Brewed for Trouble (Witches of CSI Paranormal Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  She took a torch from the wall and blew on it. Fire sparked into life. “Follow me please, Agent Vavrin.”

  The stone steps wound down into an underground tunnel that led us out of the building without being seen. As we carefully made our way down, with only the single torch in Claire’s hand to cast out the darkness, I wondered about the need for this cloak and dagger stuff when they were simply making fortune cookies humans wouldn’t have any reason to look twice at.

  “Your face is speaking volumes again, Agent Vavrin,” the priestess commented with a smile.

  Oh, cast it.

  “Rest assured we’re not being unnecessarily secretive about our operations. Few people know this, but within the oracle of Delphi is a goddess waiting to be born.”

  The priestess’ revelation almost had me tripping over my own feet in shock. I’ve read a good number of books on Greek mythology since Circe recruited me to be a part of her agency, and by books, I meant those that contained actual, accurate historical accounts of the years that gods and non-humans walked alongside homo sapiens. None of those books, however, even hinted of the oracle being alive.

  “For as long as our goddess is unborn, she remains powerless and unable to defend herself.”

  “Hence the secrecy,” I realized, and my confusion deepened.

  “Oh, Agent Vavrin.” Claire let out a tiny chuckle. “The look on your face is priceless.”

  I grimaced, knowing that was just the priestess’ other way of saying she could read me like a book.

  “The oracle has bid me to speak the truth with you.”

  I opened my mouth to ask why, but the priestess prevented me from speaking with a shake of her head.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know, Agent Vavrin. I can never ask questions of the oracle. I can only deliver her answers, nothing else.” And with that, she ended the conversation by brushing her fingers against the boulder blocking our way. There was one moment of stillness, and then the massive structure disintegrated from view to reveal yet another secret passage.

  This time, however, going through it was like stepping into another world, for at the end of the passage was a subterranean paradise in which no attempts were done to hide the existence of magic. It was like a temple and industrial factory all rolled into one, with a domed ceiling made of colorful stained glass and marble pillars towering over packaging machines controlled by wand-wielding witches.

  There was music in the air, along with laughter – lots and lots of laughter as young robed mistresses went about their business, floral wreaths crowning their heads, and their silky tresses flowing against their back.

  One group was seated in a circle on a thick woven rug doing needlework, another group was busy cleaning their harps and lyres, while a large group of them were busy rolling strips of paper into fortune cookies before feeding them into packaging machines that would have them foil-wrapped and boxed.

  I turned to Claire, wide-eyed with wonder. “This is incredible, priestess,” I breathed.

  Smiling at my obvious amazement, and in a voice filled with pride, she said, “Welcome to the Temple of Delphi, Agent Vavrin.”

  As the priestess led the way, I found my gaze drawn to the ancient pyre at the center of the temple. Icy blue flames of the oracle twisted and spiraled like a fire fairy making a pirouette. Its heat enveloped my skin in an embrace that almost seemed like the oracle was welcoming me home, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the mesmerizing sight.

  “I can almost feel it---” I stopped and corrected myself, “I can almost feel her – it’s like she’s beckoning for me to come close.”

  In the corner of my eye, I saw the head nod in understanding. “Then maybe, that’s exactly what the oracle is asking you to do.”

  And so we went forward and came as close as we could without having its sinuously-weaving flames lick our skins.

  “The fires of the oracle of Delphi has been burning since the beginning of time,” Claire murmured, “and to those who know of it, the oracle is not only a channel of divination. It has also become a symbol of hope as Apollo, the god we serve, was the only Olympian in the olden days who had not turned his back on Man.”

  I struggled to keep my face blank at hearing Apollo’s name mentioned. I knew I should have expected it, but I hadn’t – and now I was paying the price. Last weekend, in between saving the world from total destruction and having the honor of meeting Zeus, I had also accidentally discovered that Paul, the handsome blond INTERPOL agent I had been crushing on since day one, also happened to be Apollo, the very same Olympian Claire had just sung praises of.

  “So…umm…the god you spoke of.”

  “Apollo?”

  “Yes.” I pretended not to notice the priestess’ puzzlement. No way I was going to call him by name – real or not. I just wasn’t ready yet.

  “What of the truth god?”

  I almost let out a snort. Truth god, ha! How could that be when her so-called truth god had hidden his real identity from me? My teeth ground against each other at the thought –

  “Your face has gone all red, Agent Vavrin. Are you alright?”

  Angry as Hades, I thought, but other than that…

  I forced a smile. “Going back to the truth god---” I nearly choked on the words. “I was just wondering what connection he has to the unborn goddess?”

  The priestess simply shook her head. “No one knows.”

  “Not even the truth god himself?”

  “Not even Apollo,” Claire confirmed.

  How very convenient, I thought darkly, but I wasn’t buying it at all. Most likely, the oracle was where his future soul mate lay, just like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince to come kiss her to life.

  “Agent Vavrin?” The priestess was gazing at me with concern. “Your face has lost all color now.”

  Brooms and sticks!

