The Phantom Oracle (Vampire Innocent Book 5)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Sierra gives me side eye from hell.

  “Why?” asks Sam.

  “She’s a painter, and thinks we’d make for a nice picture.”

  “You’re leaving something out,” deadpans Sierra.

  “She’s not gonna bite us?” Sophia claps her hands over her neck.

  “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t even ask if I thought that.” I glance at Sierra. “She’s going to dress us up like dolls first.”

  Sierra narrows her eyes. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Tolerate humiliation from the ancient vampire so she’s nice to you.”

  I shrug. “It makes her happy. And she’s lonely. And she’s got a crapton of dolls.”

  “Ooh!” chirps Sophia, wide-eyed.

  “Yeah.” Sierra laughs. “You’re one of them.”

  “Apparently. Oh. Did I mention she’s got a 120-inch television with a PlayStation?”

  Sierra points. “That’s not fair.”

  “What kind of dolls?” asks Sophia, interest clear in her voice.

  “I’m not sure about this.” Mom fidgets. “Why would an elder vampire be interested in them?”

  “Maybe she has a sweet tooth?” asks Dad.

  Mom swats at him. “Jonathan!”

  Sophia gasps. “She’s really not gonna eat us?”

  “No. She likes cute things and she wants to paint our portrait. It’s only a painting.” I look over at the ’rents. “And she didn’t say you guys couldn’t come along. I can’t fly carrying both of them. Well, I could, but I’d be too afraid of dropping them.”

  Sierra twirls her fork into her noodles. “Okay. I’ll wear a silly dress for a little while if it keeps her happy and wanting to help us.”

  Dad puts a hand on Sierra’s forehead.

  His turn for epic side-eye.

  “When is this supposed to happen?” asks Mom.

  “I suggested maybe tonight or next week, Friday or Saturday.”

  Dad chuckles and grins. “We should probably do it before she changes her mind.”

  Sierra looks up, a few noodles sliding into her mouth. She stares at him like she wants to say something but waits until she finishes chewing. “There will be no photographic evidence.”

  “She’s painting us,” says Sophia. “There’s gonna be evidence.”

  “A painting can be made up. I have plausible deniability.” She grins.

  “You’re sure this is safe?” asks Mom.

  “Yeah. The drive into Seattle is riskier than being around Aurélie, though she might have an… effect on Dad.” Ugh. Now there’s a thought I never ever wanted in my head.

  “Effect?” Dad blinks.

  “She’s… magically charming.” I can’t even look at him.

  “Would this woman do anything inappropriate?” asks Mom.

  “Only if she’s asked to,” I say before thinking. “Oops. Sorry. Just kinda spat that out.”

  Both parents stare at me in shock.

  “No. You guys… That’s not what I meant.” Ack. I can’t tell them about what Ashley did. Especially not in front of the littles. My face has to be bright red. “I’m just going to go to my room and shove a stake into my chest.”

  Sophia gasps. “No!”

  Dad’s expression goes from shock to inquisitive.

  I sigh, then lock eyes before speaking mentally to him. No, Dad. Not me. Ashley. Aurélie is like a Wood Nymph. Anyone attracted to women who sees her has to make a save roll against mind control.

  Now there’s an unanswerable question: what’s more embarrassing? That my Dad wondered if I did something inappropriate with Aurélie, or that I admitted Ashley did.

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll be all right.” Dad squeezes Mom’s hand. “No radiant charm is stronger than your mother’s.”

  Sam makes a gagging noise.

  “Are you guys gonna kiss?” asks Sierra. “Please warn me so I can look away.”

  “Aww,” says Sophia. “They’re cute.”

  “They’re your parents,” says Sierra in a toneless voice.

  Sophia nods. “I know. That doesn’t mean I want to see them get cute. But they’re cute.”

  Mom and Dad chuckle at each other.

  “On that note… should I call Aurélie then?” I ask.

  Mom’s cheeks pale. “I… don’t really know how I feel about this, but if that woman is the reason we’re relatively safe? Sitting for a painting seems a trivial request.”

  “Okay. I’ll go call her.” I hop up.

