“You’d have spilled that blood anyway,” I spat.
“Likely. You found your bowls, hmm?”
“Where are the rest of my things?”
“I don’t know. Garbage, I suppose. I told Violet to take care of it.”
Violet ran the household, an older, sweet (as far as I could tell) she-wolf. At least it had been her who sorted my things.
Gabel came into the closet, casual as you please, and pulled his shirt off with one smooth motion.
His skin was a glorious, subtle bronze, except where it was laced with pale scars, and under the smooth skin, his muscles flowed like water. Three ragged scabs took up half his upper arm, immense and unmistakable and hideous.
“Master Of Arms Flint likes you,” he said casually, his strong back to me. “That is a large mark in your favor.”
“I’m an Oracle. I don’t need your pack’s approval, or yours, or Flint’s.”
His voice was warm with pleasure. An Oracle made his game more challenging than any other she-wolf could make it. “Exactly. And about that. I need you to do some work for me in the morning.”
“What kind of work?”
“An Oracle’s work.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I’ve had another room in the house, west facing, prepared for you. As best I could. I know you need to do most of the consecration rituals yourself.”
Spooked by his knowledge of such things, I flung back. “A pond would be best. Can I have the foyer?”
“That would be inconvenient. See how the room in the west wing suits you. If it doesn’t, we can talk about the foyer.”
He was being too damn civilized again.
“Are you refusing?” He asked my silence.
He was still my Alpha, and I was still his Oracle. My duty and vows demanded I obey the request. Those rules governing us worked both ways, and if I refused to comply, he could punish me justly, and my Oracle sisters would not intercede, and the Moon might not succor me. “Of course I’m not refusing. You just didn’t tell me what I’m supposed to look for.”
He turned to me, blue-green gaze searching for a weakness in my armor. “One of my packs is being evasive. I want you to see what you can see. I will give you pictures and names in the morning.”
“You still haven’t said what I’m looking for.”
“Anything.” He took off his belt and hung it neatly on a hook with twenty others.
“Oracles aren’t spies. I will probably not see anything absent a specific request.”
“No?”
“No. I need a specific question,” I said irritably. “Or specific problem. There has to be an intent to focus my gifts upon. Visions are like dreams. They have to be interpreted. It’s not like watching a security camera.”
The muscles of Gabel’s shoulders tightened and twitched. “I see. Then I will think of a specific question.”
He unzipped his pants and stepped out of them.
What... was he doing?
Then he took off his boxers.
I made a terrified sound.
He turned around. “What?”
My eyes yanked downward in their sockets to his... you know. Manly bits.
No! Don’t look at that!
I tore my eyes up to his ocean-like gaze.
“What are you doing?” I squeaked.
He wasn’t going to touch me. That’d be surrender to the Bond, so he had no reason to be naked. He stood there like being naked was no big deal. It wasn’t, normally, except we were in private, alone, the two of us...
“Going to bed.”
“Naked?” I wheezed.
“I sleep naked.”
I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me right there.
“As will you,” he informed me.
“Hell no!” My composure cracked. I’d sleep in the same bed with him if I absolutely had to, but naked was one step too far. “No!”
One of his scars traced the length of his left hip, like someone had tried to saw his leg off. “Yes, you will. It will make it more... interesting.”
“This is interesting enough. No.”
“Am I the first man you’ve seen naked, buttercup? Up close? Personal? Hmm?”
“Shut up! Don’t call me that. Don’t!” I finally covered my face with my hands and looked away. “Put some damn pants on or something.”
“We’re all naked under our clothes, buttercup. We can talk about this in bed.”
“No! I’m not sleeping next to you naked.”
“You are. Or I’m going to rip your clothes off you.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He advanced toward me.
I plastered myself against the drawers. “No!”
“Yes.” He grabbed my dress, his hand darkening and fingers elongating, and his fingernails extending into threatening claws between my breast. “Last warning, buttercup.”
He could partially shift outside of the ritual! I scrunched myself back, but the drawers wouldn’t yield further, and his claws grazed my flesh.
What are you?
“Pity. It does suit you.” He snapped the thin strap at one shoulder with a twitch of his half-shifted claws.
“No!” I shrieked and struck him. My fist hit his chest, he didn’t notice and snapped the other strap. I struck again. He grabbed the fabric between my breasts and yanked the dress down, and off my hips.
The silk drifted to the ground.
I snapped my knee up to nail him in his naked crotch. He blocked it with a muscled thigh.
“Don’t do that.” He leaned over me, growling deep in his throat, pressing me back with with his body, his human voice twisted up in his throat as human speech mixed with something feral and very, very dangerous.
My terror didn’t stop him or even cause him to hesitate. The Bond flailed like bridge cables in a high wind. It sang with distress but he seemed deaf to it. “This is how your challenge yourself?”
“Then take your own damn clothes off,” he growled at me.
“No!”
“Yes. This isn’t how I like to get a woman out of her bra and panties.”
“But you have before?” My voice shook so hard it bounced back and forth in my throat.
