A Gift of Three (A Shade of Vampire #42)(36)

I took a proper look at what had been put before us. There were about nine settings made, all with glasses, cutlery, and a plate covered with a silver warming dish. Were we being joined by others? I silently took my seat, glancing down at where the Druid sat. There was no food placed before him, only a single glass filled with water.

“Eat,” the Druid commanded, gesturing to the plates in front of us. I removed the dish warmer, quietly praying that whatever was beneath it would be edible. I was pleasantly surprised. The food smelt good—there was a husk of corn, a substantial-looking brown grain dish, and some strange grass shoots that looked like they’d been steamed. I picked up my fork.

“Wait,” Jovi called out. I looked up, startled. He turned to the Druid. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“I’ve already eaten,” the Druid replied calmly. “I suppose you think the food is poisoned?”

“Are you surprised?” Jovi retorted.

The Druid sighed and rose from his chair. He made his way toward me and I thought he was going to stop, but he continued, reaching Field’s chair.

“May I?” the Druid asked, picking up Field’s fork.

“Go ahead,” Field replied, crossing his arms and leaning back from the table.

The Druid speared a grass shoot, and then, turning to face Jovi, he placed it in his mouth, chewing with deliberate slowness till he had finished. He handed the fork back to Field, and then returned to his seat.

“Satisfied?” he asked, glaring at us all.

I nodded, picking up my own fork and giving Jovi another warning look. He muttered something under his breath, but proceeded to eat. I joined him, but started to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the Druid’s gaze lingered on me.

“So, questions,” I said, putting down my cutlery.

The Druid eyed me with amusement, leaning back and gazing at me as if in challenge.

“First, tell us about this ‘transformation’. What exactly is happening to our friends?” I asked, determined not to be put off by his amusement. If he thought all this was funny, then good for him—but I was absolutely terrified for my friends, and failed to see how he could treat it as some kind of game or joke.

“Right to the heart of the matter,” he conceded, the smile vanishing from his face. “I will get to your question, but let me tell it in my own way, as I think you will understand me better.” He paused as if waiting for one of us to say something. “May I?” he asked.

“You may,” I replied slowly, wondering why he was suddenly so accommodating. “As long as it gets to the point,” I clarified.

He nodded, and I glanced at Field and Jovi—both of them were leaning forward, food forgotten as they waited for the Druid to speak.

“A while ago, some years now, my father and I were visited by an Oracle. She was known to only a few Druids, and that was mostly by myth. Most of us hardly believed that the stories were true. Her story was known to us all… she was born of an Ancient and a jinni, and her parents had hidden her long ago in a land that was far from here.”

At this, I glanced over at Jovi and Field. He must be talking about the same Oracle who had lived in Nevertide and visited us in The Shade, the supposed ‘fairy godmother’ of my brother and friends. Jovi met my eye and subtly shook his head, warning me not to say anything. I glanced over at the Druid, but he hadn’t noticed us. He looked deep in thought, as if he’d almost forgotten he had an audience.

“She came to my father and me,” he continued, “begging help. She wanted us to protect her from Azazel and his creatures. We agreed, of course. My father and I have sworn to always protect the Oracle from harm.”

“Who’s Azazel?” I asked. I’d never heard the name before.

The Druid’s gaze flickered in my direction, and he seemed mildly surprised at the question, frowning as he replied, as if the mere name was distasteful to him. “Azazel is the self-proclaimed ruler of this land—of Eritopia. To maintain his rule, he desires all power and knowledge, and to obtain this he uses the Oracles. Their powers allow him to know when harm might come his way, or any who plot against him, and he can destroy it before it comes to pass.”

“And he wanted this Oracle, I take it? The one who visited you?” I clarified.

“Exactly,” he murmured. “The moment she left the protections of Nevertide, she was seen—the Oracle he already had in his service saw her coming to Eritopia the moment she entered your ‘Shade’, and told Azazel of her presence.”

I was surprised by the involvement of another Oracle. First, that there was more than one of these freaks of nature alive, and secondly, wasn’t there loyalty between the species? It seemed cruel to sell out another of their kind that way. The Druid saw my look of surprise, and shook his head.

“Don’t judge too harshly—the Oracles live for a long time, and Azazel is viciously cruel. We don’t know what he might have promised her in return for the information, or what he might have done to get it out of her. Once an Oracle is in Azazel’s hands, there is no escape.”

“So what happened?” I asked, urging him on. It was starting to become obvious, from the absence of both the Druid’s father and the Oracle, that this story didn’t have a happy ending.

“By the time the Oracle reached us, she knew already that it was too late. Unable to communicate with us in time, she landed some distance away, outside the safety of our home. My father and I went to collect her, arriving moments before Azazel and his creatures. My father battled him, throwing me out of sight so that I might live. Her last words to me and my father were about your friends.”