I See You (Oracle 2) (23 page)

“And … the drug has been deadly to a few Adepts. Though, apparently there haven’t been any nonmagical deaths. Not yet.”

My heart sank. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I know a great many things, Rochelle Hawthorne,” he said. “And if I don’t, I find out.”

“How many deaths?”

“Five so far. Two werewolves and three spellcasters, as far as I could ascertain.”

“Don’t tell Beau,” I blurted without thinking. “Not yet, please.”

Blackwell lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. I could barely see his deeply shadowed face, and I doubted he could see much of mine.

“Why do you think we’re here, oracle?” Blackwell’s whispered question chilled me despite the warmth of the night air.

“Not to save Ettie,” I whispered back, finally voicing the secret I’d been trying to hide from myself since sketching the last vision. “At least that’s not why I’m seeing what I’m seeing. But it doesn’t mean I can’t still … try.”

“I agree.”

“You think the visions are about the crimson drug? Because it can kill Adepts?”

“We won’t know until it’s all over. But yes, I would assume that you’ve been given these visions in regard to the drugs, not Beau’s sister. You say she’s not magical?”

I shivered again, wrapping my arms around myself as I ignored Blackwell’s question. “Given by whom? Where do you think the visions come from?”

The sorcerer returned his gaze to the street. He was silent for so long that I assumed he wasn’t going to continue the conversation. I was trying to figure out how to question him further when he finally spoke.

“That’s not for me to answer. Only you will come to know that, Rochelle Hawthorne.”

“Do you believe in God, then? That your magic comes from some divine providence?”

“No. I believe in genetics.”

“So I’m genetically predisposed to see glimpses of the future? My brain is simply capable of operating on that level?”

“Yes. I believe that you … that we … have evolved.”

“But magic goes deeper than that. It’s older than that. Older than the far seer, even …” My voice trailed off. Sharing too much of anything with the sorcerer was a bad idea. We weren’t friends.

Blackwell snorted.

I let the subject drop. This was the path we were on. I could try to make the right choices as we went, but I wasn’t the only one making decisions now.

∞

Henry Calhoun slid into the front passenger seat of the car before I even knew he was anywhere nearby. Blackwell didn’t so much as flinch.

“The wolf isn’t picking up anything significant,” Henry said.

“I see she’s circled three times.” Blackwell’s reply was coolly polite, as if maybe Henry had worn out his welcome.

I’d flicked on the overhead light to work on the sketches, undoubtedly calling attention to the fact we were parked on the side of a residential street for no legitimate reason. But Blackwell hadn’t said anything, so I hadn’t turned it off.

Unfortunately, no matter how I shaded or smudged the charcoals, I didn’t glean any new information as to a location. Obviously, the goal was to find Ettie elsewhere before the moment of her death. But as the night dragged on, I was starting to feel as if the realization of the vision was exceedingly imminent.

Henry cranked around in his seat to look at me. “I figured you out, Rochelle Saintpaul.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You’re a seer.”

Blackwell snorted. “She is not some dime-store psychic replete with tarot cards and crystal ball.”

“No?” Henry asked, his tone playful. “Then you aren’t going to tell me when I’m going to die?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I mumbled, stuffing my sketchbook away and rubbing at the charcoal still coating my fingers.

“While your help was appreciated, marshal,” Blackwell said, “I wonder why you’re here now. I would think you would be well on your way.”

“Well, you know how I like to hang out with you, buddy,” Henry replied. “But yeah, it’s more than that. It’s this Byron Redmond and what he’s looking for.”

“Did you find him?” I asked.

“No. Nor have I heard a single truth about Ettie or Cy Harris, either. Byron’s boys are very mute on the subject, as in not one word. They didn’t even ask for a lawyer. The four with outstanding warrants are being shipped out in the morning. And the others are just waiting out the twenty-four-hour hold. Not a word.” Henry eyed Blackwell, then looked back at me. “I only caught the name because Beau asked after him in the bank.”

“But the name alone is intriguing enough to bring you back here,” Blackwell said blandly.

“Well, no. Rochelle is intriguing enough to bring me back. I wondered what it costs to commission one of those tattoos.”