  “Sarah?” asks Dad before I can take three steps down the hall.

  “Yeah?” I whirl around.

  “What’s the $98 charge for?”

  I clasp my hands in front of myself and flash a cheesy smile. “A wetsuit.”

  “Why did you buy a wetsuit?” asks Mom.

  “Umm. Because stealing one would be wrong.”

  Both parents stare at me.

  Sam laughs.

  “What did you need a wetsuit for?” asks Dad.

  “Those mystics want me to recover some ancient lost chest from the bottom of the ocean. A wetsuit won’t disappear straight off me if I swim too fast.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Dad nods.

  Mom looks at him like she can’t believe he gave up that fast. “That seems kinda frivolous to just go out and buy a wetsuit you’ll use only once.”

  I shrug. “Not like I’ll outgrow it. And, it was that or going bare-assed.”

  Dad fidgets. Sierra snickers. Sophia blushes. Sam keeps laughing.

  Mom shakes her head waving at me, her usual reaction when she can’t think of anything to say.

  I grin, then run back to my room.

  Wow. I spent a pile of money without asking first and my parents didn’t yell at me for it.

  My life has seriously become weird.

  Mom drives us all to Seattle in the Yukon after a minor argument about how to dress.

  She’d wanted the girls to dress ‘nice’ to visit someone of Aurélie’s status, though Sierra parried by saying we would be spending most of the time there in whatever she made us wear for the painting anyway. So… the ’rents got dressed like they’re going to a fancy restaurant and the rest of us look normal.

  Aurélie’s sitting on her couch when we walk in, absorbed by one of the Assassin’s Creed games. Can’t tell which from the scenery. And wow. She’s still wearing clothes like she belongs in early 1800s France, yet she’s playing a video game. The anachronism is hilarious, but I cover my mouth to avoid laughing.

  Of course, the 120-inch mega-screen makes Sierra’s knees weak. She lets out a gasp of awe. Dad, too, can’t help but stare at it. Mom, on the other hand, is too busy taking in the giant apartment to even notice it has a TV. I can practically see her doing the math trying to guess how ridiculous the rent on a place like this is.

  At least, until Aurélie notices us, pauses the game, and stands.

  You know what sucks about being a vampire? I can hear my father’s heart pick up speed the instant he takes in the woman’s supernatural beauty. Even Mom lets out a somewhat unsettling noise.

  “Ahh, mon cheri!” Aurélie swoops around the end of the couch and glides over.

  “Hello,” says Mom.

  Dad merely stares at her.

  Sam’s gone platter eyed, but he’s way too young for her aura to have its usual effect. He stares at her the way a nine-year-old might react to being given a real fire engine as a Christmas present.

  “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I am Aurélie Merlier. Sarah has told me so much about you. Oh, pardon me.” She glances at Dad.

  His eyes flutter in response and he seems less stunned. “Hello.”

  Mom accepts a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Thank you for watching out for Sarah.”

  “It is a pleasure. She is such a delightful young woman. Please, make yourself at home. Excuse me just a moment.”

  Sierra walks up to the TV like a primitive tribesperson visiting a shrine to their most powerful god. I half expec
t to see her sink to her knees and bow at it. My parents head over to the enormous sectional and sit.

  Soon, Aurélie returns with a tray of wine and cheese, which she places near my parents.

  Mom eyes the wine glasses. “Sarah, you can drive us home.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Come, girls.” Aurélie reaches one hand toward me, one toward Sophia.

  Sam walks over to the parents, still transfixed by her.

  Aurélie whisks us through the ornate white double doors, down a short hall, and into the room full of wardrobe cabinets. She’s already set out two frilly dresses, both white, that look roughly the right size for my sisters… and a matching one that’s got my name all over it.

  Sierra looks around like a mouse locked in a room with cats.

  I kick off my shoes and strip down to my undies. Sophia follows suit.

  Sierra stares up at me. “Sare… we’re supposed to like, just get changed here?”

  “Yeah.”

  She blinks. “But we’re all in the same room. And she’s right here.”

  “Models change outfits in front of people all the time. Sometimes, they even take their underwear off in front of people,” says Sophia.

