Ask the Oracle (23 page)

“Oh, yeah?” Povell smirked. Reaching around, he dropped his hand to Gray’s groin

and squeezed him painfully tight. Gray cried out, the pain intense and nauseating. Povell

laughed. “You mean if I touch him like this?”

Dreo’s roar was earth shattering. Glass objects groaned from the strain of withstanding

the sound and anything metal rattled in its casings. Without any further warning, Dreo

launched himself at Povell, murder clear in his eyes. Povell’s answering shout was

triumphant. Giving Gray a hard shove, he forced him to the ground before turning to face

Dreo, green fire already travelling down his arms.

Gray looked on helplessly as the two Demons faced off. The fire encompassing Povell’s

arms flared brighter as he began to throw bolt after bolt of living flame. As they closed the

space between Povell and Dreo, the bolts began to burn brighter, as if they were gearing up

to do the most damage possible.

When Dreo didn’t so much as raise his hands to defend himself, Gray started to worry.

What the hell is he doing?

Granted, Gray had never been much of a fighter, but he did understand the basic

mechanics of combat. Allowing your attacker to strike, while not defending yourself, was not

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something that was generally done. Gray’s heart beat faster as fear for his mate consumed

him. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew that if Andreo Demos died

today, Gray would follow, soon after. He couldn’t survive in a world without his bossy

Demon. There would be nothing left for him to live for.

When Povell’s projectiles were within arm’s reach of Dreo, Gray had to bite back a cry

of warning. He didn’t want to do anything to distract his mate, but if Dreo got himself killed,

Gray was going to kick his ass. When a smile bloomed on Dreo’s face, Gray had no idea what

to think. He was even more confused when Dreo pursed his lips and blew out a slow, steady

breath, like he was doing nothing more exciting than try to cool a bowl of hot soup.

As the stream of hot air reached the incoming missiles, Povell’s hell fire began to

sputter and spark, struggling to hold onto its flame. When it reached the point of actually

touching Dreo, it winked out of existence completely, becoming nothing more dangerous

than a gentle breeze that ruffled his mate’s hair. Gray let out the breath he’d been holding,

relief washing over him to see his Demon unharmed.

A quick glance at Povell showed that there might be a chink in the rogue Demon’s

armour. The rage was still there. The evil, too. But underneath all that, Gray could see the

fear that was building inside him. It was there in his eyes, spreading like poison, infecting

everything in its path. For Povell, it was the first sign of weakness. For Gray, it was a sign of

hope.

Dreo was still smiling as he stared Povell down. With his muscled body standing tall

and proud, and his head held high, Dreo looked like a king. A feeling of foreboding washed

over him at the thought, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside. For now, he needed to be

completely focused on the two of them making it through this alive. Everything else could

wait.

“Was that the best you’ve got, old friend?” Dreo taunted. “My turn.”

Dreo’s attack was as different from Povell’s as night is from day. Opal’s, as well, was

almost juvenile in comparison. There was no warning—no way to predict the strike. One

minute there was nothing. The next, a wall of boiling black fire winked into existence, mere

feet from Povell. It was fast moving, closing in on him in seconds. There was no time to for

him avoid the attack. Only the man’s Demon speed was able to save him from immediate

death. Diving to take cover behind a large pile of refuse, Povell was able to avoid a direct hit,

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but was still struck on his left side. The furniture and other objects that Opal had previously

piled up out of sheer laziness, now served to give Povell multiple points of cover. The stench

of charred flesh assailed Gray’s nose, causing him to force down the instinctive urge to

vomit.

When Povell didn’t immediately rise, Dreo began a slow approach. “Have you had

enough?”

“Are you kidding?” Povell’s laugh was strained. “Things are just starting to get fun.”

Popping up, he lobbed another round of green fire, which Dreo was easily able to evade.

“It is madness to continue this fight, Povell. If you surrender now, I will appeal to the

Demon Council for leniency. Imprisonment, instead of a death sentence.”

“Eternity in a cage? You’ve got to be joking. There is no life without freedom. Death

would be a preferable fate. No. If you want to take my life, I feel it’s only fair to return the

favour.”

Povell was on the move before Gray had time to process his words. Rolling out from

behind his make-shift shelter, the Demon sprinted across the room. Even injured, he was

faster that Gray’s eyes could track. It left Gray feeling vulnerable, and he didn’t like it.

“Dreo?”

“Stay where you are, Oracle. My men and I will keep you safe.” With a nod to his

Demons, they fanned out.

Povell’s laugh sounded again, this time closer than before. “Is that what you think,

Dreo? That you and your group of toy soldiers can protect him? What a novel idea,” he

sneered. “You can’t even protect yourselves.”

A glint of light caught Gray’s eye and one of Dreo’s men called out a warning. Turning,

he barely had time to take in the barrage of green fire that arced towards them from behind.

Even with the warning, Dreo and his men barely had time to get clear of the attack. A few of

Dreo’s men went down. Those who weren’t injured moved in to pull their comrades out of

harm’s way and tend to the wounded. Dreo himself took a hit to the back while trying to

cover one of his men. The power behind the hit nearly drove him to his knees. His face

contorted in pain, but he never made a sound. When one of his soldiers made a move

towards him, Dreo waved him off, ordering him back to help the others. Gray wanted to go

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to him, but stopped himself. Dreo had told him to stay where he was. He didn’t want to put

either of them at further risk by running out in the open, willy-nilly.

