World’s Okayest Oracle (Reluctantly) Seeks Demon

Prologue

As the door to the hallway opened, Gwen Wexloff looked up from the waiting room’s picked-over refreshments table with significant reluctance.

Even a well-funded academy like Delphi offered very few celebratory cheese platters, in her experience.

And since she was graduating soon and understood all too well the limited nature of her own oracular talent, she figured their appearances in her life were shortly going to devolve from rare to nonexistent.

Gather ye cubes of Colby-jack—such a speckly crowd-pleaser of a cheese!—while ye may, and so forth.

At the sight of the stranger in the doorway, however, she abruptly straightened, donned her most winning smile, and did her best to radiate the air of someone who definitely hadn’t been poised to wrap the final remaining slivers of Brie in a napkin and tuck them in her thrift-store tote.

From the looks of the demon’s slick black suit, he was an emissary from the Supernatural and Enhanced Ruling Council, despite his seeming youth.

Not part of the oracle verification panel in the adjoining room, though, since those panelists were currently evaluating Matilda Tinley’s staggeringly powerful visions.

Because the testing proceeded alphabetically, Gwen would be both the next and final newly minted eighteen-year-old getting verified at Delphi Academy this month. Also the worst. By far.

But at least her caboose status had left her alone with the cheese…until now.

The demon was lingering silently in the doorway, dark brows drawn in seeming confusion as he scanned her, then the otherwise-empty waiting room, then her again.

As she walked over to him, she studied him right back.

Apart from the small, curved horns half-buried in his thick brown hair, he appeared more elfin than demonic.

Most demon males around his apparent age were pretty boys, their dazzling looks camouflaging their calculating natures, rather than slim, nondescript twentysomethings of unremarkable height and angular features.

That said: The demon’s suit hugged him like a best friend, his eyes were weary but sharp, and he radiated authority.

He might not look like an average demon, and he might not be much older than her, but her instincts told her he contained more power within him than most observers might suspect. And apparently he wasn’t much of a talker.

Despite his continued silence and scrutiny, she didn’t let her smile flag.

“You must be part of the SERC inspection task force.” As usual, the headmaster had warned students to be on their best behavior during the yearly inspection, both to discourage the Council’s interference in school matters and to justify the funding they granted to Delphi.

“I’d be happy to help direct you wherever you meant to go. ”

He paused before answering. “I meant to come here.”

Maybe he’d been sent to interview her because his pickings were otherwise slim? By this point in the evening, almost all her classmates would have returned to their dorms or the leisure-oriented areas of the campus hours ago.

Honestly, a distraction from her worry over her upcoming test would be welcome.

“In that case…” She waved him inside, and after another instant of hesitation, he closed the door behind himself and followed her to the faux-leather two-seater couch near the refreshments table.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to eat or drink? Maybe a slice of melon or some grapes? I can make a plate for you.”

She hovered near the table as he sat, hoping he wouldn’t spot those half-melted slivers of—

“I suppose I’d like some Brie,” he said to her dismay, his voice quiet but clear. “Thank you very much.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Sure!”

As she reached for a fresh paper plate, though, he cleared his throat. “Upon second thought, I believe I’d enjoy the melon more.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she told him with all sincerity, and began loading up his plate with the honeydew she loathed. “Anyway, you probably want to hear about my experiences at the school?”

“I…yes. Whatever you’re comfortable telling me.” He accepted the overloaded, sagging plate and a fork with murmured gratitude. “I’m Hugh, by the way. A representative from SERC, as you surmised.”

“Gwen. Lovely to meet you.” She claimed the last two pieces of Brie for herself with only a small twinge of guilt. From the looks of him, he could easily afford all the bloomy-rind deliciousness he might desire. “I’m happy to chat about whatever you’d like.”

Other than her plan to squirrel away any remaining cheese cubes inside her purse, anyway.

The couch squeaked as she settled beside him, and she took a sip of her ginger ale as she discreetly inhaled his faint, pleasantly smoky scent. Wow, his body really radiated heat up close. She’d heard that about demons. Never experienced it personally before now, though.