  Sierra’s face goes scarlet—until she gets a good look at the dress. “Ack. It’s so extra.”

  “Oh, come on.” I nudge her. “It’s cute.”

  She begrudgingly sighs and removes her sneakers and socks, then shirt and jeans.

  Aurélie helps us into the elaborate gowns, which are genuinely impossible to put on alone. Sophia adores the fanciness and is the first one to finish changing. She stands by a full length mirror admiring it the rest of the time Sierra and I fight with fabric. Aurélie stuns Sierra mute by doing Sophia’s hair up with ribbons in about four seconds, her hands a complete blur.

  Sophia squeals in delight.

  The look on Sierra’s face when it’s her turn for hair-fancying would be appropriate were she about to be executed, though she keeps still and says nothing. I tolerate the decoration with a mostly straight face. When I’m her age, maybe it won’t feel so strange to use vampiric abilities for something as lame as putting ribbons in people’s hair. Then again, I am the cookie whisperer, so perhaps I’m not one to make fun of her. That done, Aurélie hits us with a little rouge and a slight hint of lip color.

  My little sisters totally look like live porcelain dolls.

  When Sierra goes to check herself in the mirror, she blushes hard. “Oh. My. Gawd. You will not let anyone who knows me ever see me like this.”

  I walk up behind them. “You guys are too adorable.”

  “’Tis a shame you do not appreciate finery.” Aurélie brushes the back of her finger at Sierra’s cheek. “You are so cute. I do appreciate what you are doing for my benefit. Thank you.”

  Sierra sighs down at her bare feet. “You’re welcome.”

  “Please, follow me.” Aurélie glides out of the room, turning left.

  “Wow. You’re not complaining?” I pat her on the head.

  Sierra shrugs. “She’s protecting all of us, right? Feeling ridiculous for a little while isn’t a big deal.” She hugs me, then points a finger at my face. “If you tell Nicole I dressed up like this, I’ll… I’ll… Be mad at you.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Sophia’s still looking at her gown, twirling side to side. Fair odds she’s going to beg to keep it.

  We follow Aurélie out of the dressing room and down the hall to a large study where she already has a giant rectangular canvas set up on an easel near a divan. She arranges us sitting in a row with me in the middle. While she’s fussing at our outfits and making slight adjustments to where we have our hands or how we lean, Sam walks in.

  He goes right up to Aurélie. “Can I be in the painting, too?”

  She looks at him, tapping a finger to her chin. “Hmm. I don’t have anything for you to wear.”

  Sam shrugs. “I can wear a dress.”

  “Uhh, that’s a little weird,” says Sierra.

  “It would probably bother him less than you,” whispers Sophia.

  Sierra smirks.

  Aurélie gingerly grasps Sam by the shoulders and positions him standing in front of the divan to Sophia’s left. “Oh, I think I can imagine an outfit on you. Can you stand still for a while like this?”

  Sam nods.

  Sierra turns her head to stare at me. The look on her face is pretty obvious as ‘if she can just imagine outfits on us, why am I stuck in this thing?’

  Mom and Dad walk in, each with a wine goblet and small plate of cheese. From the look of it, Mom’s already had a glass or two. Perhaps being around Aurélie is just a bit too much for her, or more likely having all of her children in arms’ reach of an elder vampire is stressing her out. At least Dad appears unfazed by the charm in the air.

  The parents stare at the three of us. Dad’s expression is ‘wow’ while Mom kinda looks like Ashley seeing a giant fluffy rabbit.

  “Ack,” says Sierra. “They can see me.”

  The ’rents gawk at her for a moment before gushing over how cute we all are. I’d expected begging to come from Sophia tonight in regard to being allowed to keep the dress she’s posing in, but Mom surprises me by pleading with Sierra for her to tolerate a photo or two—hundred.

  “She better not show Nicole,” mutters Sierra, before saying, “Okay.”

  “She won’t.” I smile for Mom as she goes for her phone. “But Dad will definitely show them to anyone you bring home on a date in six years.”

  Mom’s first picture captures Sophia’s gaping mouth. The second is a great shot of her punching me in the shoulder. Picture three has all of us laughing, and the fourth one looks probably as normal as the painting will.

