Chapter 30
Hugh’s entire body stilled as he registered his sister’s name. From his look of absolute, agonized incomprehension, Gwen had to assume that Dottie’s report hadn’t mentioned Eloise.
Gwen took his hand and held it tightly. Tried to prepare him for what he would find within his twin’s capsule if he chose to look inside.
“Eloise’s consciousness is aboveground with her designated charge.
” Gwen flicked a glance upward with a silent thank-you to the guardian demon, who’d obviously managed to get word to Eloise’s brother despite the risk to her own safety.
Also to Dottie, who’d somehow wrangled a meeting with a SERC councilor within hours and convinced him to believe a total stranger’s outlandish tale.
“Only her body is here, and it remains comatose except when she reclaims her physical form to file her weekly report. Which she did this morning”—what time was it?
—“or maybe yesterday morning, so you won’t be able to talk with her. I’m so sorry.”
Hugh stared at the plaque in utter silence, his face taut and white. She squeezed his hand, hoping to provide him as much comfort as possible.
“But she’s happy, Hugh. What you sensed is real.” Another fierce squeeze. “She’s happy, and she loves you so much.”
“How do you…” His throat bobbed. “How do you know that?”
“I met her, Hugh. I met your sister.” And thank goodness for that meeting, for so many reasons. “She’s how you found out where I was. Dottie, the werewolf, is her assigned afterlife charge.”
“I see,” he eventually whispered, which meant he was still completely lost.
“I’ll explain everything. I promise.” She cast a quick, pained glance toward the other oracles, who’d already raided the room’s tiny pantry and were now sitting at desks and the room’s small, round kitchenette table, observing the drama-in-progress while munching on actual popcorn.
“Once we figure out what to do next and how long we can safely stay here.”
“There’s a shift calendar on the wall by the sink,” Harry volunteered, rising to his feet with a slight groan. “Would that tell us anything?”
Gwen considered that. “Does it list when everyone’s weekly reports are due?”
“Let’s see.” Harry walked to the sink and squinted at the calendar. “Yes, it does. The next deadline is apparently…this upcoming evening. At eight.”
Gwen nodded, heartened. “Thank you, Harry.”
As long as the guardian demons didn’t return to their Realm dormitory too far ahead of their filing hour, that should give her ragtag group plenty of time to rest.
“This chart indicates that the maintenance staff did their nightly cleaning an hour ago.” Jing-Jing was peering at the door, where a plastic sleeve covered a sheet of printed paper. “They won’t be back for roughly twenty-three hours.”
The group might remain undisturbed in their hiding place, then.
Assuming that they hadn’t already been spotted, that the Realm’s personal Cerberus clone didn’t track their scent and indicate the continuing threat to a handler, and that this room didn’t contain a hidden security camera whose footage would reveal their intrusion.
Also that Josiah didn’t find them. Which he could if any of the oracles had a prophecy that included him.
“Okay. Okay. Let me think a moment.” Hugh scrubbed his free hand over his face and valiantly attempted to set aside the issue of his sister. “What do you think we should do next, Gwen?”
She straightened, proud that he valued her input.
Proud that she had actual opinions to offer him, ones she considered reasonable.
Proud that her pragmatic survival and community-building knowledge had, surprisingly enough, made her a sort of leader to their band of captive oracles—which meant that whatever she said next would probably become their new plan.
Yes, she still found that kind of responsibility frightening. She probably always would. But it felt undeniably, indescribably good to trust herself and her own judgment for maybe the first time in her entire damn life and to know that other beings she respected did the same.
She turned to Hugh. “First, can you tell us about your rescue plans?”
“I’ve arranged for teleportation assistance to appear at dawn in the afterlife courtroom.” Under his breath, he added, “Hopefully.”
Jing-Jing glanced at the analog clock on the wall, which indicated a few minutes after midnight. “Why dawn?”
“I wanted to give us enough time to find the courtroom.” Hugh’s calm voice belied the worry Gwen could read in his tired eyes. “We can’t arrive too far in advance, though, since the cameras there might be continuously monitored. Hopefully they aren’t.”
Matilda’s forefinger fretfully tapped her can of Diet Coke. “If we already know there’s video surveillance in the courtroom, why meet there?”
