The Oracle Series:
Volumes Four, Five and Grave Endowments (with T.H. Morris)
Cynthia D. Witherspoon
Story ©copyright Cynthia D. Witherspoon 2015
Cover art: Farther Away by Hannah Elizabeth; Creative Commons. Edited for cover use by Cynthia D. Witherspoon.
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Table of Contents
Volume Four: The Thief
Eva McRayne thought she’d be close to Elliot Lancaster forever. But one twisted mind and a vengeful goddess changed all that. Now, she will have to fight for her sanity as Elliot pushes her to the ultimate limit.
When Eva is forced to return to her hometown of Charleston, South Carolina, she learns that the past can be used against her in the worst way possible. The binds of love she thought served to make her stronger can be her downfall.
And memories can serve as the strongest of chains.
Volume Five: The Guardian
Knowledge is power.
Everybody knows that. But as Eva McRayne continues to recover from her last encounter with Elliot Lancaster, the sins of the past have come back to haunt her.
When Eva is awarded by the Gods for her dedication to them, she discovers there is something more dangerous than power.
The spotlight.
Grave Endowments (with T.H. Morris)
Cross the Line.
Jonah Rowe knew he didn't know everything about his life as an 11th Percenter, but he knew enough to not believe in the myths and fairy tales of the Greek Gods. Those were stories for kids. Hollywood.
Until the Sibyl came along.
Eva McRayne wanted nothing more than to get back to her life after a senseless tragedy derailed it despite the Greek monsters after her. So when she and her crew go to Rome, North Carolina to film an episode for Grave Messages, she has no idea that she is walking straight into a trap.
One that only Jonah Rowe can help her escape from.
Volume Four: The Thief
Prologue
Kassandra, Former Princess of Troy
The Sibyl was exactly five rows in front of me.
I could see the girl from my dreams sitting at a table in the front of the room. Despite the crowds clamoring to ask her questions, she held the air of someone who wanted to be anywhere else but where she was. Not that I could blame her. I’d come to this conference two days before. I’d suffered through classes on spiritualism. Pagan rituals. Even, dare I say it, the pantheons of the Olden Days.
These modern souls knew nothing of our gods. They told rehashed stories softened over time to be shared with children. Yet, I knew the truth. I had suffered greatly at the hands of our shared patron deity as most often do.
I will not discuss the manner in which they dressed during these modern times. I found it all to be quite horrifying.
“Alright. Can we get another question for our panel?”
A man in a t-shirt that labeled him as a superhero held the microphone. He pointed to a girl dressed in Grecian robes. An obvious costume. Not even the most desperate woman of Hellas would have worn such a thing. She was passed the microphone and almost dropped it with her nervousness.
“Miss McRayne. My name is Riley. I have to tell you I’m a huge fan of Grave Messages. It’s such an honor to get to see you in person.”
The girl at the table tilted her head as she waited for the question. Even from a distance, I could see the strained faces around her. Three men, two more women – all who claimed to be conduits for spirits. Except the crowd wasn’t interested in them. They were here for one person and one person only.
Eva McRayne. The Sibyl. Daughter of Apollo.
“Anyway,” the audience member gushed. “I wanted to ask you what it felt like.”
“What do you mean? What does what feel like?” McRayne tapped her fingers against the table. “Being the Sibyl?”
“No, well, yes. I mean.” The girl shook her head. “Talking to the dead. It must be surreal.”
McRayne closed her eyes for a second before she glanced up at the ceiling. I'm sure she was asking for patience. When she finally answered, she smiled.
“It’s like talking to you right now, Riley. You’re a fan of the show and I’m grateful for that. Talking with you is special. That’s what it’s like to talk to the dead. Special.”
The girl squealed and almost dropped the microphone before the man took it from her. I couldn’t help but shake my head. We had heard talk of Hera’s contact with the Sibyl. How this one, solitary creature had managed to steal the Queen of the Heaven’s knowledge. It seems she stole much more than that.
The Sibyl had stolen her charisma as well. The crowd applauded McRayne until two of the panel members got up and left the room. McRayne watched them go before turning her attention back to the audience.
“Was it something I said?”
Laughter. More applause. Those who had attended the panel on spirit communication were not disappointed in the entertainment the Sibyl offered them. I raised my hand as the other three panel members left the room but the moderator had other ideas.
“Eva.” He jogged down the aisle between the seats and up the stairs to face the only participant left at his table. “Tell us again how you became the Sibyl.”
The girl with the golden eyes winced. “Do I have to?”
“Please.” The man gestured out to the crowd. “I’m sure that our guests are dying to hear it from you.”
"They always are." The girl closed her eyes once more. "Fine. I'll tell you. It's not like my transformation is a secret or anything."
The Sibyl. The great Crusader who had vanquished the Erinyes and Hera herself looked as if she were in pain for only a second before her crafted mask fell back into place. She twirled a golden strand of hair around her finger before she began to speak.