“I have never taken a woman against her will, and I’m not going to start with you. Just. Get. Undressed. My pack doesn’t pretend to be modest like a bunch of humans. I won’t have my Queen blushing like a stupid girl every time she sees a naked man. Get over yourself. It’s just a penis. You’d think it was a machine gun the way you’re squealing. It’s not like you haven’t seen more on male wolves in wolf form.”
My tears dripped onto my collarbone. It was different in human form, in private, with this creature that shared my soul.
He stepped back one stride and glared at me.
Tearfully, I unhooked my bra and dropped it. I pushed off my panties before my courage failed.
Miserable, violated, shaking, I turned my head from him.
He left the closet. “Come to bed.”
My tears punished him like he drank burning liquid that seared all his guts. His response was to pick up a book.
I cried for a long time.
The only small morsel of satisfaction was I did not sleep most of the night—and despite whatever sick enjoyment he might get from my pain, neither did he.
The Eye of the Moon
I said nothing at breakfast and just moved my oatmeal around in its bowl. Gabel murmured to Hix I was going to scry later, and best if I ate little, which was true, but not the cause. Each mouthful I managed to swallow flopped into the hollow within me.
After breakfast he took me out onto the stone veranda overlooking the gardens. I stood as far away from him as I could manage. The day was already hot and the air humid, and little gnats buzzed around my face.
He ignored my misery. “I’ve thought of the question.”
“What is it?”
“Yes or no questions are best, right?”
“Usually. The more specific, th
e better.” He needed to hurry up with this so I could get away from him.
“Is Alpha Anders of Gleaming Fang disloyal.”
“That’s the question?”
“That’s the question.”
No putting this off another hour to force him to do more thinking. “Do you have a picture of Anders?”
I was powerful enough I didn’t need a name to focus on, much less a picture or personal effect, but Gabel didn’t deserve any special effort.
Gabel nodded. “Yes, and a letter he sent me.”
Not even a tiny smirk or barb that morning. In his office he matter-of-factly handed over the picture and letter, then dismissed me with a flick of his hand.
The room he had set aside had windows along the far wall so the moon’s light could stream in as it crossed the sky. A thick rug had been placed in the middle of the otherwise bare room. There were no curtains on the windows and no other furniture. Everything had been scrubbed from top to bottom with harsh, natural soap.
“It’ll do.” I looked at Goon A. “I need salt. Rough salt. Like sea salt. And candles. Undyed are best.”
With luck, there would not be appropriate salt or candles in the house, and I could put off doing this.
But again, no such luck. The kitchen had rough, non-processed salt, and Cook had a stash of basic, tallow candles on hand. Gabel had been prepared.
“Let it never be said Alpha Gabel is not well educated. Except for not knowing how Bonds work.” I took the candles from Goon B with a sigh. “Leave, and don’t let anyone bother me. Even Gabel. I’ll be done when I’m done.”
Scrying was best done at night, but I was powerful enough that drawing curtains would be sufficient. This wasn’t a difficult question. If the Eye of the Moon was closed I’d be forced to wait, but hopefully, I could get this over with.
I unpacked my stones and bowls with great care once the salt had been sprinkled all around the room’s perimeter. I filled the bowl with water and set it aside, then contemplated my multitude of runestones. I chose the usual ones—inquiry, pack, protection—then one I almost never used: traitor.
I rubbed my thumb over the carving. After some contemplation, I cast it into the bowl as well, and sprinkled a little salt and then a tiny drop of frankincense oil into the water so it slid over the surface in a film. Normally I preferred jasmine oil, but jasmine oil had romantic overtones. I was afraid with my half-forged Bond it would cause problems.
I used one of the candles to pour wax onto the letter, then placed the candle over the folded letter and the print-out of Anders’ photograph.
Already I could feel the Moon’s gaze. I had half-hoped to be ignored, some evidence of Her anger with me to try to explain how I had found myself in Gabel’s presence.
It was just not my day.
I resettled myself on my knees and bent over my bowl. The scent of the oil met my nose., I felt little bits of flame from the candles, the pull of the Moon like I was the ocean’s tides. Slowly She tugged me out with Her, so I looked down into the bowl as She looked down upon us.
* * *
~*~ The Vision In The Bowl ~*~
* * *
The stone hallway stretched out before me. The stone was dark, granite-like bricks, with torches flickering the length of it. It smelled of earth and stone, and nothing else.
I turned around, but all that was behind me was a blank stone wall. No windows, just heavy stone doors set into grooves.
I set out down the hallway. Each of the stone doors had a rune carved into the door: balance, love, protection, pack. The fifth door had a rune on it I didn’t recognize. I traced my fingertips through the shape. It was warm and smooth, even though it looked rough-hewn. I touched the other four runes, and they were the same: warm and smooth, although rough in appearance. I rubbed them to try to figure out how they had been made.
Melting, perhaps? Yes, perhaps like a brand or stamp, and not like a carving.
At the end of the hallway the stone shimmered and dissolved into mist. I stepped through the mist, which was hot and painful, onto a shadowy stone perch overlooking a large stone box.
Within the box were many clusters of wolves. At the center was Alpha Anders, the largest of the pack.
