Read Online Rogue Oracle by Alayna Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alayna Williams
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landscape.
“Lena?” Tara cupped her hands over her mouth to shout.
She turned toward Tara. The wind whistled through her heavy sleeves, tearing at her hair.
Another figure appeared behind the Queen, casting a long shadow in the setting sun. Tara shaded her eyes with her hand, straining to see an androgynous figure clothed in a sheet that rattled like the sails of a ship in the wind. Long blond hair streamed over the figure’s shoulder, but Tara couldn’t tell whether the figure was male or female. Laurel leaves were bound in the figure’s hair, ripped free by the wind. Blue eyes burned in hooded sockets.
The lion at her side growled. His claws flexed in the sand.
“The World,” Tara breathed.
“Lena, come here.” The World spoke to the Queen in a man’s voice, beckoned her with an open hand. Lena’s head turned to the voice. The World’s hand caught her sleeve, dragged her into a crushing embrace.
“No!” Tara ran toward Lena and the World, sand sucking at her feet.
But she was too late. The World enveloped Lena in his white sheet. For a moment, their limbs were twined together like the Lovers. But the violet brocade of Lena’s dress disappeared. When the World opened his hands, Lena was gone.
Only the howl of the wind rattled through his hands.
Tara met his gaze, but they were not the blue eyes of the World. Not anymore. They were Lena’s brown ones, staring back at her.
H ARRY STARED AT THE CEILING, HANDS LACED BEHIND HIS head. Streetlight striped the walls through the blinds, and the insomniac cat clock kept watch, ticking out the time with each switch of its tail.
His thoughts chased Tara. He wished he had some of her gift of insight, to know what she was thinking. The world always seemed so transparent to her, but she seemed opaque to him, now. Closed. He blamed himself for his absence, for leaving. He hadn’t wanted it that way. Time just stretched out, and he couldn’t find his way back.
He didn’t know what he expected from her. He had no right to expect anything, really. But he knew what he wanted: when he first saw her in the prison meeting room, he’d wanted to take her beautiful face in his hands and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. He needed her that much.
But she … she probably didn’t need anything. Anyone, least of all him. She seemed so distant and self-contained … and he was afraid that too much time had passed between them, that they wouldn’t be able to pick up where they’d left off.
It made no sense, him and her. She lived in an entirely different world, in the shadowy world of Delphi’s Daughters. She lived in magick, finding signs and portents in everything she saw. Based on the few glimpses he’d had into her world, Harry suspected that mundane reality didn’t really exist for her at all, that it had fallen away bit by bit in the process of becoming an oracle. Harry wondered if she would always be able to keep a foot in the everyday world, or if she would eventually be absorbed by Delphi’s Daughters, no matter how much she resisted.
He turned over, hearing the couch leather squeak beneath him. He existed in a hidden world, too … the world of the Little Shop of Horrors. And that set him so far apart from daily life he wondered if he’d ever be able to go civilian again. He was armed every hour of every day, even when he went to the grocery store. He jumped when cars backfired on the street. He suspected child abuse every time a mother scolded her child at the store. He couldn’t eat out when he was seated with his back to the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out in public just wearing a T-shirt and jeans … He always had to find a way to conceal the holster and his creds. Just once, he’d love to stretch out on some grass or sand and feel the sun on his bare chest. He had to content himself with the cold streetlight streaming in from the window when he slept. Alone.
Harry slid from the couch and padded across the floor.
“Lena?” Tara cupped her hands over her mouth to shout.
She turned toward Tara. The wind whistled through her heavy sleeves, tearing at her hair.
Another figure appeared behind the Queen, casting a long shadow in the setting sun. Tara shaded her eyes with her hand, straining to see an androgynous figure clothed in a sheet that rattled like the sails of a ship in the wind. Long blond hair streamed over the figure’s shoulder, but Tara couldn’t tell whether the figure was male or female. Laurel leaves were bound in the figure’s hair, ripped free by the wind. Blue eyes burned in hooded sockets.
The lion at her side growled. His claws flexed in the sand.
“The World,” Tara breathed.
“Lena, come here.” The World spoke to the Queen in a man’s voice, beckoned her with an open hand. Lena’s head turned to the voice. The World’s hand caught her sleeve, dragged her into a crushing embrace.
“No!” Tara ran toward Lena and the World, sand sucking at her feet.
But she was too late. The World enveloped Lena in his white sheet. For a moment, their limbs were twined together like the Lovers. But the violet brocade of Lena’s dress disappeared. When the World opened his hands, Lena was gone.
Only the howl of the wind rattled through his hands.
Tara met his gaze, but they were not the blue eyes of the World. Not anymore. They were Lena’s brown ones, staring back at her.
H ARRY STARED AT THE CEILING, HANDS LACED BEHIND HIS head. Streetlight striped the walls through the blinds, and the insomniac cat clock kept watch, ticking out the time with each switch of its tail.
His thoughts chased Tara. He wished he had some of her gift of insight, to know what she was thinking. The world always seemed so transparent to her, but she seemed opaque to him, now. Closed. He blamed himself for his absence, for leaving. He hadn’t wanted it that way. Time just stretched out, and he couldn’t find his way back.
He didn’t know what he expected from her. He had no right to expect anything, really. But he knew what he wanted: when he first saw her in the prison meeting room, he’d wanted to take her beautiful face in his hands and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. He needed her that much.
But she … she probably didn’t need anything. Anyone, least of all him. She seemed so distant and self-contained … and he was afraid that too much time had passed between them, that they wouldn’t be able to pick up where they’d left off.
It made no sense, him and her. She lived in an entirely different world, in the shadowy world of Delphi’s Daughters. She lived in magick, finding signs and portents in everything she saw. Based on the few glimpses he’d had into her world, Harry suspected that mundane reality didn’t really exist for her at all, that it had fallen away bit by bit in the process of becoming an oracle. Harry wondered if she would always be able to keep a foot in the everyday world, or if she would eventually be absorbed by Delphi’s Daughters, no matter how much she resisted.
He turned over, hearing the couch leather squeak beneath him. He existed in a hidden world, too … the world of the Little Shop of Horrors. And that set him so far apart from daily life he wondered if he’d ever be able to go civilian again. He was armed every hour of every day, even when he went to the grocery store. He jumped when cars backfired on the street. He suspected child abuse every time a mother scolded her child at the store. He couldn’t eat out when he was seated with his back to the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out in public just wearing a T-shirt and jeans … He always had to find a way to conceal the holster and his creds. Just once, he’d love to stretch out on some grass or sand and feel the sun on his bare chest. He had to content himself with the cold streetlight streaming in from the window when he slept. Alone.
Harry slid from the couch and padded across the floor.
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