Oracle: Psychic Pythia’s Witchcraft Emporium
It took about a week, but Gustaf was able to get his hands on the original contract and the newly re-negotiated one. Somehow, he went over the Committee and Ember’s head to retrieve these without notifying them and I knew he was really going out on a limb for us.
By that point, Lazarus had been at the house almost non-stop, the officers still watching the street, but no van ever showed after that first night, so they disbanded by the weekend. However, Lazarus still hung around and despite the fact that we hadn’t heard back about his potential salary, he seemed like he was already on board for the bodyguard position.
Gustaf had sent the contracts over and I forwarded them to the rest so we all could read through and make notes of anything that seemed out of place. It was a lot longer than I expected and full of legalese, but most of it made sense. The bit about owning part of the Broomwood blood and the Thirteenth Daughter clause were in there, as was expected, and Orlok’s name was also mentioned several times throughout.
But the original contract did state that once the stone had Twelve Broomwood souls powering it, the Thirteenth, once activated, would pass the stone on to Orlok. It specifically mentioned powered by twelve Broomwoods before the thirteenth took hold. Mum’s blood was there, but if we didn’t have to mention that, we wouldn’t. As far as we knew, she never activated the stone..
“It’s all here in the original contract. If we can keep the fact that your mother activated the stone out of the new filing, we may have a shot.” Morgan made a note after we had been reading and taking notes for over an hour.
“Which may work in our favor if that admittance falls under attorney-client privilege. What bothers me, though, is what it says in this second one. All the original dealings aren’t in it, just the quick marriage and a baby thing with no added nonsense. Why would that be so important to Baphomet and the fact that their attorney is Ember...something just isn’t right.” I pointed out, reading everything again, but knowing that I wouldn’t find any extra details.
Morgan returned in agreement, “It’s been heavily on my mind too. Does the committee have something on Baphomet so that they could negotiate it this way? But why the rush on the pregnancy just to make another Broomwood to snatch the stone from? Why still allow such a thing if you’re in control from almost all aspects? I mean, I know that lawyers have to be unbiased with a client, but why even take them on in the first place?”
All very good questions with absolutely no answers.
“There has to be a way to figure this out without talking to the Council or Baphomet. Maybe divination? Can we bug the meeting room?” Sabrina chimed in with her own suggestions.
“Divination might work and I think I have just the answer.” Morgan suddenly had an Aha! moment as he snapped his fingers and got up from the dining table.
He returned shortly with what appeared to be a phone book that he practically dropped on the table before thumbing through it muttering, “Omni Paint, Opera on Vine—there it is! Oracle: Psychic Pythia’s Witchcraft Emporium.”
“Clever name.” I commented, but Morgan looked up at me with an arched brow.
“Not clever, reckless and arrogant. Fortunately, most humans seem to take it the way that you do, but don’t be fooled. The Oracle is indeed that Oracle.”
“But I thought Pythia was just a title?” I inquired, now curious.
“It is, but the Oracle is nameless and those that know her well enough refer to her as Pythia. She was the last and final Oracle of Delphi and given the gift of immortality by Poseiden when she gave herself to the sea as sacrifice to Apollo. Now she lives in Queens and operates as a neon-sign psychic and purveyor of wytchcraft related tchotchkes.” Morgan explained.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” I sighed sadly, feeling sorry for her.
Morgan waved it off, “She does well, trust me. But if anyone could help us see into this nonsense, it would be her.”
“Do we need an appointment?” I wondered.
“Might be best. Let me call and we’ll see. Lucky they still print these things because she refuses to use the internet or computers; says the electrical waves mess with her psychic connection.” Morgan rambled as he stepped away from the table again with his phone.
“Since we are at a pause and Morgan already knows, I figured I should tell the rest of you.” Phee started as soon as the vampire had left, “The Committee was able to track down the owner of the black van. It belongs to a Michael Schoemaker of Staten Island, a human and non-pret.”
“A human is stalking us? Who is he?” Sabrina asked, looking curious.
“Most likely, no. About a week ago, he reported the van stolen. Said he was out late finishing up a job and then the next thing he remembers, he’s waking up in an alley and the van is gone. He had been out drinking and thought maybe he had blacked out and lost the van. Took him a couple days to report it because he was afraid to admit anything to his wife at first.” Phee answered, not really clarifying anything.
