Oracle of Spirits #6 Read online

  Ian pulled out a packet of talismans. I noticed there was a fine sheen on the paper. Ian bit off the rubber band and spit it on the ground. He spread them apart in his hand like a deck of cards. Sebastian dropped his hand and chuckled.

  "Do you honestly think those will work on my Phantoms?" Sebastian mocked him.

  Ian pulled back his arm and grinned. "They're not just for them."

  He flung the paper at Sebastian and the two Phantoms. The talismans didn't do their usual dagger-like course, however. Instead they curved upward so the faces slapped onto the front of our three foes. Their fronts were completely covered in a blanket of paper. The Phantoms screeched in rage as their bodies were burned. They clawed at the paper, but the bits only stuck to them.

  Sebastian himself pulled and yanked at the paper, but had no better luck removing them. "What the hell is this? Why won't these come off!" he cried out.

  "Thanks for the car ride!" Ian yelled as he rushed past our struggling foes.

  We burst out the doors and Ian sprinted down the street. He zigged and zagged his way through the maze of roads that made up the city until we were far from our foes. We stopped in an alley and Ian put me down. He turned around and peeked up and down the road.

  "Looks like we lost them," he announced.

  "Yeah, but how? How'd you get them to stick to Sebastian?" I asked him.

  He turned back to me and grinned. "Remember that hair of mine I stuck to you?" he wondered.

  "Yeah."

  "Same trick. I used my saliva to make the talismans sticky."

  I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue. "I'm sorry I asked."

  Ian took my hand and led me down the alley. "I think that's enough of a breather, so let's go."

  "Go where? They know about the house," I reminded him.

  "You'll see."

  CHAPTER 3

  Ian guided me further into the city maze until we arrived at a middle-aged residential area. The apartment buildings were at the stage in their life when they looked tired, but not broken. The streets had only a few bits of trash, and most of the streetlights worked.

  Ian stopped us at the tall stoop of one of those apartment buildings. We climbed the short flight of stairs to the door. A panel of buzzer buttons hung on the wall to our right. Ian searched the names before his eyes fell on one particular person. He pressed the button and waited.

  I stooped and looked at the night. My eyebrow raised and my eyes flickered to Ian. "This is where Quinn lives?"

  He gave a nod and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Yep. His hot dog stand is out back in a locked garage."

  "Hello?" crackled a familiar voice over the speaker.

  Ian pressed the speaker button. "Hey, Quinn, it's-"

  "Just get up here."

  A buzzer sounded from the door. Ian pulled it open and we stepped inside. The lobby was clean and the tile flooring was just showing signs of wear from the daily foot traffic. An elevator got us up to the sixth floor where we went to room thirteen. Ian raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open.

  Quinn stood on the other side with a frown on his face. "This better be good with you sticking him with me."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Him?"

  Quinn stepped aside and opened the door wider. His apartment was sparsely furnished with a couch, chair and TV in front of us, and to our immediate left was the kitchen. Deeper into the apartment and attached to the kitchen was an open dining space with a table and chairs.

  Seated in one of those chairs and facing the door was Cronus. On the table in front of him was his usual laptop.

  "Cronus!" I shouted.

  I rushed past the guys and hurried over to Cronus. He stood and held up his hand to stop my outstretched arms from hugging him. His eyes held a hint of warning that I understood, but didn't like. He couldn't show affection to me, not even in front of Quinn. I stopped and dropped my arms so my hands were on my hips.

  "Where the hell have you been?" I questioned him.

  "Here," was his bland reply.

  "I hope you've been a good boy for Quinn," Ian teased as he stepped inside. Cronus didn't deign to reply.

  Quinn shut the door behind Ian and crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned at us. "Could somebody fill me in on this?"

  "One sec," Ian promised him as he kept his attention on Cronus. "Anybody try to follow you?"

  Cronus nodded. "Yes, they tried."

  Ian showed off his crooked smile. "Good. Now we can get this party started."

  "No parties at my place until I know what's going on," Quinn spoke up. He jerked his head towards Cronus. "All he would say was he had to wait here for you two, and you'd explain. So what's going on?"