He moved amongst his pack in wolf form. The rest of his pack mates were hidden, like they had been blurred. Around Anders’ neck were four collars, each made of a different color leather, and each one had multiple iron rings on it for multiple leashes. He seemed strong and healthy, but frustrated.
He moved throughout his pack, as a wolf going through his life, day after day. Sometimes the blue collar tugged hard at his throat, and he used a hind claw to scratch it. Other times, the red collar tugged, and he scratched that one, too. Occasionally, the green collar tightened, until he bowed his head and coughed. Just once the black collar twisted around his neck, and the iron loops moved as if a hand sorted through them trying to decide the best place to attach another leash.
It was dark outside by the time my awareness returned fully to my body. Time to go give Gabel his answer.
Goon A pushed open the door to Gabel’s office. The scent of rage hit me, and the sounds of footsteps pacing back and forth across the ancient carpet. Romero, Gabel, and Hix held court in the center of the room.
Romero turned his baleful look onto me. “This doesn’t involve you, Oracle.”
Hix glared at him. “She is Alpha Gabel’s intended. It is for him to say what involves her, not you.”
“She is his toy,” Romero spat. “I was there, you weren’t—”
“She outranks you,” Hix said.
“The hell she does!”
“She has my Mark,” Gabel interjected calmly, although his dark rage simmered underneath his civilized exterior. “You were saying, Second Beta.”
Romero snorted through both nostrils, disgusted at my presence, and ignored me as he spoke. “Forget this little farce. It just makes you look weak. We need to turn our attention to RedWater, not waste time scouting what already belongs to us.”
“Making sure that the SableFur are on their side of the pass and not having dinner with Anders is a good idea.” Hix said.
“The SableFur are always on their side of the pass. It’d be a compliment if they felt like they needed to come across the mountains to deal with us.” Romero barred his teeth at Hix.
“Reminding who Anders’ loyalty belongs to is also a good idea.” Hix stated, unruffled.
“Bah, lapdog.” Romero flung up his hands.
“RedWater is geographically challenging,” Gabel said calmly. “It is as large as Shadowless, perhaps larger, and isn’t isolated yet. Holden can fall to the south or east.”
“So what? We’ll chase him,” Romero insisted.
Gabel shook his head, a cruel smile playing over his lips. “Patience, Second Beta. Alpha Holden still has his pride.”
“So let’s go down there and make him choke on it!”
“No, we’ll let it swell a bit more,” Gabel disagreed, dark and pleased with the idea. “Dough has to rise before you punch it down. Let Holden make himself into a good challenge. You’ve been wanting one.”
Romero grumbled an affirmative. Gabel’s smile didn’t change, but the scent of power and ash around him intensified. He glanced at me. “Have you done what I asked?”
“Yes.”
“What did you see on the Tides?” he asked.
“It is for your ears alone, Alpha. Visions are only for the one who asked. You can tell them later if you wish, but they will not hear it from me.”
Gabel nodded and beckoned for the two Betas to leave. Hix obeyed without question, but Romero threw up his hands and muttered about things that could wait. Gabel’s smile turned into an amused smirk, and he shook his head like an indulgent parent before turning back to me. “So what did you see?”
“I was in a large stone corridor set with five doors. The door were marked with runes: balance, protection, love, pack, and one I do not recognize.”
&nbs
p; “If you don’t recognize it, how do you know it was a rune? Perhaps it was a Hunter’s pictograph.”
“I know all the standard Hunter pictographs. It’s required for Oracles. It might have been some other sort of sigil or symbol, like an old pack sigil from when those were used. I feel it was a rune.”
He retrieved a pad and piece of paper from his desk, and shoved them at me. “Draw it.”
I sketched the mark for him. He examined it, turning the pad over and over in his hand, then tossed it back onto his desk. “And then what?”
“At the end of the corridor, the wall dissolved, and I stood over Anders in his wolf form, going about his normal life. He wore four leather collars. One blue, one green, one black, one red. The collars had iron rings around them like to attach a leash to, but I saw no leashes. As I watched, the blue and red would tug at him and he would scratch. The black one turned around his neck as if a hand were trying to choose where to clip a lead. And the green would twist on his neck as if to strangle him. He would cough when this happened.”
“And?”
“That was the vision. There was nothing else.”
Gabel’s eyes darkened like a stormy sea. “That’s it. That’s not an answer. I gave you a simple question to ask. Yes or no. Not collars and colors.”
I flinched. “You decide what the vision means. Its your question.”
“You have had many visions. What should I make of this, Oracle?”
I looked out the window to avoid looking at him. “Collars are usually symbols of a master or obligation. They own us, restrain us, or compel us.”
“And all the collars were the same except for the color.”
“Yes, and how they affected him was different.”
Gabel scowled as he thought. Finally, he seemed to actually see me. “You look tired. Go to bed. I will be in in a few hours. I have work to do.”
As I reached the door, his voice told my back, “Remember. Naked. I do not want to rip your clothes off you again.”
Threat or no threat, I defied him and wore a tee-shirt and panties to bed. When he got into bed, I hoped he would turn over and leave me alone in the darkness.
The Alpha's Oracle Page 5