“It’s the only publicly accessible site in the Realm Below, so intrusion there may be forgiven more easily,” Hugh told her. “It’s also the only spot in the Realm Below widely familiar to demons, and the teleporters needed to know where to go.”
“Based on what we overheard, Death and the Fates are still on holiday break.” Gwen flashed the group a strained smile. “So maybe their security staff will be less vigilant.”
Timon swallowed his last slice of a mandarin orange. “Besides, we don’t have any other good rescue options, so the courtroom meeting location will have to stand. We just need to get there in time.”
As a group, they all looked once more at the clock on the wall.
“We can’t be far now.” Poor Hugh was obviously doing his best to project confidence, with limited success. “Shall we give ourselves…an hour to find it?”
The oracles murmured in agreement, uncertainty clear in their expressions.
“In that case, we should be able to rest for roughly six hours.” His gaze strayed back to Gwen. “Assuming you think we can stay here safely?”
She took a deep breath and issued her verdict.
“Under the circumstances, I think this is as good a hiding place as we’re likely to find. We have food and water. We have a bathroom. I even spotted a few capsules without nameplates toward the back of the room, so I’m guessing they’re empty and probably have beds inside.”
Her next point would require some finesse, since she didn’t yet know whether Dottie had informed Hugh about the central role Josiah and Marlee had played in the oracles’ imprisonment.
“Finally, I don’t think…anyone…is likely to teleport inside here,” she said carefully.
“By ‘anyone,’ you mean my mother, correct?” His voice was as flat as a bicycle tire with a nail puncture. “You’re concerned that she might transport Josiah, your captor?”
Welp. Apparently Hugh did know.
“Josiah has other demon minions whose teleportation abilities he could tap too, as necessary. I’m not overly concerned about that possibility, though.
” Discreetly, she nudged Hugh’s foot with her own, hoping he could feel her support and commiseration.
“With the guards incapacitated by our extremely hot demon rescuer”—she nudged his foot again, and he shook his head ruefully at her—“Josiah shouldn’t learn about our escape for hours.
The Realm Below is enormous, with countless rooms where we could be hiding, and for all he knows, we might have been transported aboveground already.
Unless he has a vampire to track our scents, we could be almost anywhere. ”
“Also…” Harry, their eldest captive, sounded very tired but still alert. “He’ll have to be careful pursuing us, since Death and the Fates will exact vengeance for his unauthorized intrusion if they catch him.”
“Exactly.” Gwen patted away an involuntary yawn. “I’m also guessing that he didn’t expect captives in such a remote prison to receive outside help and never planned what to do if we left as a group. Oracles are famous for competition and isolation, not cooperation.”
“Until now.” Matilda lifted her Diet Coke in a salute. “Thanks to you, Gwennie.”
The others raised their drinks too, echoing her thanks. Ears burning with mingled pride and embarrassment, Gwen waved them off.
“Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “We can’t keep running without some rest. I think we should take the opportunity to nap here.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Matilda said through a mouthful of pretzels, and the others all echoed her conclusion. Including Hugh.
And then…that’s what they did.
—
Fifteen minutes later, all the oracles had filled their bellies, created a barricade in front of the door, washed up in the bathroom, and chosen unused capsules for their naps. With one exception.
“While everyone else rests, I’ll stand guard here.” Matilda plunked down into the lone chair that hadn’t been used in the makeshift safety barrier. Leaning back, she stretched out her legs with a relieved sigh. “Or rather, sit guard.”
Given the bruise-black circles under her glassy brown eyes, it was a very generous offer.
For that generosity and so many other reasons, Gwen genuinely liked Matilda.
The other oracles too. And when she considered everything she’d learned about their post-Delphi lives this past week, she suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of them returning to their previous existences after they’d all been rescued.
Sure, they had money and status. But what good were fame and luxury to people who spent endless decades alienated and hidden away from everyone who might care about them for any reason other than their prophetic ability?
And sure, some oracles managed to find romantic partners and friends on their security teams or even among their employers, but that was the exception rather than the rule.
With every traumatic, body-breaking vision and lonely day spent alone, seers sacrificed their personal comfort for the well-being of others—and those others were usually billionaires and corporations and shadowy government entities.
Some of the worst beings on the planet, whose plans and purposes almost never deserved the monumental advantage of a high-level oracle’s guidance.