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"No. Take her to Crawl. He's hard to resist."
Geoffrey shifted, looking uncomfortable, but he held his tongue and a look passed between him and Leo. Leo hung his head, even though Rhiannon was not-so-gently poking his arm.
"Perhaps you are right." Regina motioned to me. "But I'll be the one to take her. Between you and the Blood Oracle, there'd be nothing left of the girl to help us." She slid her arm around my shoulder and led me over to a bookshelf.
"Wait--where are you taking her?" Rhiannon called behind me.
"Patience, firecracker," Lannan said behind me. "You and Leo stay here. Have a drink with me. My sister will keep your cousin safe. As long as she behaves herself."
Regina pressed a book on the bookshelf--I didn't notice which one, and it slid open, silently, to reveal a dark passage. I followed her in, knowing that I had no choice. I'd left choice behind when I walked through the front door.
"I would not do this," she said once it closed, "but my brother makes a point. This will perhaps convince you more than what we have to say."
"What's the Blood Oracle?" Better forewarned than be taken by surprise.
"Better to ask who." She blinked. "The Blood Oracle is the seer of the Crimson Court. He's held his office for two thousand years. His name is Crawl, but never address him directly. You must ask all questions through me. He will no longer speak to mortals, be they magic-born or human."
We passed into a dark room. A table sat in the center, illuminated by a single bulb from the ceiling, and on the octagonal-shaped table rested a crystal, hovering above a clear crimson slab of glass that softly glowed. The feel of magic hung heavy in the room and crawled up my arms like scuttling needles, prickling my nerves. This was heavy magic, old magic. Dark and ominous. The rest of the room was cloaked in inky shadows and I had the feeling that to step outside of the dim illumination would be to put my life in danger.
I started to ask what it was, then stopped. Regina was staring intently at the crystal, her fingers hovering above it, and I didn't want to interrupt her train of thought because I could feel how deep she was sliding. I folded my arms, suddenly cold and dizzy. The magic churned like waves cresting over a boat, and the room started to spin. Regina reached out and grabbed me by the wrist, and the next thing I knew, everything had gone black in a massive rush of wind.
Chapter 11
The scent of a thousand years raced by, turning back the calendar month by dusty month. Smog and dust and the smoke from a million fires gusted past. Voices--cries lost in the depths of time, whispers from old ghosts wandering past, and the howling of wolves rocked the wind.
My wolf let out a whimper, waking as he stretched to learn what was going on. I tried to comfort him--for I knew it was Grieve feeling my fear, sensing my tailspin, but he snarled as I brushed my hand over my stomach.
A cacophony of sound assaulted my ears and I tried to pull away from Regina, to cover my ears, but then all fell silent.
We stood in a softly lit room. The chamber was huge, with a table in the center identical to the one back at the mansion, crystal and all. The same hum of energy rang through the gem and I tried to memorize exactly what it looked like so I could figure out what it was later.
The chamber we were in stretched farther than I could see, and the ceiling was a good thirty feet high. The walls were covered with a crimson paper, and the light came from some hidden source. Benches lined the walls, and the floor was covered with magical symbols. Heavy magic rolled like mist around my ankles, making my skin twitch. Whatever had been done here had upset the balance and created a force greater than just about anything I'd ever felt.
Regina touched my shoulder. "Come. Stay on the walkway."
She began to move toward what appeared to be the back of the chamber and I followed, wondering where the hell we were going. We walked along a narrow path of Tuscan gold, bounded by thick black lines on either side. There were no symbols on the tiles and, as we made our way up the walk, I began to realize that if I stepped off the path I'd land on one of the sigils. The runes were active and aware--there was no telling just what sort of spell I'd set off.
As we came to the end of the chamber, a dais rose a good five feet off the floor and Regina lithely glided up and on it. She stopped, turning back to me, and leaned over, extending her hand. I reached up to grasp her fingers and, with barely a murmur, she yanked me up and onto the dais. Blinking at her strength, I waited for her to make the next move.
The curtains covering the back of the dais parted.
"What the fuck . . ." I caught myself before I said anything I'd regret.
Regina gave me a sharp look and I nodded, understanding her meaning. Shut the fuck up and do what I tell you.
There, sitting in front of us, sat a bent and twisted creature. Maybe he'd been human. Once. It was hard to tell. He sat on a cushion raised a good five feet above the dais, hunched over, his skin blackened from what looked like old, leathery burns--charred and long dried. His hair had devolved into ratted clumps, dreadlocks of the worst kind, and his eyes were glassy, unfettered by eyelids, which seemed to have been burnt away. He wore nothing but a crimson loincloth, and his ribs protruded so strongly that he looked like a stick figure or a praying mantis.
In front of him, a fountain of blood bubbled merrily, ringed by perpetual flames that neither wavered nor changed in intensity. They burned brightly, and the blood in the center smelled warm and sticky and fresh.
Regina stepped up to a pillow on the floor next to the fountain and knelt, her head down. "Great Father of the Sight, I come seeking your wisdom. Crawl, Blood Oracle of the Crimson Court, I seek your vision."
He let out a laughter that sounded like the wind whistling through dried corn husks and I smelled decay and dust and the scent of the tomb. "Regina, Crawl's favorite. The Blood Oracle recognizes you. Stand and ask, lovely bloody daughter, and offer payment for the Oracle's services."
She rose, her skirt brushing the ground. She was wearing a crimson leather bustier and a long black chiffon skirt. Now, she brushed back the skirt where it slit up one side to the thigh and pulled out a golden dagger. She turned toward me and motioned me forward.
"Wait--you aren't going to open my vein with that." I'd keep quiet as long as I thought I was relatively safe but this whole scenario wasn't quite what I'd expected, and things were looking worse the deeper into the night we went.
"You will make a small donation for his service. And you will do so without complaint. Do you understand?" She leaned close and her lips brushed my lips, soft and silken and utterly inviting. I sucked in a deep breath and her tongue slid inside my mouth for just a moment--just long enough to wake my hunger. I tried to pull away but found myself firmly wrapped in her arms.