“It was here at ParaCon two years ago. We had just gotten the go-ahead for Grave Messages and I was nothing. I’m still nothing. But I was sitting right there when I knocked over Kathy Carter’s laptop and she changed my life forever.”
The girl pointed to a seat in the front row. The man sitting there now leaned forward as if she had tugged on a string. She dropped her arm, folded her hands before her on the table, and continued.
“Kathy Carter was my predecessor. She tricked me into coming up onto this stage and saying the oath of the Sibyl on Apollo’s mirror because she was tired of life. According to Cyrus, she had taken the mirror over a hundred years before.”
Cyrus of Crete. We all knew the infamous Keeper of the Sibyl. Once a great general for Greece, he too had suffered Apollo’s wrath. I smiled at the thought. The Golden One had long been a favorite in Olympus but his gifts often turned out to be curses. Nothing gained from his hands was ever truly golden. Only gilded.
Just as I had discovered so very long ago.
“I didn’t believe it at first.” McRayne shrugged. “I mean, who in their right mind would? You can never look into a mirror again without seein
g spirits? I thought I’d hit my head and suffered a concussion.”
“What changed your mind?” A voice called out from the enamored crowd. “Was it Cyrus?”
“Partially.” The girl nodded. “But it was hard to deny the faces I began seeing in the glass. I couldn’t ignore the whispers circling around me. Those whispers became the centerpiece around Grave Messages. I mean, if I was going to be hunting for ghosts, then I might as well listen to what they had to say instead of letting them drive me insane.”
Listen. Deny. Insanity. I clenched my hands at her choice of words. This girl knew nothing about denial. She had the entire world listening to her every utterance. No one dared to call her mad.
Not as the world had done to me. I spoke the truth and was condemned for it.
I swallowed back my own hatred. This was not why I had come to New York. Nor could I allow my spite to overwhelm me. Despite my dislike for the Sibyl, we were both products of a vengeful god. Apollo had cursed me just as he had cursed her.
Eva McRayne would listen to me. She would believe me. I could feel it.
I waited until she finished her tale before I stood up.
“May I speak with the Sibyl?”
The moderator bounded off the stage until he stood in front of me. Hera’s gift of immortality had preserved my beauty and I used it to my advantage. I brushed the red curls off of my face before I took the microphone from him with a soft expression. I watched the desire arise in his eyes and I knew I could get anything I wanted from him.
Men, no matter how high they rise, will always prove themselves to be savages.
Once I had the microphone, I turned my attentions onto the girl. I waited for the world to grow still. I waited for eyes to go blind to my surroundings. I willed my ears to deafen to the soft sounds of the audience around me.
Flashes of prophecy burst behind my eyes when I began to speak. I could see the girl struggling against the worst enemy she had ever been forced to fight.
Herself.
“Sibyl, daughter of Apollo. A messenger will come after a great devastation. Yet, we are sisters, you and I. Both corrupted by Apollo. Twisted into unnatural beings. As such, I have come to give you a warning. You suffer from the hands of a vengeful creature.”
“Ok.” The man tried to take the microphone out of my hands. “That’s enough. You will not speak to Ms. McRayne…”
“There will be much woe, Daughter of Apollo. You will suffer.”
I tried to wrestle the microphone out of the man’s grasp. Two large men joined him on either side until he had won his precious device back. I turned towards the stage to see that the girl had stood up. Her beloved Keeper had appeared by her side within seconds.
“Do not wallow in ashes!” I screamed at the girl as the men began to pull me away. “Or else you will fall! Do not fall, Daughter of Apollo! Do not fall!”
Chapter One
Eva McRayne
Today had not been my best day. No, scratch that. This had not been my best month. This single, solitary day had only added to my frustration as I wandered through the abandoned halls of the Westchester School. I knew the source of my negativity. I knew that Elliot Lancaster’s return from the dead was the reason behind my confusion. But damned if I knew what to do to make things better.
Granted, the red-eye flight from New York to Oregon last night had done little to soothe my anxiety. And the woman’s warning when I was sitting on that panel yesterday?
Let’s just say I’m still trying to forget about it. Cyrus had brushed her off as an overzealous fan. Normally, I’m the first to agree with him. I mean, come on. There are countless nut jobs in the world. And each one of them seemed to adore the spotlight.
But I couldn’t brush aside the terror in her face when she had spoken. And her warning kept creeping up into my mind no matter what I was trying to focus on.
Which was, at that particular moment, the Westchester School in Bellevue, Oregon. Elliot had called before Paracon was over to tell us to pack our bags and get to the airport before midnight. He had told Leyton he wanted us to start filming the very second that the sun went down. So we went to work before the wheels touched down on the tarmac. Joey and I read the files our Research Group emailed to us. Leyton discussed the layout with his Keeper, Elizabeth, to ensure he wouldn't fall when he did his walkthrough. It was crazy. Hectic. Thrown together with as little preparation as possible.
