Page 19 of Ravenous Prophecy
I nudged Bradley as we walked, keeping a careful distance from Wallace. “You know it isn’t safe to carry around blank checks like that, right?”
He shrugged. “I knew the oracles would want a donation, and I’m sure it’s even less safe to walk around with wads of cash. Besides, I’ve got my big, strong bodyguard to protect me.”
I cleared my throat, glancing down at my arms. “So you think I’m big and strong, do you?”
“Shut up,” he said, chuckling as he shoved me in the shoulder.
I caught up with our tour guide, surprised at how deep this place went. We’d passed a few produce stalls and whatappeared to be a beverage station, all freely dispensing goods to the locals.
“So, Wallace,” I said, falling in step. “Are you the leader of this little outfit?”
He laughed. “We don’t really do that around here. Everyone pulls their own weight, no matter how heavy their share of the gift. I’m just some guy with a weaker connection to the sight, so I help by bridging our world behind the wall with supplies and information from the outside.” He nudged me in the ribs. “I’m also the greeter. My mom always said I had a pretty smile.”
“She was right,” I said, nodding solemnly. “And you’re also the guy who cashes all the checks.”
Wallace nodded. “Everything goes back to the community. Gotta do our best to keep things running. And the things our people see, sometimes it’s not just for money, you know? We know when trouble’s brewing. Big trouble that might affect us, or even the mundanes at large. It’s not just about profiting prophets.”
Bradley laughed. What a dork. But I laughed, too.
“Over here,” Wallace said, leading us to a tent, its purple fabric decorated with bright yellow stars and moons.
I couldn’t decide if the print reminded me more of something a sham psychic might use to convince potential clients of their power, or if it was just something cute you might find on a teenage girl’s bedsheet.
We stepped through the tent flap to find a young girl on a sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, her nose buried in a handheld video game. I guess it was both. The inside of the tent very much resembled a teenager’s bedroom, or at least the approximation of one. A fluffy rug and a few throwpillows lay scattered across the floor, a particleboard bookshelf of novels leaned up against the couch.
“Gentlemen,” Wallace said, “this is Zuleika. She’s one of our deepest dreamers. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Oh, if you insist,” Bradley said. “But that won’t be necessary. I’m sure Zuleika will?—”
“It’s for your safety,” Wallace cut in. “Sometimes an oracle stumbles into someone or something in the other world. Sometimes that thing wants to go for a ride. And suddenly an oracle is stronger and angrier than a roided-out pro wrestler.”
Zuleika dropped her game and threw her head back. “That happened one time, Wallace! Quit embarrassing me.”
Wallace lifted his hands up and backed out of the tent. Zuleika studied our faces, her brown eyes huge and doe-like but suspicious. A golden ring adorned the side of her nose. The rusty orange-brown of henna tattoos snaked past the sleeves of her purple hoodie. Most followed more traditional, lace-likemehndipatterns, intricate floral designs. But here and there, something whimsical. A heart, a question mark, a lightning bolt.
Zuleika blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes, staring sullenly up from the couch. Her gaze settled on me.
“I could take you.”
I nodded in agreement. “I’m sure you could.”
“Hi, Zuleika,” Bradley began. “We need your help.”
“Rich guy causing you problems,” she said, rubbing her temples as if staving off an oncoming headache. “Heard it all before.”
Bradley blinked. “You have?”
“Well, bits and pieces,” she conceded sheepishly. “Wallace and the others said—well, they feel like they’re being watched. Followed. We change the code at the wall so much more often now. No one’s been hurt yet, maybe because they know they need us—but it could still happen. And this man—he’s done some bad stuff. Writing on the bones.”
Bradley sat on the sofa’s arm, nodding. “Awful things.”
Zuleika huddled deeper into her hoodie and shuddered. The corpses, the runes inscribed in their bones. JA Williams and his sacrifices. There was no way this kid could have found those horrific photos Nicoletta showed us on her own. The gift, the sight, whatever the oracles called it—it was real.
I sat on the opposite end of her couch. To my relief, Zuleika didn’t shrink away. “We think he’s working up to something especially terrible. This JA Williams guy is bad news. There’s an old book involved, and something called the Hive.”
Zuleika pursed her lips with distaste. “Yeah, hideous monsters wanting to cross over into our reality and feed on magic users. Carpet the land in darkness, yadda yadda.”
“They’re real,” Bradley whispered, his voice trembling. “All those years of work—no. Focus, Bradley.” He clasped his hands together, lips tight as he considered his words. “We think Williams might be trying to bring them back.”
