Ask the Oracle (21 page)

Neither did the unsettling smile that quirked his thin lips.

“Balen?” Gray hated the sound of desperation in his voice, but he didn’t trust the look

on Povell’s face. He knew his only chance was to stick with the Demon he knew. Hopefully

Balen wasn’t so lost in his rage that he’d forgotten about Gray’s presence. Gray had no

illusions about Balen’s chance of survival if he allowed something to happen to Gray and

Dreo found out. When Gray didn’t get a response, he tried again, putting all his fear and

annoyance behind the words. “Balen!”

Balen jolted like he’d been struck by lightning, his eyes immediately seeking out Gray.

As soon as Gray made eye contact, he realised his mistake. Rage burned in the depths of

those twin orbs. Balen’s pale eyes were now crackling with eerie blue flames that looked like

they were mere moments away from leaving his eyes and setting the room ablaze. For a

moment, with that terrifying gaze locked on him, Gray was afraid. There was no recognition

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in the other man’s gaze and Gray had no doubt that Balen was perfectly capable of

incinerating them all within seconds. He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that if

Balen did lose control, at least his death would be quick and nearly painless. It would a better

death than the one Povell had planned for him.

For just a moment, with his fear pushing at him hard, Gray allowed himself to think of

Dreo. He ached for his Demon’s touch—longed for the comfort of his presence. Gray had no

doubt that as long as Dreo was with him, he had nothing to fear. If only his Demon mate was

with him now. Sorrow made an attempt to overtake him, as he thought of how little time

they had had together. Gray hadn’t realised, until that very moment, how much he had been

looking forward to spending eternity with his bossy Demon mate. He wished he’d never

been so afraid of what had been building between them. If he’d been braver, he wouldn’t

have been holding back and he would have told Dreo how he felt. He would have told his

Demon that he loved him, because it was true and the man deserved to know. He had a

feeling that Dreo, like Gray himself, didn’t have a lot of experience with affection that didn’t

come with strings attached. The words would have meant a lot to him. Gray didn’t know

how it had happened so fast, but it had, and he didn’t regret it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t

known the Demon for more than a few days. He would cherish that time for the rest of his

life—which sadly enough seemed would be coming to an end pretty quickly based on the

general feeling in the room.

Turning his attention back to Opal, Balen glared at her with eyes, completely empty of

emotion. “What is your answer?”

Balen’s words were as much as threat as they were a question. The room had begun to

heat as the man’s anger built. Gray had already begun to sweat and knew it was only going

to get worse if Opal didn’t give Balen the answer he wanted.

“Hmm,” Opal replied coyly. “You know—I don’t think that I owe you any answers. As

the daughter of Vlasik Lazarios, the true Lord of the Underworld, I don’t take orders from

the bastard son of an interloper. If you’ll pardon the obvious pun, go to Hell!”

Opal was no longer trying to hold onto her wholesome, innocent appearance and the

difference was impossible to ignore. The glow that had seemed to emanate from her was

gone. Now, the air around her became heavy and fetid, as if the evil within her was causing

her to rot from the inside out. Her sheet of glossy hair now hung in oily, gnarled clumps

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around her sallow, emaciated face. No longer angelic, she now looked more like something

that had crawled into a swamp and died. Gray took a reflexive step back before remembering

that Povell was there, just waiting for his chance to strike.

Her transformation elicited a hiss from Balen. “Witchling,” he snarled, baring his teeth.

Witchling
? Gray had a vague understanding of the term from his studies with Stephen.

It was used as a general description for any para who also took up the study of the dark arts.

It was considered a universal taboo for any para to study black magic. Magic, combined with

their natural para abilities, had unknown and often disastrous consequences. Written

accounts, detailing the lives of those unfortunate paras, were very scarce. In most cases, those

who attempted it allowed their ambition to drive them into committing unspeakable acts.

The cautionary tales gave voice to both the rise and ultimate destruction of the men and

women in question.

Armed with that knowledge, Opal’s wasted appearance suddenly made sense. Based

on the stories, while the dark arts boosted your power base, it was not a gift freely given. It

demanded a hefty price. While outwardly it gave the user unnatural powers and strength,

internally it corrupted and consumed, destroying everything in its path until the practitioner

was nothing but an empty, withered husk. Black magic use explained how she, a mid-level

Oracle, had managed to murder one of the most powerful Demon Lords in known history. It

also explained how she had managed to block Gray’s ability to
See
. If his suspicions were

right, Opal had been blocking him for weeks—blocking him, and so much more.

Gray had been born with power. He had never asked for it, but it had always been

there, just the same. It had been his constant companion. He’d never know what it would be

like to live without it. Nor would he ever experience how desperate some would be to have

it. Maybe that was the reason he couldn’t imagine what would make someone risk such a

fate, all for the sake of power. Just the thought of such a fate had Gray fighting off a shiver of

horror.

Dread unfurled in his stomach as his mind began racing through the possibilities. How

far had Opal’s thirst for power taken her? What other monstrous acts had she been a part of

on her rise to the top? Gray had no doubt that Opal would never willingly give them the

answers they were looking for. Even under threat of death, she would hold her secrets close,

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thrilled in the knowledge that closure would forever be beyond their reach. Curiosity had

always been his downfall and, with that being the case, Gray knew he had just one option.

