The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Normal.” Coralie raises her eyebrows.

  “Yes. As normal as I can be.” I get up and grab my backpack. “Might as well do the nasty.”

  “The nasty?”

  Laughing, I flop down at my desk. The next few hours are full of math and trying to explain modern phrases to Coralie.

  Honestly, the calculus is easier.

  15

  Pissing off the Universe

  Saturday afternoon goes by in a blur of shrieking tweens.

  Sierra invited Nicole over, Sophia invited Megan from her dance class and her school friend Priya. Sam had Jordan and Daryl over. To be fair, most of the shrieking came from the girls in the living room. The boys aren’t much for squealing in delight or screaming when startled at whatever movie or video game is on. No, most of their loud noises came from ‘battle cries’ in the yard involving Nerf weaponry.

  It was a clear day, so I wound up stuck in my room for a while after waking up, dividing my time between the rest of my homework and laundry. Since both parents had kid patrol, Mom carried the baskets to the basement and I did the actual washing and drying for her. Amazing the amount of clothing we go through in a week.

  A little after six, the stupid fiery ball in the sky decided to chill out enough that I could go upstairs. At that point, I took over ‘mom’ duties, and the ’rents slipped out to deal with a couple errands and shopping.

  Coralie didn’t make an appearance, so I figured she might be off doing all the ghostly things she’d been unable to while trapped at the school. The area has changed quite a bit since she arrived from London. Evidently, the mystics brought her to the States due to her warning them about World War II. The building they formerly occupied didn’t survive the war. They arrived about seven months prior to the rockets falling on London and spent awhile in Boston before something made them split into smaller groups. The main one relocated here, bringing her with them. Others went to Richmond, Virginia; Atlanta, Georgia; and Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The people who use the hall under the college haven’t spoken much about the other ‘lodges’ in a long time, so she thinks there may have been bad blood.

  Whoa. I guess even people who use magic have drama.

  She did tell me a little bit about that, too. They’re not like ‘wizards.’ I’m thinking these people throw fireballs or something, but it’s way more subtle than that. According to her, they do rituals in the meeting hall and those rituals cause things to happen elsewhere. She called it ‘manipulating fate.’ I’m not sure if that’s more or less frightening than the idea someone might come after me with fire flying from their hands, but, hey, at least Coralie is an oracle. If someone’s going to mess with me, she’ll warn me, right?

  Eventually, the kids go home, we have dinner, and Dad throws on Bloodsport. Of course, we can’t watch that movie without him telling us—again—about how he and his friends used to pick on this guy’s movies. Like, in almost every one of them, he’ll get into a fight and the other guy will like totally kick his ass. Then, out of nowhere, he gets this second wind and totally owns the other guy. Sierra and Sophia both find the one guy making his pectoral muscles bounce hilarious.

  It’s awesome to have a normal (well, as normal as it gets for me) day.

  Around bedtime for the littles, Sophia creeps down the stairs and tells me she feels like someone’s in her room with her. Pre-death me probably would’ve told her she’s imagining it and sent her off with a ‘don’t be such a baby.’ Not only has almost losing my family turned me into a squishy emo gummy bear, I now consider the quite probable truth that something really might be there.

  So, I get up off the couch and follow her to the second floor. She hesitates outside her bedroom, afraid to go in, gripping the rug with her toes. Fully expecting to find Coralie standing in the middle of the room, I stroll right in.

  Empty.

  Okay, maybe it’s frogs. Thinking I’m smarter than I am, I cross the hall to Sam’s bedroom to check the terrarium before searching Sophia’s room. If both frogs are in the tank, I won’t need to look for an escapee. Both frogs are sitting there staring enviously at the jar of freeze-dried crickets right next to their enclosure. Hmm. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there about being two impenetrable glass walls away from something you really want.

  “It’s gone,” whispers Sophia. “It doesn’t feel weird in here anymore.”

  I walk back over to her. “I’m helping a ghost. She might have been wandering around the house. It’s okay. She’s really nice and won’t hurt you.”

