Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book

by Carissa Andrews

  My tunic is splattered in blood and pulls awkwardly at my hips as I try to rush to this place of power—the vortex of Mnemosyne. The space is lit, but in my memory, I can’t tell how—it simply glows in a soft light.

  Pulling the dagger from my belt, I raise it to the cavern wall and begin my incantation without a moment’s hesitation. My fingers tighten around the hilt and my knuckles turn white as I etch the symbol into the rock. The blade’s tip digs in, grinding at the stone and casting away debris as if it were wiping away grains of sand. The act begins to charge the air—invoking Mnemosyne’s power. The power to forget—the power to wipe from my mind all of which can no longer be carried.

  My hands work quickly—assuredly, despite not being able to see through my raging tears. My heart and body ache—as though I may never be whole again.

  How can the universe be so cruel? How can it take him from me? How could she take him from me?

  Images of my husband, the man I married upon the approval of Apollo himself, lying limp in my arms—it will not escape my mind. They circle my every thought, my every breath—every uneven thump of my heart.

  He was meant to stay by my side for all time. We were going to be together forever. A promise was made to us by the daughters of the God himself. But now—now all is lost, and I’m left alone for all time.

  All because—

  We knew the rules—we knew we were breaking the standard Delphic Pythia decrees when we were married under the full moon. But I’m Apollo’s Oracle—and this role of mine—I was meant to be the first to be gifted a soul mate. Our love was meant to ease this burden of everlasting life of servitude and devotion.

  He was never meant to die—

  Sobbing uncontrollably, I clutch at my side, and fall to my knees. Pebbles from the wall continue to fall, peppering the ground the way rain hits the water. My tears strike the fabric across my thighs, mixing with the blood of my beloved.

  I slam the blade into the ground and without hesitation, I begin reciting my incantation.

  “Mnemosyne, mighty Goddess of mind and memory, wash away all awareness of Anastasios from my mind, body, and soul. Abolish all traces so not even the smallest of specs may slip past my gifts. Grant me the ability to begin anew and walk through this life oblivious to what I have lost.”

  Bending forward, I sink into child’s pose—my head resting on the rubble of the dirty cavern floor. My arms lay outstretched in reverence—in the hopes the Goddess will hear my pleas and take pity on me.

  When nothing happens, I repeat the incantation.

  Suddenly, the light cast upon the space extinguishes, and for a brief moment, a potent mixture of fear and relief floods my body.

  The air fills with a static electricity only a God or Goddess can produce. The scent of jasmine and rose petals permeates my senses and I thrust my hips back, sitting on my feet.

  “Daughter of Apollo, your pleas have been heard and a judgment has been made,” the voice of Mnemosyne echoes in my mind. “If erasing all evidence of Anastasios from your awareness is truly your wish, drink from the well of Lethe and all will be forgotten.”

  With that, the Goddess’ presence is gone. The dank, earthy smell of the cavern returns, as does the low lighting. As I turn around, a small pedestal raises from the ground. With a few tentative steps, I lean over the edge and look inside. In the center of the stone pedestal, a golden bowl the size of a small shield has filled with water so clear I can see myself in the bottom.

  Not wanting to dwell with a second more of this despair, I dunk my hands inside, forming a cup and scooping up as much water as my hands can carry to my lips. Droplets of deep red blood splash back into the bowl, tainting its clarity. Without hesitation, I drink the cool, clear liquid in—trusting it will wash away all the agony and sorrow as it hits the back of my tongue.

  When the water enters my stomach, I buckle over, groping at my midsection. Pain courses through my insides, and the impulse to gag threatens to regurgitate the memory-stealing liquid. I crumple down, lying on my side, as I hold on for dear life—not wanting to lose the ability to forget…

  My eyes pop open.

  Ripped from the vision, I pull my hand back and cast my flashlight to the floor. Even after all of these years, the rubble made by my own hand still lays against the cavern wall—just like it was in my memory. I swear, I can still see the place where I rested my forehead against the ground in prayer to Mnemosyne.

