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  I follow her as she leads me to the door, stumbling over my feet with a terrible fear growing in my heart.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  The corridor is quiet and dark as my grandmother leads me from the ceremony chamber toward the main chapel. This stretch of hall isn’t used often, so I’m not surprised we encounter no one on our hurried journey. At first she has to tug me along to keep pace, but by the time we approach the large door leading to the chapel, I’m almost ahead of Sibyl’s long strides.

  I love the quiet of the room as we enter, always have, feel it seep into me, calm my wildly beating heart. No matter my fear and doubt, there’s nothing as pure and amazing as being this close to Gaia, where her true form lies beneath the stone casement at the altar.

  My steps slow again when my grandmother releases her hold on me, sweeping forward with her white robe rippling around her and soft sandals silent on the stone floor. When she bends over the altar, her gray braid coils into a circle beneath her, moving silently sideways as the covering of Gaia’s resting place slides aside.

  I catch my breath, both hands pressed to my chest as she rises, surrounded by rainbow light. As she does, for the first time since I’ve begun seeing visions of the one known as Syd, I make a connection that sweeps the air from my lungs in a rush of shock.

  Rainbow light. How can I have missed it? Syd’s power…

  Is Gaia’s power.

  Sibyl looks up, sees me gaping and must assume it’s over the sight of our reposed Goddess because she smiles faintly, leaning away from the iridescent shimmer of the shielding around her. “Come, child,” she says, sweeping her long fingers in a summoning gesture. “You ask for proof. Gaia has that proof.”

  I step toward the Goddess, hesitant and afraid, while I swallow the moment of realization I just had. If I failed to make the connection between Syd and Gaia, what else have I missed? I’ve been foolish to think my weak attempts to understand could possibly matter. Not when I’m dealing with power so vast as that of my Goddess.

  Still, I sit next to her, looking down, though when my hand reaches out, Sibyl slaps my fingers away.

  “You must never touch her,” she says, stern and angry, though fear lies behind her eyes. “We are her servants, Zoe. And she is divine.”

  I nod, cradling my hands in my lap. It’s difficult not to gaze down at her in adoration, to study the quiet stillness of my Goddess’s face, the way her hair curls and coils around her cheeks. She’s so pale, the light of the shielding protecting her making her seem young and old all at the same time as the rainbow flexes and flows, a living thing.

  “Call the flame.” Sibyl’s voice barely intrudes as I seek deeper into the beauty of Gaia. “Ask her directly if what you’ve seen is true.”

  I’ve never believed such an honor would come to me. “Will she not be angry with me?” I would crumble into dust if my Goddess were disappointed in any way.

  “Just ask.”

  My fingers find my lighter, pull it free from my pocket, the metal warm from being close to my skin. I barely remember opening the top, flicking the wheel, the fire coming to life. My eyes don’t leave Gaia’s face for a moment.

  “My Goddess,” I whisper to her, leaning over her. “Show me the truth and the way and I will never doubt again.”

  I draw a breath, feel the fire engulf me like never before—

  —Blood, there is blood everywhere, on your hands, dripping down your legs, pooling on the ground. And death, bodies scattered at your feet. Oracles you know and love, young sorcerers fallen. A sob escapes your chest as fire blazes to life, but not the loving, welcoming flames you’re used to. These devour with hunger and greed, uncaring, cruel. You fall back from them, turn in time to see yourself, reflected in a mirror, your face pinched in fear as the fire engulfs you and carries you away—

  I cry out as I throw my lighter from me. My thumb burns, singed by the flame somehow. I ignore it, burying my face in my hands, sobbing my fear and heartache into them.

  My death and the deaths of those I care about. I’ve seen the future—but can I change it? I look up with desperate hope into my grandmother’s eyes. “Is it set, this vision?”

  She shrugs, sighs. Is it just me, or does she seem tired, strained? Was her magic a part of that vision? Damn me, I can’t seem to quell my disbelief even now, even after seeing what I’ve seen at Gaia’s behest.

