“Use that mouth of yours for eating instead of singing,” he murmured in her ear, “or I’ll find a different way to fill it.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, vampire boy,” she said, then grabbed a plate and a large square of the lasagna, because woman couldn’t live on vampire dick alone.
***
As it turnedout, Gwen was an Enhanced human. An oracle, to be precise.
When Sabrina’s attempts at further scrying proved unhelpful, she’d asked her friend to provide prophetic guidance. And for some reason, Gwen’s face had twisted into a pained wince at the request, even as she’d agreed to it.
“You know I’m not…” After pursing her lips for a moment, the redhead squared her shoulders. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it.”
The oracle now sat at the kitchen table, everyone else arrayed around her in concentric circles. The athame she produced from her backpack gleamed by candlelight, its edge wickedly sharp. With a single deft gesture, she sliced downward across her palm, and the cut welled up with blood immediately. The oracle didn’treact in any way, although Edie had to suppress a sympathetic cringe.
That must hurt. Even for an oracle. Even the thousandth time she did it.
Slowly, Gwen’s eyes went blank, her face expressionless. She gasped once, then fell silent once more. Her palms lifted from the round kitchen table, hovering above the surface, before slapping back down again viciously fast and hard in a concussion that made everyone—even Max—jump. When she raised them again, her blood was smeared across the wood, mute evidence of what she suffered on their behalf, and the cut on her palm had turned black, as if cauterized.
“What are our possible futures, oracle?” Sabrina’s tone was quiet. Respectful. “We beg for your assistance and will heed whatever information you’re able to offer.”
Fascinated and unsettled, Edie awaited Gwen’s pronouncements. Held her breath in anticipation of the visions their resident prophet might share with all of them.
“The troll…Kip…” she eventually intoned, her voice cold and deep and inhuman. “He will fall.”
A chorus of gasps rose, and Lorraine’s eyes grew tear-bright. “He’s…is he going to die?”
Oh fuck, I’m not sure I want to know, Edie thought frantically as Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his side.I can’t—
“These are only possible futures, remember,” Kip reassured his cousin. “Don’t worry, Lorrie. I’ll be careful.”
“He will fall,” the oracle repeated. “He will stub his toe on a root in the dark, and he will fall.”
Edie’s wringing hands stilled. Okay, some clarification was needed. Pronto.
“Fallas indie?” Edie asked tentatively. “Orfallas in—”
Gwen didn’t blink. “He will lose his balance and hit the ground.”
“Oh. You mean he’llliterallyfall.” Lorraine’s thick brows drew together as she sniffed back more tears. “Does he injure his head? Or maybe the accident leaves him vulnerable to attack—”
“He will trip and fall.” The oracle’s voice remained expressionless. “The Power offers no insights as to Kip’s fate afterward.”
“Wow.” Kip frowned, scratching his head. “Not to be rude, but that was kind of a useless—”
But the oracle had already turned her attention elsewhere. “Eden. Human. Creator of beauty from harsh, unforgiving matter.”
“Are you talking about lye?” Because she’d never personally found olive or jojoba oil all that unforgiving, to be honest. “I mean, that’s a flattering description of my job, but—”
“Your essential oil has been gravely contaminated.”
Huh. She had her oils safely capped and stored off the garage floor, and she kept her doors locked at all times. How could anyone or anything have possibly—
“Deliberately?” Max’s tone turned steely, and he pulled her tighter against him. “If someone attempts to poison Edie, I’ll find them. Find them and rip out their—”
“The blackberry-sage oil is too old. It has spoiled.” Gwen’s eyes…they weren’t a soft green anymore, but a chilly shade of steel gray. “The next time you use it, you will have a cold. You will not be able to detect the scent of rot. Your batch of Berry Beauty soap…”
Edie leaned forward. Gods, what the fuck did that soapdo? Was it so spoiled that it caused some sort of horrible transmissible disease? Had she made herself or her customers ill?
“Your batch of Berry Beauty soap…according to the emails you’ll receive…will…”