  Taking a deep breath, the realization I had a husband lingers with me.

  Anastasios.

  The name circles my mind, but still holds no significant weight. Not really.

  Yet, the unfurling of its significance takes hold and my stomach clenches. Flashes of insight flutter behind my eyelids and I begin to realize the far-reaching extent this decision has taken form.

  My lower lip tucks under my teeth as I close my eyes and witness Anastasios’ soul lifted from his body—then I follow it through the ages. Lifetimes morph before my eyes as I become a spectator to the myriad ways he’s walked this earthly plane since the moment we parted. I never even considered—never in my wildest dreams foresaw he would be reincarnated and find his way back to me. No wonder reincarnation has been another blank spot for me—it was still a part of him.

  All these years, I could have had him by my side, even if it meant finding him anew every time he died.

  Tears well in my eyes and my heart begins to crack under the significance of this revelation.

  I’m given the smallest glimpse of what could have been—of perhaps what could still be as a face flashes through my mind.

  Blake—

  It’s no wonder we’re connected. No wonder his dreams are eerily similar to my visions.

  He’s Anastasios’ latest incarnation.

  Stepping back in a daze, I blink wildly at the epiphany.

  My God—how could I have been so stupid? The blind spots in my past—my inability to form attachments—the inability to see or read Blake—it was all me. I’m the cause of it all.

  I deliberately blocked everything about him, so I wouldn’t have to go through eternity feeling his loss. And all I did was keep myself from ever finding him again.

  How idiotic.

  I’m no better than all those lovesick women and men who’ve been coming to my shop all these years. I’ve been healing their wounds and answering their questions—and all the while judging them for being so attached in the first place.

  I place my hands over my face and take a deep breath.

  “A choice befalls you, Pythia,” a voice rings out in my head. The Ancient Greek is eloquent and rings with the majesty of godly energy. Jasmine and rose tickle my senses. Mnemosyne has returned. “Choose now to relinquish the entirety of your gifts and you shall walk through the remainder of your days, a mortal—having forgotten who and what you truly are. You will be free to live and love. Or choose to further unlock your mind so you may keep your gifts and see things more clearly than ever before. By drinking from the well of Mnemosyne, all memories, awareness, and reach will flood back into your being. All broken memories and boundaries will crumble. With this choice, however, you must accept your immortality as you fulfill your higher calling to the aid of Apollo.”

  My eyes widen.

  Gain more potentially painful memories in order to keep my immortality and gifts? Or go about my life as a mortal and forget I ever had them? What kind of choice is that?

  Taking a deep breath, the realization of what this could mean washes over me.

  I can finally be free—free to live my life the way everyone else does. I can finally live and die. I could love without restraint. No more unbidden flashes of insights, or knowledge I shouldn’t have. My head can finally be as silent as it is when I’m with Blake.

  My head swirls with the heaviness of this choice—and yet, an immense weight feels lifted from my shoulders in anticipation of my answer.

  Of course, I’m going to choose to relinquish my gifts so I can be with Bla
ke and live a mortal life.

  After all these years, it’s an absolute no-brainer.

  17

  STANDING UP, I take a deep breath and take a final glance around the dimly lit space. I need some time to think and get a grip on everything I just learned. Shaking my head, I leave the sacred vortex. I set aside the partially unlocked memories and the realization of what I’m about to do. I’ve lived a long time. Decisions like this shouldn’t be made lightly, as there can be far-reaching consequences, obviously—besides, there are more pressing concerns. Like getting back to Blake before he realizes I’m missing and freaks right out.

  My heart trips over itself.

  For the first time in my life, I would be free to love. Free to embrace a relationship and not fear the impending conversations. Of having to leave before they realize I don’t age. Or staying with them and watching them grow old and die. Pretending to be a daughter, a granddaughter, neighbor, or friend just so I can continue to be near them.