  “I don’t think she’s here now.” Sophia edges into her room, looks around, and relaxes. “Yeah. The creepy is gone.”

  My thoughts return to Coralie saying my sister is sensitive. Well, if she doesn’t wind up doing makeup for Hollywood, she could always try tarot cards or something. I perform a cursory check around her room, find nothing of paranormal interest and shrug at her.

  She hugs me. “Thanks for looking. I’m okay now.”

  “Night, Soph.”

  Once she’s in bed, I head back to my room to change out of the tee and sweats I’d been slumming in all day. For a change of pace, I throw on a mini dress over yoga pants, which satisfies my ‘no flying in dresses’ problem. Add fuzzy socks and some boots that won’t fall off in midair, and I’m good. I’d wear the Uggs for comfort, but they’ll disappear as soon as I go past 100 MPH.

  Now, to deal with the Coralie question.

  She’s still nowhere in sight. No point waiting around for her since I have no idea what she’s up to. I head outside via the sliding door in the kitchen and leap straight up off the deck into the sky. After an as-perfect-as-it-gets-for-me day with the family, flying feels doubly awesome. I swear, this will never get old.

  My house, the cul-de-sac, the whole neighborhood falls away below, leaving me with the quiet peace of open sky. Here and there, a roaming set of headlights drifts along a road. I spot a guy walking a small white dog, two boys I’m fairly sure are now seniors at my old high school, and an elderly guy out to stretch his legs.

  Best of all, a certain white sports car is sitting on the side of the road in front of a police car with the lights flashing. Hah. Eighteen year old doing sixty-something in a thirty five zone? That’s going to sting. Hope he gets the message before he hits some neighborhood kid.

  I leave Cottage Lake behind and angle toward Seattle. The aerial view of the various lakes and waterways makes me want to take my phone out for pictures, but knowing my luck, I’ll drop it. Something tells me that wouldn’t be covered under the protection plan.

  As tempting as it is to just hang up here and watch boats, I accelerate into the city and swing by the same liquor store I did last time. Of course, since I look like I’m fifteen, the guy behind the counter practically laughs when I walk in. I grab a six-pack of that cheap beer Glim likes and head over to the counter with it.

  Mr. Mullet behind the counter is already reaching for the phone to call the cops on me. I set the cans on the counter and plunge into his brain before he can dial. As far as he’s concerned, I look like Mrs. McMahan, the English teacher I had junior year. We both have the same long brown hair, which makes it easier to alter his memory. This dude is so lucky I’m like ‘Follows Rules Girl’ or I’d totally just shoplift this beer for his being a butthead.

  Okay, well, technically speaking, I am still too young to buy alcohol. But simply explaining that I’m buying it for someone else who is old enough won’t work. A teenager saying ‘oh, I’m not buying this beer to drink myself; it’s for an adult’ is about as believable as a politician saying they care about average people.

  At least the beer Glim likes doesn’t cost much.

  Ill-gotten booze in hand, I head back outside, duck into an alley, and fly. A few minutes later, I land on the roof at the apartment complex where his former wife and sons live. He’s in his usual spot, legs dangling over the edge while watching whatever’s on the TV in their place. At my arrival, he scoots back and smiles—as much as he c
an—at me.

  “Hey.” I plop down and set the six pack next to him. “Got you something.”

  “Busch… you remembered.”

  I smirk. “It hasn’t been that long since you told me.”

  “Perhaps I underestimate the attention span of high school girls.”

  “I am not a high school girl.” I fold my arms, thrusting my chin up. “I’m a college student.”

  Serious face lasts only a few seconds before I giggle. He laughs. I hold an arm out to him.

  Glim gently bites me on the wrist and drinks a few sips of blood. I concentrate on wanting to loan him my ability to consume food, and a faint tingle runs down my arm. He cracks open the first can and takes a long, slow sip while making a face like a wine snob tasting from a bottle that cost more than most cars.

  “Thanks again for helping with Coralie.” I wrap my arms around my legs and gaze off in the general direction of his family’s place. “How are Ana and the kids?”