  Sibyl’s long arms fold over themselves as she crosses them, gaze dark. “I don’t know,” she says. “But it’s your doubt that has led you to this future.”

  I stand as she moves forward, closing the stone over Gaia once again, my spiking guilt smothered as my Goddess is hidden from me. I watch her, now numb and cold inside despite the burning in my thumb, mind still as though unable to process. When the slab closes over Gaia at last, I turn away, only to feel Sibyl’s arm around my shoulders.

  “She called you Grandmother.” I look up at her, thinking of Ash, needing the distraction.

  Sibyl smiles. “There is much you have yet to learn,” she says. “Much I will teach you. One day. But not today.” My toe hits something hard that spins under the door. If Sibyl notices, she doesn’t comment. Instead, she leads me out to the main corridor, watches from the open entry as I stop and turn back to her. “Zoe, I must know I can trust you.” Her fingers slip into my hair. “You are the brightest and most powerful of us. Tell me you will abandon this rebellion and follow the ways of Gaia.”

  “So many secrets,” I say, shoulders pulled down with the weight of recent events. “Is there any wonder I doubt?”

  Sibyl’s lips tighten. “Don’t make me confine you to your quarters.” I bob a nod, look away. “I’ll check in on you later, dear.” With that threatening sounding statement, she closes the doors behind her, leaving me standing alone in the corridor.

  I shiver, rubbing my arms under my robe, turning with heavy feet toward the stairs and my room above. A flash of silver on the floor sends me forward, to retrieve my fallen lighter with the desperation of a child clutching for a favorite blanket. It’s still warm to the touch, as though a living, breathing thing exists inside it. For a long moment I wish the fire would just consume me so I don’t have to deal with what I’ve discovered.

  But no. I’ve never been one to turn my back on my gift. I need to retreat, to think on what I’ve seen and learned. But the darkness that held me after the vision at Gaia’s side begins to lift the moment I take my first step.

  We know futures can be altered. Part of what we do as Oracles is to guide what is to come, to ensure everything that happens is the correct path. For good or ill, our job is to maintain the flow of time. Even if that means the deaths of many to save a few who will lead the world into safety.

  Surely Gaia wouldn’t allow me to see such a future without the chance to change it? But does that mean I need to stop doubting, to fall in line and obey my grandmother and her lover? I shudder at the thought of Liander’s assault, know there are bruises under my robe where he struck me from behind, older ones on my elbow from this afternoon. I simply can’t bring myself to trust him. And, by association, Sibyl.

  My door gives way under my power, the lock turning as I close it behind me. I head immediately for the shower, immersing myself in a torrent of hot water, letting the heavy stream pummel my tense neck and shoulders. I bow my head under the flow and close my eyes, hands pressed against the stone wall as I force myself to think this through.

  The pull of the flames I feel… if it is tied to my doubt, why does it feel right? As though accepting that pull is my destiny? It’s only fear keeping me from the full embrace of the fire. But according to the vision I had with Gaia, those flames will turn against me. Turn against all of us. My fault?

  My fault.

  No, I can’t believe that. I’ve spent my entire life with the flames, my friends, my family. The harsh fire from the vision felt wrong, off, as though someone else controlled it. And though the blaze that beckons me seems powerful, I know it
’s the pure elemental force pulling me in.

  My stomach clenches as I straighten, eyes snapping open. What if the vision didn’t come from Gaia after all? I press both hands over my abdomen and force myself to breathe. Bile burns the back of my throat as I gasp past the shock and dive into the vision—

  Blood. Bodies. Fire. And the mind of another.

  My knees buckle as I sink to the stone, hugging them to me, letting the water wash over me as I sob once.

  The vision wasn’t from Gaia. It was from Sibyl. I was right to wonder about her magic’s involvement. She manipulated me, used my fear against me. Used Gaia against me. But how? The Goddess should protect me, shouldn’t she? Keep such things from happening—

  I see Gaia in my mind’s eye, remember the feeling I had not so long ago. And realize the last bit of truth I can handle on my own. She’s asleep. Truly asleep, her consciousness far off. As much as I and the other Oracles choose to believe differently, our Goddess might be with us in body, but her mind…

  My feet slip over the tiles as I scramble out of the shower, barely remembering to turn off the water. Haste pushes the towel around my body, missing most of the moisture so my bra and T-shirt cling to me, making it hard to pull on my jeans. I grasp for my lighter the moment I’m dressed, flip flops barely over my toes, heading for the door.