  Blake and I could have a real, normal chance at something, if that’s where this is all leading. And how could it not? He's my soul mate, after all.

  My footsteps are light as they carry me purposefully through the tunnels. With my new memories, I don’t have to remember the way I’d come—my body instinctively knows and does the work for me.

  It takes less than ten minutes to return to the place I’d left Blake, but the closer I get, the more concern creeps over me.

  How long have I been gone? Has he come back for me already and wondered where I am?

  Glancing down at my watch, I realize it’s been nearly forty-five minutes since I parted with him.

  Much, much too long.

  Running the last leg of the journey, I come to a screeching halt when I get to the location and it's completely empty.

  “Blake?” I call out. My voice cracks slightly. “Are you here?”

  The echo of my words against the cavern walls is my initial response.

  “I can be Blake for you, darlin’,” a man says, leaning casually against the cavern opening. His ruffled up plaid shirt splays open, drawing the eye to a stained wife-beater beneath.

  Shuddering, I ignore him completely and walk out into the main opening of the Korykion Cave.

  There aren’t as many people mulling about as there were earlier. My eyes scan from crowd to crowd, searching for his dark hair or perfect ass—anything to guide me to him. There are still enough people standing around that it takes me a few moments to verify Blake isn’t amongst them.

  Racing out into the lower hanging sunlight, I draw my hand to my forehead and scan the surroundings.

  What do I tell him what I’ve learned? Do I freak him the hell out with my revelations? Or do I wait until we're more comfortable with one another?

  God, he's gotta be so pissed I left without telling him where I was going.

  But wow, I'd say it was worth it.

  Craning my head around, I shield my eyes from the setting sun and survey the area for any sign of Blake.

  But he isn’t here, either.

  He’s literally nowhere in sight—and I know without a doubt, this is not like him. Even if he thought I was missing, he would have started with local authorities and made sure he was standing nearby in case I still met up. He wouldn’t just leave.

  My heart thumps unevenly in my chest and begins to skitter off like a deer running from the sound of gunshots.

  What if something happened to him? I can’t lose him now—not after everything I’ve just learned.

  I sit down, closing my eyes as I try to use my abilities to find him. The familiar energy of accessing my gifts begins to rise up my spine, tingling along my neck and making the tiny hairs stand on end.

  At first, my mind circles around the cavern and tunnels leading in and out and around the area. Everything looks so familiar as I view all the places I’ve just been to. But I’m suddenly blocked by the big flashing Mnemosyne symbol as it blocks my mind from accessing anything related to Blake and his whereabouts.

  “Dammit” I spit, hitting the ground with my closed fists. “There has to be a way to find him—or contact him. He wouldn’t just disappear like this.”

  Raking my fingertips across my forehead, I can’t help but swallow back the arising hysteria.

  His cellphone—he had his cellphone on him.

  Blinking away my dread, I stand up and rush to the nearest tourist with a cellphone in their hand. The man stands back, taking a photo of the view from the Mount Parnassus and I tap his shoulder.

  “Excuse me? Do you speak English?” I ask, desperations bleeding into my words.

  The man nods, “Sure. I’m from Kentucky.”

  “Do you mind if I use your phone for a moment? I’ve lost a friend and I need to find him.”

  “Why don’t you use your own damn cellphone?” he asks, clutching the device close to his chest and giving me an indignant look.

  “Well, I would, but I don’t have one,” I say, biting back my inner bitch so I can get what I want.

  “You’re not one of those anti-technology freaks, are you?” the man says, eyeing me nervously.

  I throw my hands up in exasperation, “Ugh. I just need to find my friend. Can I have it or not?”

  The guy actually snorts in my face and walks away, muttering under his breath, “I ain’t a phone booth, bitch. Didn’t your momma teach you manners?”

  My jaw slacks open wide and I search for anyone else with a phone in their hand. A woman down slope has her cellphone out as she takes some photos of her kids against the backdrop of the skyline.

  Racing down to meet them, I skid to halt.