Leaning forward, Gray reached out and caught Opal’s arm in a steely grip. She jerked at

the contact, surprise and irritation clear on her face from the raised brow and snarl tugging at

her upper lip. Anticipating her actions, Gray tightened his hold, not allowing her the

freedom to pull away. Realising she couldn’t escape, Opal gave him a withering glare.

“Seriously, Gray?” She looked pointedly at his hand on her arm. “What do you think

this is going to accomplish?”

Gray smiled as his vision dimmed and began to blur around the edges. “You know me,

Opal. I’ve just got to know.”

It was a little known fact that the only way around
Sight Blindness
was direct touch of

the person who instigated the block. That, added to Opal’s strong bond with her father gave

Gray the connection he needed to manoeuvre around her block and get to the answers they

needed. It was a risk he had to take if they wanted to have any chance of stopping her. They

needed to know what she was planning. Opal had made a mistake, underestimating him,

and Gray wasn’t above taking advantage. She was a fool for allowing Gray so close and she

was about to regret that mistake. She should have done her research. He knew it was a risk.

It broke nearly every rule he had ever set for himself when it came to his
Sight
. He also knew

that chances were good that Opal was not going to make it through this night. If she was

killed, most of her secrets would go with her. No one knew how many other people out there

who were victims of the black widow before him. The potential risk was worth the potential

benefit. Dreo might not agree, but he wasn’t there to weigh in.

Realisation hit her like a bitch slap to the face. She began to struggle in earnest, but it

was too late. He could already feel his
Sight
rising up within him. They were past the point of

no return and now there was nothing either of them could do to stop the vision to come.

Reaching out his other hand, Gray met Balen’s angry gaze.

“I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

Balen watched him, the fire starting to ebb in his eyes. Once extinguished, confusion

replaced his anger. He reached out, hesitantly, watching Gray’s hand like it was a cobra

about to strike.

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“It’s now or never, Balen.” Gray’s vision went black as his powers prepared to take him

on a ride. His stomach lurched, and Gray knew his time was up.

“Balen! Now!”

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What Gray saw wasn’t at all what he had expected. It was so much more. Vlasik

Lazarios’ revenge had been long planned and all encompassing. Image after image of

betrayal flashed through Gray’s mind. His heart truly went out to Balen.

Lord Lucifer’s destruction had not been quick or painless. Opal’s father had wanted to

make the leader of the Underworld suffer as much as possible, and he had succeeded. Over

his years of service, he had managed to strip the great man of everything he’d held most

dear. As Gray watched the scenes flash before his eyes, he felt wetness on his cheeks but

could do nothing to reign in his sorrow under the onslaught of treachery. From what Gray

could tell, the jealousy Opal’s father had had for Lucifer hadn’t started when he took over as

Lord of the Underworld, but had been going on since their childhood.

A young Vlasik on the streets of the Underworld, watching with envy as an equally young

Lucifer enjoyed an outing with his family. A school-aged Lucifer receiving an award for his academics

while Vlasik glowered at the back of the room. Lucifer at university, laughing and surrounded by

friends while Vlasik stood alone, in the shadows. An adult Lucifer accepting a position on the Demon

Council as its youngest member in history, while Vlasik remained a low level Demon. Lucifer and

Vlasik, competing in the trials for Lord of the Underworld, after the death of the previous Lord.

Lucifer’s coronation—

As the images continued to change, Gray started to feel overwhelmed. He’d never used

his gifts to this extent before, and was able to admit, he hadn’t been prepared for the strain of

it. He should have taken a moment to think. Most of his clients just needed him to look at a

particular period of their lives, usually needing to see no more than a few years at a time.

Demons lived such long lives. There was so much more to see and Gray was starting to

suffer under the deluge. As the barrage of images continued, Gray felt his strength begin to

wane. Hopefully they could make it to more recent events before he passed out. He’d hate to

think it had all been for nothing.

Lucifer holding court before droves of Demons while Vlasik glowered at the back of the room.

Vlasik looking on as Lucifer handed down punishment for those who broke their laws. Vlasik following

Lucifer through the streets of the Underworld as he enjoyed an evening out on the town with a very

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familiar blue-eyed, blonde. Vlasik’s rage in response to Lucifer’s joy when the same blonde told him she

was carrying his child—

The images suddenly took a darker cast, as if the reality of a child was the more than

Vlasik could take—a line in the sand, never to be crossed.

Vlasik again, this time pouring over an old tome in a darkened room, a symbol of dark magic

gracing its cover. Whispered words, a spell, designed to dampen what couldn’t be destroyed and in the

process, slowly eroded the most important thing in Lucifer’s life. The blonde, Balen’s mother, heavily

pregnant and desperately attempting to see Lucifer, only to be turned away by a sneering Vlasik, who

passed along words of indifference and rejection—

The images kept changing, but Gray was no longer paying attention. Something had

clicked for him with that last vision and he didn’t need to see any more. In a horrible,

traitorous way, it all made sense. Gray wanted to weep for Balen and his parents. The

injustice of what had happened to them was unthinkable. Gray wished he had the power to

turn back time and change what had happened. Sadly, his talents lay only in witnessing the