“That means that the van was still most likely being operated by a pret. Sounds like vampires to me, although I know others can do similar things to hypnosis.” I chimed in, really thinking about what was most logical.
Phee agreed, “We were thinking the same on both accounts. Smart to steal a van so it can’t be traced back to them. But I wonder why it made rounds that one night and then didn’t come back.”
“Who knows. We just have to be smart when we leave the townhouse and never go alone till we can figure this out. Brina and I can ward up the place for extra security too.” I warned that we had to be smart and all parties at the table agreed, just before Morgan returned.
“She had an open slot at eleven-thirty tonight. I figured, get in while we can get in.” He informed us, having made an executive decision.
“Fine by me,” I declared, standing from my seat at the table, “I’m going to go get a quick shower in and then call for Yancy to come grab us around eleven?”
“Eleven is good; gives us plenty of time to get there. We’ll meet in the foyer then.” Morgan’s words seemed to be a dismissal because everyone got up and dispersed.
We had very little time before we needed to leave.
Surprisingly, everyone was ready and waiting in the foyer on time before we walked out the door in a group and filed into the hearse. Morgan gave Yancy the address and I noticed that the Shade seemed a little wary about where we were going, but I brushed it off.
It didn’t take long for me to see why Yancy seemed nervous.
Morgan failed to tell anyone, besides Yancy, that we were entering a pretty dark and dangerous part of the Bronx known for street robbery, vehicle theft, and even murder. Despite that, I wasn’t surprised that that would be where an immortal oracle would reside.
“Shadowside? The psychic is in Shadowside?” Sabrina asked when she noticed where we were.
“Yes, her little shop is in Sunnyside. But don’t worry—the place is full of good prets just as much as it is rife with bad people. We’ll be fine.” Morgan assured her as Yancy pulled into an alley between two old brick buildings and parked.
“We just stay close to one another and we’ll be aces.” Morgan continued his pep-talk as he got out of the car and offered a hand each to Sabrina and Phee.
When it was Lazarus’ turn to unfold himself from the back of the hearse, he extended his hand to help me out, leaning close to me as we all filed from the alley towards the back of the building.
“A couple things,” Morgan started in a hushed tone, “Pythia is blind and she doesn’t bother hiding it, so don’t stare; she can see you. Don’t speak unless she addresses you once the session starts, but she’ll probably tell you that. And don’t mention Apollo...not that you will, but it is a very touchy subject and she doesn’t need to get all bent out of shape before she helps us.”
We all silently agreed to what he told us before we got to the door of one of the buildings, Morgan knocking via a door-knocker shaped like an eye. It didn’t take long before we heard multiple locks unlocking, the door opening with the chain attached.
“What’s the magic pass-phrase?” A voice asked, one that sounded very child-like.
“Salt water taffy.” Morgan replied confidently.
The door clicked shut, there was a tinkle of the chain, and then the door opened again, a woman with wide, owl-like eyes standing in the opening.
“Are you her eleven-thirty?” The woman asked as she gestured for us to step inside.
“Yes, ma’am.” Morgan answered.
The woman led us to a set of chairs that were probably brand-new in the 60’s and asked us to wait while she traipsed across the crowded space full of shelves upon shelves of knick-knacks and curios and entered a back room through a beaded curtain.
“This place is wild. There’s no rhyme or reason to anything, just pure chaos.” Sabrina spoke in awe, her head craned back to take in everything.
“Maybe to you,” Morgan chuckled with a pat on her knee, “But Pythia only collects magikal items and she knows what each piece does and where to find it.”
This tidbit of information had me looking at everything in the place through a different lens, but I didn’t get much time to consider what power those trinkets may have held, because the owl woman had returned.
“If you’ll follow me, please. I’m Pythia’s assistant, Strix, and I will be sitting in on your session to help the oracle with whatever she needs.” The owl woman introduced herself as she led us back through the beaded curtain into a room that was rather well-lit by hundreds of candles even though the walls were draped in lush, heavy tapestries.
There was a low table in the middle of the room where more candles were placed, and this is where we were directed to sit. Once we were all settled in, Strix bowed out for only a moment, returning with a woman on her arm, a woman dressed all in black from head to toe in multiple layers that hid her frame and her face. She was led to the head of the table where a shrine was erected, something burning acridly in a dish atop the stone slab.
“Would each of you please state your name in turn.” Strix instructed before we went counter-clockwise around the table.
