Page 101 of Bitten Vampire

“Shut up, Doris,” I mutter. “He will be fine.”

James re-enters, tablet under his arm. He selects a volume from a shelf and begins leafing through the text. After half an hour, he makes a low sound.

“What?”

He marks a page and puts the book down, eyes gleaming. “I know what you are.”

“Pardon?”

“That detour with the car,” he says. “Pushing my liege clear of that knife. The way you kissed him, like you expected him to die. It all fits.”

“James, perhaps you shouldn’t?—”

“Oh, I should. It’s been driving me mad.” He leans closer, voice a whisper. “I know what you are.”

I fold my arms. “Go on, then. Enlighten me.”

He points, certain. “You’re an oracle.”

I point at myself. “Me? An oracle? Is that even real?”

“Yes, I believe so.” James taps at his tablet with practisedfingers. “Here, look—though I want that back.” He hands it to me as though it were priceless.

I feel oddly privileged to be trusted with it. I scan the screen.

Oracle: a person or thing believed to offer wise or prophetic insights, often inspired by deities.

“Deities? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Nor doeswise,” he mutters, snatching the tablet to scroll further before handing it back. “What about precognition? You can see future events, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

He grins. I realise I’ve answered all his questions by saying one word. I groan and wipe my hand across my face. I’m no good at this cloak-and-dagger shit.

“Do we have any books on this?”

“Possibly,” James murmurs, his eyes almost glazing over as if already mentally cataloguing.

“How did you come to that conclusion? An oracle?”

“It’s the only thing that fits.” He puffs out his chest, pleased with himself.

“James, you are like Sherlock Holmes.”

He beams. “Who knew?”

“You worked it out because I knew about Simone and everything else?”

He nods. “It all clicked. I’m right, aren’t I?”

I sigh. “Yes, but it’s a secret.”

“Understood. If my liege doesn’t want it known, I won’t breathe a word. But I can help.” He leans forward, eyes bright. “So, what’s it like?”

“Horrible,” I admit.

“Oh.” He looks disappointed.