  And I pause. I can’t go out there like this. What if I run into someone and they ask me what’s wrong? Can I lie convincingly enough to keep from blurting out what I’ve learned? Sibyl has already given me her version of an ultimatum. If she catches me in one last indiscretion, I know she’ll do what she can to make me a true prisoner here.

  But I have to go. I need space to think. My hand shakes as I open my fingers and look down at my lighter. I’m not supposed to travel from my rooms. The wards and protections that keep us safe from outside magic only exist in the portal gateways. If I risk it, I could be opening the sanctuary to discovery from other paranormal races, something we’ve managed to avoid in the centuries we’ve lived here under Los Angeles.

  And yet, I can’t bring myself to care when my mind goes to Sibyl and the lie of a vision she planted in my head. All of a sudden, all the foreseeings I’ve experienced are suspect. What can I believe and what is fake? Before I can stop myself, allow guilt or fear to stay my hand, I flip open my lighter and strike the wheel. My thumb stings from the earlier burn, but the flame is strong, dancing happily over the wick and I reach for it with a surge of relief.

  This can’t be wrong, these flames that embrace me, the blaze of heat that welcomes and warms me so much. I turn in the embrace of the fire, opening my arms to it, ready to let it take me forever, if that is what it wants.

  The flames seem to chuckle, giggle like little children, before releasing me gently onto a sandy beach. I stare around me in the darkness, lighter tight in my hand, and wonder why I’m here. I didn’t ask for the fire to carry me to the place I might find Piers. I’ve never traveled this way without a destination in mind.

  Does the fire have a mind of its own?

  So much I don’t know. I reach for Piers, sending his name out into the ether through the power of my sorcery and the flames of my foresight. As I stand there, waiting for an answer, I wonder what I’m going to tell him. How much I plan to share. But the moment he steps out of a black tunnel, gray eyes smiling at me, I know I will give him all the secrets of my people.

  I don’t need a vision to tell me that.

  He comes to me, gently touches my cheek with cool fingers, smiling in a sultry and welcoming way that reminds me of the flames. How they can be childlike at times, parental even, can shift to the embrace of a lover. I see his worry for me, his playfulness and the desire in his heart there in his gaze, wide-open to me. Trusting.

  “Zoe,” he says. “I’ve missed you.” His lips find mine and, in that moment, I’m breathless and lost in him, forgetting everything that came before. All the hurts and fears and worries dissolve under the pressure of his mouth, the way his hands carefully but firmly hold my body against him. This heat is far different from the flames I know so well. Perhaps diving into this particular fire would be a good thing after all.

  When we part, I sigh into his still-open mouth, a quirk of humor finding its way into my heart. “So forward,” I say, panting a little.

  “I guess I’m just tired of waiting for you to decide you’re in love with me.” His wink makes my knees weak, though from the teasing tone in his voice and the way his eyes sparkle, I know he’s teasing me.

  Or is he?

  I only wish this moment could last forever. But as Piers pulls me gently toward him for another kiss, memory surges and I gasp in shock. “I can’t.” I push him away, more roughly than I meant to. “I’m sorry.”

  Piers doesn’t grow angry, only concerned, though he drops his hands to his sides and keeps his distance while I clutch at my aching stomach, tight with renewed tension.

  “Zoe,” he says. “I have no idea what you’re going through. Partly because you won’t tell me.” He sighs, humor gone. “I’m not sure how to convince you I’m not a threat. That you can trust me. But from what little you have told me over the last two years, I’m guessing trust isn’t something you’re used to handing out to people outside your family.”

  I nod, biting my lower lip, so near to blurting everything to him I’m sure I’ll just burst instead. Fortunately, he goes on and saves me from blubbering all over him.

