Hidden Pursuit: The Living Oracle, #3

Chapter One

When I was a little girl, I’d dreamed of living in a castle, and when Malcolm and I married, my dream came true. More or less. Our house wasn’t a castle, but it was three stories tall, with a stone façade and pillared portico and rosebushes beneath all the ground floor windows, which to me was basically the same thing. It had been Malcolm’s childhood home, restored and updated when we’d moved in more than eleven years ago, and now I felt I’d lived there forever. I’d had free access to Malcolm’s fortune when I decorated it, so the interior was as beautiful as the exterior, but it still felt homey and comfortable. It was my refuge.

Which explained why I was throwing Alastair’s ninth birthday party at Jungle Jack’s Pizza Emporium.

From where I sat, in one of the many booths lining the walls of the arcade, the dimly-lit room boiled over with small running figures screaming in excitement above the tinny music. There couldn’t possibly be as many kids as it appeared, though twenty-three was more than enough. Alastair had kept adding to the list of people he had to invite until it amounted to most of his third-grade class, and I, influenced by a barely remembered sense of duty regarding Valentine’s cards and not leaving anyone out, had suggested making it a blanket invitation. And now I was supervising twenty-three children hopped up on pizza and soda and buckets of game tokens. The things I did to preserve the peace and quiet of my home.

Someone slid into the bench seat opposite me. How badly are you regretting this right now? Judy said. She took a slice of pizza from the open box on the table and bit into it. Wow, this pizza is terrible.

Kids don’t have a refined enough palate to care. I sipped my Diet Coke and squeezed my eyes shut briefly. Just half an hour more, and the ordeal is over. Though, honestly, I don’t regret it. I like it when Alastair makes connections with his classmates. He has a tendency toward snobbishness—unintentional snobbishness, but even so, I want him not to think of himself as a superior person just because he’s smarter than the other kids.

Judy nodded at where Alastair and a blonde girl with her hair in two low ponytails were playing a dual-person arcade game. He seems to be getting along all right now.

I don’t recognize the girl. She must have been in a different class last year. The game was heavy on fighting, but it wasn’t bloody or hyper-violent, so I chose not to make a fuss.

I’m glad Duncan and Sophia are getting along, Judy said, taking another bite of pizza. They were playing Skee-Ball and I think Sophia was letting Duncan give her tips. It’s so much nicer when they don’t fight.

I agree. My son Duncan and Judy’s daughter Sophia, born within weeks of each other, had turned that early commonality into a fierce rivalry that had them friends one day and enemies the next. I hoped they’d outgrow the need to outdo one another, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

On the wide game screen, one of the fighters knocked the other one unconscious, and a big K.O.! appeared in the middle of the display. Neither Alastair nor the girl looked disappointed, so I couldn’t tell who’d won. Both of them patted pockets, apparently looking for tokens and not finding them. Then Alastair turned, searching the crowd, and his eye fell on me.

Mom! he shouted, racing toward me. I need two tokens. Liv and I are out and we want just one more game, okay? But hurry before the timer runs out!

Smiling, I plucked two tokens from my reserve and handed them over. Alastair darted away again. Liv, I said. That’s the girl he and Kenny were talking about. A new student they did a project with.

New student? Judy asked with her mouth full.

Wow, you’re sure packing it away for someone who hates the pizza.

It’s something to do. Judy swallowed and sucked down Diet Dr. Pepper. Didn’t some of the parents stay to help supervise? Maybe Liv’s mom or dad is here.

I’ll go take a look. I’m curious now. Alastair doesn’t have a lot of friends who are girls. I left my drink and token cup at the table and circled the arcade, looking for parents. I hadn’t paid attention when the kids arrived to whose parents stayed, so I might not have noticed a stranger.

But I came across her almost immediately, an unfamiliar woman with chin-length blonde hair standing where she could watch Alastair and Liv’s game. My first impression was that she was too dressed up for Jungle Jack’s, though I didn’t know why; she wore jeans and a lightweight jacket just like everyone else. Then I caught sight of her necklace, an extra-long affair of chunky doughnut-shaped amber rings and small dark faceted beads that caught the low light and let off occasional glints. It was pretty in a very elegant, expensive way and was far too opulent for the T-shirt she wore beneath her jacket, but she made it look chic instead of overdone.

I told myself to stop judging strangers on their accessory choices and approached her. Hi! Are you Liv’s mom?

The woman jerked, startled, then laughed a little self-consciously. I am. Are you Mrs. Campbell?

