Damian's Oracle

"If only you could touch horses," Grande said with a sigh of exaggerated melancholy. "We'd be kings at the races."

She was getting a better grip on her newfound talent and was now able to predict the winner of their rounds-without flashes of their deaths. Han motioned him away, and Grande shifted down a seat.

"Isn't there a better use for your gift than lining Grande's pockets?" he asked.

"I asked you the other day, and you weren't at all helpful," she reminded him. "If you have any ideas, let me know." Her stomach growled loudly. She ignored Han's knowing look.

"I win again!" Grande exclaimed as Pierre's opponent went down. "Dos dolares, señor."

"Enough," Han said. "No more bets with ikira. It's called cheating in the real world."

"You have any other magic tricks for us?" Pierre called to her.

"Not today."

"Magic tricks," Han muttered. "In my day, Oracles were the most revered, most feared and celebrated. This generation has no idea. Including you, ikira. You're all fucking idiots."

"You're no fun today, Han. What gives?" Sofia said, surprised. He grimaced in response. She touched his arm. "You're leaving me," she said, saddening. "Why?"

"Battle is what we do," he answered then looked at her. "What did you see?"

Damian's rules for Oracles returned to her.

"You'll live," she said. After your leg is broken next week.

He appeared relieved, and she felt guilty. And hungry. Always hungry. She chewed her lip and glanced at her own wrist. Did her blood taste half as good as Damian's? She made a face, drooling at the thought of Damian's blood again.

"I guess I'm done here," she said and rose.

She placed a checkmark next to the first of her ideas for learning to use her power. She wandered the mansion as she often did, restless and starving. She found herself again in front of Damian's door. She'd been there twice before today and only knocked once for fear he'd answer. And then she'd tried to eat chocolate and ended up in the bathroom even weaker and hungrier.

I don't want this! Her stomach growled. Angry, she turned to leave when Damian's door opened. He was dressed again all in black, a color that should have minimized his size but just amplified how ripped he was beneath the clothing.

"You need something?" he asked with a casualness that pissed her off, as if he didn't know why she was there.

"No."

"Alrighty then." He closed his door. He was messing with her-he knew she was hungry!

He promised! She sighed and knocked. He answered.

"You need something?"

"Yes," she grated. "I do."