Page 63 of Pining for the Prince
Hyax tucked a hank of Duncan’s frizzy hair behind his ear and smiled. “Thank you. You can leave us to it… I know how to work an oracle.”
Flustered and a little unsteady on his feet, Duncan tottered away.
“Are you able to change the effect of your projection?” Gwil asked. “Usually I get a raging hard-on, but he seemed more confused than horny.”
He’d always wondered if Gwil had been moved when he’d been caught in the crossfire, and while he’d never deliberately done so, Gwil had been in the wrong place at the right time to have experienced some of his most spectacular displays. Hyax was delighted.
“Species-dependent. Or at least magical versus non-magical. An individual’s magic will distort it, like a defence shield with varying effects. Without the magic, it’s a baser reaction, more about primitive desire.” He leant in close and nibbled Gwil’s ear. “But now I don’t need to project to make you hard, and I promise that I’ll make sure your desires are completely catered for.”
“Oh God!”
Gwil growled and Hyax danced out of his reach. “Later. After we’ve asked the oracle.”
“You’re a fucking tease.”
“A tease doesn’t put out.”
Gwil made a low-keening noise.
Hyax chuckled to himself, loving the effect he had on Gwil, something he planned to take full advantage of later. For nowhe had a job to do. He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
He’d consulted oracles before and each had a particular way about it, as if there was a memory to the water that made it either easygoing or cranky, and the temperature or time of day all had to be factored in.
The alcove containing the oracle was softly lit and the oracle itself was at floor level and contained by a series of mismatched worn bricks. Hyax suspected they had been replaced several times over the last nine hundred years. He knelt down and brushed the surface of the water, letting his magic flow, and watched the colours swirl and dance. A blue sheen morphed into a purple hue and his body tingled at the hidden depths beneath his fingertips.
Gwil had come to stand behind him. “Do I need to do anything?”
Hyax shook his head. “No, just give me a few moments. I need to connect and then ask my question. Could you go over to the entrance and keep Duncan away? I sense he’s the sort to like to watch people doing magic… I reckon he’s a spell-sniffer.”
“Is that like knicker sniffing? I wouldn’t put that past him either,” Gwil said as he sauntered away.
The real issue would be having Gwil too close, he was a distraction and his magic might ask questions about him rather than the stone. He returned his concentration to the oracle, refocusing and closing his eyes. The water was cold but his hand had grown accustomed to the temperature and he could feel a delicious tremor across his skin. He thought about the Stone of Ljin, pictured it as clearly as possible, and spoke aloud. “I seek the Stone of Ljin, show me the way to find it.”
He opened his eyes to stare at the surface of the oracle. At first it was just his own reflection, then an image began to form…a stone triangle sitting on top of a series of columns. “You have got to be fucking with me?”
“What?” called Gwil.
“It’s in the British Museum.”
“Fucking hell. Where? That place is massive.”
He tried to concentrate again and pull the oracle back to stone, the water rippled as if it was laughing at him and, instead of the building, he saw an image of Gwil, head tipped back, mouth open and close to orgasm. “That was not what I asked for!”
“Did you say something?” Gwil asked.
He removed his hand and slapped the surface of the water. An oily slick appeared and covered the oracle. Tutting, he stood and wiped his hand on his jeans.
“No, and I won’t get any more out of it. Bloody prick.”
Most oracles had a personality of sorts, some required an individual to work though, others more accommodating, and he should have realised the one that had been in London for so long would have picked up the passive-aggressive tendencies of the city’s inhabitants.
“I suppose we know where it is… it’s a start.”
“I should be able to pinpoint it once I’m in there but they’d have to agree to drop the wards and I’d have to wander around and cast openly.”
“If they sort it in time, I think the British Museum is closed for Christmas. From recollection, it’s shut until the twenty-seventh.” He checked his watch. “We should go see Goya when we’re back on the surface, maybe he can get us access for Boxing Day.”
“Let’s get out of here. Before the grumpy puddle starts belching out gas.”