“Sabrina Morelo.”
“Katasya “Katastrophe” Udori.”
The utterance of that mostly unknown name caught me off guard, but it wasn’t the time to question it.
“Morgan Maddox.”
“Lazarus Morte.”
And then it was my turn and for some reason, I was ever so slightly afraid to say my name.
“Uh, Briar Broomwood.”
Pythia’s head snapped to me, at least I think it did because it was hard to tell with all the layers of tattered black cloth.
“I know your blood,” I heard her sniff as she stepped forward from Strix, “I’ve known all of them. Matilda, Agatha, Prudence, Narcissa, Gretchen, Rose, Natasha, Dahlia, Serafina, Agnes, Madison, Sofia. All of them. But you are new. You are number thirteen and that is a very unlucky number for you.”
Funny, because it was one of my favorite numbers.
I wasn’t sure if it was okay to speak, so I made a confirming noise as I tried not to stare directly at her.
“This meeting is because of you. Because of your bloodline. You’re here to talk about the contract.” Pythia was telling me, not asking me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I let myself reply, trying to steady my voice.
“Don’t be fearful, wytch. You and I are not too dissimilar. Broomwoods have very powerful intuition and yours is no exception. You have to feel those emotions, let them guide you. Don’t question your gut, listen to it.” She advised as she stepped back to a chair, a throne of scarves and small cushions.
“You may speak to the Oracle directly now.” Strix spoke as she stepped forward from the throne of textiles and then back again.
I was glad when Morgan decided to handle the talking, “Pythia, we come seeking answers involving the Broomwood/Baphomet contract, but you already know that. What we want to know is why the newly negotiated contract with the Infernal favors the Order Committee as well as why Baphomet’s attorney was in fact a Committee member himself. Something seems fishy, but we can’t just ask what’s going on; we need to stay in the dark.”
“Give me your hand, Briar Broomwood.” Pythia commanded, holding out her own for me to take.
Despite the air that she was some ancient hag, her hands betrayed that with their youthful skin and nicely manicured nails. I tried not to think about it too much, however, as I stood from the table and stepped closer to give her my hand. As soon as we made skin to skin contact, it felt like my soul had left my body and I immediately came to my knees.
“The deal is simple. The stone only has eleven souls and twelve drops of blood. The contract states you need twelve souls and thirteen drops of blood, not counting the extra drop that was given as an offering. You can’t take the stone until the thirteenth comes into power and Briar is technically only the twelfth.” Branwen argued.
She was in a private room at a table with who I assumed to be her attorney and the rest of the Committee. Across the table from her was Ember in his courtroom best and an incredibly tall individual with black hair braided around curled horns and pulled back from their stoic face, blood red eyes flashing in irritation. Even though I hadn’t gotten a good look at them in the dark up at the cabin, I knew that this was Baphomet.
“Then we wait.” Baphomet opened their mouth and replied, crossing thick arms over their chest.
Branwen eyed them as if she knew she had them right where she wanted them,“But can you afford to wait, Baphomet? We have it on good authority that this was sort of a deal within a deal and your time is up. Orlok wants that stone and payment is due.”
Baphomet sighed dramatically, “Orlok can take the stone whenever he pleases, but he’s been outsmarted by the Broomwood wytches for centuries. Either he takes it from Briar or he waits. Balance is balance.”
“You say that, but we know that you’re scared of something, Baphomet. Is it Orlok? Or is it something bigger, badder? The Order can offer you protection, but you have to work with us. We need that stone to stay within Broomwood hands. Without it, we are nothing. And the Broomwood lineage needs to continue in order to do so, but without interference. Orlok can fend for himself, but you can’t—why is that? Why do you need the stone to be passed on? Is it really about balance, or did you get yourself wrapped up in a ponzi scheme of contracts that has taken hundreds of years to run its course, only to be fucked at the last minute?” Branwen’s words were hot, scalding to the point that it looked like it pained Baphomet to hear.
What did the Committee know?
“Don’t act like you don’t know, wytch. I have it on good authority myself that your Assembly has been unlawfully using seers and ceremonial magicians to work rituals in your favor so you can spy on the enemy, so to speak. You know what I’m working with. You should never fuck with a God, but here I am. What can you do to protect me?” Baphomet scoffed, eyeing Branwen with disdain.
