I See Me (Oracle Book 1)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  So I slipped out into the hall instead. I was planning to use the excuse of needing the bathroom, while hoping that Beau forgot that the bedroom came with an en suite. I found him propped up against the wall opposite the door, asleep. Even sleeping, he looked exhausted.

  All I had to do was get across the hall and into any room on the other side of the house. At least, that was the plan.

  I very, very carefully closed the bedroom door behind me until I heard the latch click. Maybe they’d think I was still inside. Maybe I’d get just enough of a head start. I only needed to set foot in the parking lot. To see Blackwell see me. Once Blackwell had seen me, the vision had to change. It just had to. No matter how childish and ignorant my logic sounded to my own ears.

  No matter that — according to Beau and my visions — the house was full of powerful people who supposedly knew what they were doing.

  I couldn’t show them the sketches. Because if I went to anyone, all they’d see was what they wanted. They wanted Blackwell. They wanted Blackwell so badly they were willing to be in the same room as each other, despite whatever circumstances had led to the rift between them. If I had the time, I could probably piece together those circumstances from the sketches in my book and the sketches waiting for me to finish them in my portfolio.

  But I didn’t have time.

  Because they would find me. They would take the sketches and the necklace. They would use Beau as bait. He would go willingly. He would risk his life if he saw the possibility to save mine. I didn’t understand the nuances, but he’d already risked his life by bringing me to Portland in the first place.

  They would do all of this with the best intentions and under the guise of keeping me safe from Blackwell.

  I knew this, because I’d already seen how it ended.

  As long as I had the necklace and dealt with Blackwell myself, I believed I could change the future.

  I had to stop staring at Beau and start moving. Just looking at him now, his head slumped to one side in heavy sleep, made my heart ache. If he opened his eyes and looked at me, I’d never be able to leave him.

  I looked away, steeling myself for the next moment I had planned. I needed to execute that plan without dissolving into a pile of mush.

  I took a single step that separated me from Beau. Very, very quietly, I placed the bundle I’d been crushing in my left hand next to Beau’s open palm. I refused to acknowledge the similarities between this sight of Beau’s hand, limp with sleep, and the vision of his hand, limp in death, that was burned into my mind and rendered in my sketchbook.

  I desperately wanted to touch him. To run my fingers along the creases and hard ridges of his work-callused hand, to feel the warmth of his skin. But I didn’t.

  I straightened as soundlessly as I could. The bundle, which consisted of the Brave’s keys rolled within a note I’d written, lay beside Beau’s hand on the granite tile.

  I’d planned on leaving the note behind in whatever room I managed to escape from, but this was better. He’d see it as soon as he woke. My gamble wouldn’t play into the wrong hands.

  I thought he’d understand the significance of the gift, even though with his mechanical skills, he probably didn’t need the keys to drive the Brave. But if I was screwing up and wasn’t going to make it back to him — if I couldn’t have the RV, if I couldn’t have Beau — at least he’d have what little comfort I could offer.

  The note read:

  I see meeting you at the Brave — Rochelle

  I’d wanted to write something about love, but I’d never actually written the word deliberately before, and I wasn’t sure I could pull it off without melting down now.

  The note — and the lie I’d committed to paper — would hopefully help save Beau’s life.

  It took me ten steps to reach the powder room. My sneakers were well broken in, and as supple as rubber-soled shoes could be. They didn’t squeak on the wooden floor, but I really should have taken them off and put them in my bag. Each of the ten steps I took along the hall was paired with a thump of my heart. I was worried that even that tiny sound would wake Beau.

  I shut and locked the door to the guest bathroom behind me. The walls and ceiling were wallpapered, making it seem like I was standing inside a wrapped gift box or something. It was pretty, but I didn’t spend one extra second looking at it after I ascertained that the frosted window opened.

  Unfortunately, the window was also alarmed. I stared at the little white box sitting level with my nose on the windowsill, completely unobtrusively. It was in two halves, one attached to the sill and one attached to the window, and designed to separate and trigger when the window was opened.

  If I had a pocket full of tools or a tiny bit of Beau’s know-how, I might have been able to remove the alarm, or to trick it somehow. But I didn’t. I was also really running out of time.

  “What else are you going to do, Rochelle?” I whispered.

  I had wolves to elude, a sorcerer to find, and Beau to save. I didn’t have time for second guesses, or to worry about whether or not the future could be unmade at all. Causality, fate, and destiny were just too much to think about, ever. I could deal with what was in front of me at any given moment, acknowledge the results, and then move forward as best as I could.

  I opened the window.

  I had to strain upward on my tiptoes to push it out all the way, but it opened wide enough that I could fit through.

  I didn’t hear anything, but I didn’t wait to see what kind of silent signal I might have triggered. I’d seen how fast the shifters could move, and I was fairly certain they could snap the lock on the bathroom door without even thinking about it.

  And Jade … Jade could move even faster. Too fast for even Desmond to track.

  I climbed up on the pedestal sink. I stuck my head through the window while lying on my belly. The ground looked really far down, but thankfully the window was partially obstructed by a bush with broad leaves.

