“I can’t make you believe me, Avice. But, that was what happened. She claimed that they were powerful creatures who could prove detrimental to our former clan’s existence. And so, her word was made into a reality,” Nainoru said, pouring herself another helping of brandy. “Of course, the word was spread out that the Bloodlust clan’s surviving members killed them all, with their motive being revenge. But a few of us within the Keepers of the Blades knew what had really happened.”
Avice made no move to protest this. Although it sounded far-fetched, he knew that his mother was capable of doing so, having ordered him to kill Yarra for the very same reason. He did not know how to react.
Yarra, although she felt sorry for Avice, could not help but feel anger coursing through her as well. She felt betrayed, having helped the very woman who was responsible for destroying her only possible link to the past that she wanted to know so desperately.
Nainoru was a shrewd woman. The defeated look of acceptance on Avice’s face told her all that she needed to know about the situation.
“She used you, and tried to kill you afterwards, didn’t she?”
Yarra nodded. “Avice was tasked in doing so, and he didn’t want to.”
Nainoru smiled. “How odd it is that we both ran away for the same reasons, Avice. Is that why you came to me?”
Avice rubbed his eyes. It pained Yarra to see a cloud of depression hanging over her mate. A world that he had once known, filled with trust and respect for his mother - his leader - had come crashing down. It would take more than a few days to recover mentally.
“Look…,” Nainoru said kindly, without waiting for his answer, “… it has been a long day. Why don’t you go get some rest? There is a guest bedroom just at the end of the hall, to your left. You will find blankets in the cupboard.”
He nodded weakly and got up. Yarra made a move to go with him, but Nainoru stopped her. “Will you stay with me for a little while? I would like to have a few words with you.”
Yarra was torn. She was eager to comfort Avice, but a part of her was inundated with curiosity as to what the old woman had in store for her. She kissed him on the cheek and assured him that it wouldn’t be long. After he had left and she heard his footfalls going across to the room that they had been directed to use, Nainoru gestured for her to sit in the spot now left empty by Avice’s departure. On her face was a look of guilt, as one would have before confessing their sins. She offered Yarra more brandy, which the younger woman refused. The drink had done enough to not so subtly warm her body up, even if it did not entirely eradicate the fatigue that persisted otherwise.
Rain still continued pattering outside, although it sounded like it was slowly coming to an end. The only light came from the still burning fire in the fireplace, crackling as it consumed the two piles of logs in it. A sweet smell of oaken wood filled the room, reminding Yarra of the cabin she and her parents used to go to during winter.
There was an awkward silence between them as Nainoru struggled to find the proper words to say to her guest. And so, Yarra decided to start.
“Thank you… for your hospitality. I know the circumstances may seem odd, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it in mere words.”
Nainoru nodded, half smiling with relief for the Yarra’s initiating the conversation. “If anything, dear girl, I am obligated to help you, considering what I have done to your family.”
“My family?”
“I was given the task of killing the Oracle,” Nainoru replied.
“Did you?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Nainoru smiled. “Precognitive minds are able to sometimes go back into specific times in the past if there is a proper link there.”
This was true. The only other time she had seen the past was when Alicia had given Avice orders to kill her off. Her love for Avice was so strong, that it had forged a bond that transcended time past, present and future. Might it also be the same for her family?
“I need a date,” Yarra said. “It usually happens when I know exactly what I am looking for.”
“The twelfth of July, 1817,” Nainoru said.
Yarra nodded. She had never attempted to dive into the pool of the past. Remembering her lessons with Alicia, as sore as it was to do so now, she took a deep breath and tried.
The first inkling was when the room lost its bright, orange color, and the warmth of the fire vanished. Then it was black once more.
Chapter-4
Reliving the Oracle’s Past
When her vision realigned to her surroundings, Yarra was standing outside a small brick house. It looked like those built like those in the books she had read in fairy tales. The other houses were lined along unpaved roads, and people were walking around in the morning, their clothes normal to the people of their time. She felt self-conscious standing in her bathrobe in the middle of the day, but none of them paid her any heed. She reminded herself that she was, in fact, invisible and so made herself observe what had happened.
A horse-drawn carriage moved past her, and she saw a lady sitting inside. She was surprised to see a younger Nainoru, looking as youthful as Yarra did in the modern age, her lips colored the brightest red, her cheeks lightly rouged, and her hair puffed up. The carriage stopped in front of the house where Yarra stood, and she got out.
There was no denying that although the lady was young, she had the same intelligence in her eyes as she did centuries later. The mark on her neck, an ugly keloid scar, was absent. Her dress, largely black with tassels of blue, covered her body although it allowed people to get a preview of her ample bosoms. Yarra noticed the familiar tattoo on her body, which the men and women around her did not seem to see.
