Chosen Chapter 1

Ah, a break from Zoey. It’s been a couple of months since we’ve had to listen to PCK’s inane chatter. I can’t wait to see what stupid things she does in this book. Oh, it’s the first sentence of the book and I’m already preparing an altar on which Zoey can be sacrificed.

“Yep, I have a seriously sucky birthday,” I told my cat, Nala.

I hate you Zoey. There isn’t enough acid to pour in your eyes for all the angst you have. I may be crazy here, but having the protagonist bitch about their birthday isn’t a good way to endear us to her. It’s like how good movies don’t start with the protagonist whining about their coffee being cold or not getting the present they want. Nobody would like John McClane if the first thing he said was “I have a seriously sucky birthday” or “this Christmas sucks”. And of course PCK has to feed Zoey’s Unicus right away. Author forbid we go the first without being reminded Zoey is special.

Zoey talks to her cat and reminds us that cats are great and independent and they don’t have owners so much as staff. You know, the tired jokes that forty something cat ladies email to each other that have more fw’s than text. Zoey also reminds us that her cat has a unique meow because nothing Zoey owns can be normal and boring.

She tells Nala, the dumb cat, that she hates it because people try to combine her birthday and the holiday and give her Christmas themed stuff. Which is crap, frankly. I’ve known people whose birthday is just before Christmas and it just means they don’t get as many presents because it’s expensive. But yeah, people apparently give Zoey singing, farting Santas and tell her happy birthday which she hates. Nala sneezes and Zoey interprets this as a sign.

“Exactly how I feel about it, but we’ll be nice ’cause it’s even worse when I say something. Then I get crappy gifts and everyone’s upset and things turn all awkward.” Nala didn’t look convinced, so I focused my attention on my reflection. For a second I thought I might have gone too heavy on the eyeliner, but I looked closer and realized that what was making my eyes look so huge and dark wasn’t anything as ordinary as eyeliner. Even though it had been two months since I’d been Marked to become a vampyre, the sapphire-colored crescent-moon tattoo between my eyes and the elaborate filigree of interlocking lacework tattoos that framed my face still had the ability to surprise me. I traced one of the curving jewel-blue spiral lines with the tip of my finger. Then almost without conscious thought I pulled the already wide neck of my black sweater down so that it exposed my left shoulder. With a flick of my head I tossed back my long dark hair so that the unusual pattern of tattoos that began at the base of my neck and spread over my shoulder and down either side of my spine to the small of my back was visible. As always, the sight of my tattoos gave me an electric thrill that was part wonder and part fear.

‘Unicus hungers for more! More special, more!’ I swear, every book Zoey’s gotten more and more self important. We’re not even off the second page and we have to be reminded how great and different Zoey is. All bow down before the god-queen lest she strike you down. Or at least banish you to the basement of a decommissioned train station. And while PCK might have been able to write that off as establishing the universe, the next paragraph is pure self aggrandizing by author/avatar.

“You’re not like anyone else,” I whispered to my reflection. Then I cleared my throat and continued in an overly perky voice. “And it’s okay not to be like anyone else.” I rolled my eyes at myself. “Whatever.” I looked up over my head, half surprised that it wasn’t visible. I mean, I could definitely feel the ginormic dark cloud that had been following me around for the past month. “Hell, I’m surprised it’s not raining in here. And wouldn’t that be just great for my hair?” I sarcastically told my reflection. Then I sighed and picked up the envelope I’d laid on my desk, the heffer family was embossed in gold above the sparkling return address. “Speaking of depressing…” I muttered.

I can’t wait until Zoey discovers Atlas Shrugged. ‘It’s okay to be special and everyone else is just jealous.’  Then Zoey looks at a Christmas/birthday card she got from her family. It’s got a cross on the front with a scroll nailed to is—the nail is bloody—and is the run of the mill fundamentalist tripe Stepdad is there for. Inside her mom says she hopes Zoey is remembering her family. Then it says love from mom and dad. This elicits another whine from Zoey about how he’s not her father.

“That’s so typical,” I told Nala. My stomach hurt. “And he is not my dad.” I ripped the card in two and threw it into the wastepaper basket, then stood staring at the torn pieces. “If my parents aren’t ignoring me, they’re insulting me. I like being ignored better.”

I hate you Zoey. All they did was send a simple card. Yes it’s tasteless but it’s still a reminder that they care and they’re thinking of you. The only insult is you ripping up the card and tossing it like the bitch you are. Damien stops by to ask if she’s ready. Zoey looks at herself and decides she’ll leave her shoulder bare because her markings are special and she’ll let people gawk.

I’m thinking that Zoey’s also suffering from grandiose/persecutory delusions. Everyone much gawk at her because a vampire with marks is completely unheard of at a vampire school. I really do wish PCK would tell us how Zoey’s marks differ from everyone else’s. Because as it stands, she’s implied that everyone’s marks are unique to them and their gifts and blah blah blah. But that would take effort and take away from Zoey’s whining.

Zoey then whines about Stevie not being there, recapping her death and rebirth as a creature of darkness. She also complains about her two “boyfriends” and how the whole Stevie episode has put a rain cloud over everything. Damien is concerned—because who ever heard of a woman taking time to get ready?—and Zoey says she’s fine. She says that she’s just practicing lying about her age like when she’s thirty.

Damien stopped and turned to face me. “Okayyyy.” He dragged the word out. “We all know that thirty-year-old vamps still look roughly twenty and definitely hot. Actually one-hundred-and-thirty-year-old vamps still look roughly twenty and definitely hot. So he whole lying about your age issue is a nonissue. What’s really going on with you?”

Well Damien, she’s a snotty over privileged author avatar. Zoey “hesitates” to talk about herself. Very funny, PCK. Like Zoey would ever hesitate to open her blood hole and talk about herself. Then PCK says something incredibly prejudiced.

I sighed again. “You gays are freakishly intuitive.”

Wow, that’s just…I don’t know. I think Patton Oswalt said everything that needed to be said about that stereotype. I will say that PCK is extremely skilled at making me uncomfortable without using extreme violence, torture or general body horror. After some bad dialogue, Zoey says she misses Stevie, Damien knows—because you ignore the moods of the god-queen at your own peril—and then they talk about Stevie and how her dumb hick enthusiasm would have made everything better. Then she goes downstairs to open presents.

Zoey arrives to much fanfare, they sing Happy Birthday and we get introduced to everyone all over again. Oh, and Zoey mentions that Erik is one of her boyfriends while Heath is the other. I didn’t think a love slave could count as a significant other. Thank you, PCK, for educating me.

They banter more, which is dull and painful then they hand Zoey presents. Zoey reminds us that Erik is awesome because he has a gay roommate. Also, his roommate is dating Damien. With that out of the way, Zoey looks at the present from Damien and whines. It’s a snow globe which Zoey says isn’t a birthday gift but a decoration. Instead of telling them this, Zoey lies and says it’s beautiful. Glad to see Zoey’s practicing that passive/aggressive attitude. She continues opening presents and says she wishes she was a cat so she could hiss and run away. Yeah, what a cliffhanger ladies.