Jonah’s eyes widened again. Cyrus’s words made his mind fly to that second vision.
“No, it wasn’t like—”
“Stop, Jonah.” Cyrus shook his head. “I’ve been in this world too long. As I said, whatever Hera showed you had some grain of truth and desire in it. Don’t try to lie to me, and more importantly, don’t try to lie to yourself. Let us proceed.”
He stepped out of the door and left. Jonah stood there for a bit. He wished that Jonathan could be that succinct.
Why didn’t he tell Cyrus about Hera’s offer? Was it that he couldn’t bring himself to do it? Or was there a small part of him that wanted to focus on the rewards and not the consequences?
It was Wednesday now. Hera gave him until the golden hour on Sunday.
He’d wanted this week to end as quickly as possible. Now he would have given anything to have more time.
Chapter Eight
Eva McRayne
I trailed behind Joey as my thoughts whirled around in my head. First, there was the interview, then the house itself. Now Jonah and Cyrus were having guy time upstairs after Jonah disappeared? It didn’t sit right with me.
“Come on, Evie.” Joey groaned as I lagged further behind. “You heard the man. We need to get back to Grannison. And time? She is a—wastin.’”
Waste of time. Isn’t that what I said when we discovered Jonah in that dark room? I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, tilting my head in an attempt to listen. I got nothing.
“Hey, go on to the car. I’m going to wait for those two right here.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Joey narrowed his eyes at me as he stormed back down the hallway. “You get into way too much trouble without supervision.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Fine. Stand here for all I care. I’m going to check that out.”
“Check what out?”
“That.” I pointed towards the end of the hallway. There was a door, barely visible in the fading afternoon sun. In fact, I’d missed it during our first walkthrough. “I want to know what’s in there.”
Joey caught my arm as I tried to go past him. He took one long look at the stairs before turning his attention back to me. “Camera?”
I grinned. “Where’s it at?”
“On the porch. Stay right here.” He looked down at me over his nose as he pointed a single finger at me. “Do not move a single inch.”
“Then hurry up. They will be down here any second.”
Joey jogged down the hall, out the door, and was back before I could cover the distance from the stairs to the mystery door. We slipped inside and closed it behind us. I held onto the wall as we inched down another flight of stairs. I’ll admit, I winced every time a board creaked. I was so sure that we would get caught for our exploration that I had to cover my mouth with my hand to hide my grin when we reached the bottom.
Joey tapped me three times on the shoulder, which meant he had night vision on and was rolling.
“We are in the basement of the Covington mansion.” I took a look as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Dust, cobwebs, I’m not sure if we’ll find anything here.”
I was just being honest. As we explored the basement, it was nothing spectacular. Boxes and forgotten belongings covered in sheets. I started to tell Joey that we needed to go back upstairs when I turned and ran right into a large oval mirror.
I scrambled back without a sound as Joey kept filming. I waited for the whispers to assault my ears. I waited for the faces to appear in the glass. Instead, a single figure appeared.
It was a man, his hair gray and neat. His clothing screamed Victorian Era. He folded his hands together before his face as he studied me.
“There have been whispers in our realm, Sibyl, that you would come to this place of sorrow. I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to encounter you myself.”
“Covington?” I frowned. “George S. Covington?”
“Yes, in the spirit.” He chuckled to himself. “There are secrets here, child. A power
I didn’t understand, but welcomed when I was in the flesh. The lines. They cross.”
“What lines?” I kept my eyes glued to the mirror. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course not. You speak to the dead, but you do not listen.” He shrugged. “At any rate, I have come with a message from your father.”
“Daddy?”
That term had two meanings now, but I breathed as I took a step closer. Although my abilities allowed me to speak with spirits, Apollo had blocked me from interacting with my parents. He claimed it was for my own good. They were a danger that could pull me into the spirit realm. I was still angry over his actions, but after I’d been pulled into Hera’s and Elliot’s trap, I understood.
“No, Sibyl.” Covington grinned. “Not your earthly stand-in. The Golden One.
Apollo.”
“My father was not a stand-in!” The rage was instantaneous. This haughty little spirit would not speak about my father that way, regardless of the truth.
Covington folded his arms. “Do you want the message or not?
I struggled against myself, and forced back my emotion. “Why would Apollo speak to you?”
“Well, that is the message!” The figure before me laughed. “He cannot assist you on the physical plane where the lines cross. He wishes you well, and has demanded that you listen to those who know better.”
Huh. Well, that was about as helpful as nothing. “Yeah? I'll try. But I’m not a very good listener.” I snorted. “Is there anything else?”
“Only—” He paused as if to get his thoughts together. “Beware of false affiliations, child. They will lead you into nothingness.”
“Ok. That was as clear as crystal. Nothing cryptic about that.”
The figure didn’t respond. He began to fade back into the darkness, so I grabbed the nearest sheet next to me to throw over the glass. My hand smacked against a hard pillar and I winced as I finished my task.
“Evie, I think we need to go back upstairs. I think I hear the thundering herd looking for us.”