  I swung one leg up and over the windowsill. I awkwardly lifted my upper body to follow. I hung there, clinging to the window frame, one leg in the bathroom and one leg out.

  The lock on the door popped.

  I froze at the sound. I should have dropped. I should have run, but I didn’t. Instead, knowing it was too late to do any of those things, I just turned to see what awaited me on the other side of the bathroom door.

  It swung open slowly, as if the person on the other side was slightly worried about disturbing me. I saw blond curls and a shoulder clad in a green T-shirt.

  Jade.

  The dowser rested her left shoulder against the doorframe, watching me. Then she hit me with a blazing smile that nearly blinded me with its wattage.

  “The rhododendron outside makes for a soft landing,” she whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She lost the smile, then sighed. “Beau?”

  She wasn’t asking where he was. She’d probably seen him sleeping in the hall already. She was asking about the vision.

  My eyes welled with tears that I struggled to hold at bay. I nodded because I couldn’t speak.

  Jade nodded back. She reached up and twined the fingers of her left hand through the wedding rings soldered onto her gold necklace as she cast her gaze down at the white-tiled floor.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  Jade looked back at me. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “Family,” she said. “I get it.” Then she smiled again, but it was forced. A learned gesture. “I didn’t lay any protection spells on the necklace. I’ll do that next time we see each other.”

  “Okay.” My hands were cramping from gripping the windowsill between my thighs.

  “Be careful with Blackwell, if that’s where you’re going. He’s an evil bastard, but if you have something he wants he’ll deal fair and square. Though he won’t lift a finger to stop someone else from hurting you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hoyt is pure
slime, but I doubt he’d set foot in Portland,” Jade continued. “They’ll both be concerned about the pack, so you have that in your favor. I can’t tell you what to do, Rochelle. We only know the right path as it unfolds before us … I hope.”

  “What if Blackwell wants information on you?”

  Jade’s grin turned scary around the edges. “We all make deals with the devil. Blackwell and I will have our day in the field, and I will extract my pound of flesh.”

  A shiver ran up my spine, and I swallowed the fear that had risen to clog my throat. Jade Godfrey was not all sunshine and cupcakes.

  She must have seen something on my face, because her expression softened. “Cut left. There’s a gate through the hedge on that side,” she said. “I’ll distract Desmond, but he’s difficult to rile up when I want him riled. And he’ll only buy it for a couple of minutes at most. Damn shifters. They can smell a lie, you know. But you can always rely on them to protect your back in a fight, which is exactly where they’ll be … right behind you.”

  She shut the door without another word. It stayed shut. Apparently, she’d popped the lock but not broken the latch. More magic, maybe. Or lots of experience sneaking out of bathroom windows.

  I blinked three times, rapidly. I couldn’t believe that Jade was just going to let me go.

  Then I lost my grip and fell out the window. I hadn’t intended to, but at least I was outside now.

  I stood, not bothering to check my clothing for dirt or damage. I actively ignored the fact that my right arm wasn’t a fan of the seven or so foot fall. I tried to close the window behind me, but I couldn’t reach it. Then I realized how silly it was to try to hide my exit from people who turned into wolves.

  I made a beeline for the gate in the tall hedge at the far corner of the lot. Thankfully, this direction also placed me as far away as I could get from the two identical SUVs that were now parked in the driveway of the house.

  I didn’t bother skirting along the house or attempting to sneak away. I ran exactly where Jade told me to go. The grass crunched underneath my feet. The day was obviously cooling.

  Thankfully, the gate wasn’t locked. I wasn’t sure I had the upper body strength to scale it. The bathroom window had already been a challenge to my total lack of athleticism. Plus, my right arm still wasn’t feeling great from the fall out of the window.

  I cleared the gate and ran, not caring about my direction. I took the first left and then another right. I wasn’t a runner. Even though I was heading downhill, taking the path of least resistance, my lungs protested immediately. My legs, however, were willing to continue.

  I made it three blocks before I slowed.

  I had to think. I had to plan, and quickly. The people back in the house weren’t morons. They were wolves — in their animal form, at least. Except Desmond and Beau. Anyway, wolves tracked by scent, didn’t they? Running wasn’t going to help me get very far, not after they figured out that Jade was deliberately distracting them.

  But that was assuming Jade was on my side and this wasn’t some elaborate setup. These might be the exact steps I needed to take in order to fulfill, rather than thwart, the vision of Beau’s death.

  I pushed my doubts about the dowser aside. I’d been seeing her in my mind for over eighteen months. I knew her. I knew her pained laugh. I knew of the darkness she fought. The darkness that scared her into rash and silly actions, such as letting me go.

  Jade would help me, right up to the moment my actions put someone she loved into jeopardy.

  Then all bets would be off.

  I needed a car. I saw a lot of them around me, along with a lot of very expensive houses, but I had no ability to just jack one. Though I was willing to bet that Beau would be able to.

  I’d never posited so many wagers in my life.

  I took another random turn. I was cold, and with each step I took farther away from Beau, I seemed to get colder. It was a silly thought, but that didn’t change the feeling.

