So, the graphics got a mixed reaction.  I…tend to agree with both sides.  I like making them and sharing them, but they do clutter up the blog like crazy.  So, compromise!  I made a second blog (here) that’ll have nothing but pictures and extra bits and pieces and links/follow-ups for past books I’ve done.  Those who like that stuff can follow it, everyone else can stick to just reading.  Happiness all around!

Alright, moving on.

Zoey wakes up after hearing some magic ancient song magically playing in her mind because magic and shit.  At least the book remembers she’s injured, because her head still hurts and her gash has stitches now.  I mean, it’s not like massive blood loss, head trauma, and laying with your open wound in the dirt for god knows how long could have any complications or anything.  Throw a few stitches in there, she’ll be fine!

Turns out she’s at the House of Night, because her grandmother took her there after finding her.  (Did she bleed in the car the whole way there?)  Well, maybe the house has a real doctor and they’re monitoring her for health issues from being knocked unconscious for hours and hours.  As I’ve said before, head wounds that last more than half an hour but less than a day are a sign of ‘moderate’ brain trauma and come with a whole slew of problems and oh why do I bother, she’s thinking just the same as she always did and has no ill effects whatsoever besides a sore temple.

“She and John basically locked me in my room while they called our shrink and started the prayer tree.”

Zoey, you asked to go hide in your room.  Stop rewriting history just to make you look like more of a martyr.

So, Zoey and Grandma Redbird bond over how they both think that her parents are stupid, stupid people.

I’m not surprised you were Tracked and Marked. The Redbird blood has always held strong magic; it was only a matter of time before one of us was Chosen.

So, this would be marginally better if it was just a family of magic people, not a race of magic people, and this seems to hint at that.  It’s Redbird magic, not Indian magic.  But a hint is all we get, and mired in the middle of more hints that, no, it’s Indian magic, this family just happens to have an extra dose of it.  And really, the worst part is that it’s such a throw-away line.  Like “Oh, pish, of course everyone knows we Cherokee are magic fairies and not real people, let’s move on to talking about something actually unusual.”

Grandma is surprised that she only just got marked, because her moon outline is all filled in.  Apparently this is a thing that takes time.  You know, the more I think about it, the more I hate these forehead marks.  The start of the book made a big deal about how the change is a natural thing, caused by ‘junk DNA,’ whatever that means.  It’s something physical that can be studied in high school and have a scientific debate.  But an outline of a crescent moon is not natural in any way, shape, or form, and neither is a filled in one.  Every other time this comes up, it seems like people are getting deliberately chosen by magic, but that flies in the face of the whole “I was just born this way and no one knows why” angle.

Basically, any time Zoey wants to feel like a martyr, it’s not anyone’s fault that she’s a vampyre.  But any time Zoey wants to feel special for no god-damned reason, then the magic night spirit chose her specifically.

Her voice was amazing. Even before I looked up from my reflection I knew she would be unique and incredible. I was right. She was movie-star beautiful, Barbie beautiful.

Oh, hello, Sue.  This is just strange.  Weren’t Barbie-comparisons meant to imply vapid shallowness every time before this?  She calls her sister a Barbie, and it’s an insult.  But right now, it’s being used as a compliment.

So…according to this book, Barbie is the standard, and you have to fit that standard, but if you don’t fit it perfectly then you’re just a wannabe fake?  Weird.  It’s like this author has no concept of what can or can’t be considered beautiful unless it’s cast in plastic and sold in a pink box.

Her hair was deep red—not that horrid carrot-top orange-red or the washed-out blond-red, but a dark, glossy auburn that fell in heavy waves well past her shoulders. Her body was, well, perfect. She wasn’t thin like the freak girls who puked and starved themselves into what they thought was Paris Hilton chic.  This woman’s body was perfect because she was strong, but curvy. And she had great boobs.

Damnit, book, can you just for once say something nice about someone without deriding everyone else in the process?  Why can’t she just be pretty, without pointing out that she’s “pretty, unlike all those other bitches who suck.”  Why must you be so full of hatred at every turn?