“You didn’t fuck with a God, as you put it, Baphomet,” It was Nexus speaking now, something I had never seen them do until that point, “You fucked with an Eldritch Horror and unless you’re a Shadow, that’s just about the dumbest thing you could do.”
“Right, and that was exactly my point. You can’t protect me any more than I can protect myself. Don’t you see that I’m screwed no matter what? I never should have teamed up with the bastards, but at the time, it seemed like a good idea. We had armies of men bowing before us as Gods, worshiping our every move, hanging on our every word. They wanted something more than the mortal coil and we gave it to them. But it wasn’t enough for Goethe. It wanted even more and at the time, I just thought it was another Shadow; I didn’t know.” Baphomet confessed, honestly looking rather scared.
“Rookie mistake. You never go into business with someone you haven’t done a background check on. What was the original deal, Baphomet? What led to the Broomwood contract?” Branwen pushed for information, seeming like she had them right under her thumb.
Baphomet didn’t want to say. They turned their head and refused to look at Branwen, but Ember leaned in to whisper in their ear and that seemed like enough to get them to talk.
Baphomet started, “We split the souls, Goethe and I. I would pose as a “God” for those insipid sheep, promise them eternal life, and then we’d kill them and divvy out the souls. But then Orlok discovered us. He wanted in on the deal and all he originally wanted out of it was blood to sustain him; we could still have the souls. But he got greedy and started turning sacrifices instead of drinking them dry, leaving me and Goethe with nothing and him with a growing army of his own. Because of this recklessness, the church soon found out and destroyed our business so to speak. But the Templars thrived without their knowledge, choosing various deities throughout the ages to sire them and bring them to glory.”
“And where do the Broomwoods play into this? Where did you fuck up?” Branwen asked. She could have chosen better words, but she didn’t seem to care.
Baphomet continued, “I was the one that vouched for Orlok when he joined our team. Goethe wanted to flay me alive, but I convinced it to strike up a deal instead. I told it that I could get it wytch’s blood, something that an Elder God can’t get on their own because of the immunity given by the moon against cosmic horrors. Wytch blood to an Eldritch is like heroin. The only issue was, I didn’t have any fucking wytch blood and so I had to try and stall until I could devise a way to do that. That’s when I started taking up contracts with wytch’s, only accepting blood as payment. Problem was, it wasn’t enough to satisfy Goethe the World Eater. It was going to crucify me until a very rare and wonderful contract fell into my lap.”
“The Broomwood contract.” Branwen noted and got a nod from Baphomet who kept talking.
“Matilda Broomwood summoned me some three hundred years after Orlok fucked us and it just so happened that her reason for summoning me involved the son of a bitch. She knew what power their bloodline held and she needed help creating an item that could combat the vampire. When I got a taste of her blood as a down payment, I knew what I had to do. I requested more blood to finalize my decision and brought it back to Goethe before I wrote up the contract. I let it taste and apparently the drug was so good, Goethe insisted I bring it the whole Broomwood. But I knew that if I did that, the power would be gone and I’d be serving Wytch to Goethe for the rest of eternity. So, I came up with the idea to gather the blood from the Broomwood wytches for thirteen generations, letting that sweet power build to a stifling degree so that Goethe could feed and grow in its own power.”
“That was stupid, Infernal. Contracts are binding and you made one with a cosmic deity that neither you, nor anyone else, can control.” Nexus barked, but Elara hushed him.
“And how does Orlok fall into this deal, exactly? From the sound of it, you dodged a bullet with him.” Branwen queried.
“He found out somehow that Matilda had summoned me. Knew I was in town and tracked me down, threatening to kill me if I went through with the contract. I knew he could, he’s older and stronger than me, so I had to make an amendment to the contract in his favor, handing the stone over after the magik thirteen was ready to be devoured by Goethe. Of course, once their power was consumed, the stone would be hollow and Orlok would get nothing. But he recently found out about that too and that’s when I promised him Briar. He said he got a taste of her blood and had to have her. He was convinced that if he turned her, Goethe would never get her blood if she didn’t technically die and if she didn’t die, he’d get all the blood from the stone and the power to go along with it. But he’s delusional.” Baphomet scoffed at the end of his retelling.
“So, let me get this straight. All Thirteen Broomwoods need to be dead for the stone to be ready for Goethe?”