  A bus blew by, so close that if had I’d been one more step to the left, it would have hit me.

  I started to run again, before I’d even made the decision to do so.

  The bus rolled on ahead of me.

  Wolves couldn’t track what they couldn’t smell, right?

  My sneakered feet hit the sidewalk with a slap, slap, slap.

  Where was the damn bus stop? My lungs couldn’t take this running abuse.

  The bus wasn’t going to stop.

  Then its taillights flashed red.

  I whooped like an idiot before I could stop myself, watching as the bus swerved to pull into a stop where a bunch of people were waiting for it.

  I just had to get there before the last person in line climbed on. I pressed forward, my thighs burning and my right arm aching something terrible.

  Three … two … one …

  Everyone was onboard.

  I waited for the doors to close.

  They didn’t.

  I waited for the bus to pull away.

  It didn’t.

  The flash, flash, flash of its orange indicator light urged me to continue putting one numb foot in front of the other. I ran the length of the bus. I could see people sitting in the window seats on the very edge of my peripheral vision, but I doubted that any of them noticed me pass.

  I grabbed the stair handle and heaved myself onto the first step.

  “Thank you,” I cried.

  The driver nodded and closed the door behind me before I’d cleared the steps. Barely able to breathe, I stumbled to the closest seat and dug into my bag for change. I didn’t know how much the ride even cost. I didn’t even know where I was going.

  The bus pulled away from the curb and into the street.

  My fingers brushed coins in the depths of my bag.

  I stood and dumped what I had through the slot of the coin meter. The coins tinkled down into the glass-enclosed hold area. The driver didn’t even glance down before he pressed the lever to release them into the storage canister below.

  “Thank you for stopping,” I gushed with what breath I could muster.

  The driver glanced at me and flinched.

  I hadn’t covered my eyes.

  I almost turned away from his reaction. I almost slunk off into some back seat. Instead, I smiled.

  He smiled back. “It’s your lucky day.”

  “I hope so.”

  I turned to find a seat.

  “Take your transfer.”

  A piece of printed paper was sticking up at the top of the meter. I grabbed it. “Right. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Fighting the sway of the bus, I made it to a seat at the back. The bus wasn’t full, but I barely noted the other commuters as I passed them. It was time to implement the final stages of my exceedingly basic — and undoubtedly flawed — plan.

  I pulled my cell phone and Blackwell’s card out of my bag.

  I opened a text message and typed in the sorcerer’s number, which I hoped was a cell phone. Then I typed.

  Abandoned barbershop. Somewhere near Portland? Rochelle.

  And then I waited. I watched the gray wash of the city as it blurred by the bus window. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going, and yet it all looked the same as it had three days ago in a completely different city. The same as it would tomorrow … unless I wasn’t here. Unless I was surrounded by the bright lime-greens and burnt oranges of the interior of the Brave. Unless I was driving by the brilliant blue of the ocean, walking the variegated beiges of the beaches, and picnicking on the fallen, weather-bleached trees. My evenings would be marked by the pinky-reds of the sunsets, with Beau at my side.

  I was so cold again. Even after all the running. Clammy, but cold.

  My phone beeped. I read the text message as I thumbed the button to mute the phone.

  > I know it. I own it.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding
as I texted back.

  I need an address.

  > I’ll send you a map link.

  I’m on a bus now.

  > I’ll send you the route numbers then.

  I’m coming alone.

  I expected another message quickly, but ended up waiting long enough that my thoughts wandered. I started remembering, experiencing the vision again. I flinched when my phone buzzed in my hand.

  > You won’t be alone for long.

  A link to a bus route map appeared in the next text bubble. Then:

  > I look forward to seeing you again, Rochelle Hawthorne.

  His use of my supposed birth name unsettled me, as I was sure it was supposed to. It also reminded me that there were things the sorcerer could tell me — knowledge he’d alluded to about my family. The idea of that was momentarily intoxicating.

  But Beau was my family now.

  I’d made it this far in life without knowing anything of my family, or my magic. I could continue without knowing who my mother was, without knowing if she was like me, and without knowing if she’d seen her own death. If she’d seen me, or any part of my life, before I’d even been born.

  Still, the idea had bloomed and couldn’t be completely denied. I didn’t even know my mother’s first name. I could at least ask that of the sorcerer without letting him know he had leverage.

  Couldn’t I?

  I texted back.

  I’ll let you know when I get near.

  I stared down at the series of text messages between Blackwell and me, then read through the conversation a second time. I was glad I didn’t have a number for Beau, because I was fairly certain I would have used it then. As pitiful as the pre-love-at-first-sight me would have thought it, I already missed him. I was worried that if the next hour or so went horribly wrong — if I was actually as naive as I knew I was being — then all I would remember, and all that would be left to hold onto, was the vision of Beau’s dulled blue-green eyes staring into nothingness.

  I pushed the thought away and touched the map link in the text message Blackwell had sent. My browser opened, and I began to figure out where the hell I was and where the hell I needed to go.