Oracle (12 page)

    
It was only
proper for her to be plagued by the dead of this realm. Billions upon billions,
all lost. It was because of her brothers, of course, but still she did feel
some guilt in the matter. She should have suspected they would betray her.
Especially
Ishkael
. Her blindness to their coming
treachery was part of why so many worlds were wiped away. She would never make
such a mistake again.

    
Shirelyn
stepped onto a street, cracked and rutted but
still intact. Sand skittered across the toes of her boots. This realm would be
her seat of power once she was queen. She had no desire to reclaim her birth
land. Too many bad memories. That realm was best leveled and transformed into a
great desert to stand always in memory of what her brothers had done.

    
A grim smile
touched her lips. Once her brothers were conquered, she would burn their bodies
and scatter their ashes across the desert which was once their home. They had
sought so hard to rule over it, let them have in death what they could never
claim in life.

    
A noise
separate from the cry of the wind caught
Shirelyn’s
attention. It was as if a stone had been disturbed by a misplaced foot. She
paused, her lavender gaze searching the ruins for the source. Nothing of its
kind had been heard here in time untold.

    
Ishkael
stepped around the side of a nearby building. He
looked exactly as she remembered. Dark black hair with a fringe purple falling
across one silver eye. The other flashed in the sunlight as he grinned at her.
“Hello, sister dear. It’s been far too long.”

    
“You
can’t be here,” she said. “This is my dream.”

    
“And yet,
here I am.” He strutted toward her, the chains on his leather jacket rattling.
“Mish wouldn’t approve of me using my powers this way, but I had to see you
once more before the realms fall.” He looked her over with a critical
expression.

    
“I think
I prefer you in real life,” he said. “This ethereal, saintly look doesn’t suit
you at all. Too soft.”

    
“Why have
you come?”
Shirelyn
took no fear in his presence,
only great puzzlement. “You couldn’t kill me in the waking world and you
certainly can’t kill me here.”

    
“Killing
you was never my first thought,” he said. “I know you believe the Cataclysm
will aid you better than it will us, but you’re wrong. Still, I look forward to
facing you once more in the true flesh.”

    
“As I
look forward to facing you,” she replied, “and watching you die. It is all you
deserve for what you’ve done.”

    
“Your
words tear my heart.” He placed one gloved hand to his chest. “Do you truly
blame me for all this? I made you an offer once. Had you not turned me down,
none of this would have happened. All these realms destroyed, all the lives
lost, are on you and your vanity.”

    
“I should
have killed you the moment you first spoke those words to me,” she said. “But I
was weak. I yet viewed you as my brother and I refused to see the evil in your
heart. No more. Now I know what you are. And
Mishkael
as well. You have poisoned this world and so many others. You will not do so
again. I will see to that.”

    
He
laughed. “Do you really think a few higher powers on your side is going to win
the day for you? Sister dear, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

    
Shirelyn
stared back at him in serene silence until his
smile lost a touch of its confidence. “Poor
Ishkael
,
you never learn. You waste precious power to come here with the intention of
what? Intimidating me? As if that were possible. You are nothing but a sad, wicked
little boy playing at being a man, as you have always been. And I tire of
trading words with you.”

    
She
turned her back on him then, but could not resist tossing one more barb over
her shoulder as she went. “It’s a pity
Mishkael
didn’t come to me all those years ago with the offer you made. To him, I might
have said yes.”

    
His hot
glare bore into her back, but his rage was impotent here. This was
her
dream.
Her
realm. And though he had violated it with his presence, he had not
enough power to fling more than words at her here.
    

    
“You will
live to regret refusing me,” he shouted after her. “I will see to it.”
     

    
Petulant
words she had no intention of answering. She had spoken all she meant to say to
her brother until the day came when he was on his knees before her begging for
his life. Then she would speak to him the last words he would ever hear before
she removed him of his head. What a fine day that would be.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

    
Brandon
lay on his back gazing up at the velvet sky. The most empty sky he had ever
seen. Beside him,
Nephima
sat absently stroking her
talisman with her thumb as she stared at the glowing temple in the distance.

