“Apollo, yes. Some have called him that. Sun god, my ass.”
“So I’m right?” I tried a tentative smile, hoping she didn’t ask for dates since I had none. On the balance, I’d do better if she asked me to recite the periodic table. That, I could do. There was even a song; I’d performed it for the mandatory junior high jamboree. For some reason, it didn’t make me wildly popular.
“Indeed. If you’re unfamiliar with the ritual, you present the tribute and then ask me a single question.”
Was the Oracle part of the gift Kian wasn’t sure I would want? Why? Unless her prophecies drove you crazy or she carried the curse of not being believed—no, that’s Cassandra. A glance at him told me nothing; he was pulling vials and phylacteries out of his jacket pockets. The Oracle settled on the floor nearby, staring into the smoke; her expression was vacant and rapt at the same time.
“I’ll handle the offering,” he said softly.
He mixed the liquids and powders into a paste that shimmered with radiance like sunlight shining through harlequin quartz. His hands were graceful as he painted symbols around the fire. I didn’t recognize them, but the atmosphere changed. The Oracle straightened, her posture shifting from silent ennui to quivering excitement, and then she crawled around the circle, her tongue snaking out to freakish length. She lapped until all of the runes he’d drawn vanished beneath each slithering, serpentine swipe. Before my eyes, she … changed, her skin glowing like mother of pearl, and the smudgy lines drawn on her body sharpened as her lips warmed to a ruby hue. The tangles in her hair became like an intricate tapestry, and what I had taken for twigs and leaves now seemed to be gemstones and gold leaf. The crazy thing was, I wasn’t sure when my eyes deceived me—then or now.
“It has been so long.” It was both a groan of protest and an exultant cry.
I swallowed hard. Never had I been more conscious of how deep I’d fallen into a situation I didn’t understand. So many questions, unsatisfactory answers, and that was when I knew exactly what to ask. If this was a gift, then I’d take full advantage.
“You understand the terms, Oracle. You’ve feasted. Now answer.” Kian stepped back then, leaving the exchange wholly up to me.
The woman-thing turned to me in a sinuous movement. For a few seconds, it was as if she had no spine, as if she were a female torso mounted atop the swaying body of a snake. I blinked through that hallucination, and she had legs again, but the smoke stung my eyes. I was feeling a little light-headed, too. Kian set a hand in the small of my back and I exhaled.
Most people would probably ask about their own future, but I needed to know more about the game and its players. Wedderburn wanted me to meet with the Oracle for some reason; therefore, with care, I should be able to turn the situation to my advantage, and nothing was more pertinent than figuring out how to navigate these fiend-infested shadows.
God, I hoped I wasn’t blowing my one chance, but this query seemed like my best bet for an answer of true substance. “Since you’re not human, what is your nature?”
The Oracle laughed. “Clever, clever girl. So many pilgrims, and year upon year, they ask, Will I bear a son? Will he be king? Will my true love come? These are questions written in water, too many futures dancing in the smoke, for I can say yes and yes and yes, then you cross a bridge or do not cross, and the picture changes.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“Let me tell you the truth, human girl.” The Oracle moved around the fire, arms twining over her head, in a complicated yet artful dance. “Before things are tangible, they are ideas. I … am an idea someone had, long ago, bound to flesh. Their belief made me real and once real, I had agency.”
“I read a theory once—that human belief is a kind of … energy, and if that enough people sign on, like with an urban legend, it can actually happen.” I didn’t say that I had been on a conspiracy site at the time, one with forums for alleged alien abductees, Bigfoot spotters, and other crackpots.
“Humans have long breathed life into nightmares and creatures of legend,” the Oracle said. “Some fade. They break apart as a new god rises. Others are eternal and immutable, once unleashed.” She bared her teeth in a chilling smile, sharp as shards of bone in a suddenly grotesque face. “How does it feel, knowing that, human girl? That so many of the monsters that stalk your streets are man-made?”
“Good,” I bluffed. Because anything that came from mankind can be undone by us. At least, I hoped that was true. I had so few certainties left. “Thanks, this was enlightening.”
Kian drew me away from the circle in a movement too quick to be coincidental. “We need to go. Now.”
“Why?”
He pulled on my hand, yanking me toward the dark mouth of the cave. “Once the question is asked and answered, the terms of the truce are concluded, and the Oracle’s free to fight for her freedom. Run, Edie!”
THE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES
Pillar of salt. That was the only thing I knew about looking back, so I didn’t. Something sliced the air behind me, snagged my hair but Kian pulled me forward. There was a painful tug when the lock ripped free and I dove forward into the darkness. I landed on the floor outside the vault with Kian beside me. He kicked the heavy door shut and then rolled over on his back, breathing hard. Blood trickled from my scalp.
“This might seem like an odd question, but … can she do anything with my hair?”
“Like what, make a creepy doll?”
“Like … sympathetic magic.”
“No, voodoo’s not among the Oracle’s abilities.”
That made me feel marginally better as I pushed to my feet. “Why the crap didn’t you tell me it would turn into a hunt at the end?”
“I suspected it might freak you out, so you wouldn’t be thinking clearly when it came time to ask your question. That was amazing, by the way.” He paused, then added, “Don’t worry, I would never have let her hurt you.”
I accepted that with a nod, but I had so many questions. “Why do some things dissipate and others become permanent?”
He shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say it depends on the amount of energy they’re fed before the belief fades.”
“That makes sense.” It bothered me that I had no way to test and verify these hypotheses, and I hated operating under such much uncertainty. But I knew more now than I had before, and I suspected Wedderburn hadn’t anticipated that I’d ask the Oracle about the supernatural world. If I had to speculate, I’d bet he suspected I’d want to know about my brilliant, valuable future. Unpredictability was a pitiful advantage, the only one I had.