Please, call me Helena. Are you new to Talbott Academy?

The woman nodded. We moved here just at the start of the school year. I’m Maddy Hubbard.

It’s good to meet you. Alastair and Liv certainly seem to have hit it off. They’d finished another round, or so I assumed because I couldn’t see the screen anymore, and had run off in search of something that didn’t require tokens.

Yes, Liv says Alastair is interested in science, particularly space exploration. It’s all Liv ever talks about, space, I mean. Maddy pushed her hair behind her ear in a restless gesture. I’m surprised. Don’t kids usually separate their friendships by gender?

I was thinking exactly that. When I was their age, boys thought girls had cooties. We both laughed, and I added, It’s nice to see things have changed.

I agree, Maddy said. Is Alastair your only child?

He’s my oldest, and then there’s Duncan, who is running around here somewhere, and Jenny, who is with her father at a classic car show. They both love cars.

Really? Maddy perked up. My husband Bronson is into classic cars. His Firebird is his pride and joy.

I’d suggest getting Bronson and Malcolm together, but experience tells me we’d never see either of them again, I said with a laugh.

That’s probably true, Maddy said. Some of the animation had gone out of her, and she had stiffened, just enough for me to notice. She was scanning the crowd, searching for someone.

I think Alastair and Liv are at Skee-Ball, watching Duncan, I offered.

Sure enough, she relaxed when she had eyes on Liv. Is Duncan the little blond boy with the surprisingly high score?

Yes, that’s him, and no, he didn’t get that score by climbing on the machine and dropping balls by hand into the high point hole. I watched Duncan square up the way I’d taught him, but he didn’t roll the ball immediately, just stood there staring into space. I froze. I should just⁠—

Then Duncan shook himself and made his throw. It bounced awkwardly and sank into the gutter. Duncan shrugged and gathered up his pile of tickets while Sophia did the same with her smaller pile. But instead of running to redeem the tickets, Duncan came straight to me. Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom, he announced. Will you take me?

I was aware of Maddy Hubbard staring at me and could practically hear her thinking about the weird little boy who was clearly old enough to go to the bathroom by himself. We were going to have to come up with a better code phrase. Let’s take these to Aunt Judy, and I’m sure you can go by yourself. Excuse me, Maddy.

I hustled Duncan to the table where the pizza was almost gone. What did you see? I murmured as we walked.

Alastair, Duncan said. He’s going to have a prophecy and try to act on it, only he’ll get himself in trouble. It’s going to happen just before we leave.

I suppressed a profanity—Duncan already knew way too many swear words for a six-year-old—and gathered up the tickets to pile them on the table. Thank you, Duncan. I’ll talk to him.

Talk to who? Judy said as Duncan ran for the bathroom. He might really have needed to go.

Duncan saw Alastair in trouble over a prophecy in a few minutes. Damn it, I thought we’d straightened things out. He’s not supposed to play vigilante hero. I pinched the bridge of my nose. The headache forming there was only partly due to noise and flashing lights.

Isn’t it strange that Duncan would have a prophecy about someone else’s prophecy? Judy asked. Like, you’d think the oracle could look out for itself.

Not so strange if Alastair is in danger. The kids see things all the time that protect them from riding their bikes into traffic or minor threats like that. I have a feeling it looks out for their safety in other ways, too. But… yeah. I sighed. The new girl is Liv Hubbard, and she’s interested in space, so it makes sense she and Alastair might become friends. Her mom seems nice enough.

I thought boys all thought girls had cooties, Judy said.

Not these days, I guess. Or it could just be Alastair. Stop eating pizza, you’ll get sick.

I don’t get sick over cheap pizza and too much Diet Dr. Pepper, Judy said with a smirk. Jalapeño poppers are my downfall.

I checked my phone display for the time. Fifteen minutes. I’ll go start the parents rounding kids up.

Maddy Hubbard had moved again, following Liv like the two of them were tethered by an invisible rope. It seemed unnecessarily cautious to me, but I reminded myself not to judge. I had my own protections against kidnapping, and just because I felt safe in Jungle Jack’s didn’t mean everyone did. I stopped to talk to her again. I hope Liv had a good time.

She hasn’t stopped running around this place since Alastair opened his presents, Maddy said with a smile. Thank you for inviting her.

I felt stupid saying I’d invited everyone, like that would make Liv’s invitation routine, when I was sure she’d been on Alastair’s original list. We should arrange a play date, I said, feeling inspired. Do you think Liv would like to come to our house some afternoon?

