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Authors: JJ Black

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ASK THE ORACLE

26

through the cracked earth, erupting in fountains of molten flame. It would have been a

beautiful sight if Gray didn’t know the true purpose of the Pits. Even as the thought crossed

his mind, he could swear he could hear the echo of screams in the distance.

Raised voices sounded off to his left, tearing his focus away from the landscape.

Turning his attention to the disruption, Gray’s eye caught on two Demon males locked

together in some kind of altercation. Shouts and curses fell from their mouths as a feeling of

unease swashed over Gray. He was about to say something to Dreo when one of the men

roared and sent a ball of blue flame hurtling towards the other man. In a move almost faster

than Gray’s eyes could track, the other Demon threw himself to the side, just managing to

miss being barbequed alive, as the fireball crashed into a vacant storefront. As it was, the

smell of scorched hair filled the air. The downed man pulled himself to his feet, his

expression a mask of rage. The man’s hands erupted into yellow flames as he bore down on

his attacker. Casting a worried glance up at Dreo, Gray was surprised to see nothing more

than irritation colouring his face.

“Don’t you think you should stop them?” The sound of another fireball making contact

with a building had Gray cringing.

“There is little point,” Dreo said dismissively. “This is only the beginning of the chaos

that will ensue if we cannot find the guilty party soon. The Demon Council has been forced

to put up wards to keep the Underworld on lockdown since Lucifer was found dead. It is

impossible for anyone to come or go without approval from the Council. While some

Demons are happy living so close to others of our kind, there are others who prefer seclusion.

Forcing so many Demons to be in such close proximity for any period of time is like lighting

a stick of dynamite and waiting for it to explode. It is inevitable. Our only hope is that we can

resolve the situation before too much damage is done.” Turning away from the fight, Dreo

motioned for him to follow.

Gray swallowed nervously, trailing Dreo. Nothing like working under pressure. They

quickly made their way through the bustling streets until they found themselves standing

before the large iron gates of Lord Lucifer’s palace. Dreo shared a few quietly whispered

words with the demons guarding the entrance before they were ushered in with no further

delay.

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JJ Black

27

Gray couldn’t help but marvel at the dark splendour of their surroundings. The black

marble that covered the floors was shot through with veins of silver, turquoise and violet.

That, combined with deep royal-blue walls, gave the appearance that the entire palace was

cast in a constant state of twilight. The beauty and peace emanating from their surroundings

was in complete opposition to what Gray had been expecting to find in Hell. Sculptures and

tapestries lined the walls as they passed, depicting everything from fallen rulers to events

from times long past. Gray was tempted to stop for a closer look but decided against it.

Instead, he tried to keep pace with Dreo, who was moving at a steady clip towards what he

had described as the main receiving hall. It was there that they were supposed to meet up

with Dreo’s team of demons who would be acting as Gray’s protection during his

investigation. Guards were dispersed along the way, cleverly hidden in the shadows of the

majestic sculptures. They remained motionless as he and Dreo passed, but Gray wasn’t

fooled. He could see the tension in their bodies and the sharpness of their stares. They were

ready to move into action at the slightest sign of trouble. Gray could admit he was

adequately impressed.

Passing through a massive stone archway, Gray found himself entering a beautifully

decorated throne room. The cavernous space was well over the length of a football field and

decorated in the same style as the rest of the castle he’d seen. Crystal chandeliers hung from

the ceiling, dripping with pale purple and silver gems that cast an enchanting glow over the

room. Black doors lined the walls of the hall, leading the way deeper into the castle. What

Gray wouldn’t give to have free reign to explore the gigantic structure. Who knew what lay

beyond those doors? The endless possibilities teased at his inherent tendency towards

curiosity. He gave them one last wistful glance before following after Dreo’s retreating form.

Continuing on, Gray finally noticed the Demons milling around the room. Dressed to

the nines, they were clearly from the higher echelon of Demon society. Dreo paid them no

mind as he continued through the throng, clearing a path with nothing more than his

presence. Gray tried to emulate Dreo’s dismissive attitude as he walked at his side. It became

more and more difficult as he found himself on the receiving end of some interested glances.

Some were merely curious, while others were downright hostile. Shrugging it off, Gray

reminded himself that he wasn’t here to make friends. He had a job to do and when it was

complete, he would never see these people again.

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ASK THE ORACLE

28

They were nearly halfway across the hall when they were intercepted by a small

contingent of soldiers. Half a dozen men seemed to appear out of nowhere. Battle ready, they

quickly moved to surround Dreo and Gray. Gray had no idea what was happening and

answers didn’t appear to be forthcoming. The expression on Dreo’s face left Gray reluctant to

ask any questions about their, less than, warm welcome.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dreo’s eyes were blazing with barely leashed hellfire.

Whatever the reason, Andreo Demos was pissed. The soldiers, seemingly oblivious to his

mounting fury, held their positions. A large, barrel-chested man stepped forward, a sneer

plastered on his ruddy face.

“Povell.” Dreo gave the man a nod of acknowledgement before pinning him with an

expectant glare.

“My apologies, Andreo. We—”

“Lord Demos.” Dreo’s interruption was firm and immediate—his authority

unquestionable.

“Excuse me?”

Povell’s face was a mask of confusion. Gray had to admit, he wasn’t sure why the

interruption had been necessary. Maybe Dreo suffered from some form of Tourette’s?