“Just a minute.” I turned towards the object I hit. “Joey, can you shine your light over here?”
“Yeah, sure. But only if you’re quick about it.”
Joey pressed a button and the spotlight on the bulk piece of his shoulder illuminated
the object I had struck. It wasn’t a pillar. It was a gravestone.
I brushed away the dust to read the inscription. Edna Covington. B. 1792 D. 1827. In death, there is light.
“It’s the graves,” I whispered before I stood up. “There should be two more. An uncle and mother.”
I stopped as Joey swung the camera around to give me more light as I noticed the one thing I could never have noticed in the dark.
The walls were black. Strange symbols were scratched into the stone. I took out my
phone as I heard Cyrus calling for me.
“I’m down here!” I called back. “Joey, go grab them, will you?”
“Nope, I’m filming,” he responded. “You go.”
“Fine.” I pulled out my cell phone, pulled up the camera, and snapped pictures of the symbols closest to me. “These are important.”
“Eva!”
“Dammit,” I sighed as I started back through the basement. “I’m down here! In the basement.”
I stepped on something hard enough to be felt through my boot, so I knelt down, brushed the dirt away, and used the light from my phone to expose the object. It was a trinket of some sort. Metal. Dented. Unrecognizable.
And strange. I pocketed it before I resumed my flight to the stairs. Cyrus was liable to have a fit if I didn’t show up soon.
I burst through the door to see them heading towards the front. “Down here. You’ve got to see this.”
“Little One, we must return to Grannison—”
“In a minute, I promise.” I took his hand as he approached me. “Now come on. You too, Jonah.”
I didn’t pay attentio
n to them as I went back down the stairs. “Joey, I got them.
Joey?”
I frowned as I went back to the gravesite. “He was here just a minute ago. He wanted to film the symbols we found on the wall.”
“Symbols?” Cyrus had pulled out a small flashlight and held it in the direction I pointed. “I don’t see anything.”
“Look, I’m not making this up. And Joey—where’s—”
My words trailed off as I considered what could have been the true reason why Elliot had been so insistent we show up today. He needed to get Joey off of the estate grounds. He wanted me to witness my friend disappearing.
I snatched Cyrus’ flashlight from his hand to check the entire basement, but the further we walked, the more my hands started to shake. Finally, Jonah caught my wrist to take the flashlight away from me.
“Eva, give me that. You’re making my stomach turn.”
“Joey!” I called out into the darkness. “Dammit, where are you?”
I heard a thud in the corner not far from where I was standing, but before I could rush over, I saw Joey poke his head up.
“Geez, Evie. Calm down, will you? You’re ruining my moment of triumph.”
“What moment?” I rushed over to him, trying to decide if I should hit him or hug him. “You scared me, Joey. I thought—”
“That the baddies had gotten me?” He grinned. “Your reaction is sweet, but I’m kinda hurt that you didn’t think I would be able to fight them off by myself. Just because
I don’t have a ceremonial stick—”
“Shut up.” I grinned as I threw my arms around him. “What did you find?”
“This.” Joey held up a gold watch, still shining despite the dirt we were surrounded by. “Looks familiar, no?”
I took the watch as Jonah and Joey both shone their lights on it. My friend was right. It was familiar.
It was the same watch I’d given Elliot as a graduation gift a couple years before. It was cheap, but the only thing I could afford at the time. I flipped it over to trace the words I knew I’d find there.
Shoot for the stars – Love, Evie
***
I had work to do.
I waited until everyone else had gone to bed save me, Cyrus, and Jonathan. After assuring Cyrus I would not move from my post on the couch, he and Jonathan went into the next room for yet another secret discussion.
I spent the next few hours on my tablet, researching the symbols we had found at the house. Despite the intense briefing by Jonathan, Reena, and Terrence over dinner, I had kept my conversation with George S. Covington secret. So when I came up with nothing on the symbols, I turned my attention to the message he had given me from Apollo.
“Lines cross.” I muttered as I typed the phrase into the search bar. “What in the world could that mean?”
“What could what mean?” Jonah batted at my legs to make room for himself on the couch. “You know, talking to yourself is a sign of madness, Superstar.”
“So I’ve heard.” I scrolled through results that ranged from song lyrics to church websites. “Just—trying to put the pieces together.”
“Care to share? Or am I going to have to stare at the back of your toy while you play with it?”
“No. Not yet.” I lowered the tablet. “Why aren’t you upstairs? I thought it was past your bedtime.”
“One, I’m supposed to be glued to you, remember? A job I have failed miserably at this afternoon. And two? I can’t sleep.”
“So you came to talk? About what?”
“Nothing. Anything.” Jonah shrugged as he leaned back. “I’m not picky.” “Then I’m going back to my research.” I lifted the tablet up to start typing again when he interrupted me.
“Eva, can I ask you a question?”
“Ah, the ulterior motive.” I sat the tablet aside and folded my legs beneath me.
“What’s up, Blueberry?”