“Yes. But I never anticipated Sofia Broomwood and her ability to stay under the radar. We had her for a while after we saved her from Orlok’s henchmen, but she escaped and we haven’t seen her since. I always thought she had activated the stone, but Briar says otherwise. And she’s not dead like I assumed, that much I know. To top it off, the stone skipped a generation, so to keep my ass out of hot water, I need another Broomwood to take Briar’s place as the Thirteenth since she is now the Twelfth. If I don’t give Goethe what it wants, we all could be in danger.” Baphomet’s words had me on edge, a creeping sensation of the void deep within me.
“And what do we—what does Briar get out of this deal?” Branwen asked with squinted eyes.
“She gets to wield the blood stone her entire life and that’s a whole generation’s worth of good. I get her daughter though when she has one; Broomwoods always have daughters.” Baphomet chuckled to themselves.
“You know that she won’t agree to that.” Branwen shot back with a shake of her head.
“It’s my right to negotiate things how I see fit. She may have found a loophole for renegotiation, but that doesn’t mean we toss the whole thing out, right, Mr. Caul?” Baphomet turned to Ember for confirmation.
“Correct. There has to be some amendments due to Sofia’s situation, but the contract still states thirteen Broomwoods in total for the creation of the Blood Stone.” Ember confirmed.
“And hypothetically, what if you don’t give the stone to Goethe? Or Orlok? What happens to it?” Branwen fished for more info to formulate her plan of attack.
“It was never meant to grow beyond the Thirteenth Broomwood. The Thirteenth puts it at its peak and stabilizes its power. Anyone could wield it at that point, not just a Broomwood, but the stone may not operate properly without the connection to the ancestral blood. It would potentially be uncontrollable chaos.”
Branwen thought for a moment before leaning in to deliberate with her colleagues, words I couldn’t make out. Finally, she addressed Baphomet again.
“How does this sound...strike the amendment in the contract concerning Orlok, that’s your right as contract holder, isn’t it? This keeps the stone in Broomwood hands where it should be. As far as Goethe, the Order can deal with it if, and when, it comes. You will be under an order of protection from the Assembly.” Baphomet glanced over at Ember before they shook their head and rebutted, “I’ll strike the Orlok amendment, but I need that blood. There’s no avoiding Goethe, no matter where I hide.”
“But the deal you struck with Matilda Broomwood never involved Goethe, that was an illegal move on your part, Baphomet, and should void the contract all together. We’re giving you a chance because we know how dire this situation could become for all preternaturals, not just you. Think about it. We will protect you, take care of you, hide you, if it means that the Order can keep the stone. If we have it, we can fight off Goethe just like we can Orlok. Let this old contract go and let’s make a new one.” Branwen tried to coax them.
Baphomet sighed with a shake of their head, “You can’t fight Goethe with the stone unless it has the blood of Thirteen Broomwoods. That’s part of the reason I wrote it up that way in case I decided to just kill the horror myself; I knew what sort of power it would take to do that. And we don’ t have much time because Goethe thinks that its long awaited meal is almost ready. We have maybe a year, tops. If you can convince Briar to have a child within the year, we can use their blood to complete the stone and top it out. If you do that so we actually have a weapon to fight this thing and you keep me protected till then, I’ll void the whole contract.”
“No Orlok?” Branwen confirmed.
“Fuck Orlok. Let’s get this new contract put together so I can get the fuck out of here. Make sure you put me up in the finest suite you can find.” Baphomet finally agreed and I watched as the Committee collectively deflated in relief.
It made sense now. The baby in a year deal was Baphomet’s idea, but only after they admitted to mixing multiple contracts to save their hide when all it did was come back to bite then in the ass. And the Committee manipulated them with illegal divining, convincing them to admit what they had done and exploit that. They rid themselves of the Orlok clause so they didn’t have to risk the necklace being taken legally and they now knew they didn’t technically need me to wield it properly, but it wasn’t at full power. That didn’t seem to be a problem for them, however, because they just planned on avoiding whoever this Goethe was in favor of the usual politics, using the stone as if it never belonged to me. Now, with me being back and alive, I had to fulfill this contract that didn’t even need to exist in the first place.
I was the Thirteenth and nobody knew but my cabinet and our attorney. The stone was at full power and it had been since before I died. And neither Branwen nor the Committee even had the real one when this whole thing went down. All of it was moot to me at this point. Little did they know, I had already kept the blood from ever going to Goethe by not being able to die...but that meant that things potentially just got a whole lot worse.