  “I come from a secretive family, too,” he says, hands rising and falling as though he wants to hold me again but doesn’t know if his offer would be rejected. “Which means, I know this can’t be easy. But I’m not asking you to believe in me.” He closes the distance again at last, one hand sliding into my hair, tilting my head back. “I’m asking you to believe in yourself. In what you feel when you’re around me. Because I trust you, Zoe. With my life.”

  His head bends and his lips part and I throw every fear I’ve ever had away and kiss him back for the second time. A sharp moment of memory mixed with a vision tightens a noose around me and I tremble with it. I’ve seen this moment, felt his lips on mine, the press of his body in this exact instance. I had no idea it would happen now, but it feels the same. He feels like heaven—

  —she stirs, the rainbow shield shimmering as it flickers out and her eyes open, someone standing over my Goddess’s sleeping form—

  I gasp, pull back from Piers.. When I stare up at him, I know he sees my terror, but he doesn’t try to hold me back.

  “I have to go.” The woman with Gaia. I don’t know her, have never seen her before. She isn’t an Oracle, or a sorcerer. And that means someone has penetrated the sanctuary. My fault? I flinch at the thought. I’ve been traveling outside the protections, leaving us open to discovery. But I can’t stay here and risk leaving Gaia to the mercies of a total stranger.

  I reach for my lighter, find it still in my hand. Stare at it a moment, my mind trying to recognize the shiny metal pressed to my palm. When I look up again, Piers nods, though his worry is back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” I needed him, I still do, but this has to take precedence. And yet, I long to remain, to throw my arms around him again, to explore what we could be together. And to trust him as I’ve trusted no one in my life.

  “Can I help?” His hands stretch out to me, palms up, fingers spread.

  I hesitate, wish things could be different. That I’d shared far more than I had in the past. That kiss, the moment of our vision, has woken something in me, memory compounded by foresight. For the first time, I trust Piers completely. But I can’t take him with me, not now. I shake my head, step back another pace, flick open my lighter and ignite the flame.

  “Thank you.” My gratitude slips from my lips that still taste like him. “For trusting me. I promise, the next time I see you, I’ll tell you everything.”

  He smiles at me, a sad expression. “I look forward to it. Be safe, Zoe.”

  I leave him there, brow creased in concern, and
race into the flame, for home, for the sanctuary.

  For Gaia. I have to be there, can’t miss the moment I’ve foreseen.

  I must protect her at all costs.

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  I step out into my room again, panting in my haste, no time to wonder why the fire brought me here and not directly to the chapel. Perhaps I should fear I’ve twice now ridden the flame without a destination in mind, but my connection to the blaze inside me is stronger than ever and in it I now fully trust.

  But I will trust in no other, at least of my kind, not until I speak to Gaia myself.

  It’s late, late enough I have the halls of the sanctuary to myself as I rush down the stairs and to the main corridor. I pause at the bottom, mind finally shifting into caution mode, holding me back from simply dashing the distance to the chapel doors and throwing them wide.

  The vision felt immediate. But that could mean now, tomorrow, any time in the next twenty-four hours. I must be careful. Surely Gaia’s waking will mean a shift in Liander and my grandmother, perhaps for good and perhaps for ill. Either way, I want to reach Gaia myself, before anyone else knows she’s awake, so I can ask her directly.

  Imagine the arrogance, thinking my Goddess would even care to answer my questions. But if I’m to understand fully this power I carry, if I’m to use my foresight for the good of all, I must hear from her directly what it is I’m meant to do.

  My grandmother’s interpretations, fed by Liander’s needs, are suspect.

  I slip into the dining hall, heading for the kitchens. Two servant girls look up, surprised, when I enter, but I grab an apple from a bowl on the wide table near the door and salute them with it. Both smile and go back to the giant mound of bread dough they are kneading. The kitchen’s low ceiling catches the scent and makes my stomach growl, but I hurry on, through the giant space, past the bank of stainless steel ovens hot and ready to bake tomorrow morning’s bread, and out the servant’s door.