The Oracle Series: Vols. 4, 5, & Grave Endowments

by Cynthia D. Witherspoon

  The one who shoved him grabbed his throat and lifted him as though he weighed nothing. When he was eye-level, the red-eyed, sagging face morphed back into the gorgeous façade of Smoky Voice. The face contrasted massively with the emaciated and gaunt body.

  “It would have been more enjoyable for you if you’d just said yes,” she told him in a voice that was restored once again to sultry. “But it makes no difference. Now, you die.”

  The words caused a memory to flash across Jonah’s mind. It felt like an electric shock in his brain.

  “Death isn’t real,” he grumbled.

  He conjured all the concentration he could, and willed his batons to appear in his hands. It was a hunch, but if this place made no sense, then actions could be far-fetched as well.

  Miraculously, they appeared right in his hands, and even cackled with blue current from his spiritual endowment. The wraith-woman’s false visage slipped as she witnessed the phenomena. Jonah took advantage of the opportunity to crack her ragged jaw. She cried out and released him.

  Jonah had no idea what was going on. But he knew that every memory he had

  before was a lie. He wasn’t an author with a fancy house and women fawning at his feet. He was the Blue Aura.

  The confused as hell Blue Aura, but at least he knew who he was.

  “STAY BACK!” he roared. “I’ll break your bones! They look brittle enough as it

  is!”

  Strangely, they didn’t even register his threat. Even the one who now only had one eye regarded him with alarm.

  “What is this?” said the one on the left. “What manner of mortal are you, Jonah

  Rowe?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” said the one who had had the Smoky Voice disguise. “Kill him!”

  Jonah knew that fight time was over. It was flight time now. He didn’t know where to go, but it had to be anyplace else but where he stood. Spinning on his heel, he fled—

  And sat bolt upright in his bed, struggling this way and that. He nearly rolled off of the thing as realization hit him.

  It had been a dream. A dream. A dream.

  As he repeated it in his mind, his heart rate returned to normal. His breathing slowed. He settled back into his own skin and was himself again.

  That had been one of the most vivid dreams he’d ever experienced. What brought about that dream? He hadn’t watched anything freaky on Netflix, he hadn’t had spicy food before bed—he hadn’t done anything that warranted such insanity.

  It had to be random. It was a random, sick dream that was now over.

  “Yeah,” he said aloud. “It’s over. Get a grip, Jonah.”

  The sound of his own voice calmed him a great deal. Everything was cool. Hell, that dream may have the makings of a novel.

  With a snicker at that, he moved to straighten out the sheet that had been twisted all to hell when he’d thrashed.

  “Ow, damn.” There was discomfort below his knees. He threw off the sheet to inspect, and froze.

  On the lower half of his legs were multiple cuts and lacerations. He didn’t feel them until his legs brushed the cover, which must have aggravated them. The cuts were in the same places where he’d felt pain when he’d been shoved into that briar patch in the dream.

  A thrill of horror overtook him, and he grabbed both of his batons from the nightstand. Blue current danced up and down the things, but he took no notice of it as he stormed out of his room with one destination in the forefront of his mind.

  He reached Eva’s door and burst in without preamble. She made an exclamation before she swung her sword at him. He instinctively blocked her weapon by throwing his batons up in an X formation. So she hadn’t been asleep, it seemed.

  The two of them stood there breathing heavily, sword on batons.

  “What the hell have you brought on us, McRayne?” Jonah whispered.

  Eva shook hair from her face, clearly confused. “What the hell are you doing in my room, Rowe?” she shot back. “And what’s the deal with these blue glow sticks?”

  Jonah had neither the time nor the patience for circular conversation. “Answer the damn question!”

  “What are you talking about?” Eva shot back.

  “Bitch, you’d better start talking!”

  “Bitch—?” “Whoa there!”

  Jonathan and Cyrus stormed the scene. They must have overheard things unfold.

  “What is going on here?” Cyrus demanded. “Jonah, lower your batons!” “Hell no!” snapped Jonah. “Superstar here would have cleaved my head in two!” “You were the one who came in here blue blazing!” shouted Eva.

