Page 102 of Bitten Vampire
“If it were, say, predicting lottery numbers, it might be fun. But it’s not. I relived our Council visit—and everything after—so many times. I watched people die, over and over.”
“So, how does it work? If you relived the Hall of Silence, that means the power takes direction, and it’s not just random. How does that happen? Do you think of a person?”
I pause to check in with myself—to listen to my gut—and realise that sharing this with him doesn’t bother me. Nothing inside me screamsDon’t. My throat isn’t tight; there is no hint of danger or wrongness. Everything feels… easy. Whatever power lives in me trusts James.
Had you told me a few days ago that I’d feel this way, I would have said you were mad. But I shadowed him in that vision for a long time—watching, waiting for him to slip—and he never did.
James may not like me much, but it isn’t out of cruelty—there’s no malice in him. He will always put the clan first, and because he’s so blunt, so black-and-white, I know there’s no hidden agenda. He simply calls things as he sees them.
“Yes. I focus on someone, and it drags me into a future event—usually something dangerous.”
“Who have you followed?”
“Other than Valdarr? Simone. And you.”
“Me?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“How far did you see?”
“Up to our arrival at the last safe house.”
He falls quiet, then asks, “How are you feeling? Overwhelmed? Frightened?”
“It’s a lot,” I confess.
“I bet. But if you’re doing what’s best for the clan, for my liege, I’m with you. I’ll help however I can.”
“Thanks, James.”
“But if you hurt him, if you break his heart, I’ll use that stake you like to wave about and stab you in yours.”
He stares at me, unblinking.
“Bugger,” I mutter. I’d thought he was nice; clearly, I was wrong. “I won’t break his heart,” I say. “He’s far more likely to break mine. Have you seen him? The man’s a walking, talking vampire god. And then there’s me?—”
“The oracle,” he interrupts.
“No. I’m not an oracle.”
He arches a brow. “If it looks like an oracle, walks like an oracle, talks like an oracle…”
“It’s just a psychic gift—premonitions. I’m closer to a seer, if we need a label.”
“Yet you can trace people, find them. That’s a bit more than an average psychic gift, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer.
“I like the title, clan oracle,” he grumbles, burying himself in his book.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It’sa few hours before dawn, but Valdarr still hasn’t returned. I keep glancing at the clock, worry gnawing at me—he’s cutting it close.
The mobile Harrison gave me rings: it’s him.
I take a steadying breath. “Hi. Are you all right? I was worried about you.”