“Okay, so. The teachers are fantastic and incredibly patient. Especially Ms. Carr in the Prophetic Skills Department, who…” she began.

As she rambled, he ate his melon and asked occasional follow-up questions, his brown eyes intent on her. He didn’t fidget. Didn’t look away.

He listened to her as if she were…well, important.

Which she wasn’t, but feeling otherwise—if only for a fleeting minute with a stranger—was glorious.

Under his steady, patient gaze, with his proximity warming her entire right side, her tension gradually eased, and her smile turned entirely genuine.

He was cute. Solemn and not much of a talker, but cute.

Did demons ever date humans? More specifically, would a demon powerful enough to represent SERC at such a young age ever consider asking out an oracular lightweight like her?

Her common sense said no. But when he angled himself to face her more directly and his knee bumped hers, he didn’t move away. Neither did she. And even through his suit pants and her leggings, that bare inch of contact hitched her breath and sent pleasant tingles up her spine.

After several minutes, she began wrapping things up. “Anyway, all of us really like having individual rooms in our dorm, even if we have to share bathroom facilities.”

Gwen especially appreciated the lack of a roommate, given her sibling-packed, overcrowded bedroom back home…not to mention her utter failure to make friends at the academy.

Oracles were notoriously competitive—everyone wanted the best-paid, most perk-filled positions available after graduation—and standoffish.

After all, too much camaraderie could persuade them to let down their guard and let critical, proprietary information slip.

And shared information was wasted information, useless in building an oracle’s reputation or earning their keep with their eventual employer, who invariably preferred to be the sole entity benefiting from said information.

Besides, Gwen had long ago earned her reputation at the academy as an oracular dud. Having to share a room with someone who clearly—and accurately—considered her an inferior seer, too underpowered to bother befriending or even acknowledging, would have hurt even more than her current isolation.

“I’m so grateful to SERC for its generous funding, and I hope you pass that along to the councilors.” Exactly the sentiment her headmaster had urged students to share with the inspectors, and also her personal truth. “Is there anything specific you’d like to ask me?”

“Yes.” Head tilted, he regarded her solemnly. “Although I get the sense you’re leaving out anything that might be considered unpleasant.”

She had to laugh. “You’re a SERC official, Hugh. Under the circumstances, can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t.” His eyes crinkled appealingly in answering amusement. “But…are you happy here at the academy? Is there anything you’d change?”

Other than the negligible amount of talent she possessed and her utter loneliness? Neither of which he nor SERC could remedy with increased funding or by fiat?

Her smile faltered. “Well…”

No matter how patiently he might wait for her answer, he didn’t care about her personal problems. Why would he? Why would anyone?

As long as he was asking, though, she shouldn’t lose this singular opportunity to argue for at least one important change at Delphi. Even though haranguing a SERC official required far more boldness than she typically possessed and wouldn’t please the headmaster either.

But it was important, so she gathered her nerve and did the right thing.

“I’m fine. Besides, I’m leaving the academy soon, so my happiness or lack thereof is unimportant.” When he frowned and opened his mouth to respond, she simply kept speaking. “I do have a suggestion for the Council, however.”

He didn’t look happy about her dodge, but he let it go. “Yes?”

“As you know, SERC prohibits outsiders from visiting the campus and disallows most travel to and from the academy for both students and faculty during the school year. For good reason.”

Everyone—government agencies, corporations, wealthy elites—wanted a seer of their own, since having an oracle’s predictive capabilities at one’s disposal generally led to big money.

Many of those who couldn’t bid highly enough to claim the most talented Delphi Academy graduates would, if given the opportunity, gladly abduct those students instead.

So would numerous criminal gangs, human or otherwise, both for profit reasons and to prevent prophecies of their future schemes.

Unlike most other Enhanced designations, oracles’ power didn’t give them any good means of self-defense.

They couldn’t place wards on their dorm rooms or incinerate their enemies or even read the thoughts of would-be abductors.

Before graduation, then, their protection lay almost entirely in Delphi’s strict protocols and careful guardianship of its students.

As the pitch-black joke at school went: What do you call a seer with a known address? Amber. Short for Amber Alert.