Oracle of Spirits #3 Read online

  "We're not really here, are we?" I asked him as he hopped out.

  He jerked his head towards a parting of the trees. "Nope. We have some hiking to do."

  Ian led me up a narrow and rocky path where any misstep could end in a disastrously sprained ankle. The pine trees and thorny bushes brushed against our arms and whacked my face more than once. Not a streetlight nor a house light broke through the darkness that encompassed us. I looked over my shoulder down the path. The many corners we'd taken meant even the car was out of sight.

  My foot caught on one of the dozens of stones that littered the path. I reached out my arms to catch myself, but Ian's strong arms caught me. I looked up into his amused face with his teasing smile. The end of his cigarette was like a tiny beacon in the dark.

  "Care for a lift?" he asked me.

  "No, but I'd really like a flashlight," I quipped.

  He chuckled and helped me onto my feet. "No need. We're almost there."

  "And where exactly is 'there?'" I wondered.

  He turned his face up the path and nodded. "There."

  I followed his gaze and caught sight of a soft, flickering glow. Civilization, or at least a fire. Ian kept a hold of my hand and helped me up the last twenty yards. We emerged from the trees and onto a bare bluff of rock and tall weeds. To our left was a large cave entrance, and to our right was another path that led around the cave and out of sight.

  The source of the light was a small fire in a rock pit. There were a few tall and narrow columns of rocks placed around the fire. A wizened old man smaller than me was hunched over the flames. His leather clothes were patched together by an inexperienced hand, and his long gray hair cascaded over his shoulders and back. I caught bits of words that mumbled from his mouth.

  "Flies and twigs and weevils. Yeah, weevils are delicious. . ." he murmured.

  Ian led me up to the strange figure. "Good evening, Glen."

  "Maybes Ah can find some weevils in the trees. Yeah, that would be good," the man continued with his soft ramblings.

  "Glen!"

  The old man sprang to his feet and stumbled back. His foot caught one of the rock stools placed around the fire and he fell onto his rear.

  "Who's there? What's wanted?" Glen yelped.

  Ian released me and set a foot on one of the stools. He leaned on his bent knee and grinned at the shaken old man. "I've been telling you for five years not to mumble so loud. The dead could sneak up on you."

  Glen climbed to his feet and glared at Ian as he brushed himself off. He needn't have bothered. The dust hid the many stains on his clothes. "It's not the dead who bother me, it's the living."

  "Well, this living wants a favor of you. I need your bats," Ian requested.

  Glen paused in his grooming and raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't ya just ring up with those bats in yer belfry at home?" he asked us.

  I turned to Ian and frowned. "What's he mean?"

  "Ian's got some nice bats Ah trained in his attic," the man explained. He leaned toward Ian and scowled. "They're all right, aren't they?"

  Ian leaned back and smiled. "They're just fine, old man. I just thought I'd show Enid here the view and your impressive show."

  The old man stood straight and gave Ian a toothy grin. His eyebrows wagged and he whistled through the few teeth he had in a muffled chuckle. "Ah see what ya mean. She ain't too bad on the eyes."

  I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the pair. "Mind telling me what that's supposed to mean?"

  "She yer new girlfriend?" Glen asked Ian.

  "How many has he brought up here?" I wondered.

  Glen opened his mouth, but Ian leapt forward and clapped his hand over the old man's mouth. Ian turned to me and smiled. "Didn't you have a couple of messages you wanted sent?"

  I frowned. "Can bats really do that?"

  Glen yanked Ian's hand off his mouth and scowled at me. "Of course they can! Just tell them the address and they'll deliver whatever ya want!" He paused and furrowed his brow. "Well, if it isn't too heavy."

  "She's just got a couple of messages to send," Ian assured him.

  "To my parents and a few friends," I added.

  Glen waved a hand in front of him. "Well, if that's all then just write 'em down and they'll get delivered."

  I glanced around us. "Write them with what?"

  Ian pulled out a pad of paper and pen from his overcoat. "I thought that might be a problem, so I brought these."

  He handed the materials to me, and Glen gestured to the stools. "Ya can write what ya want on them."

  I knelt before one of the stools, and by the light of the fire wrote out a few short letters to Mrs. Shannon, Mr. Bellamy, and my parents. While I wrote, Glen shuffled into the cave. He came back out just as I dotted my last sentence with its period.