  Ian plopped himself into another of the dining table chairs and leaned back to shrug. "Just the usual."

  Quinn snorted. "It's never usual with you guys, so spit it out." Ian lit a cigarette and shoved it into his mouth. Quinn marched forward and snatched the cigarette from Ian's mouth. "My apartment, my rules. No smoking, and no hiding anything."

  Ian sighed. "I thought we'd keep you out of it, but if you insist."

  "Keep me out of what?" Quinn persisted.

  Ian nodded his head at me. "That the Society is after Enid."

  Quinn turned to me and furrowed his brow. "Enid? What do they want with her?"

  Ian lit up another cigarette. "Just to make her into some sort of lab experiment for their witch doctors."

  Quinn grabbed the cigarette and glared at Ian. "Why the hell do they want to do that? She's just a mystic."

  "They got a letter saying otherwise, and Sebastian came around to collect her," Ian told him. "We managed to get away from him, but those Phantoms of his used up all of my talismans."

  Quinn frowned. "What the hell is that guy's problem?"

  "Me, when I can make myself a nuisance to him, but right now he's got his eyes set on Enid," Ian replied.

  "That still doesn't explain this guy Sebastian," Quinn persisted. "I mean, I've been around Whisperers before, and I've never seen one with that powerful of Phantoms or that weird of vibe."

  Ian frowned. "That's because he's not your typical Whisperer."

  "And that means what exactly?" Quinn wondered.

  "It means we're wasting our time talking when we've got other work to do," Ian replied.

  "You mean running from the Society? Because you can't stay here forever," Quinn commented.

  Ian shook his head. "Nope. I've been meaning to visit their archives for a while. Now seems like a good chance."

  Quinn leaned against a wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you gonna do? Just waltz in there?"

  "No, just walk," Ian assured him.

  "Different dance, same tune. It's suicide," Quinn insisted.

  Ian turned to Cronus. "You got the schematics?"

  Cronus resumed his seat and opened his laptop. A few clicks and he gestured to the screen. We all crowded around him. On the screen was an architectural layout of a large office building. There was everything from room partitions and bathroom fixtures to the tiny drains in the employee showers.

  "These are the plans the Society submitted to the city to get their Tower built. The Paranormal Society may not obey all the laws of the city, but they're bound by the laws of physics on how they build their headquarters," Ian pointed out. He pointed at several spots on the screen that lay around the outer wall of the building. "Here are the entrances to the building, and here-" he dragged his finger across the map, "-are the elevators and fire stairwells. We should use the stairwell to get to the higher floors because the elevators are likely to have cameras, and they can be remotely stopped. The archives should be located on an upper floor, but close to either the elevators or the stairwell for easy evacuation in case of an emergency."

  "You sound like you've been thinking about this for a while," Quinn commented.

  Ian smiled. "Let's just say I thought they might be watching me, so I evened the odds and watched them."


  Quinn nodded at the layout. "Those doors you pointed at are probably locked, so how are you planning on getting inside?"

  "We're going to activate the fire alarm system with as many homemade smoke bombs as Cronus can make. They'll be lobbed into the upper floor windows here-" Ian pointed at the south side of the building, "-and here." The last point was on the west side of the building.

  "So how are you going to get that close without them stopping you?" Quinn wondered.

  Ian leaned backwards and grinned at Quinn. "And that's where your hot dog stand comes in."

  Quinn whipped his head to Ian and frowned. "Why the hell do you need that?"

  Ian jerked his head towards the screen. "That building's set off the sidewalk. The cart's the only way to get close to that place without raising too much suspicion."

  "Then why not get a cardboard box or something, and leave my livelihood out of this?" Quinn suggested.

  "Because a sentient box would attract their attention, but not a hot dog vendor," Ian argued.

  "But I don't work that part of town," Quinn persisted.

  "Then it's about time your stand brings its glorious food to the people of those neighborhoods," Ian pronounced.

  Quinn's eyes narrowed at Ian and he pursed his lips. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

  "He never does. . ." I muttered.

