Prologue

Prologue

DATE STAMP MAY 2012, 5:30 PM, GREAT BRITIAN

It all started with a letter.

Sometimes I remember that and other times I don’t. The man before me looks eighteen years old, but then I remember he’s an oracle, and a very long-lived one at that. He’s somewhere around the age of 3,000 years old.

My name’s Kaylee.

He knows everything about my sister Brianna, our parents, and me. The way he talks about our parents—the Oracle Exile and the Elven Outcast—you’d think he’d been there with them in the legendary pre-Dark Ages. And yet, I don’t even know him or even remember him. You see, my sister and I were kidnapped at birth and made to serve our masters in whatever manner they chose.

Brianna is just a bit more angry and bitter than one should be to everyone. She’s always causing sights with innocent strangers.  This man—Nathan “Nate” Jefferson-Bell—says she is the mirror image of our mother. Even though I’m a woman, I mirror my father.

Birds chirp and sing above us. We’re next to a wide river blanketed by trees. There are five of us here: three oracles—Nate, Brianna, and myself—a female sex demon—also commonly called Succubae—and a pudgy human with wolfish features. I think he might be a werewolf, and judging from the way he’s politely interacting with us, I’d say he’s from one of the civilized clans. The river is just a couple of meters away. The water trickles as it slides over rocks. Nate’s using magic to block out the sound, something I wish I could do.

Brianna, bless her, keeps staring at the succubus and werewolf—his patchy clothes give him away, plus he’s kind of chunky in his human form and the clothes don’t fit him right—like they’re evil or something. The succubus’ tail twitches in what I assume is an effort to be friendly. Or maybe it’s a warning. Either way, I can’t tell. I may be part oracle and part elven, but I’m not a mind reader, a spook. Plus, the succubi and incubi have a long-standing feud with us oracles. It’s like we, oracles that is, can’t stand the way the sex demons whore themselves at everyone like a cat in heat.

What are succubi and incubi, you ask? They’re sex demons, and if that doesn’t answer the question, here’s a more thorough breakdown. Succubi are female demons that look ever-so perfect, supermodel sexy with the curves in all the right places. Just never make them mad; that’s when you can see their large bat-like wings and serpentine tail that can be split apart to have thirteen pointed tips. They also have ram-like horns that burst from under their gorgeous hair. The same goes for the incubi, male sex demons, except for the curves. In place of those, they’ve got bulging muscles and perfect abs and that sexy pout some women seem to love. The best way to calm them or make them cry when they’re angry is to tell them that their true form is sexier than their projected human form. Works every time. Any smack to their vanity brings them down. Not that it’s okay to go around doing so, just that it happens to work most of the time. Sometimes, they’ll just kill you out right and cry about it later.

So that letter I mentioned… My sister and I got it from Nate, telling us to meet him here, at this time, because he has something important to tell us before he dies. I wish he would just say it. The picnic is nice, but I’m much more interested in what he has to say than the food and drink.

A flash of light lingers over a bush. There’s something wooden underneath the foliage. It’s strange but when Nate clears his throat, the light flits off to somewhere else. I can’t even see the wood anymore.

Nate glances at a watch on his wrist and sighs. “It’s time then.”

The succubus tilts her head to one side, her tail curling in confusion. “Time for what?”

“Time for you to die?” my sister says.

The succubus’ tail splits into six, each end like fine-tuned blades. The werewolf just growls, a hint of his wolf side etched into his human face. I swear I see fangs.

I brush my hair behind my ears and glare at Brianna. “No. We were all invited here. Let’s not start a fight.”

I find Nate staring at the river. I can see why. Two young girls stand at the edge, and I get the sense of foreboding and the tang of blood in my mouth. I wonder where that came from.

Nate gets up; the rest of us do the same. He turns back to face us. “Whatever happens, promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

Brianna crosses her arms. The succubus and werewolf stare blankly at him. I nod. Appearing satisfied, he walks to the girls. The sky seems to grow darker as I stare at them. I know them from somewhere, but can’t place it.