  I quickly shoved all distracting thoughts of the truth god out of my mind before Claire started thinking I suffered from dangerous mood swings. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about my case.” Not exactly the truth earlier, but it would be now, I swore to myself. I had a case to work on, and a murder to solve, cast it, and those definitely deserved to take precedence over my complicated dating life.

  “Could you be claustrophobic?” the priestess pressed gently. “It’s more common than you think, and witches are just as susceptible to it as humans.”

  “I’m honestly alright,” I quickly assured Claire, feeling guilty for making her worry. “I was simply surprised the truth god still has, umm, something to do with the oracle.”

  “Anything otherwise would be impossible, Agent Vavrin,” the priestess exclaimed. “Without his power to draw from, there wouldn’t be any fortunes to be read in the first place.”

  “Then does that mean he still oversees the workings of Delphi to this day?” Because if there was a chance he would be here –

  Claire shook her head. “He is not the type to---” A frown slightly marred the priestess’ forehead. “I think the modern word for this is micro-manage?”

  “Ah.” I tried not to sound overly relieved. “That’s very, umm, commendable of him.”

  “It is, isn’t it? Apollo trusts us to keep the fires of the oracle of Delphi burning and its unborn goddess safe---”

  I couldn’t help but scowl at the mention of the unborn goddess, and almost as if reacting to my anger, the fire flared violently all of a sudden, its hissing sound making me gasp, and I jumped back in shock as an electric purple flame shot out of the pyre.

  I heard the younger priestesses behind me giggle, and when I peeked at them over my shoulder, I couldn’t help grimacing when I saw them all looking completely unfazed, if not a little amused.

  Turning back, I caught the head priestess trying to stifle a grin as well, and I made a face. “I thought she was going to burn me,” I said defensively. And if she did, I couldn’t blame her, could I?

  “She only does that to people she doesn’t like,” Claire a
ssured me, “and you’re not one of those.”

  Now why did I have a hard time believing that?

  After giving the oracle one last wary look, I changed the subject, asking, “Where do you store previously released oracles?” Considering the seamless mix of technology and magic in this place, I tried to mentally guess what their storage method was. Digital copies stored in a literal cloud, maybe?

  “We do not have keep any such records.”

  I knew it –

  Wait.

  What?

  “No hard or digital copies? Anything?”

  The priestess shook her head. “There is no need to. The oracle remembers all, and it always know what we need without needing a word spoken.” And with that, Claire stepped forward and I let out an involuntary squeak when she reached into the fire.

  Gaea bewitched, wasn’t she worried about third-degree burns?

  But when the priestess pulled her arm back, every inch of her skin emerged flawless and unscathed. If anything, the older woman even seemed to glow, as if the blood under her skin had turned into fire. Even her eyes glittered with energy, and her voice, when she spoke, was slightly breathless. “Here is what you’re looking for, Agent Vavrin.” Claire’s hands shook as she uncurled her fingers to reveal a rolled strip of white paper. “It was the oracle’s message for Venus Stratton, and the oracle has given her permission for you to read it.”

  Unrolling the strip of paper, the first thing I saw was a jumble of tiny letters, and I frowned.

  Was this in another language or was it encrypted –

  Oh.

  The letters started to move on its own, their curves and lines turning a bright shade of silver as they rearranged themselves, and by the time they formed a straight line, they were glowing like stars.

  Death is the crown beauty wears.

  As soon as I read it, the letters vanished from view, and I let out a small gasp when the paper suddenly turned into ashes. “W-what---”

  “No written records,” the priestess reminded me.

  “It’s certainly a novel approach to tax evasion,” I joked.

  Claire pretended to mull this over. “Now that you’ve mentioned it…”

  “Err, priestess, you know that’s a joke, right?”

  Someone called Claire’s name then, saving her from replying, and as the priestess momentarily excused herself, I turned to face the oracle again. It seemed so impossible, for an unborn goddess to live within its flames for countless millennia, but I knew it could only be true.

  So where did that leave me, I wondered unhappily.

  Now that I knew Paul also happened to be an honest-to-goodness immortal Greek god, I could easily list a hundred reasons why things wouldn’t work between us.

  And now this, I thought bleakly, which was likely to be the greatest complication of all.

  This unborn goddess could only be Apollo’s soulmate.

  Gazing into the flames of the oracle, I tried but failed to contain the resentment that surged inside of me. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn’t help feeling angry and frustrated.

  Oh, if only this stupid goddess –

  The fire suddenly started shooting up electric purple flames again, and this time the fiery blaze swirled all the way up, with its tips singeing the ceiling.

  This time, I was a hundred percent certain it was the unborn goddess reacting to me.

  To my anger –

  And this time, I was determined to stand my ground and not quail before it like some thermophobic coward.

  The ground under us started to shake, and behind me, the younger priestesses had started to scream and run.

  And now those priestesses in training were in it with her, too, pretending to be scared so they could make me run away like an idiot.

  I glowered at the oracle. You can’t fool me again, unborn goddess.

  In front of me, the flames from the pyre began to solidify, cracking and hissing even as they thickened and started oozing out like…lava?

  And then I heard Claire scream, “Get away from there, Agent Vavrin!”

  Chapter Four

  “Mother, wake up.”