  Ian stepped up beside me and draped his arm over my shoulders. He gestured to me with his free hand. "It's for a good cause. Just think of the children."

  Quinn crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Fine, but you're not laying a hand on my stand."

  Ian's face fell. "That's a pretty important part of my-"

  "I'll take the stand close to the place and chuck the smoke bomb," Quinn offered. "Besides, I used to be a hot dog vendor at the ball park. I can throw twenty yards with pinpoint accuracy."

  "Um, not to throw a monkey wrench into this plan after all this arguing, but how is setting off the alarms going to get us inside?" I wondered.

  Ian pointed at the front entrance. "Through here."

  Quinn frowned at him. "Have you been inhaling too much wolf's bane? Going through there will get you killed, or worse."

  "I'll go see Morgan about a couple of police uniforms for us. Three should work. Quinn's already risking his livelihood for us, so we may as well keep your life out of it," Ian quipped. He drew a line from the front door to the stairwell on the left back side of the ground-floor lobby. "The building's fire system is hooked up to a security system. When that goes off the police and fire station will be alerted, and they'll come running. We'll get inside during the confusion."

  "So you might get inside, but which of these floors has the archives?" Quinn asked him.

  Ian smiled and tapped the side of his nose. "There's nothing dustier than a room full of paperwork. Besides, I'm sure they have a sample of me in there somewhere. I'll just follow my own scent."

  Quinn's eyes swept over the building. "This thing's gotta be eighty stories tall. That's going to take a lot of time to search them all."

  "We can eliminate the top ten floors. Those are the offices of the Council," Ian told him.

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You mean the council?"

  "Be glad there's only one," Ian quipped as he stepped back. He snatched his coat off the back of the chair and pulled it on. "Anyway, I've gotta go get those uniforms or this whole thing'll fall apart before it begins. Cronus, where's the-" Ian snatched a pair of car keys from the air that were tossed by Cronus.

  "Two blocks down parked in an overnight garage," Cronus replied.

  Ian smiled. "Good. I should be back in an hour. If I'm not, don't come looking for me."

  "Are you sure you should be going out at all with those goons after you?" Quinn asked him. "I could-"

  Ian shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but Morgan only trusts me. Besides, you need to show Cronus where the ingredients are for the bomb." He glanced at the cupboards. "If I know you those things are packed with spices. It'd take all night to find what he needed if you didn't help."

  Quinn smiled and shrugged. "What can I say? I like spices."

  Ian moved towards the front door and grabbed the knob. "You can say you're going to stay here. I'll be back in an hour."

  He slipped into the hall and closed the door behind him. My shoulders slumped. He hadn't even said goodbye to me.

  Quinn and I stiffened when the door opened. Ian peeked his head inside and grinned at me. "Try to keep these guys out of trouble for me, okay?"

  I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my lips. "I don't do miracles."

  Ian chuckled. "Well, try your best. Bye."

  He disappeared into the hall again. I snorted and shook my head. Quinn watched me with a small smile on his lips.

  "I've never seen Ian stuck on a girl like he is on you," he commented.

  I blushed, but covered it up with a well-timed shrug. "We're just close."

  Quinn snorted. "Yeah, right." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "First Cronus gets here and doesn't tell me why he's here. Then you guys come and tell me it's because you guys are being chased by the Society and now I've agreed to risk my dog stand on a suicide mission." He shook his head. "What a night."

  He had no idea.

  CHAPTER 4

  "Where do you store your baking soda?" Cronus spoke up.

  Quinn sighed and nodded his head towards the kitchen. "Come on."

  I watched the two men gather the necessary items. In a few minutes there was a ball of candle string, pencil, and tinfoil on the dining table. At the kitchen stove stood Quinn, and before him in a cast-iron frying pan was a black tar mixture that consisted of dark brown sugar, potassium nitrate, and baking soda.

  Cronus sat at the table and formed a ball from the tinfoil. He used the pencil as a form to create a long, narrow tunnel down which most of the string would go. The bottom was round like a ping pong ball. Cronus created two of these in only a few minutes. I took a seat beside him and watched him work the tinfoil to his will.

