Page 49 of Revelations

The oracle, having recovered from her earlier travails, suddenly gasped. Reaching for her hand again, the woman’s eyes grew large as if she just remembered something. “Of course, everything hinges on one universal concept—free will.”

Ah, yes! Free will. But Greylyn failed to see how that would help.

“Don’t prophecies negate free will? They’re called ‘prophecies’ for a reason, right?”

The oracle pushed herself off of the sofa, sending Francesca scurrying again. Looking down at Greylyn with something akin to maternal affection, she said, “Honey, they also say ‘free will is a bitch’ for a reason.”

Not feeling very reassured, Greylyn stood. “Guess I have a lot of work to do then, because I won’t allow Kelly nor her child to be subjected to Olivier or do his bidding. However, I’m not going to destroy all of humanity, either. Ripping apart the heavens is not even a consideration.”

Smiling broadly, the oracle shuffled over to a tiny gold painted box placed predominantly in the center of a makeshift altar. As she opened it, a soft melody emitted from the box and a tiny ballerina twirled in the middle. When she turned around, she held something tenderly in the palm of her hand, shuffled back to Greylyn, and held the item out to her.

The item was a two-stone ring placed into a silver setting; one stone, a black opal; the other stone, a white, multi-faceted opal; side by side, both were shaped similarly to the Yowah Nut, but much smaller.

“The dark and the light together, as it was in the beginning,” the oracle explained.

In awe at the gift, Greylyn wanted to laugh. “This seems to be a thing with me lately—the mysterious opals. Any chance this one came from the same place as the last one I found?”

Thankfully, the oracle did not require an explanation. “Same place where the stones in your dagger came from. Yes. This one actually belongs to you. It was your mother’s. Your father gave it to her when they were married. He took the opals passed down from their individual ancestors—the black opal from your mother’s side and the lighter one from his—and split them. Half of each went into his dagger. The other halves into this ring.”

Greylyn’s heart stopped. Her mother’s ring? For centuries, she’d known nothing about her parents. Now, she held in the palm of her hand something that had belonged to her mother. Her dagger had belonged to her father. Somehow it had found its way to her.

Stifling a sob, she slid the ring onto her right ring finger. It fit perfectly.

“Now, I’m afraid our time is up, child. I wish I had all the answers you needed, but I wouldn’t be a true oracle if my visions were complete.” Her smile grew. “It’s what set Alexander off on his temper tantrum—my predecessor didn’t have all the answers he sought either.”

Chapter 12 – Fight or Flight

Checking her watch as they re-emerged from the dilapidated building, Greylyn cringed. Hours had passed, and it was now almost three in the morning.

She rubbed at the knotted muscles in the back of her neck. When had she slept last? Being a guardian angel, she did not require much sleep, but a nap certainly would have felt good about now.

The streets were quiet; too much so. Nothing moved, not even the air. An unnatural silence raised the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

They were notreally alone.

The area had been abandoned by life—human life—for some time. Something nefarious now filled the void. The warding Pythia had put up to hide herself from good and evil had done its job. But having a guardian angel waltz into the neighborhood had the same effect as shooting a flare gun into the sky. Instead of a rescue, though, the monsters came out to play.

Sure enough, just out of the corner of her eye, standing in a doorway of an abandoned bagel shop, was the harbinger of death—a Banshee. Twisted, wrinkled, with crepe-like skin and beady eyes, the monster let out its terrible screech that echoed into the pitch black, starless night.

Greylyn swallowed down the lump in her own throat. The last time she hadheard that cry, one of Sofia’s colleagues had died a horrific death. Guilt still weighed heavily, as though it had been her fault thatthe woman had run out of the building into a demonic siege.

A large hand squeezed her own, breaking into her reverie. Thomas was still sluggish after his encounter with the oracle. He had not yet uttered a word since Pythia had snapped her fingers. He had fallen to the floor, face-planted into the worn oak plants. Thankfully, he had not broken his nose.

Even awake, he was not in any condition to fight off a gang of monsters. Her Camaro was just fifty yards away, maybe less, but she would have to drag him there.

Aside from the Banshee, she only saw shadows, but knew better than to believe them to be harmless. She just hoped that none of them were actual shadow creatures. Those were near impossible to fight, as there was nothing to punch, slice, or dice, asthey had no corporeal bodies.

There were more monsters out there. Their evil presence weighed the atmosphere surrounding the neighborhood down and made it heavy like the humidity of a swamp, but worse.

“Got any good tricks up your sleeve, Sparky? Cause I could use some suggestions here.” The calmness in her whisper was fake, a skill she hadmastered some time ago. Her heart thundered in her chest and a tendril of apprehension ran up her spine.

Thomas quipped, “I thought the master escape planning was your job.”

The way his hand trembled in her own spoke volumes of the fear coursing through his own body. He swayed backward, only to jerk forward when his back touched the brick building, as if he had been tasered. Pythia must have reinforced the warding around the building so that even humans could not get in anymore.

Quickly assessing the situation, Greylyn knew that fighting their way out had a poor chance of success. Alone, perhaps she could have pulled it off. But there was Thomas to consider. He was not trained in supernatural battle like she was. As it was, he was barely able to stand on his own. Her focus would be on protecting him, just the weakness that the monsters would need to take advantage of.

Retreat was not an option, either. Neither was hiding out in Pythia’s building. The oracle had made sure of that.

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