiosity completely killing me, I lifted the little box from its lavender tissue nest. Several pieces of the paper clung all static-electricified to the bottom of the newly freed box, and I brushed them off before opening it. As they floated to the table I peeked inside the box and sucked in a shocked breath. Lying on a bed of white cotton was the most beautiful sliver bracelet I'd ever seen. I picked it up, oohing and ahing at the twinkling charms. There were starfish and seashells and seahorses, and each of them was separated by adorable little silver hearts.
    "It's absolutely perfect!" I said, fastening it to my wrist. "I wonder who could have sent it to me?" Laughing, I turned my wrist this way and that, letting the gaslights that were so easy on our sensitive fledgling eyes catch the polished silver and make it glisten like faceted jewels. "It must be my grandma, but that's weird because we're meeting in just…," and I realized everyone was totally, absolutely, uncomfortably silent.
    I looked from my wrist to my friends. Their expressions ranged from shock (Damien) to annoyance (the Twins) to anger (Erik).
    "What?"
    "Here," Erik said, handing me a card that must have slipped out of the box with the clinging tissue paper.
    "Oh," I said, instantly recognizing the scrawling handwriting. Oh, hell! It was from Heath. Better known as boyfriend no. 2. As I read the short note I felt my face getting hot and knew I was turning a totally unattractive shade of bright red.

    Zo — HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I know how much you hate those lame birthmas presents that try to mush your b-day with