Page 39 of The Shadowed Oracle
“You two can catch up later,” Raidinn said sharply. “We don’t have the luxury right now.”
“He’s right.” Tyla’s bright eyes had gone from tearing up with laughter to stone-faced in a matter of seconds. “We need to tell you something. And we need to know where you stand on what to do about it.”
Raidinn darted his eyes at Dean. “Should I tell her? Or you?”
The room stilled as Dean considered, giving Ingrid a kindly but ultimately concerned look. It was enough to send a wave of panic over her. This conversation she’d walked into, what they were arguing about, it must’ve been worse than she’d imagined.
“I’ll tell her,” Tyla interjected. “For fuck’s sake. She’s an adult. She can handle it.” A look of understanding was shared between the two women. “Do you want to sit?” she added.
Judging by her tone, it didn’t seem to be a melodramatic offering. It was a suggestion to settle in and prepare for a lengthy conversation. Ingrid didn’t see any sense in getting impatient again so she moved toward the chair, plopping down once Dean had pulled it out for her.
“After you and Dean fought off that Wrane,” Tyla said, wasting no time. “It’s possible that it returned to Ealis, back to Makkar, and told him what you are.”
Ingrid shook her head emphatically. “No. It didn’t know. It couldn’t. Tell them Dean.” She turned, searching his face for the same nonchalance he’d had the night before, when talking about how the cloaking had affected the Wrane’s ability to see her fully. But Dean only rested his hands on the table, shoulders slumping.
“I can’t be totally sure of that,” he said.
“But the games it played?” Ingrid repeated. “That thing was toying with me. Idling. If it knew I was… whatever the fuck I am. Then he would’ve been more cautious, right?”
With every silent moment, her assuredness faded.
“It’s not a definite,” Tyla went on. “Hence, the decisions to be made. We don’t know for sure, though we do have reasons to believe it found out. After.”
“After what?” Ingrid asked. “After Dean scared it off?”
“That’s where my uncertainty lies,” Dean threw in. “I’m not so sure it was me. The viseer stone worked, sure. But you might’ve helped. You might’ve channeled a fraction of your power. Accidentally, of course.”
Ingrid nearly vibrated with irritation at that. Dean had said her power would need a significant amount of time to surface, to be trained. So how could she use it without even knowing she had it?
And worse, there was a lack of information about her abilities in general. What power, exactly? What magic? If it was so rare, so valuable, then why hadn’t Dean at least tried to tell her more about it? Give her a chance to explore it within herself. To learn. To grow. Teacher or not, she could find a way to tune in to it.
“Just give me something,” Ingrid said. “Anything? What am I?”
“Oracle,” Raidinn said anticlimactically. “Succubus. Witch. Siren. Sorceress. Prophet. Whatever you want to call yourself, love.”
Tyla started to explain, “There are?—”
But Ingrid cut her off. “Many names for it,” she said, deflated. “Yeah, I’m picking up on that theme.”
“And there are many legends about what your kind can do,” Tyla added. “Many legends that Karis never denied or accepted, that crotchety old prick. Dean informed us that you can tap into what others are feeling, see glimmers of others’ memories. But other than that?—”
Now it was Dean interrupting. “Every fairytale, every legend, every myth, they draw from the unseen world, from Ealis. Over the millennia, thousands of cultures have told their own versionsof the stories. And everything has become jumbled.” He shook his head. “I know you want straight answers, some kind of handbook, but it doesn’t exist. That’s why I refuse to guess.”
Ingrid released a mumbling laugh under her breath, then looked up at Dean. “Witch. You called me a witch, when we talked about my vision.”
“Well, no. Hate to be nit-picky,” Dean grimaced. “But you were the one who saidwitch.”
“And that excuses your lies?”
“No, that’s not at all what I’m saying.” He couldn’t hide his amusement at Ingrid’s sass. “I probably should’ve told you. Honestly, I nearly did then. But I didn’t have any details about what you can do. I still don’t. The only thing we can go off was what we saw from Karis. And as you’ve probably gathered, he wasn’t very talkative or showy with his magic. He’d been taught to keep his power hidden. To never speak of it. We’ll just have to learn about the extent of your powers as you do. As they reveal themselves.”
That same hint of suppressed resentment was in Dean’s voice. He couldn’t bring himself to speak ill of Karis, yet at the same time, he’d grown angry at his father for the mysteries he left behind.
Ingrid could relate.
“Now,” Raidinn snarled. “Can we get back to it?”
“Give her a minute,” Dean said.
