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“Will you honor me by giving it to me?”
The bird let out a loud caw as if it found something funny. Then it answered me, “Blackie.” He extended his wings, flapping them several times before pulling them in again.
I giggled. Of course, it thought its name was hilarious. It wasn’t all black. Who had named it?
A door slammed open, the knob hitting the wall with a crunch. The anger that defined Octavius proceeded the man into the room.
Slipping the paper into a pocket, I gazed at the bird, gesturing towards the blue sky.
The raven clacked its beak twice before hopping off the windowsill and flying in a circle in front of it. Blackie cawed what almost sounded like obscenities at the guard, who came to a halt at my back.
Then it flew higher, its form disappearing in the white, wispy clouds.
Holding my breath, I kept my eyes on the skies. I didn’t want to face this man.
“What was that thing doing in here?” His voice was rough, like a grizzly someone had waken from its winter nap.
Well, I wasn’t a coward. Not really. Exhaling in a slow stream of air, I turned to stare up at the man, raising one eyebrow high when I noted how red his face was.
“You need to calm down, man. Your blood pressure is probably going through the roof right now. I mean... Not lying here, dude.”
I watched as he panted, his massive chest moving up and down way faster than it should. Frowning, I leaned around him, hoping Thea had returned from her errand.
“Thea! Call someone. Octavius is having a heart attack!”
The woman scuttled into the room, took one glance at him, and then ran for the hallway door.
“I am not. Going to have. A heart attack!” He roared through clenched teeth, his face growing almost purple.
My eyes went wider as I stared at the rapidly throbbing vein in his massive neck. Holding up my hands, I attempted to placate him, knowing it wouldn't work. Not for me.
“Dude, it was just a bird! A raven. Similar to what my mate turns into when he works with me, you know. I miss him—my mate, I mean—so I went over to study it closer. Don’t know why it let me touch it, though. That’s all this is. Just—Please calm down.”
I might not like the man, but I also didn’t want him to die. Well, not in my rooms. Besides, I doubted he could tell that while I was telling the truth; I was leaving so much out. I don’t think Thea heard the bird talking to me or observed me grabbing the note. At least I hope not.
The sound of running footsteps came down the hall outside my room, with Samuel’s feet sliding on the wood floor as his hands caught hold of the door frame. His eyes were filled with fear and his hair was sticking in every direction. The man must have bolted here straight from his bed.
He took in the scene in an instant, taking several deep breaths as he ran a hand over his errant strands to smooth them down.
Gathering himself, he then entered, his movements cautious, trying to appear as if he wasn't a threat. “Octavius. What is wrong?”
The brute turned, flinging one hand out at me. He was close enough that I had to duck or else he would have backhanded me. He didn’t even realize what he had done as he growled, “Her. The fact she is here. That she even exists! I don’t like her, Sam. I don’t trust her either.”
My head went to a strange place with his words. I don’t like her, Sam-I-am. I don’t trust her, Sam-I-am. I do not like the oracle! I do not, will not play with her!
I must have appeared like I was about to start laughing because Samuel’s eyes cut to me and he frowned, shaking his head in the slightest of motions. Octavius’ enormous head swung around to glare at me and I wiped all the emotion from my face.
He turned back to his friend, who had walked over to him. I wasn't sure what Samuel saw in his friend ’s face, but he froze, with one hand reaching out towards him.
“Octavius—” He started, his tone soothing, when someone interrupted him.
“Octavius, take two days off. Go home.” Apollo’s voice rang through the room.
I glanced up and caught sight of the god standing in the doorway with a man I had never seen before hovering behind him. The new guard wore casual clothes—jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers, of all things—along with a smirk on his face.
It was like someone had punctured a balloon in the big guy. All the tension left his body in a whoosh and he slumped forward. His face paled a little and his breathing slowed.
The god had that kind of power over him? Color me impressed.