  “Lower. The. Weapons.”

  Jonathan spoke with such absolute authority Jonah and Eva complied in spite of themselves. Even Cyrus gave him a double take.

  “Now then,” said Jonathan in his usual tone. “Get to the family room, right this minute. I’ll summon Bast to rouse Joey, Terrence, and Reena. Explanations for these behaviors are in order.”

  Chapter Four

  Eva McRayne

  “Why the hell am I in trouble?” I hissed at Cyrus as we followed Jonathan and damned Rowe down the hall. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re not in trouble.” Cyrus placed his hand on my lower back. “By god, Eva.

  You’re not going to be reprimanded. But we do need to know what is going on here.”

  “Yeah? Well, it sure does feel like it.” I huffed. “What was he thinking, barging in like that? I really would have cut him to pieces if he hadn’t been armed.”

  I didn’t want to tell Cyrus what Rowe had said about me bringing trouble to their doorstep. I knew that already. Hell, I’d warned them all about the darkness that seemed to follow me. But did Mr. Smartass want to listen? No.

  I watched the object of my irritation fall into the chair across from the couch. There were three cats sitting so still by the stairs, I thought they were statues. When everyone had reconvened into the family room, Terrence looked between us with a stunned expression.

  “Jonah, did you really go into Eva’s room armed?” He seemed to stare at me a little longer than necessary before he turned back to his friend. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Before anymore words are spoken,” Jonathan reached out and beckoned to Rowe,

  “your batons.”

  Rowe handed them over, never taking his eyes off of me when Cyrus spoke up behind me.

  “Little One, your sword.”

  Two could play this game. I glared at Rowe as I lowered my weapon to the coffee table. I’d be damned if he saw me relinquish it. Even to Cyrus.

  “Well, now. That’s done.” Jonathan took a spot between the furniture where Jonah and I sat. “Now Jonah, explain yourself.”

  “Gladly,” snapped Jonah. He launched into a story about the dream he had about three women who wanted him. I rolled my eyes and started to assure him that I had nothing to do with those women until he concluded by lifting up his sweats. His legs were covered in nicks and cuts from the knee down. I watched as he studied his friends as if waiting for them to speak, but he spoke to the wrong audience. Joey clasped his hand around my arm as we both recognized the horror that had happened to Rowe.

  A person was most vulnerable to attacks when they were asleep. Elliot had attacked me through my dreams before I had been sent to the Academy. If it hadn’t been for Hecate’s tutelage, I'd be a demented fool right now.

  I tried to wipe the fear off of my face and mirror the confusion on the other faces around me, but it was hard. I knew Elliot had enlisted the help of Pasithea, the wife of the god of sleep, to gain access to the dreamscape. But it was surprising how quick he had been to attack Rowe. I didn’t want to admit to myself that the man had been right. This was all my fault.

  Truth be told, the only occupants in the room who showed no emotion were

  Jonathan and Cyrus. I jumped when I heard the admiration in my keeper’s voice instead of the anger I expected.

  “Congratulations, Jonah Rowe.�
� Cyrus broke the tension that filled the room with a voice of concern and respect. “You encountered the Sirens, and are still here to tell the tale.”

  Jonah glanced over at his friends once more. The woman still looked confused, but Terrence seemed to have eaten this up.

  “Look Cyrus,” Jonah leaned forward on his elbows as he began. “I don’t believe this crap, but despite myself, I’ll humor you. I know about the Sirens because I read about them when I was a kid. They lured men to their ruin at sea. In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t the sea. And on top of that, the Sirens tempted men by singing. I assure you, there were no tunes.”

  “Right you are, Jonah,” agreed Cyrus. “But times do progress. It’s a ‘brave new world,’ as people say. Do you think the gods and the monsters don’t adapt as well? You don’t think that the Sirens’ temptations can’t be just as effective on land? And who said they always had to sing to a man to get him to compromise his morals?”

  Jonah turned away from my keeper as if he was ignoring him, but I wasn’t. I stared at Rowe as I realized the one thing I would have known if I’d paid attention to Cyrus’ lecture about the Eleventh Percenters on the flight to Raleigh. These people were strong. Far stronger than I had given them credit for.

