Damian's Oracle

Target of opportunity. Maybe that's all she was.

She shook her head. If she was an Oracle, she needed to learn to be one. She retreated to the study and began to search the shelves for books on Oracles. Many of the books looked ancient, with some written in different languages. One volume, Oracle, See Thyself Home, caught her attention.

She collected what she could find and perched in a chair, reading until sundown, when the hunger pangs hit her again. They were always worse at night, when Damian's draw was overwhelming. The thought of him without his shirt on, or better yet, naked …

"No way in hell," she breathed.

She gritted her teeth and forced her attention to the stack of books, jotting down notes on her notepad. There appeared to be no such thing as a do-it-yourself manual for seeing the future, but the books had a few good-if bizarre-anecdotal stories that gave her ideas. Armed with her notes, she emerged from the library.

The mansion was quiet, and she roamed until she found where everyone was. The men were at dinner, including Damian. The scents of what looked like pizza night taunted her, and she stood peering through the cracked door at the long dinner table.

Bitterness slithered through her.

She was even different from them. Her reading had shed some insight, saying that when an Oracle died, she could be brought back to life by a blood bond. There weren't many details, and she could only guess that this was not the normal case, as some stories mentioned Oracles attending great feasts.

She watched the men eating happily around the table and left the mansion for the gardens. A cold wind comforted her as she sat alone. The moon was covered by clouds, and she crumpled the notes she'd taken. Tears began to spill again, and she began to understand how Darian felt, utterly alone and abandoned in the corner of her mind.

"You should go inside." Damian's voice was soft. She didn't hear him approach.

"I don't belong there. I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong here," he said resolutely. "You were forced into a transition without being prepared for it. I'm sorry for that."

"But are you sorry for what I am?"

"Not at all." He pried the notes from her hand. "What is this?"

"I'm trying to learn to be an Oracle. I read a couple of books today."

He studied what she had written.

"There's no dummies guide," she added. "I think I can teach myself how to keep from seeing deaths whenever I touch someone." She sneaked a look at his face, surprised to see the warm smile there as he read through her notes.