Page 44 of Revelations

It was almost comedic the way that the elderly woman spoke it with such simplicity and conviction.

Yes, unleashing Jasper’s wrath on Kael…well, the last time that the two had tangoed, it had ended with several blocks of Tel Aviv being flattened. Thankfully, the news had ruled it a terrorist incident and not what it had been –a clash of the guardians.

An idea erupted in her head. Turning to the psychic, Greylyn inquired, “Any chance you know of an oracle?”

She never doubted that Sofia had heard every word she had confessed to Thomas, so she expected the old woman knew exactly which oracle she meant. With a sly smile, she proved Greylyn to be correct. “Well, I never actually met the woman, but there’s one rumored to live in a not-so-nice area of Baltimore. Been there since the Great Depression, I believe. Maybe she’s the one you need.”

Greylyn eyed Thomas. His face broke out into a huge grin.

“You’re not going without me.”

Sofia called after them as they raced out the door, “What am I supposed to do with that angry guardian angel when he comes back?”

“To hell if I know,” Greylyn replied.

***

Thankfully, it was still daylight when they reached the address that Sofia had giventhem. She had been right; it was not a nice part of town at all. Actually, it was smack dab in the middle of a neighborhood that had witnessed riots months earlier. Brick buildings with empty, bordered up shops stood sad and lonely along the trash-littered streets. There did not appear to be a person in sight. Greylyn just hoped that the oracle had not decided to move.

Her British racing green 1968 Camaro pulled up right in front of the address. Not surprisingly, it was located at a crossroads. In mythology, a crossroads indicated where two realms touched, a liminality, where a place was neither in this world or the other, but in between. Physical crossroads often served as supernatural ones as well; a fitting place to find an oracle.

Looking up at the dilapidated building, Greylyn feared the worst. There was black scarring on the brick, indicating that a fire had occurred. The windows and doors were shuttered.

Closing her eyes, she tried to reach out telepathically to see if anyone with any psychic juice was nearby.

Nothing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she muttered.

Peering around, Thomas shivered. “I’d be surprised if you had a good feeling. This place is utterly deserted. You can sense the black hole of emptiness that remains here now. Not even a stray dog or pigeon to poop on your car. Gives me the willies.”

“Well, let’s be optimistic.” Greylyn was far from it at the moment. “If she’s not here, then she probably wasn’t the oracle Gabriel referred to. I don’t imagine he’d send me halfway around the world in search of her, so hoping he considered proximity when he passed along that information.” Her shoulders inched up in a tiny shrug. Saying that she was optimistic and actually being it were two separate things. “However, that poses the question…how does one go about finding another oracle? It’s not like one would be listed in the Yellow Pages.”

“Speaking of the archangel…Fair suck of the sav! A real, honest-to-goodness angel! Do you realize how much lore surrounds that particular angel? He’s a frigging celebrity!”

“I’ll forego the Aussie-to-English interpretation dictionary for the moment, but does someone have a man-crush? Angel-crush? Groupie, maybe?” she teased. “Would’ve been more awesome and cooler if he’d given me more solid information, not all this cryptic garbage. Still feel like I’m on some bloody scavenger hunt.”

The sun had started its descent as dark maroon and violet hues overtook the once powder blue sky. She knew that they had little time before evening fell.

“Let’s go, Sparky. I don’t want to be here after dark. Got a suspicion that all sorts of bad things hide in the shadows but will come out at night. I don’t particularly care to find out what.”

The front door was unlocked but bordered up from the inside. Windows were also covered with thick wooden planks. Just as she was about to punch through the barriers, Thomas motioned for her to come to the side of the building. Toward the back was an emergency stairwell. She made several attempts to jump up to pull the escape ladder down. Finally, her fingers caught hold of the rusted metal rung. Its screech echoed down the abandoned streets and alleys.

“Well, if someone is around, they know that we’re here now,” Thomas said, his eyes darting nervously in all directions.

Without a word, Greylyn sprang up the ladder like a predatory cat. She heard Thomas panting as he tried to keep up. At the first landing, they peeked into a busted-out window. Furniture lay broken all around. A stench emitted from the apartment—a mixture of urine, burned wood, and spoiled food.

“Hey, Grey. Think I could get a good deal for this place? Investment property?”

Undeterred, she went back up the escape ladder to the next floor. Pretty much the same scenario, but this time evidence of squatters appeared. Squatters with a particular affinity for dirty needles and a white, powdery substance in a small Ziploc bag.

With onemore floor to go, Greylyn had lost all optimism. The window into this level was blacked out, but intact. There were no sounds, and no lights within. She almost turned away, but a pull in the back of her mind stopped her. It was the same feeling that she had experienced when the tablet had called to her in the museum storage locker. There was something, or someone, here.

Her fingers gripped the window. No matter how hard she pushed upward, it did not budge. With all of her guardian angel strength, it did not move.

How is that possible?She’d lifted a Range Rover off of an injured wolf in the mountains of Montana, but she could not open a simple window in a decrepit building with a rotted windowsill?

Her fist slammed into the glass. It held firm, not even a rattle.

---