Page 44 of Oracles Always Win

Myfootsteps were silent asIstole through the inn toJake’sroom.Ipaused for only a moment outside his door.

I’dtoldJakeI’dbe there when he woke, so it was acceptable to go back in the room, right?

Right.

Islipped inside, taking care to keep my steps light so as not to disturb the still sleepingJake.Hewas hugging a plump pillow to his chest and had kicked the blanket off his feet.Itook a moment to admire him.Hisdark hair was in disarray.Histypically pale cheeks were flushed in his sleep, and the dark depressions under his eyes didn’t seem as harsh now as they had earlier.Butit was obvious he wasn’t well and hadn’t been for a while.Imissed seeing his dark brown eyes and the way they always seemed to be watching me, but it pleased me thatJakehad fallen asleep in my presence.Itmeant he trusted me.

Orthat he was exhausted.

Giventhe number of paintings in the room,Idoubted he got anywhere near eight hours of sleep each night.

Iset the new paintings against the foot of the bed, the only place with free space.Thedisordered chaos in the room made my eye twitch, but this wasJake’sspace, not mine.Obviously, he preferred it this way, althoughIhad no idea why.

Todistract myself from giving in to the impulse to tidy his space,Itook in a deep breath and tasted the air.

Whatstruck me first was thatIstill couldn’t get a clear feel forJake’smagic, even thoughIknew what it was, andI’dseen him access it.Withthat knowledge, it should have been easy to identify, but it wasn’t.WhateverIcould sense of his magic was muted and faded.Howwas that possible when he’d obviously had a lot of visions in here?Theplace was filled with paintings.

Basedon my observation of his behavior in the park,Idoubted the colorful ones were products of his oracle abilities.Andthat matched with whatIsaw in this room.Thepaintings with color were remarkably bright, a sharp contrast to the others, making his single-minded resolve to ignore his oracle side when he was conscious obvious.

Howmany other things didJakeignore?

Probablya lot.

Givenhis reaction to having me in his space,Idoubted he’d be happy about inviting even more people to view his work.Butwith enough analysis, we should be able to determine if his visions covered a specific geographical region.WhichmeantVanandHaydenneeded to see them, if only to identify any local people or places.

Whichbrought me back to my other question:Whydidn’tJakeknow he was an oracle?

AccordingtoVanandHayden,Jakedidn’t know about the supernatural world.Isuspected they believed that becauseJakepretended it didn’t exist.Whichthen begged the question:WhatdidJakethink was happening when he created these paintings or when he saw other supernatural beings?Becauseobviously hecouldsee under the glamour, and he probably had for a while.

Unfortunately, the paintings themselves didn’t hold any answers toJake’sreasons and beliefs.

Istared at the canvases.Itwould be so easy to flip through them and see what other messages theEternalMagichad for us, but my conscience rebelled at the idea.ThiswasJake’ssanctuary, his sacred space.Ifhe’d lived in ancient times, he would have a temple built just for him.He’dbe surrounded by disciples.Peoplewould travel from all over just to ask for his guidance.Warriorswould protect both him and his sacred space.

Thiswasn’t ancient times, butIcould be that for him.Icould dedicate my life to him.

Hiswarrior.

Jake’swarrior.

Theidea appealed to me more thanIwould have expected.

Imoved a stack of empty canvases off a chair beside the bed and sat down.SinceIrefused to look at the paintings,Iturned my attention to the sleeping painter.

Itwas clearJake’ssupernatural magic was starting to overwhelm him.Throwingup and passing out every time he channeled a vision would work against him too.Hissurvival instincts might have driven him to host the potluck every week.Itwas a way to bind himself to the present.Butthat weak connection wouldn’t be strong enough to balance his magic for long.Heneeded a better anchor, like a mate.

Mypulse picked up at the thought.

Howstrange.EversinceI’dcome toWillowLakeand metJake,I’dbeen suffering through a strange assortment of sensations.Myreaction at the thought of mating withJakewas almost as bizarre as the weird fluttering sensationI’dfelt earlier whenIdecided to seeJakeagain.

Wasit connected to finding my fated mate?

BecauseIcouldn’t deny that’s what he was.

Giventhe paintingsJakehad done of the two of us together,Icouldn’t pretend we weren’t destined for one another.Thathad to be whyIwas so drawn to him and whyJakehad painted my likeness over and over again.

Ileaned back in the chair.

Thatcomplicated things and made them pretty fucking simple all at the same time.