    
They were
alone on this side of the fire. The others were near, and yet they seemed far
away, lost in their own thoughts. Fresh meat had left Brandon feeling full and
yet not content. Boredom was swiftly creeping in again.

    
“What are
you thinking about?” he asked, looking over at
Nephima
.

    
For a
long moment, she didn’t reply. Anyone else would have thought she hadn’t even
heard them, but Brandon guessed she was trying to think of how best to answer
the question. Which was fine with him. She was an intelligent woman, after all,
and those with intelligence think before they speak.

    
“Since I
was given this talisman,” she said at length, “the power it offers me has been
part of who I am. Here, without it, I feel different. Weaker. Almost lost.” Her
brow dipped. “I didn’t know how much I’d come to depend on it.”

    
“You
don’t need any old talisman,” Brandon said. “That’s not you. Back there in the
woods, fighting those creatures,
that
was you. It was beautiful.
You
are
beautiful.”

    
Nephima
let her hand drop away from the talisman as she
turned her dark brown gaze on him. “You really mean those words. Don’t you?”

    
“I never
say what I don’t mean.” He grinned up at her. “You and me, we make a pretty
good team, huh?”

    
The
corner of her lips twitched. “You fight well, for a human. But you’re a strange
one.”

    
“I’ve
heard it before. I’ll likely hear it again. If we live through all this, that
is.”

    
“You
think we won’t?”

    
He
shrugged. “Remains to be seen. But I get the feeling something about all of
this is a little... off. Sometimes, things seem one way, when really they’re
another.”

    
“What do
you mean?”

    
“I don’t
know what I mean,” Brandon said. “Only that I mean it.”

    
Nephima
shook her head. “As I said, strange.”

    
“It doesn’t
hurt to have a strange friend or two,” Brandon said. “I’ll make your life more
interesting. And you can always trust me to have your back. I take care of my
friends.”
 

    
“What
makes you so certain I’m your friend?”

    
“I don’t
know whether you are or not,” he said, “but I’m yours.”

    
“It
doesn’t work that way,”
Nephima
said, with the
faintest hint of humor in her tone. “One person can’t be friends if the other
one isn’t.”

    
“Who
wrote that law?” Brandon asked. “I’ll be friends with whoever I want, whether
they like it or not. Ask Jesse if you don’t believe me.”

    
“Jesse
isn’t here.”

    
“No, he’s
not.” Brandon stared moodily at the sky again. “I wonder what he’s doing right
now. If he were along, I’m sure things wouldn’t be so tedious. The most
interesting things happen around him. Like meeting you. And chasing off a
nightmare. And getting drawn into this grand story. I wish he wouldn’t have
gone back to Marigold. This realm is so boring.”

    
“Perhaps
you would have preferred to die back there on the trail,” Reaper said. He had
slipped up on them unnoticed as they talked. “Death is the last great
adventure, after all.”

    
“Death is
no adventure.”
Nephima
glared at him. “It’s an
ending. If anything better waited on the other side, why would we fight so hard
to cling to life?”

    
“I never
said it was better,” Reaper replied.

    
“Well,
maybe we’ll fail to stop the Cataclysm and everything as we know it will come
to a crashing halt,” Brandon said. “That would be interesting.”

    
Nephima
shook her head. “Only you could find interest in
the end of all worlds.”

    
“The
Cataclysm is no more an ending than is death,” Reaper said. “Both are simply a
new way of existence.”

    
“You
speak almost as if you don’t want to prevent it,”
Nephima
said.

    
Brandon
had to laugh at the expression on Reaper’s face. “She makes a good point. Now,
we all know why I might not care whether or not the worlds come to an end, I’m
not all here,” he tapped the side of his head. “Or so everybody tells me. But
you,” he pointed at Reaper, “shouldn’t feel the same.”

    
Reaper
transferred his look to Brandon. “Both of you would do well to keep such
thoughts to yourself. You’ll upset our companions.” This was all he had to say
on the subject apparently, as he walked around the fire and began rousing the
others in order to continue on with their journey.

    
Nephima
watched him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think we
should trust him.”