“What’s the power of immortality when life never ends?”
I blinked twice as I considered what he said. I knew what the Elevenths believed. I knew that death wasn’t a real occurrence. In a way, they were right. The spirits I had encountered all knew who they were for the most part. They were alive on their own playing field. I started to answer with a smart remark, but the sincerity in this man’s face was so strong, I couldn’t do it. So I sighed and tapped my tablet against my knees.
“Jonah, do you believe in the theory that energy can’t be destroyed, only changed?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jonah frowned as he leaned forward to link his hands together. “What does that have to do with my question?”
“Everything, really.” I sat the tablet on the nearby table and sat cross legged to face him. “Death is only a label we Tenth Percenters use to describe what happens when someone leaves the physical world. Some believe that’s it. That’s the end. Most can’t fathom the idea that they will lose their existence. This is where we come in. Both of us, in a way. We commune with spirits because we put energy into the belief that they are real. That energy helps them manifest for us. But we are only using our energies to call forth other energies. Whether it be the gods, monsters—or spirits.”
“So what’s the point of immortality?” “It keeps me on the physical plane.” I paused long enough to get my words in order. “The way I understand it, when I became the Sibyl, Apollo granted me the ability not to pass into Spirit, as you say. My physical body has been frozen to remain as it was when I was transformed. I’ll never grow old, never get sick. I’ll just be. Here, on the physical plane.”
I was expecting a snarky remark. Or for him to argue with me. Instead, he gestured to the watch I’d placed on the table next to my tablet.
“So what’s the story with Elliot? You up to telling me that one?”
I picked up the watch and rubbed my thumb over its face as if I could turn back time with it. I could still remember how embarrassed I was to give it to him, but how happy it had made him. He had worn it up until the day he found out about me and Cyrus. Then, it became discarded, just as I had been, when he decided we were over.
“We weren’t lovers, if that’s what you mean.” I put the watch back down on the table. “Elliot and I met at UGA. We were friends. Inseparable. That’s how I got involved in Grave Messages to begin with.”
“I thought you had your abilities before then.”
“No.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Elliot sold the show to his dad’s company just after we graduated. They needed a pretty blonde girl to refute Elliot’s paranormal findings. That girl was me.”
“But things changed.”
“Don’t they always?” I shrugged. “We had gone to a conference where my predecessor tricked me into saying the Sibyl’s oath. She died—I’m sorry—passed into
Spirit within minutes.”
“I don’t understand.” Jonah frowned. “If the Sibyl is immortal—”
“The current Sibyl is immortal. But Apollo blessed us with a way to free ourselves when we grew tired of the life we experience. The mirror must be passed down to another woman willing to say the oath. Once that is done, you either commit suicide or turn into dust.”
“Like those bad vampire movies from the ‘50s?” He grinned as I leaned up to punch him lightly on the arm. “Hey!”
“When are you going to tell me about your connection to the Covington house?” I fell back against the pillow. “Old history, I believe you called it.”
“When I’m ready. Which will probably be never.” Jonah cleared his throat, turning his head away from me and towards the door. “I wonder what they’ve been talking about for so long.”
“Things that neither of us will ever understand.” I reached for the remote on the coffee table when an alert went off on my tablet. I swiped across the screen, pulled up the alert, and groaned out loud. “Great. This is exactly what I need right now.”
“What?” Jonah tried to see the screen, but ended up taking the tablet away from me.<
br />
“Another threat?”
“No. Worse.”
I leaned over his shoulder to tap on the article Google had let me know about. I pulled it up for Jonah to see in all its glory.
The website was connected to a cheesy celebrity tabloid. Whatever. But it was the headline that made Jonah sit up straight along with the picture of the two of us standing close to each other on the porch at Covington.
Ghost Girl Spotted With Mystery Writer
“What? How?” He looked to me and back at the article so quick, I was sure he would sprain his neck. “What is this?”
I scrolled down, sighing as I read how a source told them I was in Rome, North Carolina filming an episode for Grave Messages, and how I’d stumbled across a new writer. There was even a quote from a Kenneth Quinn, some literary agent I’d never heard of. He swore a book contract to any man associated with Eva McRayne since he would have to be a man with connections.
“Yay.” I collapsed back against the couch. “Congratulations, Jonah. You’re now officially part of my world.”
“Will this—who will see this?” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.
“This can’t be news.”
“Oh, it is. To the right people.” I shrugged. “You get used to seeing yourself under fake headlines after a while. Besides, by the time the week is out, the gossip hounds will be onto someone else. I’m sure this will be forgotten.”
“Jonah? Can you come in here please?” Jonathan called from his study, so I snatched my tablet back with a snicker.
“Somebody’s in trouble.” I said in a sing-songy voice. “You better go before you make it worse.”
I laughed again as Jonah threw one last glare in my direction. I could have sworn I heard him utter one word as he walked past me.
“Brat.”
Chapter Nine
Jonah Rowe
The Oracle Series: Vols. 4, 5, & Grave Endowments Page 33