Dreo’s dark brow furrowed. “You take liberties that are not yours for the taking. You

will address me by my title, Povell, as my station demands.” His tone brooked no argument.

Povell took a shuddering breath as his eyes widened at Dreo’s harsh tone. He looked as

if someone had struck him. The expression he directed at Dreo was filled with such shock

and longing, it was easy to see that there was history between them. If he’d had any doubt,

the vision that followed moments later, of Dreo and Povell playing mattress mambo, served

as confirmation of what he had already suspected. While the vision acknowledged the reality

that they had once been bed mates, it also reinforced the fact that theirs was not a true love

connection. At least not for Dreo, in any case. Any claims of love or deeper affection had

been absolutely one sided.

Gray felt a moment of pity for the other man. As someone who had found himself in a

similar situation in the past, he understood the devastation that came with such complete

rejection by an ex-lover. Feeling the need to comfort the other man, Gray took a step forward

but was stopped in his tracks by the hard, venomous glare Povell aimed in his direction.

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29

“Who the fuck are you?” The sharpness of his voice and the steely glint in his eyes had

Gray feeling like a bug under a microscope. Apparently, the man had reasoned that Gray

was competition for Dreo’s affections. From the demon’s pinched, angry expression, it was

clear that he and Povell were not destined to be friends. The scowl he levelled on Gray

further cemented the fact that the man wished Gray a very slow and extremely painful death.

Not one to get caught up in other people’s drama, Gray yawned in the face of Povell’s

jealousy. He’d forgotten how exhausting people and their trivial issues could be. As someone

who saw the worst the world had to offer on a daily basis, he didn’t have the time or energy

to deal with things like petty jealousy. He preferred to direct his focus to areas where he

could make a difference. Dealing with the drama queen ex, of some guy who wasn’t even his

boyfriend, didn’t even make it on his list.

Stepping forward, Gray held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Grayson Muir. Lord Demos

has hired me as a consultant. He’s asked me to look into the death of your king.”

“Oh, that—right.” Povell laughed derisively. “The fortune teller.”

“Oracle, actually.” Gray smirked at the attempted jibe. “I understand your confusion. It

can sometimes be difficult for paras with a lower power base to tell the difference between

the two. Don’t worry,” Gray said sweetly. “No harm, no foul.”

“Excuse me?” Povell snarled, his eyes flashing with anger.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Gray continued sympathetically. “Some paras just

don’t possess enough magic to distinguish the difference between humans, paras and

mystics. Don’t let it get you down.”

“You little shit!” Povell roared, taking a menacing step towards Gray. Before he could

complete his move, Dreo had a strong grip on his shoulder and shoved him back, not

allowing him to gain even an inch.

“Because of our past friendship, I will let you walk away with a warning just his one

time—do not touch Grayson Muir. He is an honoured guest and is here at my request. Any

harm that befalls him, I will take as a personal attack on myself and will treat it as such. Trust

me when I tell you that you do not want to know how I handle those who seek to strike out

at me.”

Povell turned his attention back to Dreo, his full mouth twisted into a sneering mockery

of a smile. “My apologies—Lord Demos. If you would come with us, I have orders from the

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ASK THE ORACLE

30

Council to detain you, and anyone in your company. You are wanted for questioning in

regards to the death of Lord Lucifer.” Despite the man’s contrite words, it easy to see that he

was barely able to contain his enjoyment with their current situation.

“You are making a mistake, Povell.” Dreo’s tone was stern, dripping with disapproval.

“No,
Lord Demos
. You are the one who made a mistake. I am doing my duty and

following orders. You’d know all about that,” he sneered. “If I’m remembering correctly,

duty to your position and duty to your race have always been first and foremost in your

heart. Or, perhaps your new choice in company has left you confused about where your

loyalties lie?” Povell’s expression was neutral, but his eyes were filled with an unspoken

challenge that immediately put Gray on edge.

“Now is not the time to bring up old grievances,” Dreo chastised. “It hardly matters

now, almost a century after the fact.”

“It hardly mattered then,” Povell countered, his words tinged with anger and old pain.

“Trust me, you made that more than clear.”

Dreo’s expression softened, taking a step towards his ex-lover. “I’m sorry, old friend. I

admit, my thoughts and actions back then were careless. I never intended to hurt you.”

Povell jerked, the words connecting like a physical blow. Brows pulled down, his eyes

narrowed as he focused dark look on Dreo. “Intended or not, the past cannot be undone. We

all have to live with our own choices and their consequences, both the good and the bad.”

Povell was pushing Dreo’s buttons, looking for a fight. If he wasn’t careful, he was

going to get more than he bargained for. Gray could sense the rage and regret warring

behind Dreo’s calm exterior. There was no telling what could happen if he allowed that

anger free reign.

Watching Povell warily, Gray felt a slight change in the air, followed by a prickle

behind his eyes. His vision began to dim, becoming hazy around the edges.
Damn it! Not

now
!

For the most part, Gray had control of his gift, choosing when or if he would
See
. In

some cases, however, the Oracle blood within him was able to sense a wrongness or need,

and would drag him into a vision, whether he wanted to
See
or not. Gray hated the loss of

control, but he hated what he was usually forced to witness, more. A spontaneous vision was

never filled with sunshine and roses. Whenever he was forced to
See
, it was usually to bring

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