  "You look like you've done this a lot," I commented.

  He didn't look up from his work. "No, but my exceptional memory and long experience has granted me some keenness of mind in chemical usage."

  I scooted closer to Cronus and lowered my voice so Quinn wouldn't overhear. "So why don't we just light-blast our way in there?"

  "You forget my abilities have not regained their strength, nor are yours able to win in a battle against the guards who protect the Tower," Cronus pointed out. He paused and tinkered a little with his primitive machine. "There is also the danger the Tower is protected from even our abilities."

  I raised an eyebrow. "How do they protect against a-" Cronus' paused and his eyes flickered up to me. "Against things," I corrected myself.

  "Satanic rituals, blood sacrifices, and other profanities," he told me.

  I cringed. "That's pretty nasty."

  "But effective," he commented.

  "Are you two going to whisper all night?" Quinn spoke up.

  I started and plastered a smile on my face as I turned to him. "Maybe."

  Quinn had his attention on Cronus' back. "Hey, Cronus, you think this plan's actually going to work?"

  "Perhaps," Cronus replied.

  "Perhaps it might, or perhaps it might not?" Quinn persisted.

  "Perhaps with some luck it might," Cronus expanded. "The material should be finished. Bring it over here."

  Quinn flipped off the stove and walked over to the table. Cronus used a funnel to slide the muck down the tunnel and into the round bottom of the bomb. The muck was tamped down with the pencil and the wick was inserted into the muck.

  "So we just light the wick?" I guessed.

  "The cooked chemicals must be allowed to sit for one hour to solidify. Then the wick can be lit," Cronus explained.

  Quinn stood by passively until the task was finished. He took back the empty pan, set it on the stove, and returned to us.

&
nbsp; Quinn leaned on the back of the chair opposite mine and studied me. "So what's the deal with the Society, anyway? Why do they want you?"

  My eyes flickered to Cronus. He pursed his lips. "That is none of your concern," he answered for me.

  Quinn snorted. "Like hell it isn't. Listen, you guys might not trust me completely, but I'm not stupid. I don't need this-" he lifted his eye patch to reveal his dead eye, "-to see that her eye's changed-Jesus!" He jumped back and stumbled into the wall five feet behind him. His eyes were wide and he gasped for breath. He shut his bad eye, but the gaze of his other one never left me. "What the hell happened to you?"

  I blinked at him and shook my head. "Nothing."

  "Like hell it's nothing," he snapped. He pushed off from the wall and put his eye patch back over his eye. "This eye of mine's seem some pretty serious shit, but I've never seen what's in your eye. It was like it tried to drag me into another place."

  Cronus sighed. "It is a God's Eye."

  It was Quinn's turn to blink. "A what?"

  "A God's Eye is a window to Heaven," Cronus explained.

  "How'd she get one of those?" he asked him.

  "She is a Nephilim, a child of an angel, in this instance a Fallen one, and inherited it from her father," Cronus revealed.

  Quinn grasped the back of his chair and looked from Cronus to me and back. "You guys are serious? Angels having kids?"

  "Would you like to peer into her eye for further proof?" Cronus dared him.

  Quinn held up his palms and shook his head. "That's fine. I'll be a believer."

  "What did you see?" I spoke up.

  Quinn furrowed his brow and shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I felt like I was being drawn into a bunch of bright stadium lights, but wherever they were the place wouldn't stop. It just kept going."

  "The endless brilliance of Heaven," Cronus told him.

  Quinn glanced at Cronus and studied him. "How do you know so much about this stuff?"

  "Because I am a Fallen," Cronus announced.

  Quinn blinked at him. "Seriously?"

  "Quite."

  "Prove it."

  Cronus shut his eyes, and when he opened them they were the bright blue of my God's Eye. Quinn started back.

  "Holy crap. How'd you hide that?" Quinn asked him.

  Cronus blinked and his eyes reverted to their normal dark color. "Eons of practice."

  Quinn snorted. "I would've taken you for one of the other guys, but I guess you've proven that wrong." He glanced at me. "So do you know who your dad is?"