  “They’re doing all right. Arcelio’s becoming attached to the man she’s seeing. Stefan’s ‘tolerating’ him.”

  “Well, he is fourteen… and you’re still doing that ghost writing deal with him, right?”

  “Yeah.” He takes another sip, then talks about his older son’s exploits in school. The boy wants to join the military ‘like Dad,’ even though his father ‘died’ overseas. Glim’s been trying to talk him out of it with the ‘ghost writing.’

  “What do you think I should do with Coralie? I can’t exactly keep a dead body in the house.” I whistle. “I really ought to get her out of there before Sophia finds her and uses her for a makeup dummy.”

  Beer froth flies from Glim’s mouth on a laugh. I imagine if he breathed, he’d have been choking, but he simply shakes his head, trying to wipe dribble off his chin. “Where is she now?”

  “At home, asleep. Or at least she better be.”

  Glim blinks. “I meant the mummy.”

  “Oh… duh. She’s under my bed.”

  He laughs. “Seriously?”

  “Well, it’s either that or the attic. And the attic is damp. Dad still hasn’t fixed that leak. And really, I don’t want any of the littles to see her. She might be really well preserved, but she’s still kinda gruesome in a way.”

  He makes thinking faces while sipping the rest of his first beer. “I can check around a bit and see if I can find a safe place.”

  “Thanks.”

  My phone tweeps.

  I pull it out and find a text from Ashley: ‹Where the hell are you?›

  “Oops.”

  Glim looks over at me. “What’s on fire now?”

  “I got so wrapped up in the Coralie thing I forgot I was supposed to hang out with Ash and Michelle tonight.” I look up at him. “Hey, you wanna join us?”

  He freezes like a statue, his face stuck in a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ expression.

  “Seriously.”

  “I’m a little old to crash a ‘girls’ night in’ with your friends. Not to mention…” He gestures at himself. “I’m a little rough on the eyes.”

  “When you showed up at the house with the spyglass, you used an illusion or something to make us not see it. Can you make yourself look different?”

  He shakes his head. “It doesn’t quite work that way. Shadows or just making people not realize I’m there. I can’t disguise myself.”

  “Aww. Bummer.”

  “It’s all right. I understand you had prior plans, and I don’t feel like you’re bailing. You’re all so busy with school you don’t have much time to spend with them now. We can do this any time during the week.”

  “Okay. Sorry. I feel bad.”

  “Don’t.” He smiles, opening the second can.

  “Monday night?”

  He nods. “That sounds like a plan.”

  I text ‹OMW› to Ashley, then stand. “Oh, hey. Do you have a phone?”

  Glim shakes his head. “Not since I stopped breathing, no.”

  “Ahh. Okay, I was gonna ask for your contact info, but…”

  “If you need to get in touch with me, either come here or talk to the wind. I should eventually become aware that you’re looking for me.”

  So creepy, yet so cool at the same time. “’Kay. See you soon.”

  He holds up his Busch as a toast.

  Upon arriving at Ashley’s house, I float up to her bedroom window.

  No sense ringing the doorbell and bothering her mother. Mrs. Carter is usually asleep by nine or so. My friends are on Ashley’s bed, sitting cross-legged and talking about random funny things that happened at school or their jobs. Like five minutes go by of me hanging there—quite obviously—at the window, and neither one of them even look at me. I tap a fingernail at the glass. They both turn toward me and scream at the same time.

  Once they recover from laughing, Ashley opens the window and screen enough for me to slip inside.

  “Hey. Sorry. Dealing with some weird stuff.”

  “What sort of weird stuff?” asks Michelle.

  Ashley pokes her. “You have to ask?”

  I pull off my boots and join them on the bed. “Oh, the usual. Going places I don’t belong, nearly getting killed—again—and I’ve got a dead woman under my bed.”

  They both stare at me.

  After a brief explanation of Coralie, we shift gears back to normal. Ashley throws on Zootopia, which gets Michelle laughing.