Not that I’m surprised. It had been this way since Elliot had sauntered into his daddy’s office when he should have been in the grave. Appearances to filming. Filming to appearances.
My life wasn’t glamorous. It was hell.
I stumbled over a pile of trash gathered in the middle of the hall with a grunt. Cyrus caught my arm to keep me from falling forward but I shook him off. Usually, the presence of my beloved keeper worked wonders to calm me down. But lately, not even he could smooth out my aggravation. I whirled around to face the camera following behind me.
“Joey, there is absolutely nothing here.”
“Nothing?” Joey Lawson peaked around the big black device on his shoulder. Even in the darkness, I could see the frown on his face. “Evie, how can you be sure? You know, Leyton said…”
“That I would come across a monster in this place.” I finished for him before crossing my arms over my chest. “Please. You know how dramatic he gets. I don’t feel anything. I don’t hear anything. I think Elliot sent us on a goose chase.”
“You do projection so well, dear Sibyl.” Leyton Northfield’s chipped voice filtered through my earpiece. He had returned to the school office where we had set up the production crew to watch the three of us on the monitors. “I am never wrong. You aren’t searching in the right area, that’s all.”
“Really? Where would you like for me to look? We’ve been in this damned building for over three hours, and I haven’t heard so much as a whisper.” I walked up to Joey’s camera and pressed a single finger against the lens. “If you know where we need to go, then get your butt out here and lead the way.”
“Thanks, Eva.” Joey snapped at me as he jabbed at a button on the side of his camera. “You got your grubby fingerprint on the glass.”
“Alright, you two.” Cyrus stepped in between me and my cameraman before I could snap back. “I think we all need to take a moment to rest. Neither of you has gotten much sleep over the past few days.”
Days? Try weeks. I was so tired, my entire body ached. I couldn't focus. I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to go home and crash on my couch until I was forced to move from it.
Joey turned on his heel to stomp down the hall towards the office. I huffed before I started to follow after him. Joey and I rarely snapped at each other. So I was determined to find out what was bugging him aside from the fact that I’d touched his precious camera.
“Joey Lawson!” I called after him. I saw a shadow against the wall ahead of me and went towards it. “You get back here and talk to me.”
I stopped in front of the wall where I caught sight of the shadow. Joey was going in the opposite direction. I shook my head at Cyrus before I took off after my friend. I found him setting his camera down on one of the chairs set up in front of the monitors.
“So…” I put my hands on my hips. “What the hell, Joey?”
He glanced up at me before taking out a rag from one of his massive equipment cases. Joey ignored me as he plopped down next to his camera and put it in his lap with all the care reserved for a child.
“There is a great level of unease here. It is affecting you both.”
Leyton Northfield, my new co-host swiveled in his chair to stare in my direction. Blinded by Zeus back in the day, he had joined up with Grave Messages not to help me with his magnificent ability to tell the future, but because he was bored. He gave me a smug smile as he continued.
“Of course, the two of you were at odds long before we arrived in Oregon. Tell me, is it the Skinwalker?”
The Skinwalker. I shuddered despite my
self when Leyton used the term for what Elliot had become. You see, Elliot Lancaster once filled Leyton’s spot. He was the creator of my television show. He had been my co-host. My best friend turned ex-boyfriend. But jealousy and fear had twisted the man I’d known into someone dark. He had sacrificed a man to Hera in order to become one of her many monsters.
And monster he was. Elliot had been granted abilities no man could possess thanks to his oath to the Queen of the Heavens. I rubbed my hands over my face as I remembered our fight in Great Falls, Montana. I remembered how horrified I’d been when I realized I had stabbed him. I remembered my anger as I called out Hera for what she truly was. Yet, the worst memory I had was how Elliot had appeared at our offices in Los Angeles as if nothing had ever happened.
Sure, he put up a great front. The man had missed his calling to be an actor. He attended events with us. He did his job as producer to perfection. But we all knew what he was. We all avoided him like the plague and Cyrus? He refused to let me out of his sight when Elliot was around. Not that I could blame him. Elliot was volatile. There was no telling what he would do if he had the chance to hurt me.
To be honest, I was waiting for the monster to reemerge. The one who swore he would see an end to me after I had chosen Cyrus over him.
Yeah. I know. My life would make for a great soap opera. All I needed to seal the deal on that would be to throw in a few illegitimate children and a mysterious twin who appeared out of nowhere.
“Leave them be, Tiresias.” Cyrus warned. Despite our alliance with the Seer, my keeper refused to call him Leyton. He preferred to call my co-host by his true name. “They are exhausted and afraid.”
The Oracle Series: Vols. 4, 5, & Grave Endowments Page 1