“You scurry around, hiding like vermin in a sewer,” Dreo called out. “Are you afraid to

face me? Where is your sense of honour?”

Povell laughed, derisively. “In case you failed to notice,
Lord Demos
, honour isn’t

something that holds much stock with me. Honour is a weakness. It limits you. All that truly

matters is power and the ability to use it. I will always be stronger than you because there are

certain places you won’t go. Vulnerabilities that you won’t take advantage of. Honour

doesn’t make you strong—it makes you a fool.”

Dreo took a step forward, jaw clenched and hands fisted. “I guess we will have to agree

to disagree. I am done with these games, Povell. If you want my life so bad, come and get it.”

“Well, if you insist.”

Gray cringed when Povell’s voice sounded directly behind him, his vile breath

feathering across Gray’s neck. He made a move to flee but was quickly restrained by a thick

arm, wrapped around his chest.

“Dreo!” Gray’s cry was a warning as much as it was a cry for help.

“Release him,” Dreo ordered. “Your fight is with me.”

“I don’t think so. You offered up your life. I’ve decided to take you up on that offer.”

Pulling Gray in tight, Povell’s mouth was at his ear. “For all that Opal is a crazy bitch,

she did teach me one useful trick. Do you want to see?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Povell chuckled. “Not really.” Spinning Gray around to face him, Povell placed a hand

over Gray’s heart. Closing his eyes, an expression of total concentration crossed the Demon’s

face, making Gray wonder what he was up to. The longer they stood there, locked together,

the stranger Gray began to feel. At first, he assumed it was nothing more than a natural

revulsion to being so close to the vile man. The sensation started in his stomach, gradually

working its way up through his chest and continuing up until his head was pounding. His

vision began to blur and his hands started to shake. It was when the edge of his vision

became foggy, then darkened, that fear truly took over.

“The best thing about Opal,” Povell whispered into his ear, “is that she knows all the

secrets about Oracles. My favourite, was how to force a vision—”

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Gray froze. Horror filled him at the realisation of what Povell was saying. He would

never have thought that Opal would have been crazy enough to tell a Demon, so completely

out of his mind, an Oracle’s most guarded secret. He would have thought she had some

sense of self-preservation. The ability to force a vision was also the ability to make an Oracle

utterly vulnerable for one moment. For most people, that amount of time was worthless. For

a murderous Demon, it was all the time he needed. While teaching Balen the skill had been

careless on her part, Balen was not the homicidal monster than Povell was. Giving Povell the

knowledge was on par with giving a mass murderer a loaded gun with no safety, and setting

him loose in a populated area. It was just a matter of time before he used it.

Looking over his shoulder, Gray sought out his mate, desperate to see him one last

time. When he locked onto those dark eyes, even through the haze of an incoming vision, it

felt like coming home. He smiled sadly, wishing their time together hadn’t been so short.

Some things were just out of their control.

“I love you!” Gray shouted as his vision faded to black. He felt the hand over his heart

begin to heat through the material of his shirt and knew his end had come.

“Aw,” Povell mocked. “Isn’t that sweet?”

As the vision started, the weight of Povell’s hand jerked away. He felt a burning pain in

his heart then—

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Gray didn’t know what was happening. One minute there was a feeling of such blissful

peace then the next his body was awash with pain as his ears were assailed by the sheer

volume of whatever was going on around him. There were screams, shouting, an explosion

off to his right—all around him, the sounds of objects crashing to the ground. None of it

made any sense.

He tried to open his eyes, but his lids would not obey his commands. His body felt

heavy. Almost as if he was submerged under water. When he attempted to move his arms

and legs, he encountered the same feeling, like his body had been strapped down with

weights. As he resigned himself to his current situation, he was startled when he felt strange

hands touching him. He was jostled around briefly before he experienced a moment of

weightlessness as he was lifted off the ground and carried away.

Moments, or possibly hours, later he was lowered onto a soft, cushioned surface. He

was confused when someone removed his shirt, but he couldn’t find the strength to truly

care. All he wanted was to return to his world of peace. This world had nothing to offer him

but pain and suffering.

“You do not get to leave me, Grayson Muir!”

The male voice was familiar but hard to place. It did something to him—made his

insides tingle and his cock hot and needy. There were hands on him—warm, questing,

familiar hands. They explored his chest, increasing the pain he felt there. He tried to pull

back—escape the hurt those hands caused—but he was held steady.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know it hurts, but we’re trying to make it better.”

The familiar voice again. He still couldn’t place it, but something about that voice

encouraged him to trust and obey. His muscles relaxed and his breathing calmed. Those

questing hands, no longer causing pain, ran along his skin in soothing, gentle strokes.

Despite the pain radiating through his chest, he still craved more of that touch. When the

hand pulled away, a pitiful whine escaped his throat.

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“Hush now, my mate. We’ll fix this. I promise, we’ll fix this.” The desperate edge to the

man’s voice made it sound like he was trying convince himself as he much as he was trying

to convince Gray. Gray didn’t mind. He could listen to that voice forever and never tire of it,

no matter what it was saying.

“Dreo,” another voice sounded. “He’s fading fast. You have to do the exchange. It’s his

only chance.”

Dreo?
He recognised that name. He tried to pull up a picture in his mind, but the effort