Blackwell clenched his jaw. Henry was looking at me, but his smile still widened at the sorcerer’s reaction.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I repeated. Though I wasn’t sure what I was really denying, because I did sell some of my tattoo sketches in my online Etsy shop.

Henry’s gaze dropped to my arms, then to my fingers, which I was still rubbing together. “Maybe not yet,” he said. “What do you think, Blackwell? Do you think she would have to ink the designs?”

“I think that Rochelle Saintpaul is none of your business, Henry Calhoun.”

“But Byron Redmond and his multiple outstanding warrants are. We maybe have twenty-four hours to stay ahead of the feds on this. If Beau ties Byron to Cy, then I can get a trace on Cy’s cellphone. All legal-like. It’s a gray area of jurisdiction, you understand, so we’d have to move quickly to contain the situation.”

“Beau would have to testify?” I asked, already knowing that I wouldn’t want him to do any such thing.

“It’s not going to get to that,” Blackwell said. “Adepts don’t go to human court.”

“Byron isn’t an Adept.”

“But Cy is,” Henry said. “Yes?”

“Of some sort.”

“Either way, it’ll be over in twenty-four hours,” Henry said.
 

“And if we don’t want your help?” Blackwell’s voice was still coolly professional, but the question was edged with a warning.

“You don’t have any choice, sorcerer,” the marshal said smugly. “You’re in my territory now … unless you want to call in the Convocation or the pack?”

“Those are my choices as you see them, Calhoun? Witches, the pack, or you?”

“Yep. Plus, you need me to keep your asses out of jail.” Henry opened the car door and stepped out. Then he poked his head back in. “I booked us rooms at the Motor Inn.”

“But —” I started to say.

Blackwell shook his head at me.

I stopped talking.

Henry eyed us both, then nodded and slammed the door shut.

“You didn’t want me to mention the Brave?” I asked. “I don’t think we can park where we left it overnight.” Technically, it was actually the next day now, so it was possible we’d already gotten a ticket.

“I assumed you might wish to maintain some anonymity,” Blackwell said. “And I took care of the Brave while you were deep into sketching the vision. It’ll be all right parked by the university for now.”

Kandy opened the side door behind Blackwell and flung herself into the seat beside me. “Can’t pick up anything of Ettie past the parking lot,” she growled. “Not even the car she must have gotten into. Too many people coming and going around here today. Her scent isn’t distinctive enough. And not a whiff of the asshole either.”

Her hair was an odd, mottled mixture of green dye and light ashy brown. I opened my mouth to comment on it.

“Shut it,” Kandy said preemptively. She reached up and flicked off the overhead light.

Beau and the marshal were standing next to the streetlight about a half block down. Beau’s head and shoulders were hunched forward, his hands in his pockets as he listened to whatever Henry was saying to him.

“We’re not getting rid of the marshal either,” Kandy said.

“Obviously,” Blackwell said.

“This is pack business, sorcerer. Family business. You aren’t wanted.”

“Yet I’m not going anywhere, wolf,” Blackwell snapped. But then he added, almost kindly, “This is too big for you now. Too many factors. The pack will decide it’s messy, then attempt to contain it. I imagine, though he loathes them, that Beau would prefer his family survive, if possible.”

“What are you saying?” I interrupted. “The pack would just kill everyone?”

“Someone has stolen blood from two shapeshifters,” Blackwell replied. “Someone is creating drugs that dampen or enhance Adept abilities. Drugs that appear to be lethal.”

“Lethal?” Kandy asked. “You’ve gotten confirmation?”

Blackwell nodded.

“Ah, shit,” Kandy muttered, pressing her head wearily back against the headrest and closing her eyes.

“The witches would do the same as the pack,” Blackwell continued. “Though their solution would be much cleaner. Perhaps the humans involved would survive with their memories wiped. Though that sort of magic has a tendency to destroy the minds of the magically lacking.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“The Adept don’t stay off human radar easily,” Blackwell said.

Outside, Beau nodded to Henry, then turned to wander back to the sedan.

The marshal, who’d been making notes or texting during the latter half of his conversation with Beau, lifted his phone to his ear as he jogged over to a car. It appeared to be a duplicate of Blackwell’s sedan, except it was navy blue as best I could tell in the low light.