Yes—or, actually, it’s easier if Alastair comes to our place. If you don’t mind, Maddy said. Again I saw that strange stiffness, as if despite her words she didn’t want Alastair in her home.

I don’t mind at all. After school sometime next week? Alastair is free every day except Tuesday.

We settled on Wednesday just as Liv darted toward us. I had fun, she declared.

Say thank you to Mrs. Campbell, Maddy said.

Liv dutifully chanted the words, but her attention was on the other children. Do we have to go now?

It’s time. Thanks again, Helena, and I’ll text you my address so you can pick up Alastair from our house Wednesday.

I almost asked how she had my phone number when I remembered the school had a student/parent directory. Thanks for coming, Liv, and it was good to meet you both.

The kids were milling about now, some still clinging to the arcade games and begging a parent for just two more minutes, some picking up jackets—it was a clear but chilly Saturday. Parents were chatting in groups of two and three. I didn’t see Alastair anywhere.

I moved through the crowd, searching, and found Alastair standing next to the fighting game he and Liv had been playing. One of his hands rested on the console, and the other was clenched into a fist. Just as I reached him, he blinked and started scanning the crowd as I had.

I grabbed him by the shoulder. What did you see?

I didn’t see anything, Alastair said. He didn’t meet my eyes, which was his number one tell for when he was lying. I was just going to say goodbye to Liv.

Liv’s gone, I said, and I know you had a prophecy and you were about to do something about it. What have we discussed, Alastair?

He wrenched away from my grip, but didn’t go anywhere. If I can stop a fight, shouldn’t I?

I bit my lip nervously. This was the sort of question I hated, because my own instincts were to intervene to prevent violence. But Alastair was nine, or would be on Monday, and his instincts weren’t fully formed yet. I wanted him to understand the limits of his gift, and I wanted him to act responsibly within those limits.

I took his hand. Alastair, take me to the fight.

Alastair didn’t resist even though I would have guessed he wouldn’t want his classmates see him hold his mother’s hand. Maybe he was more mature than I thought.

He led me through the crowd and stopped some distance from a couple of boys in a heated argument. Marcus is gonna punch Owen, he whispered. They’re going to hurt each other.

Insight, for once not prophetic, filled my head. I crouched to where I was closer to Alastair’s level and said, If you stop them, do you think that will make them like each other?

Alastair gave me a skeptical look. They’re not going to be friends after they get in a fistfight, Mom.

You and Kenny are friends now, and you started off fighting, I pointed out. "But it’s not about what will make them friends. It’s about them working out their problems without you short-circuiting the process. If you step in, they’ll still resent each other, and they’ll get in a fight some other time when you’re not around. That’s if they don’t resent you for interfering like some snobby do-gooder."

I’m not⁠—!

I shushed him. You’re not, but they might see it that way.

Owen flinched, and Marcus punched him in the nose. I continued to hold Alastair’s hand as Owen’s mother and Marcus’s father hurried to separate the boys. You can’t prevent every pain, Alastair, I said quietly. You can’t save people from the consequences of their actions. I know you want to protect others, and that’s good. But you need to think beyond stopping fights. Sometimes the fight is what will make them grow.

Alastair’s jaw was clenched tight, but he nodded. He released my hand and walked away from me and from the two boys. I decided to let him go. Sometimes I needed to think beyond easing his immediate pain, too.

Finally, the last children left, and I corralled Duncan and Sophia, who didn’t look even a little tired though they’d been racing a complicated pattern between the arcade machines. Alastair had his jacket on already and was slumped near the door. I felt guilty immediately. I’d used prophecies to stop violence or accidents so many times I wasn’t sure I had a right to demand Alastair not do the same.

But when I approached him, he said, You were right, Mom. Marcus’s dad didn’t know he’d been bullying Owen, and he’s going to make sure it stops. If I’d gotten in the way of the fight, Marcus would go on being a bully, for a long time, maybe. He looked up at me, his eyes reddened. But why would I see the fight if I wasn’t supposed to stop it?

I don’t know, Alastair. There’s still a lot I don’t know about this gift. I hugged him. Maybe the oracle is training you. You’re getting to be more grown up, and maybe the things you prophesy are more grown up, too. I wasn’t an oracle when I was your age, so you’re on a path no one’s ever walked before. But I hope you know how proud I am that you want to use your gift to help people.