A large bonnet covered her already thick, lustrous head. Yarra thought the fashion to be odd for a hot summer’s day but then realized that Nainoru donned the headpiece to cover her vampire wings.
It was just like when she had seen the blade inked on Avice’s chest and her friends could not - the sign was invisible to humans.
She held a small parasol to shield her from the mild, mid-morning sun. Curtseying at the horseman, Nainoru spoke up then.
“I won’t be long, Matthew.”
“Very good, m’lady,” the carriage driver answered, his voice deep.
Something about the place was familiar to Yarra, though she could not put her finger on precisely why. She saw Nainoru opening the gate of the house and decided to follow her in. She was oblivious to being watched by someone from the future. She walked up the cobblestone path, up to the house and rapped on the wooden door smartly. While waiting, she hummed out a melodic, jaunty tune, although Yarra could also see her eyes darting around the vicinity.
Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.
When the door opened, Yarra could not help but gasp at the sight of the person at the door. It was a tall man whose features were handsomely angular. His hair was jet black with a whitish streak, and his eyes were tired, but happy. There was a small curve to his smile that seemed to suit his perfectly aligned teeth. It was his ears that caught her attention the most, looking like the blunt curves of butterfly wings with the lobes unattached to the neck.
The man looked exactly like her. The smile, the eyes, the ears. Yarra was overcome with emotion. She tried to reach forward but her hand went through him as though he was made up of mere wisp and mist.
“Oracle,” Nainoru gave a slight bow.
The Oracle reciprocated and gestured for her to enter.
There was nothing magical about the house. Inside, the house was dingy, damp, and the table was full of papers - organized chaos, perhaps. Two children were helping their mother at the stove, who looked disheveled and weary. There was a small hole in the roof where a beam of sunshine came through. The man seemed embarrassed to have someone so dignified and sharply dressed as Nainoru enter, as he fumbled to choose between a wooden stool and a chair to accommodate her.
“No need, Oracle, I am here in a slight rush,” Nai
noru said. Her hands fumbled at her small purse, and Yarra gulped. She wondered if Nainoru was about to take out a knife or a weapon of some sort to kill them all. But the lady gave a few sweets out instead, which she gave the happy children.
The woman by the stove smiled appreciatively. Yarra looked at the two kids. One boy and one girl. Her heart gave a little delighted squirm, but there was nothing about the girl that looked like her. The girl took after her mother’s features, with reddish-brown hair and slight freckles on the face. Yarra self-consciously touched her hair, wondering if this was her family.
If they were related, how so?
“You have been too kind to us,” the man spoke. “The war is over now, isn’t it?”
“Thanks to you, Oracle. We would not have been able to do it without you.”
The man nodded and sat on the wooden stool. He had a smoke pipe bitten firmly between his strong jaws as he considered their guest with a curious look on his face. Yarra stared at him, transfixed. It was like looking at a carnival mirror to see a different gendered person who looked exactly like her. The Oracle was just like any other average person. There was nothing special about his physical traits. One would look past him in a crowd.
His wife served their guest with a cup of tea before she beckoned for the children to follow her outside.
“Papa needs some alone time with our guest.” The children protested at first, but after the Oracle tickled and kissed them on the cheek, they left, waving the fancy lady as they did so.
Only after the sounds of their voices and footsteps faded from outside the house, did the Oracle look at Nainoru with an interest that he had not paid her earlier.
“I know why you are here,” he said, reaching up for a match to light the suddenly snuffed tobacco in his pipe. “Alicia sent you here to kill me.”
Nainoru flinched, if only momentarily. Yarra saw her hands grip at her parasol. She wanted to shout a warning, but knew that he would not be able to hear her.
“By all means, please kill me,” he said, surprising both ladies past and future that were present. He let out a cloud from his pursed lips. The pot in the stove bubbled, and Yarra could smell the faint whiff of meat and potatoes.
“I don’t understand,” Nainoru said. “You actually want to die?”
The Oracle got up from his seat. “My death is inevitable. If you don’t kill me now, it will happen later. Alicia Selleck is determined that my existence be wiped off the face of this earth. Thankfully, she doesn’t know that you are actually hesitating to kill me too.”
“You had a vision then? Since when?”
The Oracle laughed. “Oh, I have known for many months already, Nainoru. Even while I was helping out with the war, a vision of Alicia sending you to kill me has been repeating itself in my mind. In fact, it was the first vision I had today…,” he said. “…And quite possibly, my last.”
“If you knew, why did you continue helping us?” Nainoru protested. She threw her parasol on the ground and it landed with a deafening clang. Yarra was surprised that such a flimsy material could make a racket. Only upon closer inspection did she notice that the handle was actually the sheath for a narrow, long blade.