  I felt my expression soften, so I closed my eyes and willed the bitch in me forward. I couldn’t get close to them. I wouldn’t start admiring them. It would be deadly for them if I did.

  I had to remember that more than anything else.

  “A more interesting thing, though,” continued Cyrus, “is Jonah’s ability to resist them. Older, wiser men have fallen victim to the seductions of the Sirens. They fill your mind with false experiences, sometimes leaving no trace of the true memories. How did you manage it?” “That would have to be attributed to Jonah’s ethereality.” Jonathan beamed at his pupil with pride.

  “‘Ethereality?’” I opened my eyes with a snort. “Sounds like something off a cheap perfume commercial.”

  Yeah. The bitch was back. I knew my words had hit home when Jonah straightened up in his seat.

  “Well, see, Superstar,” he had regained his bastard form as well, “for those of us who have an I.Q. higher than the Kardashians, ethereality is something that keeps us physically alive.”

  Ok. That one hurt. I narrowed my eyes at him when Jonathan broke in.

  “Now, Jonah.”

  Jonathan stepped forward as if we were about to go at each other’s throats again. It might have happened if Jonah put my intelligence on par with a damned Kardashian again. The leader of this little ragtag group cleared his throat as he continued.

  “I think that this would be an opportune time to implement some of the anger control techniques Felix taught you these past few months. Eva was kind enough to explain the inner workings of her abilities as the Sibyl. Would you please share the

  Eleventh Percent with her and Joey?”

  Jonah’s mouth twisted. He shifted in his seat as if explaining his abilities was the

  last thing on earth he wanted to do.

  “If you aren’t up to the task,” Jonathan spoke with an obvious annoyance, “I’ll gladly ask Reena or Terrence to do it—”

  “No, I got it,” interrupted Jonah. “I’m good. Now, Joey, Superstar, we are what you call ethereal humans…”

  He went on from there. He told us about them having access to the extra portion of their brains. Told us about interactions with and influencing the spiritual world. Told us about how “death” was just a label we “Tenth Percenters” used, and that that transition was actually someone passing into Spirit, going from a physical life to a spiritual one. I felt Joey tighten his grip around my arm as Jonah explained how they believed that some spirits and spiritesses stayed on Earthplane and the Astral Plane while some decided to cross on to The Other Side. It was at that point that Joey interrupted.

  “Other Side?” he repeated. “You mean like the Underworld? I’m just trying to keep up here.”

  “No, son,” said Jonathan. “The Other Side isn’t a place that any of us can access. People don’t return from there once they go. The Underworld is an entirely separate matter. Jonah, please continue.”

  Jonah cleared his throat, and kept going. I was with Joey. I tried to wrap my mind around how Eleventh Percenters couldn’t see spirits of other Eleventh Percenters, nor could they see the spirits of people that they were emotionally close to. He concluded with how some spirits enjoyed bouncing between Earthplane and the Astral Plane.

  When he was done, I couldn’t help myself. His explanations were too damned close to what I had experienced as my time as the Sibyl. But I wouldn’t let him know that. Instead, I began to cast looks on the strangers that were about as skeptical as the ones they’d given to me when I explained my own abilities.

  “So let me get this straight.” I leaned back against the couch so that Joey would be forced to loosen his grip. He was trying hard to show he wasn’t rattled, but in the process, he was leaving bruises on my arm. “You people are like some glorified superheroes or something?”

  Jonah gritted his teeth, but Terrence chimed in before he could respond.

  “That was awesome, Jonah,” he said. “But I’ll help you out now, man. Jonathan, is that okay?”

  Jonathan opened his hands in a welcoming gesture. He looked like a proud parent who had just successfully launched a child into the world. Reena, on the other hand, looked skeptical.

  “You’re sure, Terrence?” Reena asked. “I’ll wrap it up, no problem.”

  “Nah nah, I’m good.”

  Clearly, he did not want to be deprived of his chance to impress me. I hid my smile behind my hand. Some fans were annoying. Others were adorable in their hero worship. Terrence fit into the latter category.