    
“Oh,
surely not.” Brandon sat up. “We’d be fools if we did.”

    
She
turned her head. “But you are one of his followers.”

    
“I was
raised a Death Dealer without anybody asking me if it was what I wanted,”
Brandon said, all trace of humor gone from his demeanor. “Same for being
trained as an assassin. But I accept them. I even enjoy the latter. But I do
not know, nor have I ever, followed Reaper in the way you mean. He may be the
patron power of assassins, but he’s not
my
patron. I wouldn’t follow a
man who fashions himself the embodiment of death. Elder power or not.”

    
“I’ve
never seen you so serious,”
Nephima
said. “I didn’t
think you could be.”

    
“There
are a great many things about me you don’t know. But if you’ve a mind to hang
around, I’d show them to you. In the meantime,” he grinned his careless grin,
“I find it impossible to stay serious for too long. It’s so dull.” He bounced
to his feet and offered her his hand.

    
Nephima
gazed thoughtfully up at him for a moment, then
took his hand and allowed him to pull her to his feet. They were standing close
together and if Brandon had been at all experienced in the art of it, he might
have stolen a kiss. He did want to, very much. But it seemed a bad idea, in
case she wasn’t so inclined. Oh, how he wished he could look behind her eyes
and see what was going through her mind right then.

    
She
stepped away, her hand slipping from his. But he carried the feel of it there
with him as they put out the fire and departed their campsite.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

    
“I’m not certain
this was wise.” Charles paced as he spoke. “Did you see the expression on
Richard’s face? I think he would have killed Jana on the spot had
Daniella
not dragged him from the throne room.”

    
A smile
played about Victor’s lips. “
Daniella
looked upset as
well. I don’t think even she expected Robert to have told Jana about his
plans.” He sipped his wine. “They know they’re going to lose the crown.”

    
“Maybe.”
Charles paused to stare out the window. “If I don’t have an “accident” or
suddenly take ill. They might outright murder me, you know. I don’t put it past
them. Especially Richard.
Daniella
has managed to
keep a tight rein on him in the past, but it doesn’t mean she has total control
over him. He hates me like no other.”

    
“I doubt
you need fear for your life.” Victor sat his glass on the table. “Richard is
brash and hot headed, but he isn’t a complete fool. He has to know killing you
now would look suspicious. And if he doesn’t know it,
Daniella
will tell him. Don’t underestimate the power she has over her brother. If he
holds the crown he’ll be king in name only, she’ll be the one running the
kingdom. Make no mistake about it. ”

    
Charles
braced his hands against the sill. “Then perhaps it’s
Daniella
I should be worried about. She’s not going to stand idly by and watch the
throne slip out of her fingers.”

    
“Oh, I’ve
no doubt she has any number of tricks up her sleeve,” Victor said. “But she
isn’t going to win. Not this time.”

    
How easy
for Victor to be so confident when it was not
his
life on the line.
Suppose Anastasia and Simon succeeded in preventing the Cataclysm, only to
return to find him dead? They would be devastated. And besides, Richard would
no doubt go after Anastasia again. Simon was certainly qualified to protect
her, but what a mess it would make of their lives.

    
“You
will
win the throne,” Victor said. “With the queen vouching for you, the High
Priest can make no other choice.”

    
“I don’t
know.” Charles turned from the window and slumped into a nearby chair.
“Everyone knows of the contentious relationship she shares with her
stepchildren. Her word alone may not be enough to convince the High Priest to
choose me over the Crowned Prince.”

    
Victor
shook his head. “You are far too young to be so consistently pessimistic. Try
having a little faith in a fruitful outcome. It can’t hurt.”

    
“Nor can
it help.” Charles rubbed the spot between his eyes. This situation required all
of his concentration to stay on top of things, but his mind was divided. He didn’t
want to be thinking of the throne now. He wanted only to be with his sister and
Simon.

    
“You’re
thinking about Anastasia, aren’t you?” Victor asked.

    
Charles
dropped his hands into his lap. “Am I so obvious?”

    
“Any man worth
living puts the needs of his family above his own,” Victor said. “We have to
look after them and protect them and worry over them. It’s our duty.”