“Do you think they know?”
What I was seeing had switched perspectives slightly and I was now seeing Branwen and Ember alone together as they spoke quietly.
“No. They were smart for their time, but they don’t understand modern politics or adhere to Order laws for that matter. They only came seeking an attorney because they knew they had to now and what better than an old friend. They didn’t need to know and if it hadn’t turned out the way it did, I would have figured something out.” Ember returned, standing a little too close to Branwen.
She whispered back, “Good. We keep Briar’s death a secret, period. We’ll concoct a story, I’m thinking bed-ridden illness, and inform the people that there will be no formal inauguration or anything because of this. Madison was out of the public eye for years and no one ever questioned it, so why should they question this? Broomwoods are mysterious and unpredictable. This way, word never gets out that the stone is technically up for grabs and it can stay in our hands. The Committee may not completely agree with this idea, but we’ll convince them.”
“Good thing you lifted the necklace before she was buried with it. I saw the wolf eyeing it as they put her body into the hearse. We’d be screwed without it.” Ember praised Branwen for stealing my necklace.
“I guarantee it’s what she requested of him. The wolf was her weakness and that’s why she’s dead. But he could still be a problem and we have to make sure he stays away from the Assembly. He’s too smart for his own good and without her around to keep in check, he could go rogue again. But enough of this for now, we’ll talk more when we can.” Branwen ended the conversation, thus ending my vision.
I came back to reality sputtering for breath, coughing and gasping as I choked on tears I didn’t even know I was crying. I was disoriented, disconnected, and disheveled as I fell back onto a pile of cushions in a fit of hysterics.
“Sit her up! Sit her up!” I heard Pythia command before a pair of strong hands lifted me from the ground so I was upright, but I still felt upside down.
“We—we’re—we’re in danger.” I stuttered, trying to speak words that felt foreign in my mouth and sounded like another language as I spoke.
“What did you see, Briar Broomwood? I cannot control that; I am merely a conduit.” I heard Pythia ask, but I couldn’t see her. I didn’t want to say anything, but for the moment, I was blind.
“Baphomet. The contract—not just Orlok. It’s a clusterfuck. Blood to feed an esoteric horror. My blood. Our blood. Scheming, lies, misinformation. Dangerous. Arrogant. Assumptive.” I muttered, full sentences not something I was able to give at that point in time.
“She’s not quite back yet and that may take some time. But she did see something. Why don’t you all stay for a bit and partake of the hookah or have some tea while you wait for her to arrive back in reality.” Pythia’s words to the others made sense to me, but I couldn’t say anything about it.
I was actually starting to get scared. Words were failing me, yes, but my eyes still hadn’t put themselves back together and everything was pitch black. I worried that maybe my eyes were just closed and I was losing it, but I could feel my eyelashes flutter against my skin as I blinked with no change.
“Should we move her?” Sabrina asked, concern evident in her voice.
“No. Leave her to ground. Strix and I will keep a watch over her.” Pythia instructed.
I heard footsteps and the hushed vibration of voices as the others moved about, even feeling Strix pass me to assist them; she sounded like rustling feathers.
After a few minutes longer with still no change and the confidence that I had my voice back, I finally said something, “Pythia—is it normal to not be able to see after something like that?”
She let out a low growl, “Only if you saw something you weren’t meant to see. If there were spells in play to censor the vision you witnessed through divining, a consequence could be blindness. But all the more reason you needed to see it.”
“But,” I started to whimper, “Am I permanently blind?”
“That I cannot say. It may only be temporary or could be more severe depending on the spell. I can have Strix bring you my soothing salve to ease eye ailments, but that’s about as much as I can do.” She informed me.
A feeling of despair fell over me. I knew that millions of people lived with this disability, but I never thought I could be one. I was scared, I relied so much on my sight and I had taken that for granted. How was I going to navigate the world without it?
I felt myself spiraling and stopped it before it got too far by taking a deep breath and reminding myself that this was nothing compared to what I had seen and the others needed to know as soon as possible. However, I didn’t know how to put it all in words and make it flow like I had witnessed it. Then I had a thought.
“Pythia, I hate to trouble you, but do you possibly have any paper I could use? I may need quite a few pages.” I asked the oracle, knowing where she was in relation to me by her breathing.
“Indeed. Strix will retrieve it.” She answered and I heard the sound of feathers again.