“Henry Calhoun will keep you out of jail, at least,” Blackwell admitted begrudgingly as we watched the other sorcerer drive away.

Kandy snorted. “Like you’d ever be taken, Blackwell.”

“That’s why I said ‘you,’ werewolf. Rochelle and I would be halfway around the world.”

Beau ended the conversation by opening the passenger door and climbing into the sedan.

He glanced around at all of us. “So what did I miss?”

Kandy grimaced. “The sorcerers are the least of our problems. Blackwell says he’s confirmed that the drug is killing Adepts.”

The words were out of the werewolf’s mouth before I could intervene. I wanted to deny it, to rally Beau and say everything would be okay. But I couldn’t. So I didn’t.

“Jesus,” Beau said. Then he fell silent.

“Yeah,” Kandy said. “You want to have a chance of coming out of this alive, and with your family alive, we’re going to have to put up with the sorcerers. Or we could take you back to the Brave and you two could get your asses out of town.”

“And leave you to clean up my mess?” Beau said.

“How is any of this your mess?” Kandy asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I left. And before I left, I was … complicit. I worked for Cy … and Byron.”

“As a minor,” Blackwell said. “Even the pack with their draconian laws don’t hold the sins of a father against a child.”

Kandy muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I’ll rip your draconian head off.”
 

Beau had turned to catch and hold my gaze. “Rochelle?”

He was leaving the decision to go or stay up to me. Staying could mean more mental and physical torture for Beau — especially if the vision ran the course I’d seen. Running away would be easier in the short term, but possibly way, way more difficult in the long term.

I nodded, through a fear that felt like it had been boiling in my belly for days. “We see it through now.”

“It’s complicated as fuck,” Kandy grumbled, pulling my phone out of her pocket and beginning to text.

Blackwell started the car. “The Motor Inn?” he asked Beau.

Beau must not have known the place. He leaned forward to type the name into the GPS.

“It’s glitchy,” Blackwell said. “Four Adepts and less than twenty-four hours. Magic has had its way.”

My stomach churned at Blackwell’s pronouncement. Which was odd for something said with such flippant ease, but the notion of magic having its way just felt like too … much. Too much uncertainty. Too much potential chaos.

I was glad that everyone else apparently knew the next step to take. Because for someone who supposedly saw the future, I felt completely blind and completely out of my depth. Though neither of those were terribly new sensations. It was just the location and the fine details that were different.

∞

The marshal was waiting for us at the Motor Inn, along with an SUV for Kandy that — other than being charcoal — looked identical to the behemoth she had parked at the university with the Brave. Apparently, the marshal took special requests, though maybe only for snarky werewolves.

The motel was a classic two-storey deal, where you could either pull up and park in front of your room or take the exterior stairs to the second-floor balcony. Not that I’d ever stayed in a motel before.

Blackwell parked the sedan in the last available spot, in front of unit eleven.

The marshal dangled car keys in Kandy’s face as she pretty much bolted from the vehicle. The werewolf snatched them with a grumbled, “Thank you.” Then she grabbed a motel key from him and disappeared into unit thirteen without another word.

Apparently, the red neon ‘No Vacancy’ sign didn’t include us. Free Wi-Fi and ‘retro’ massage beds were listed as amenities below the grammatically challenged ‘You’ll Be Glad You Motor Inn
’
welcome sign. Even though I wasn’t sure ‘retro’ was the right term for describing something that was unintentionally super old, I was already digging through my satchel to see if I had any quarters.

“Any word?” Blackwell asked as he took two more motel keys from Henry.

“When Cy turns on his cellphone, we’ll be the first to know,” Henry said. “Thanks to Beau.”

Beau nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I’m in number fifteen if you need me,” Henry added, turning away.

Blackwell watched him go. Then, after a quick glance at the room numbers on the plastic tags attached to the keys, he slowly scanned the walkway between the parking area and the doors of the ground-floor units.

“One of those ours?” Beau asked.

“Yes.” Seemingly satisfied with his exterior scan, Blackwell unlocked the door to unit eleven and looked inside. “Stay here.”

The sorcerer entered the room and began to prowl, not touching anything as he looked around. When he crossed into the bathroom, I could hear him pull the shower curtain back. Then he returned to where we were obediently waiting by the door.