  I looked up and started. Glen had one of his arms outstretched, and dangled under the arm were three bats.

  "Now jist tell me where ya want those letters to go, and the bats'll get there," Glen instructed me.

  I stood and clasped the letters in my hand. "But how do they know streets?" I asked him.

  He shook his head. "They don't go by streets. Ya jist tell 'em what's near 'em, like a park or church or something, and the direction they need to go and how far, and they'll drop their message where it needs to go."

  "And you're sure they're reliable?" I persisted.

  Glen frowned at me. "As reliable as the post service."

  I snorted. "That's not saying much."

  Ian moved to stand beside me, and he put a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up into his face and he smiled back. "Believe him. He's been doing this longer than either of us has been alive."

  "Yer darn tootin'! Now just tell 'em where they're needed and they'll be on their way," Glen promised.

  I described each location, and with each description Glen took a message and slipped it into a small tube attached to the leg of one of the bats. When I was finished he closed the last tube and smiled at me.

  "All right, that outta do it. Now let's jist get them on their way."

  He turned and shuffled up the higher path. Ian turned to me and offered me his arm. "Would you do me the honors?" he teased.

  I rolled my eyes, but took his arm. We followed Glen up the trail as it wound its way around the rocky hill. The path rose above the tops of the trees below it, and my eyes widened as I was treated to a beautiful view of the city. Below us rested thousands of twinkling lights of the large metropolis. The dark, winding river was like a black ribbon that cut through the center of the lights. Skyscrapers were small toys, and cars were invisible along the well-lit, straight roads.

  Above us was the endless sky of a cloudless night. The stars twinkled nearly as brightly as the lights below us, and silence was the sound of nature.

  The path stopped at a bare, wide, round outcropping that stretched into the void over the tops of the trees below us. To our left was a low wall of stone that made up the right wall of the cave. Glen stepped cautiously to the edge with his arm still outstretched.

  "Ah hate this part. . ." I heard him mutter. He poked each of the bats and lowered his arm. "Go on with ya!" he yelled as he threw his arm upward.

  The bats were thrown from their perch. They flapped madly into the air with tiny screeches of indignation. I heard a rush of wings to my left and turned in time to see a whole flock of bats swoop over the top of the rock wall. Their three disoriented brethren were swallowed by the flock, and I saw in their midst that they were righted and joined into the darkness that covered the sky.

  The bats flew together high into the sky over the tip of the outcropping. Once free of the rock they dove down towards the city lights. I watched them for as long as I could until their black bodies disappeared into the darkness of the night.

  Glen brushed his hands together and turned to us with a grin. "That should do it. They'll get their messages tonight," he assured us.

  I turned to Ian. His eyes still lay on the invisible black cloud o
f bats. I slipped my hand into one of his and smiled up at him.

  "Thank you," I whispered to him.

  He smiled and shrugged. "No problem."

  I grasped his hands in mine, and it was finally his turn to look embarrassed. "Really. Thank you," I persisted. I felt warm tears well up in my eyes and my nose began to run. "This. . .this really means a lot to me."

  "Hey, what about me?" Glen complained.

  I snorted, and Ian sighed and shook his head. "Way to ruin a perfectly good moment, old man," he scolded the bat keeper.

  Glen put his hands on his bony hips and glared at us. "Fine thanks for sending yer letters," he growled.

  I slipped my hand from Ian and walked over to the wizened old man. His eyes grew wide as I clasped his head between my hands and kissed his wrinkled forehead.

  "Thank you, Glen. This means a lot to me," I told him.

  His cheeks were a thick blush of red. "N-no problem," he assured me.

  I turned to Ian and moved over to stand in front of him. He smiled down at me. "I wouldn't mind the same thanks," he teased.

  I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. When I pulled back I saw his eyes were nearly as wide as Glen's. "How's that?" I asked him.

  His sly grin returned to his lips. "I'm not sure. I think I need another try."

  I snorted and swung away from him. "I think I need a warmer jacket." I shivered against the cold breeze that seemed to come from the very rocks on that barren stone face.

  Ian chuckled and offered me his arm. "Then let's go home."

  And so we did.

  For all books by Mac Flynn visit her author's page or visit Mac Flynn's website.

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