Chapter Thirty-One
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AMAROS APPEARED IN front of the dusty white pickup truck with his squad arrayed behind him.
The truck eased to a stop and the driver grinned, lifting his hands to show he wasn’t armed.
“Think before you shoot, fellas,” he called out in a familiar voice.
“You wouldn’t want to doom the world to Chaos would you? ”
“Is that who I think it is, boss?” Cam asked in shock. Lowering his rifle slightly.
“It’s the Mad Prophet,” Amaros confirmed.
“I knew I recognized his voice,” Jac said in the same astonishment they all felt.
“Wait here,” their commander said, then warily approached the truck. He could sense the human’s soul was gray, without any traces of black.
The window slid down and the male extended his hand. “I assume you want to scan me, son?” the Mad Prophet asked.
Spooked by how much this stranger knew about them, Amaros took his hand.
A deep scan told him the oracle had led a fairly ordinary life right up until a few months before the Rapture.
Then everything went hazy and he couldn’t pick up on anything else.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, releasing the male’s hand.
“I’ll explain everything just as soon as your pretty mate has cleared me,” the Mad Prophet said. “I’m dying for a hot cup of coffee and a shower,” he added with a grin.
Amaros knew their unexpected visitor wasn’t dangerous, but he was still unsettled by his presence. “Continue down the driveway and park in front of the garages,” he said. With a jerk of his head at his team, they all teleported back to their base.
The females were all crowded just outside the front door. “Who is it?” Grace asked in excitement.
“It’s the Mad Prophet,” Zoe said, scanning her mate’s mind. “He’s the one he warned us would be visiting?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep,” Amaros said as they listened to the vehicles slowly making their way towards them. “I have no idea why he’s here. He said he was dying for a hot cup of coffee and a shower, though.”
“I’ll make the coffee,” Grace offered.
“I’ll get him a towel and toiletries,” Tori said. The pair hurried off to get their tasks done.
Everyone else waited for the white pickup truck and white caravan to roll into view.
Just as Amaros had instructed, the Mad Prophet parked in front of the garages.
He climbed out, then put his hands on the small of his back and stretched.
His spine popped and he let out a relieved noise.
He opened the back door and grabbed a backpack next.
Turning to face the aliens and half-aliens, the Mad Prophet zeroed in on Zoe. He grinned widely and crossed to her, extending his hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said.
Zoe took his hand and they both froze as they scanned each other’s lives. It was just a fleeting exchange, but she learned everything she needed to know about the human. “Welcome to our home,” she said as their handshake ended. “I’m Zoe Zayden.”
“I’m Queegly Crantz,” he said. “But most people call me the Mad Prophet.” He wore jeans despite the summer heat, a white t-shirt and a cowboy hat.
Average height and build, he had brown hair and eyes and an ordinary face.
While he was forgettable to look at, his eyes were otherworldly, as if he could see far more than was visible. “Where’s your little man?” he asked.
Zoe was shocked that the prophet knew about her son. “He’s sleeping,” she said, then gestured at the door. “Grace is making you some coffee and Tori is getting some supplies ready for you to take a shower.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat at her. “I’ll be happy to meet everyone once I feel human again,” he said to the others.
Tor loped down the main hallway and gestured at him through the open doorway. “I’m Tori,” she said.
“Ah, the cambion who can wield lightning,” he said as he stepped inside and followed her along the hallway. He took his hat off now that he was inside.
Tor did a double take over her shoulder. “How much do you know about us?” she demanded.
“I know plenty,” Queegly Crantz said with an affable grin and tapped his head. “Fate has shown me a lot about my allies and my enemies.”
“Amaros will be glad to hear anything that will help us fight the Soldiers of Chaos,” she said, then veered to the left when they reached the second smaller hallway past the great room.
“This is the communal bathroom,” she said, then opened the door to the room at the end of the hallway.
“We have three showers and three toilets, although we all have our own ensuites now.”
Queegly saw a plastic container sitting next to a shower with toiletries, a towel and a washcloth in it. “I won’t be long,” he promised with a nod of thanks. He stepped inside and shut the door.
Tori hurried back to the others, who were all gathered in the great room by now. Grace was making beverages and snacks for everyone. Vic ambled into the kitchen to help her. Angel trailed after her, meowing like she hadn’t eaten in six hours.
“There’s something very wrong with this kitten,” Vic said as she crossed to one of the fridges. “Something that small shouldn’t be able to eat so much or so often.”
“She’s a growing baby,” the kid said with a fond smile at the screaming feline.
“Not even little Arak needs as much sustenance as this tiny terror consumes,” Vic said as she spooned food onto a dish for Angel.
Just as he’d promised, the Mad Prophet only took a few minutes to shower.
His hair was still damp when he entered the great room wearing fresh clothes.
He looked around in recognition rather than in wonder at the moving artwork on the library shelves and the fairy lights on the walls.
“It looks even more magical in real life,” he said, then took the vacant seat Amaros indicated.
“Why are you here?” the commander asked bluntly. His tone was inquisitive rather than abrasive.
“Fate sent me a warning that some nasty preppers had worked out where my base was,” Queegly said.
“I’ve been off the air for the past few days because I was on my way here.
I’ve got all of my gear stashed in the caravan.
I’m going to need some help setting it up on one of the tall mountain peaks nearby. ”
“I can help you with that,” Xanthia offered.
“You’re the computer genius who can use your magic to operate electrical devices,” their visitor said in recognition. “Do you still pop out your wicked dance moves when you’re in the mood?”
“She does,” Semi confirmed with a small grin. “But usually only when we’re alone in our bedroom.”
“Do we even need to introduce ourselves to you, Queeg?” Grace asked. “You already know who we all are.”
“I’m Texan, little sister,” the prophet said with a wink. “It’s only polite to let everyone tell me who they are.”
“Okay, I’ll start,” the teen said with a grin. “I’m Gracelyn Doblin. I’m really fast sometimes and I can steal things that are the most precious to people.” She held her hand out and a photo appeared on her palm. It was of a pretty woman in her late thirties and a young female.
A shadow passed across Queegly’s face. “That’s my wife and my little girl,” he said. “They were both raptured, luckily for them.”
The photo was passed to him with the knights and cambions glancing at it. He tucked it back into his wallet.
Everyone introduced themselves and the females demonstrated their talents. He got a kick out of it even though he already knew what they were all capable of.