  The words were repeated over and over in a barely audible voice, and they grew increasingly panicky each time. They gradually drew me out of unconsciousness, and I began to process the few things that my still-muddled senses were able to absorb.

  I was on my back…lying on something soft and hard at the same time.

  Soil?

  No.

  A dewy scent teased my nostrils.

  Grass, I realized.

  My ears strained for more clues, but there was nothing else. No wind whistling, no creaking or slamming of doors – nothing except the frighteningly still sound of silence itself –

  “Mother?”

  And that.

  “Please open your eyes.”

  Only the most heartless individual could have refused the plea in that shaky whisper, and as the sound tugged at my heartstrings, I struggled to get past the pain and the lure of oblivion. Bit by bit, I managed to open my eyes, and as soon as my vision cleared, a blindingly bright sky immediately accosted me, and I let out a little gasp.

  Too bright, I thought in confusion. It was as if one of Helios’ pet balls of light were winking at me, which of course made no sense at all. Wasn’t the sun god still on vacation in Hawaii?

  “Mother?”

  My head twisted to the sound, and I saw a flaxen-haired child gazing down at me, her cherubic, rosy-cheeked face dominated by large, dark eyes and heart-shaped lips. She looked about seven or eight, and she had on a scarlet dress with a cute white collar and the tips of big black silk

  Snow White in chibi, I realized.

  "Mother?"

  Her eyes, I thought faintly. Something familiar about those caramel eyes...

  “Are you alright now?”

  I swallowed hard, and after several attempts, I finally got my voice to painfully claw out of my throat. “I’m f-fine.” I gingerly pushed myself up, but the slightest movement had my body protesting so violently I fell back against the ground, eyes squeezing shut in pain.

  "I'm s-sorry." The little girl's voice was low and tremulous. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  I tried to shake my head but soon discovered even this was impossible now. All I could do was force my eyes open again, and my heart squeezed when I saw the girl's eyes welling up with tears. "It's o-okay," I managed to wheeze out. "Wasn't...your...fault."

  "But it is." And this time, the tears started to streak down the girl's cherubic cheeks. "I just didn’t understand why you were so mad, and I got upset, and everything happened so fast and...YOU GOT HURT!" The last words ended in a wail, and oh, my bewitched heart, but she appeared even a thousand times cuter bawling her eyes.

  "Hush, s-sweetie." It was a challenge to move even just one hand, but I eventually had my fingers moving through sheer force of will. I took hold of her tiny, fragile hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t…cry. Really…okay.”

  "But I hurt you," she sobbed.

  "Okay...now." I made my dry lips stretch into a smile. "So...no more...tears?"

  Sniffing back another sob, she asked, "You're really okay?"

  "Uh...huh."

  "And...not...mad at me?"

  "Never."

  The girl slowly rubbed her eyes, and my heart squeezed a little again at the adorable sight. When she saw me looking at her, her face broke into a shy smile, and oh, it was like falling in love with the cutest, most huggable toy. I wanted to take her home with me and cuddle her to bits.

  “I waited so long for you,” she revealed in a trusting voice.

  “You…did?”

  She gave me a chiding look. “You took so long, Mother.”

  My smile faded. "Sweetie...sorry. Not...your mother." I worried that the words would hurt her, but instead it only made her give me a sweetly solemn smile.

  “Not now,” the little girl clarified, “but soon.”
r />   What was that she said? My head literally ached as I tried to make sense of her words.

  “I wish I could tell you more,” the little girl was saying, “but I’m not supposed to, and---” Her voice trailed off, her head twisting to another direction as if she was following a sound. “They’re calling for you now.”

  My confusion grew at her words, and so did the throbbing pain in my head. “Who’s…calling me?”

  “It’s time for you to go.”

  With every word she spoke, the little girl started to fade, and I stiffened in anxiety. “Wait---”

  “It’s okay, Mother. We’ll see each other again.”

  She was nearly transparent now, and unbidden tears pricked my eyes. “Don’t…go.”

  “Say hello to Father for me, please.”

  And then she was gone.

  Lana told me that I had woven in and out of consciousness for fifteen hours following the explosion at Delphi’s, with my heartbeat so faint that they had to place me in Intensive Care, in case I started to flatline. And when I did wake up, I had apparently done so without any warning whatsoever – my body had simply jerked back into life like a newly-risen zombie.

  “And you were crying,” my friend shared. She was seated by my bedside, red hair wound up in an ungainly knot on top of her head, and her blue eyes wide as saucers behind her glasses. “Heart-wrenching sobs,” Lana stressed, “like you were grieving for something.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the sheer confusion in her voice. Lana might look like a fragile little thing at first glance, but she was a lot tougher than she looked, the kind that would rather run on hot coals than shed tears in public.

  “Do you have any idea why you came out crying like that?” Lana prodded.

  A vivid image of a tiny flaxen-haired angel came to me, and I slowly shook my head. “Not really,” I heard myself say. “I remember bits and pieces, but not enough to make sense of them.” I deliberately made myself sound vague even though I had no idea why I was doing it. All I knew was that the dream I had was a secret I needed to keep.