  “What?” asks Ashley, hands on her hips. “It looks cute.”

  “We’re not little kids.” Michelle rolls her eyes.

  “Come on, you know Ash likes cartoons. Besides, she probably wants to make sure we watch something that won’t get her all revved up.” I wag my eyebrows.

  “Bad choice then. That fox is kinda hot.” Michelle fans herself.

  Ashley whacks me across the head with a pillow, laughing. “I think I’m over that.”

  “Dude.” Michelle clucks her tongue. “You had it bad for a while there.”

  “Yeah I know. I’m good now.” She flops on her back and stretches. “I’d ask how your days are going at work, but someone’s a lazy ass without a job.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  With the movie on more or less as background noise, Michelle rambles about one of her professors being hilarious. I tell them about Dr. Mercer and her irritating habit of talking slow. In the midst of our conversation without any mention of vampires, mummies, or paranormal weirdness, I almost forget anything bizarre happened to me. We’re all hanging out acting the way we might’ve acted if I’d remained oblivious to the stranger side of reality.

  Today’s been an awesome day, first with my family, then my friends. And as cool as that is, and as happy as I am right now, I can’t help but nurse a tiny flame of worry.

  I’m too happy.

  That’s going to piss off the universe.

  Something bad is going to happen soon.

  16

  Near Death Experience

  When I return home from Ashley’s place, Coralie’s hanging out in my room.

  I explain that Glim is looking around for better living accommodations than beneath my bed. That seems to make her feel better, and we wind up talking about random crap. Aside from her once having an infatuation with obtaining magical power, she seems like a fairly normal young woman, albeit with a bit of a dated sense of things. I do bring up her remark about crazy math not being for women and point out a handful of prominent female scientists.

  She’s more surprised that the women were ‘allowed’ to study than they had the smarts for it. Admittedly, Coralie has been stuck in a small bubble, but you’d think she’d have figured some of that out being trapped in a college. I mean, sure, there’s still plenty of patriarchal bullshit going on, but it’s kinda gotten a little better for us compared to when she’d been alive. She tells me about a cat she had as a kid, and her parents, the house she used to live in… all like it had only been a few weeks ago. Fortunately, she skips the gloominess of her sibli
ngs reacting to her death again.

  We talk until dawn sneaks up on me, and I barely make it to bed in time to avoid collapsing on the floor. Not that I’d really notice. I could sleep upside down headfirst in a giant trashcan and not have a sore back the next day. Once I’m out, I’m out.

  Sunday is nice and overcast, so I head upstairs soon after my eyes open at 2:33 p.m. The girls have their friends over again while the boys appear to have gone elsewhere, as I don’t hear them up in his bedroom, nor are they in the living room. More than likely, they’re at Daryl’s using his PlayStation since Sierra’s claimed ours.

  The girls don’t give off any vibes that I’m intruding on their space, so I flop on the couch kinda-sorta hanging out with them while throwing most of my attention toward texts with Hunter, Ashley, and Michelle.

  Tween conversation mostly goes in one ear and out the other.

  Nicole mutters something about the bathroom before standing. She turns in place, eyeing the room. “Whoa. It feels kinda eerie in here now. Like there’s something watching us.”

  “I made friends with an undead I met at school,” I say in a toneless, unimpressed voice.

  “A ghost?” asks Sierra.

  “No. A grad student.”

  Dad laughs from his office, though the girls stare at me, blank-faced.

  I grin at their expressions. “Just kidding. Yes, a ghost.”

  Priya gasps, clutching her hands (and the controller) at her chin.

  “Whoa.” Nicole, who’s already pretty damn pale, gets a little whiter. “Serious? Like for real a ghost?”

  I nod. “Yep. After my, umm… near death experience, I sometimes see them.”

  Sierra realizes Priya is no longer controlling her character and stops pummeling it, then pauses the game.

  “You brought a ghost here?” Sophia shivers. “I felt it, too.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s friendly. Just lonely and wanted someone to talk to.”