Page 64 of The Oracle's Journey

“If the bastard has been working magic,” Lhoris said, “he’d probably want to do that from his tower.”

There was a touch of hysteria in Eve’s voice. “Oh, well, you’re in his tower, so that works out.”

We sent Eve to find some swords. Outside we could hear quiet sounds of misery that seemed to harmonize with our own groans and grumbles.

“Brother,” said Lhoris, his voice cold and flat, “you shouldn’t stay. Go with Eve. You’re too injured to fight.”

Lobikno snapped back. “The fuck I am! I’m seeing this through,” he argued, staggering to his feet. He wobbled for a moment but clutched one of the iron bars to steady himself. Lhoris scowled at him.

Eve returned with some bloody swords in hand and gave them over without saying a word before scurrying away.

The stink of foul magic, like burning tar and rot, wafted over us, rolling down the stairs as we climbed the tower. It made my stomach churn. I don’t know why we even bothered with blades. None of us were in any real shape to fight. Not that there was anybody to stop us. We made it from the basement prison to the top of the tower unchallenged. If Eve’s account was correct, all posts had been abandoned for days.

As we approached the laboratory at the very top of the tower, the walls, ceiling, and steps started to warp and undulate, like rolling ocean waves.

“Okay,” Lobikno gasped as we took in the sight. “I don’t know what to do about that.”

Lhoris huffed a laugh. “Well, we’ve always been in a bit over our heads. Why would that change now?” He frowned, putting a hand on the wobbling stone wall. “Whoever is on the other side of this door could be able to destroy us with an errant thought. We just have to hope it’s Emma and that we can bring her back.”

Lhoris looked between me and Lobikno, sighed, and opened the door.

CHAPTER 25

Ozanna

Emma sat in an ornate chair as if it were a throne. Her feet planted firmly on the floor, fingers white knuckled, clutching the arm rests. Her normally sweet, soft face was sharper, more angular, the skin taut as though her scalp had been pulled back from her face, and onyx orbs replaced the once warm hazel eyes. De Rais hovered above the floor at her feet, naked and trembling. A high-pitched whine escaped his swollen, almost boiled looking lips. No skin covered his left leg, just muscle, fat, and oozing blood. A strip of skin, maybe the width of two fingers, peeled away from the thigh of his other leg with a sickly ripping sound. The strip was impossibly straight, as if it had been cut and not torn. But there was no mistaking that awful sound. The torn flesh lifted into the air and disintegrated into a fine, red mist.

To the left of the laboratory entrance was the likely cause of Emma’s state: Nicolas’ broken corpse.

“Emma” I gasped when the horror of what I was witnessing filtered through my sluggish mind.

“I was waiting for you to get here,” Emma said in a cold, rough voice nothing like her own. “But I needed something to pass the time.” Another riiiiiip. More skin came away and turned to mist.

The air in the room felt thick, and there was an odd pressure all over my body, as though I was submerged in water. I occasionally felt as though a large fish or a current pushed against me, almost knocking me off balance, but there was nothing there. At least the floor wasn’t rolling like it had been in the stairway.

Lhoris dropped his sword and approached the throne slowly. “Emma, we are so relieved to see that the bastard didn’t get what he wanted from you.”

“I didn’t give it to him, and now Nicolas is dead,” she corrected him calmly. Another strip of skin lifted into the air and dissipated into mist. “He wanted the power of death, now I will give it to him … just not the way he wanted it.” De Rais flinched and let loose a thready little squeal of a scream. “And he will feel every moment of it, until I decide to release him.”

“Which would be your right,” Lhoris agreed, though his face twisted at the sight he approached. “Though I’d like to point out that you could use this magic and take the death from Nicolas instead. Restore his life.”

“This first,” she said flatly. “My heart longs for this first.”

Lhoris stopped moving forward and just stared at Emma. If bringing Nicolas back wouldn’t move her, what would?

“Did you know,” Emma continued conversationally, as if she wasn’t torturing a man to death, “that dear Uncle Ubras cursed my father and his lands to waste away? That he set me up to be taken by highwaymen in hopes it would destabilize me and send me on a killing spree? I can’t get him to confess to my mother’s murder, but I think it’s because he lost the ability to speak before I got to it.” The next strip of flesh was torn off in quick stops and starts rip, rip, rip.

My eyes flicked around the room, desperate for anything that might help, and I spotted de Rais’ mirror on a nearby table. The one he likely had spied through. Something told me I should pick it up. At the very least, I could smash it for dramatic effect. I reached out for the mirror and clutched it in my trembling hands. Then I followed in Lhoris’ footsteps and took his hand.

“Emma,” I said. “You’re on the edge of Becoming.” I wasn’t really sure, but it seemed to be the right thing to say.

“Then this is what I shall Become,” Emma said, though she paused midway through ripping off yet another strip of skin to turn her face to us.

“This is not who you really are,” Lhoris said, his voice cracking.

“I was weak,” Emma spat, leaning forward in her seat. “I couldn’t stop him from torturing Nicolas. And you, and the rest of the people here. Nine days. It took nine days before I embraced this!” She gestured to de Rais’ twitching body with her splayed hands. “Before I gave up on being me!”

I extended the mirror toward her, and Emma recoiled at her reflection.

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