  “Eva, Joey, our access to the ethereal world lets us use powers when we have spiritual endowments,” he began. “We’ve been endowed all day, and when we touch things made of ethereal steel, they gleam with the color of our aura. Here.”

  For a reason known only to himself, Terrence already had weapons ready. He passed Reena a dagger, and pulled steel knuckles out of his pocket. The weapons turned yellow for Reena, and burnt orange for Terrence. I sat up again when I saw the weapons begin to glow. It was beautiful, dangerous, and thrilling all at the same time.

  “As you can see, our colors,” announced Terrence. “Tenths’ aura colors change at the drop of a hat, but for Elevenths, the color is always the root of our personality. I’m burnt orange, Reena is yellow, and Jonah is the Blue Aura.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Jonah despite the fact that I was talking to Terrence. “The

  Blue Aura? Is that like a big deal or something?”

  Jonah interrupted Terrence before he could open his mouth. “Supposedly, it’s a very big deal, Superstar. I’ve been told that I’m only the eighth Blue Aura in history. I’ve been at this a few years and I still don’t have it all figured out. I’ve got gifts on top of gifts that

  I didn’t even ask for.”

  I stared at him as a strange feeling of kinship and respect washed over me. I clasped my hands together then rubbed my thumbs over each other as I whispered my response. “I can relate.”

  No. I won’t. I couldn’t. I gritted my teeth, unlatched my fingers, and began tapping them against my knee.

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. Tell me about these powers you all seem to possess.”

  “Eleventh Percenters all have powers that are brought about by the ethereal world,” explained Jonathan. “But all have areas of expertise. Signatures, if you will. The aura colors that you see here are three of many, though Jonah is the only one that’s blue. Terrence has strength-based skills. Reena can alter her speed, create cold spots, and read essence. Jonah has…many gifts. The most prominent gift is balance, which is one of the things that the Blue Aura is all about. It’s that balancing power that saved him from the Sirens. It regulated his mind, gave him glimpses of his true self, and kept him from weakness.”

&
nbsp; “That may be true, but it’s only a partial piece of it, Jonathan.” Cyrus still stood behind me. Still held onto my shoulder as if to keep me upright during this mess of a conversation. “To overcome the temptations of the Sirens, one must have a tether to their true nature. A powerful tether. Something to reel them in, if you will. So Jonah has abilities that include balance? Excellent. But there was definitely something that pulled him back from succumbing. What was it?”

  Jonah swallowed. He visibly swallowed. It was as if Cyrus had asked him the secrets of the universe and expected a response.

  “It—it was something my Nana used to say,” he answered. “The women in the dream—or whatever it was—were a little too eager and willing to let me have my way with them. It seemed to be their only thought. Nana used to say, ‘Watch out for women who are hot in the pants and empty in the head.’ She used to say that all the time. That was in my head when they tried so hard to get me to join them.” Liar.

  I bit my lip to keep my mouth shut. It was true that I depended on Cyrus to tell me what I needed to know about the monsters I dealt with, but I wasn’t completely stupid. Rowe was hiding something. I could feel it.

  Cyrus sounded so pensive that I glanced up to make sure he was alright. “Wise woman, your Nana,” he told Jonah. “Family influence, particularly positive ones, are definitely powerful tethers. Even across planes of existence, your Nana still saved your life.”

  I rubbed my hands over my eyes as a sharp pain filled my heart. Family influence

  and tethers hadn’t been enough to keep me tied to my parents. I took a deep breath and began to count until the pain lessened. It had been months since the murders, and I’ll admit, I’d made progress. But damned if it didn’t kill me when I was reminded of them.

  Joey piped up from his spot beside me. He leaned forward to clasp Terrence on the back.

  “This is intense, man!”

  “How do you think I feel?” responded Terrence. “I’ve been exposed to ethereal things my entire life!”

  The new bosom buddies broke into a conversation all their own, so I ignored them. I clasped Cyrus’ hand to squeeze him against me. I needed to feel him next to me. I needed to feel the sweet security his presence provided.