“I merely dictated what I saw in the future. I did not provide Alicia with any help whatsoever. She asked what I saw, and I told her. It was her shrewd mind that pieced those fragmented predictions of mine together, transforming them into an effective battle plan.”
“You can’t be claiming that your predictions are dispensable in the war.”
“It isn’t. But it is like thanking a sword for felling your opponent. The sword is a mere tool. It takes the hand of a great warrior like Alicia to wield it properly. And that is what I am to her-a mere tool, a weapon to be brandished to smite down enemies.”
He walked over to the stove and poured himself a cup of tea.
“And now, the time has come for her to destroy that very weapon that has guaranteed her victory. Because unlike a mere sword, I have a consciousness. She is scared that I might one day be used by somebody else to destroy her.”
“Will you?” Nainoru asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I…, I can try to convince Alicia to spare you and your family if you swear your allegiance to the Keepers of the Blades. Perhaps she will make you her trusted advisor.”
The Oracle gave her a disbelieving smirk. It was clear that he did not trust Alicia’s supposed benevolence. “I don’t believe for a second that Alicia wants me alive.”
The sheer awkwardness in the room threw Nainoru off. She fumbled with the hem of her skirt, unsure of what to do now that she had thrown the parasol down and had her motivations so calmly revealed.
It was the Oracle who spoke up then. “You will have to kill me to make the prediction come true.”
“Isn’t there an alternative, Oracle? I don’t want to have to kill you. Perhaps… perhaps I can bring you into hiding! I can…”
“Stop,” the Oracle said, raising his hand. He scratched at his chin and sighed. He picked up the handle of her parasol and smoothly unsheathed it. The silver blade within was held up to the light pouring in from the hole in the roof. Where the sunlight shone in, Yarra could see patterns on the blade; creepers and vines etched into the metal.
Without warning, he made a slit on his forearm using the blade. His blood ran like river along the cut, pouring onto the damp wooden floor. Nainoru yelled out in protest, her eyes welling up with tears. Yarra did not understand why she reacted in such a way when the wound was easily manageable.
“Why…?” Nainoru said weakly, staring from the wound on his arm to his face.
It was only then that Yarra realized that as the blood continued to pour, and the skin parted by the blade began to turn green and blue. The blade was poisoned, and it was slowly spreading within the Oracle’s body. From the wound, the vines crept underneath his skin, causing his body to etch itself with a vine-like pattern where the poison started to exert its effects.
“My… my only request,” he gasped and sputtered, blood starting to pour out his mouth, “… is that you leave my family alone. Alicia will try to kill them too, but I have already warned my wife. She will be gone beyond your reach now.”
Just as he said that, the loud booming sound of a ship leaving the port came.
The sound made the Oracle smile. “That ship is heading to our former colonies, with my wife and children on it.”
Nainoru nodded, unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. “I will tell Alicia that they were gone before I arrived. She will not know of their departure.”
The Oracle nodded. The blade was dropped as his body became weaker by the second. Slumping against the wall, he gasped, knowing that he did not have much time left.
Yarra saw all, her hand covering her mouth in horror as her heart and chest felt like it was twisting into a knot.
“And one more thing…,” he said, beckoning for Nainoru to come closer. He struggled to maintain the volume of his voice, almost rasping. “…I have seen your future.”
Yarra saw Nainoru gulp in anticipation. “Alicia will doubt your credibility one day, and you will be forced to run away from the Keepers of the Blades. One day, perhaps two centuries from now, a young girl will come to you with questions of her identity. She will have powers like mine.”
“Who is she?” she asked in hushed tones. She held on to the Oracle’s hands, his blood pouring onto her gloves and dress.
“She is to be my descendant,” the Oracle replied. “Tell her the existence of this day. If she is my true great, great-great-great-great granddaughter, she will have the ability to come back to this day and relive my memories.”
Just before he died, the Oracle looked over Nainoru’s shoulders and looked directly at where Yarra was standing. He winked at her, acknowledging the possible presence of his future descendant. And then he was dead.
Chapter-5
Answers
When Yarra came to, her body was drenched in sweat. Never had she
had a vision so long, and it had exerted physically and mentally. Nainoru was still sitting in her armchair, waiting patiently. Though this was the present version, Yarra could not un-see the younger Nainoru with the beautifully rouged cheeks and bright red lipstick; the vestige of once exquisite good looks in the now ancient-looking woman in front of her.
“What did you see?”
Yarra told her everything, from being in 18th-century England, right up to the moment when the Oracle killed himself with her blade. After she was done, the older lady sighed slowly.
“For almost two centuries, I held on to that secret. Now, I can die happy knowing that his prediction came through. It was amazing how he predicted something two hundred years into the future. That one day, his descendant would come knocking on my door for answers.”
In Love with the Enemy (A Rizer Wolfpack Series Book 4) Page 39