In a few minutes, Strix returned with a pad of paper and a pen, but I wouldn’t be needing the pen. I felt around till I found the table we had been sitting at, careful not to knock over any candles as I set the pad down and tore out a page. I placed the paper down and waved my arm over it, trying to imagine its size and the size of my handwriting, but I was going to translate the words onto paper as I saw them in a sort of magikal self-dictation move. I had to just feel when to turn the paper and when to grab another piece, but after I filled at lest ten sheets, I thought I finally had it all down.
“Incredible.” I heard Strix breathe as I stacked the papers, hopefully in order.
“This was my vision. Someone didn’t want me to ever know about this meeting.” I was speaking mostly to myself, but I was so engrossed in what I was doing, I hadn’t heard the other person that was now standing in front of me.
“You saw the meeting?” Morgan asked and I felt him kneel down in front of me.
“Yes, the re-negotiation meeting. But someone didn’t want me to see and now I can’t.” I pointed to my eyes and then held my finger to my lips to signal I didn’t want Morgan to say anything to anyone yet.
“Wait, you’re blind?” He hissed, his face now very close to mine.
“Yes. Pythia thinks that the meeting was bespelled to keep divination from accessing it. However, I was strong enough to break through and see it anyway, but at a cost. It could be temporary or it could be permanent.” I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.
“Fuck.” Morgan cursed before I felt his arms around me, “Pythia can’t fix it?”
“I cannot, Morgan Maddox. I can give her a salve to soothe the eyes, but that is it. If this is a consequence of a hex or security spell, I can’t break it without knowing exactly what it is. Just pray to the stars that her vision comes back on its own.” Pythia answered him, her words firm but still empathetic.
“As if things weren’t dangerous enough for you... Let’s get you home.” Morgan spoke under his breath before he lifted me from the ground and let out a low whistle, calling to everyone else.
“Is she alright?” Sabrina asked, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her.
“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Morgan answered her before turning to Pythia, “Thank you so much for your aid and hospitality, Pythia. I shall drop by with a package of the best salt water taffy as payment tomorrow evening.”
“You are good stock, vampire, and thank you. Don’t forget Briar’s papers.” She noted, and I could practically feel her pointing at them on the table.
“What papers are those?” Phee questioned.
“I magikally wrote down what I saw so that I didn’t miss any details. It was too much to try and talk through.” I explained before burying my face in Morgan’s shirt.
That seemed satisfactory enough for her and the others. We said our goodbyes before Strix guided us back to the door, I heard it open, and then the sounds of the city at night. Clicking heels on pavement as others walked, voices in the distance, a siren, a car alarm, crunching gravel under tires. It was a lot of noises all at once and they were magnified more so than usual due to the fact that all I could do was hear them.
A hearse door opened and I was still in Morgan’s arms for a minute before I was being passed into the car, now in another’s arms, ones that were thicker and more muscular.
“All good, Yancy.” Morgan called out and then we were moving forward.
Silence for a few beats before Sabrina whispered, most likely so I wouldn’t hear.
“Is she going to be okay, Morgan? Something doesn’t feel right.”
I sighed.
I needed to tell them because I was most likely going to need help until it wore off or possibly—longer.
“I’m blind, Brina. There was a hex or something on the vision I saw, something to keep divining looky-lous from seeing things they don’t want seen. Like I told Morgan: could be temporary, could be permanent. Not much I can do.” I confessed.
“And what you saw was about the re-negotiation of the contract? What didn’t they want anyone to possibly see?” Morgan posed a couple questions.
“See for yourself; it’s all in those papers...hopefully. I couldn’t really see to verify.” I grumbled, absentmindedly nuzzling into Lazarus.
I heard the rustling of papers as they were sorted out and Morgan began to read aloud for all to hear. It took almost the entire ride back to the townhouse before he finished, leaving the car in complete and total stunned silence; I didn’t need to see to know that.
“We’ll discuss things tomorrow. I think for now, Briar needs to rest undisturbed.” Morgan finally said something as we were piling out of the car, “Lazarus, could you take her up to her room?”
“Yes, sir.” Lazarus replied, lifting me out of the car as he cradled me in his arms almost protectively.
More footsteps as we walked across pavement, the click of the key in the lock, the door opening, feet on marble tile…
I just let all the sounds lull me to sleep, nothing to see just like when I was awake. I just hoped that all would be right when awoke.