Alastair hugged me back. I know. Aunt Viv says we’re paladins.

She told me that, too. I wonder what that makes Duncan and Jenny?

Duncan ran up at that moment. There’s an accident on the Banfield, and we have to go a different way.

Thank you, Duncan. I squeezed his shoulder.

I think you’re a rogue, Alastair told him. Mom and I are paladins.

I’m not a rogue, I’m a ranger, Duncan said.

Why does everyone know about roleplaying game characters but me? I exclaimed.

Chapter Two

On the first Saturday of every month, Malcolm and I had dinner with our friends the Kellers, as well as Mike and Judy and Viv and Jeremiah. Harriet and Harry Keller were still going strong despite being in their eighties, and Harriet had responded to my gentle hinting that maybe one of us should make dinner sometimes with a laugh and a The day I can’t whip up lasagna with fresh pasta on an hour’s notice, I’ll let you take over gladly, dear.

Tonight’s meal made me feel sorry for Judy, who’d filled up on awful pizza: peach-glazed ham dripping with juices, cheesy scalloped potatoes with a light crunchy topping, and fresh steamed carrots and green beans. That was a sign of times changing; ten years ago the vegetables would have come from the Kellers’ garden, but it had been two years since Harry and Harriet had agreed garden maintenance was too much for them. I didn’t think the vegetables tasted any worse, but it was a sign that our friends were slowing down.

And the guy was exactly where Viv scried him out, Jeremiah was saying as he helped himself to more potatoes. We laid an easy paper trail to the motel, like always, but the client didn’t care how we found him so long as we did. Very grateful that client was, too.

I’m sure the client would have cared if he’d known I used magic to find the man who owed him money, Viv said. But it’s true he didn’t look too closely at our methods.

Aren’t you afraid of taking a job from someone criminal? Harriet asked. Suppose someone hired you to find someone they claimed was a debtor, but was actually a witness against them in a criminal trial?

We always check out the client first, Viv said. Very few of them have ever lied to us about their motives, fortunately. If they do, we either refuse to take them on or report them to the authorities. Secretly, of course. Now that Greg Acosta is retired, and Lucia hasn’t replaced him with another contact within the police, we can’t just hand it to them and have them get probable cause or whatever.

I think you both win points for coolest job, Judy said. Sorry, Helena, oracles are passé.

I laughed. That’s not so much a job as it is a calling. And it’s been almost boring this last week. Which is fortunate, given that I had to plan the party for today. I am so glad I had this to look forward to. I cut a piece of ham and scooped potatoes up with it. Heavenly.

We did brush up against Witness Security once, Jeremiah said. We were checking out someone we believed was our target—the clues all matched the woman’s description—and ran up against evidence that someone had altered her background, professionally. So we backed out quickly. That’s not something we want to do, out someone in that position, even accidentally.

What I really wanted to do was make people disappear, Viv said dreamily. I read a book once about a woman whose job was to help people start new lives away from the Mob or an abusive spouse or whatever, and it was so cool how she got them free of danger and invented new lives for them. But that’s not something you can advertise as a business.

And it would be extremely dangerous, which I notice you didn’t mention, Jeremiah said with a smile.

Viv waved that away. You’re a badass fighter and I’m a glass magus. We’d make it work.

I’m with Jeremiah. That sounds too dangerous, I said.

It would be exciting, though. And you could help people, Judy said.

Maybe you could work with Witness Protection, Harry said. Or is it called Witness Security? Who runs that program, anyway?

The U.S. Marshals, Jeremiah said. Which is way more regimented than I ever want to be, however good the work they do. He sipped from his wine glass and added, They wouldn’t be on board with a couple of magi carrying out policy, either.

"You are satisfied with private investigator work, though, right?" I asked Viv.

Of course, Viv replied. Talking about making people disappear is all just daydreaming. In practice, that would be so stressful. I like our job now—set our own hours, choose our own clients.

Harriet rose from her end of the table. Time for dessert! Is everyone interested in strawberry shortcake?

"I love your strawberry shortcake, Malcolm declared. So much better than with storebought sponge cake."

I’ll help, Mike said. He was seated on Harriet’s left side and got up when she did, though he moved heavily as if he’d overeaten.

I felt that way about owning my own business, back in the day, Harry told Viv. Though in practice, I had to keep regular hours with the barbershop if I wanted repeat customers. But I had all the control.

I thought you worked for the Gunther Node as a glass magus, I said.

"I