“Huh?” I said. Speaking of boobs—I was totally sounding like one.  (Boob…hee hee).

This…this got published?

Bring it on, Mayans.

sapphire crescent moon neatly tattooed in the middle of her forehead

It alternately gets called a ‘mark’ and a ‘tattoo.’  Book, words mean things.  That’s sort of important, since the point of words is to get across specific ideas.  In this case, ‘tattoo’ means someone got some ink and stabbed that moon into your skin.  It does not mean the same thing as a moon just magically appearing there.  Or DNA-ly appearing, since you can’t seem to decide which applies.

swirls of lines that reminded me of ocean, waves framed her brows, extending down around her high cheekbones.

I think the editor just up and committed suicide after the first couple of chapters, and that’s why abominations like this got through.

So, this woman is the ‘High Priestess’ and her name is Neferet.  (You know, maybe John didn’t want her becoming a vampyre because he figured it wasn’t a real thing, just a cult run by a pagan-goddess-worshiping priestess.  Which, in turn, would make the fact that they routinely force teenagers to come to their ‘school’ highly suspect.  I mean, science can’t explain why this happens to them, so how do we know they’re not just poisoned to make them think they’re sick, told they have to go to a special school, given an antidote, and then coerced into a polytheistic religion and who-knows-what-else.  Obviously that’s not going to happen, because this book is not that cool, but it would be very believable from the outside.  Especially because these vampyres apparently don’t let anyone know what they do.  But, no, let’s not give anyone a reasonable excuse to hate this whole situation, let’s just go with “Christians are bad and bad and then more bad because I said so.”)

Neferet calls her Zoey Redbird, and when Zoey tries to correct the last name thing, Neferet says she’s starting over so she can pick a new one if she wants.  Since Grandma is a magic perfect saint of a supporting character and her mother is the concubine of the devil, it’s no surprise that she goes by Redbird from here out.

Blah blah, more words about Neferet being awesome just by existing.

But right before I said the words I got a weird feeling, like someone had just hit me in my stomach. It was clear and it was specific, and it was telling me to shut up.

Oh, look, it’s the Mysterious Author Powers again.  That god-damn fucking trope I hate with a fiery passion that has characters act as befits the plot ‘just because,’ but without giving them any intelligence or agency in the matter.  The plot needs this to be a secret, but heaven forbid Zoey use her fucking brain to figure out she shouldn’t tell.  Let’s just have ‘feelings’ do it for her.

She tells them the story of her day, just leaves out the acid trip she went on while unconscious.  Grandma says that memory loss is common with head injuries…but she didn’t describe memory loss.  She told a perfectly lucid story right up until tripping and passing out.  Yeah, we know more happened, but does Grandma just assume she forgot…being unconscious…?

I’m going to have to go back to “Because fuck logic, that’s why,” aren’t I?

If she liked Grandma Redbird, she had to be an okay person, or vampyre or whatever. Right?

Or she could just be not an ass.  Or she could be someone evil, but who has good manners.  Or she could be deliberately trying to put you at ease and get rid of your grandmother so they can get on with the cult brainwashing.

So, being a vampyre means Zoey now has super healing powers, so Neferet offers to let her out of the infirmary and take her to her new room.  Then, to assure Grandma, she says that she will personally be Zoey’s adult mentor.

She’s the fucking High Priestess.  Is that just a meaningless title?  Is she the school principal?  What kind of duties does a High Priestess have that let her just sit around and chill all day with a new arrival, and then promise to sit around and chill more in the future?

So, that’s it.  Zoey is in a cult now, and she has a mother-figure that thinks she’s totally awesome and is also perfect herself, so she’ll make for a great yes-man.  Zoey was taken away from a slightly annoying home life and put into a world where she’s super fucking special and also has the High Priestess hanging over her. 

Wish fulfillment stories sure have gotten boring.