He’s talking to them, so maybe it’s a good sign—

“I never gave up looking for you,” a suppressed memory of Nate says. I can see the place I’m at now, only from a smaller perspective and—wait! I don’t remember this. Where is this coming from? A quick glance at Brianna confirms she’s reliving the same thing I am.

When did we meet Nate before 2010? I stare closer at the girls. And suddenly I remember a man, looking exactly like Nate saying those exact same words. But what follows next? Nothings clear, just a couple of images of him falling. But he’s still standing and talking with the girls.

“Your mother and I love you very much,” the man who looks like Nate says. “We always did. See them over there? That’s both of you, safe. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

I whisper, “Dad?” Brianna stares at me, looking like she’s seen a ghost, her eyes telling me ‘I told you so.’ She always suspected that Nate wasn’t who he said he is.

The succubus and werewolf raise their hands, fingers pointing. I hear a blast and snap my head to watch as Nate stumbles backwards, blood beginning to gather on his chest. The girls who I now notice look exactly like my sister and me, only years younger, pointing their hands at him, bewilderment and anguish falling over their faces. I can feel it in their emotions too.

“NO!” I say. “Get away from him.”

Brianna flicks her hand and a magnum appears in her fist. “Back off!”

The succubus’ tails surge forward but bend away at some unseen barrier.

Nate turns his head in our direction, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he mouths. Another blast from our younger selves snaps his spine and he falls down. Only he doesn’t touch the ground. Instead, a feminine hand reaches—bursts, more like—out of the ground and grabs Nate. It then pulls him under.

The girls vanish, leaving no trace that they were ever there. I rush toward the river hurling every scrap of magic I know and shatter the barrier. But I’m too late. The ground has already sealed itself back up. I drop to my knees and beat on the ground. Brianna is trying to pull me away, but it’s no good. I won’t let myself be moved away.

Our father. He was our father and we never knew it until now.

The sky dims as night rolls in, leaving the four of us alone in the dark.

“Not quite alone,” a voice calls out. Light illuminates the picnic area behind us.

I glare as I shove myself off the ground. “And who are you to make such declarations?”

The shrubbery falls off as the lid to a wooden coffin. So that’s what the wood was! It flies backward and a coffee-colored man jumps out. He’s dressed in all black with an even darker trench coat. Sunglasses cover his eyes and I know what he is: a vampire and an assassin with those clothes. He parts his arms, which part the sides of the coat to reveal a couple throwing stars and stilettos. He rolls his wrists and two stilettos appear in his hands.

“Lanarrah the bounty hunter,” he says. “At your service.” He glances at the succubus. “Been a long time, but you haven’t met me yet.”

I feel baffled by that phrase. What did he mean by that? How could you not meet someone when you’re already meeting them? I don’t get it.

Brianna stabs a finger at the spot where Nate died. “Did you know him?”

Anger and hate radiate off her.

Lanarrah nods. “Friends for the last twelve or thirteen years. Your father asked me to look after you. I always fulfill my contracts.”

I stick one foot forward and rest on the other. “Did you know about this?”

He smiles. “Yes.”

“Are you going to tell us?” the werewolf asks.

“Can’t,” Lanarrah says. “Promised Nate I’d only tell his daughters. He said you and O would figure it out soon enough without my help. Orders are orders, after all.”

The succubus looks sick. Her wings droop to the ground, her tail just hangs there, unmoving, and her face looks pretty worn out. Tears run down her cheeks, ruining her oh-so perfect face. The werewolf puts his arm around her and guides her away from my sister and me. With them gone, the loud rushing of the nearby river returns tenfold, as if the recent events haven’t happened. 

The setting sun mixes with the lower branches of the tree canopy above us. The vampire stays well within it. Whatever he’s waiting for seems to be taking a long time. Finally, he turns to us and lets out a breath I don’t even think he knows he held.

“This may be hard for you to accept,” Lanarrah says. “Time travel and all that. But I’ll tell you all I can, and as he told me. You see, it all started . . .”

Continued in Chapter One: Fate’s Gift (whenever I get around to polishing it for the interwebs)