  “Excuse me,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “do you—do you speak English? I need to find a friend. I was wondering if I can use your phone to try and locate him. I’m getting worried something happened to him.”

  The woman and two kids turn to look at me. Their dark, heavy eyebrows kiss their hairline as they stare back at me in surprise.

  “Please?” I repeat, pointing at the phone.

  The woman looks down and nods—clearly not understanding anything else I’ve said but understanding what I need.

  “Thank you, thank you,” I repeat, walking a few steps away from the three of them.

  Taking a deep breath, I clutch the device in my hand. I stare down at it, trying to figure out how the hell to turn it back on.

  Dammit, I really should have figured these stupid things out by now.

  Blinking back tears, I start pressing every button on the sides of the black box. The woman walks up to me, gently resting a hand on my shoulder and pointing to the middle circle.

  Through her touch, I get glimpses of her life. She and her two children are here on vacation from Turkey and this is the first time they’ve been to Greece. Though I can—I don’t need to speak her language, because the energy binding us all is universal.

  I touch the button and the screen flashes to life. My body trembles, but I nod my head.

  “Thank you—er—teşekkür ederim,” I breathe.

  The woman presses something on the screen and the dial pad pops up.

  Taking a deep breath of relief, I freeze. I don’t know Blake’s number.

  “For fucksake,” I curse. “Can’t anything just go right?”

  Why didn’t we think of this? Why didn’t we have a plan in case we got separated? How idiotic are we? I don’t even know Aiden’s number—

  “Aiden—” I practically scream.

  The woman beside me steps back, surprised by my sudden outburst, but I can’t worry about that now. I need to connect with Aiden and lift his number somehow—or a way to reach him.

  Closing my eyes, I reach out to the universe, asking for guidance back to Aiden. I hone my senses so they narrow down all the information beginning to assault my awareness. A Helena telephone number raises into my perception and my fingertips instantly start dialing.

  The first attempt ends in a screeching sound, telling me I need to a
dd a country code to dial out. A new, longer number flits in my mind and I redial.

  Clutching the phone, my fingertips dig into the sides of the metal and plastic as I wait in anticipation.

  Finally, the phone rings—a breakthrough in communication for me.

  “Hello?” Aiden’s voice fills my ear.

  Relief washes over me and I breathe out.

  “Aiden? It's Diana. Quick, have you heard from Blake? Or do you have his number?” I blurt everything out as quickly as possible.

  “Diana? Wha—what time is it?” Aiden says, his voice groggy sounding.

  “Oh my God, I'm so sorry. It's still the middle of the night over there,” I say, shaking my head.

  Aiden clears his throat, “It's okay. What did you need again?”

  “I can't find Blake. We split up for a bit and now I have no idea where he is. Stupid me, I didn't think to get his number in case of emergencies. Do you have it?”

  “Are you both okay?” Aiden says, alarm playing at the edge of his tone.

  “I'm fine, but I really need to find Blake. You haven't heard from him, have you?”

  “No, I haven't. Okay, you got a pen and paper? I’ll give you his number.”

  “I don't, but I'll remember it. Go ahead,” I say, eyeing the woman whose phone I'm borrowing as she edges a little closer. Impatience is starting to take root in her aura and I'm going to need to make this quick.

  Aiden rattles off the number and I curse myself for not having a pen. I really should write it down, just in case I can't pull the recall, thanks to Blake being a blind spot.

  “Thanks, Aiden. I gotta go.”

  A tiny protest echoes from the phone as I pull it away from my ear, but he's not my concern. I have to call Blake before this woman gets pissed.

  Hitting the red button, I turn to her and hold up my pointer finger.

  “One more call. I'll be super quick,” I say in Turkish.

  Her eyebrows scrunch in and she takes a step away, saying something to her kids as she jabs a thumb back my direction.

  As quickly as I can I dial the number again. Kicking up dust as I pace back and forth, I wait as the connection picks up and the line starts ringing.