Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

me freely. The man with the dirty green shirt and gung-ho attitude’s name is Peter Johnson; a completely ordinary name for someone so vile, and he didn’t want to be on this mission in the first place. At least, not after Blake and I got involved. But his boss wouldn’t let him out of the deal—someone by the name of Lester Lewis. The other man goes by Brady, but his real name is Ralph Anderson—and not even Peter or Lester’s aware of this sleight of hand.

The white light takes form and almost as if a virtual map loads in my mind, the fastest route appears to where they all are. Leaving the present behind, I cast my mind into the future, trying to see the possible outcomes and uncover my best way in.

I could go raging in there, but without Blake, my scope is limited. I don’t have a gun or anything to apprehend them—that was Blake’s play. It’s his area of expertise, not mine.

Stealth it is—

I’ll need to get to Blake without the men seeing me. Then, I need to get him back up and operational, so he can do his part of the job. Together, we can overtake them and get the girls. Easy peasy.

Easing myself to a stand, I sigh in relief. This will all be over soon.

Blake and I will have a lot to discuss. I can’t keep all of this from him—he’ll have to know.

Following my inner compass and the pathway of light in my mind, I walk the cavern pathways. It’s an odd sort of sensation—almost like sleepwalking—as I’m guided closer to where Blake and the girls are being held. In an ironic twist of fate—Ralph Anderson, or Brady, was right. Blake has been tagged, just not with a GPS locator the way they know it.

From where I am, the tunnels leading deeper aren’t entirely walkable. Some require strength and skill to climb up, over, or through narrow passage ways. I’ve never been one to overly love spelunking, because the thought of getting lost in the pitch black—or worse, trapped without a way out. Even my abilities, at least in the past, have had their weaknesses and that was enough to instill caution. Yet, now there’s never a moment where those thoughts arise and give me pause. I know exactly how to get to where I need to be and the most efficient way to do it.

I’m surprised by the way my awareness is vaster than it was before; encompassing movements, thoughts, and placements all in real time and without much effort at all. Before, I had to truly focus to get the information I really wanted, all while sifting out the details just causing noise—all of that is gone now.

I place my tiny flashlight between my teeth, climbing up and into a narrow passageway, as I begin the next leg of my journey. The space is tight, forcing me to crawl on my stomach for a good distance. This isn’t the only way to Blake’s location, but it’s by far the fastest and right now, I’d rather be faster and ensure Blake’s safety, than take my time to protect my own.

A source of water must be nearby because I can sense its stagnation and feel its vibration. The dank air in the cavern begins to close in, flooding my lungs with the memories of long past. Not much in this space has changed over the millennia.

Nearing the end of the narrow tunnel, I scrape my knee against the side of the rocky wall as I push myself forward—rushing. The rough surface shreds through the fabric on my jeans and though I don’t even have to look at it, I already know it’s drawn blood.

“Dammit,” I curse, biting my lip to keep myself quiet.

Sound echoes in these enclosed spaces and alerting the men I’m coming is the last thing I want to do.

Finally, I reach the end of the crawlspace and I clamber through the opening; flopping out onto the dusty cavern floor. Beside me, a small pool of water glimmers in the low light as I release my flashlight and let it fall to the ground.

The way the light hits the liquid and bounces around the enclosed space instantly reminds me of some of Blake’s drawings and paintings and I know why. Pulling up short, I hunch back onto my heels and take a look around. This pocket between the crawlspace and the next tunnel can’t be any larger than four hundred and fifty square feet, and yet, I’d remember it anywhere.

It’s where I found Anastasios’ body.

19

DREAD AND DESPAIR overtake me, and I’m suddenly consumed in the memory of what was. As much as I try to push it under, the stone left to the side—it’s the one smattered in his blood, even if it now looks like it’s simply covered in rust. I flashback to the way I found his crumbled body as he took his last breath in my arms. I hear his final labored words when he told me who did this to him.

My shoulder and knee throb, my own blood trickling down my leg—but I don’t make a move.

Instead, my mind twists to my confrontation of Iphitheme.

She didn’t even try to deny it—as though murder was a completely acceptable action for a priestess of Apollo to take. I watched the way her eyes glinted like cold steel and I cried out to Apollo for refusing to let me see this fate before it took place. I cursed his name. I cursed everything about him—I cursed Iphitheme—I cursed this eternal existence.

A vision captures my attention, pulling me from the past and hurtling me into the near future—

“He’s nothin’ but trouble. We need to get rid of him before he fucks up this whole operation. I’m telling ya, this whole thing stinks,” Brady—also known as Ralph—says. He garnishes his handgun, pointing it at Blake’s head.

Blake sits up taller, his arms bound behind his back and his