  “All right,” says Aurélie after taking up a position behind the canvas. “Please try to sit as still as you are able.”

  I feel like I’m in stuck inside a bizarre techno-magic device from a steampunk world. I’ve got extreme joy radiating from Sophia and extreme ‘ugh’ radiating from Sierra. The two emotions are creating a powerful energy field. Though Sam is calm enough to act like a control rod.

  Aurélie blurs into a flurry of motion, her arms like hummingbird wings.

  A little over an hour later, Aurélie stops blurring, eyes us, blurs a little more, then stops again.

  “There.” She smiles. “Thank you for sitting for me. I can finish the scenery without you needing to remain there.”

  Released from our need to sit totally still, we all get up and stretch except for Sam, who collapses over the Divan. He’s had enough of standing for a while.

  “Sophia, would you like to see the doll room?” asks Aurélie.

  “Ooh! Please?” She bounces on her toes.

  To keep my parents’ sanity intact, I accompany Sophia and Aurélie deeper into the apartment. Watching an elder vampire lead their ten-year-old daughter off alone would’ve exceeded their tolerance. They take Sam and Sierra to the living room so Sierra can cash in on her ‘payment’ for putting up with the frilly dress: an hour or so of 120-inch screen time on a PlayStation. Granted, an hour is going to go by in a blur. So maybe they’ll let her stay a little longer.

  Aurélie shows us to her doll chamber, a large, open room with blue carpeting and ceiling, white walls. A few cushioned chairs occupy the middle on either side of a dainty table. Shelves with padding like bench seats the same blue as the rug encircle the chamber. She’s got to have 200 or more dolls in here. Sophia squeals with glee at the sight.

  “Be gentle with them, sweetie.” Aurélie pats her on the head. “You can pick them up if they like you, but be careful not to drop them. I’ll be right down the hall finishing up the painting.” She gives me a ‘please keep an eye on her’ look before gliding out.

  Sophia walks around the shelves, whispering and chatting with the dolls. Creepily enough, a few times, I swear she reacts to something being said back. She eventually picks one up and carries it to
a chair where she sits and has a conversation.

  I ease myself down in a chair, sharing a bit of Sierra’s feeling ridiculous at being so overdressed. I’m half tempted to perch on the shelf with the rest of the dolls. My brain runs away with some twisted nightmare scenario of Aurélie locking my sisters and me in here as more dolls for her collection. The bizarre energy in the room isn’t helping that worry at all. For all I know, maybe she does do that. Eek. I need to stop thinking dark thoughts.

  Taken by a sudden urge, I get up and roam the shelves until I locate Rebecca. Though the doll has no capacity to make facial expressions, I have the weird notion she’s happy to see me. I can’t remember the last time I played with dolls. Still, I reach to pick her up, and upon getting the sense she doesn’t mind, do so, and carry her to a chair.

  “I hope you’re happy here,” I say. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  A feeling of contentment radiates from the doll.

  “Looks like you’ve got quite a few friends now.”

  She gives off an emotion that makes me think ‘mostly.’

  Sophia takes the doll she picked back to its place and wanders the shelves again, complimenting other dolls on their hair or dresses. Once or twice, she giggles and says “Thank you.” She seems to avoid the rear right corner of the room, which has a fair number of dolls in dark colored clothing. Looking in that direction stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach—probably why Soph’s avoiding it. She finds a doll that’s wearing almost the same dress as hers and starts pretending to talk like she showed up at some party and ran into someone in a matching outfit. Only, she’s not jealous, she thinks it’s great.

  Honestly, my kid sister in that outfit with the hair ribbons does look so much like these dolls, my sense of discomfort about this entire situation grows. Aurélie could be way darker than I ever imagined. Or, more likely, the woman just loves dolls and finds it adorable to dress us up like this.

  After a while, Sophia walks up to me with an eyebrow up.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Hi, Rebecca,” says Sophia, waving at the doll in my lap. “And yes. Most of these dolls are alive. They have auras.”

  I blink. “And… you’re not screaming?”