Page 21 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

Chapter Twelve

Ingrid might’ve slept until noon if she hadn’t been woken up by distant, straining voices.

They were gruff mumbles and hollow intonations, low enough in volume that she thought she might’ve imagined them.

Once the sound fully faded, her eyes opened.

She lifted her head slightly, welcoming the flood of light that came in through the window.

Even with the two minor spills she’d endured, she felt completely revitalized. Her vision was clear. Muscles were light and loose. And her mind, despite everything, felt ready for the day to begin.

She’d worn her clothes to bed and only needed to sit up and slide her feet into her shoes to get ready.

Standing and making use of the better lighting, she examined the room.

It seemed a bit smaller than she’d initially thought, but then she realized Dean had brought her suitcase and a few other things inside, giving the space a more cramped feel.

She didn’t know how to feel about him coming in while she was sleeping, though that indecisive sensation didn’t last long.

On an antique banquet table, like one might find in a fancy hotel, there was an enormous breakfast spread prepared for her.

Danishes and bagels and crispy toast were splayed out on a large serving dish, complete with jam and avocado and cream cheese.

Fresh fruit was piled separately in three smaller bowls, and on the side of all that was a plate of thick-cut bacon, stacked six or maybe eight pieces high.

The smell alone drew her in quickly. She grazed between the fruit and the bacon, making no attempts to pace herself or to avoid leaving residue on the corners of her mouth.

After the plate was empty, the bowl of strawberries nearly finished, she stopped mid-chew when she noticed a note, folded, propped up, with her name written on the front. She opened it.

You’ll need a good meal before we start today, but I didn’t know what you liked. When you’re ready, come out to the living room or the front porch. There are some people I’d like you to meet.

As if the words sharpened her senses, she suddenly noticed the same muffled voices that she’d heard when first waking up. They hadn’t been imagined, and they seemed even closer now. She swallowed the mouthful of strawberries still in her mouth while moving quietly toward the door.

The voices were coming from the living room. Instinctively, she turned the knob and cracked the door. The distance between her and these mysterious new guests was short, and although she wasn’t sure why, she didn’t want them to know she was awake just yet.

With only one ear pressed against the small opening in the door, hearing exactly what was said was impossible.

But she could hear how grave the conversation was.

It was a disagreement. Maybe even a heated argument.

With fleet steps, she made her way down the hallway, stopping at the wall separating her from the kitchen.

There were two other voices besides Dean’s. Both were accented, from somewhere in the UK. One male, deep and gravelly. And the other was female, also deep, but with more warmth, even as she desperately pleaded with Dean.

“We’ll be vulnerable either way,” the female said. “Fuck the risk. We are already at risk. We need to act now.”

“I can’t,” Dean contended without pause. “There are too many possibilities for why he’s here. The coincidence is strange, but we have to be patient. Call in everyone we can. Make plans.”

The way he spoke unsettled Ingrid, and she couldn’t help but feel that same sensation she’d had back at her apartment—that Dean was still hiding something from her.

She listened closely as more was said about this mysterious “he” Dean spoke of, but without context, Ingrid was left completely in the dark.

All she could ascertain was that the two guests disagreed with Dean and that all of them, unmistakably, were afraid.

“We’ve already tried calling in backup,” the deep, male voice said. “Everyone is too tied up with their own defenses.”

The female grunted impatiently. “They won’t say it, but they want nothing to do with this. She’s one thing. But… Sylan?”

Ingrid’s body tensed at the name, or rather, how it had been uttered—like some ancient curse. She instinctively leaned forward to hear more, almost losing her footing.

A squeaking sound sounded off from below her. Ingrid froze and, looking down, she realized she’d planted too close to the wall, nicking a loose baseboard. She cursed herself silently. Then everything went silent, too abruptly for Ingrid not to feel like she’d been discovered.

Icy quivers went down her arms as the bellowing male said, “She’s awake.”

“Ingrid?” Dean called out casually.

She kept still for a moment longer.

How stubborn, she thought. How unnecessary. And worse, she got caught.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Ingrid said finally, stepping slowly into view.

“Nonsense,” the gruff male scoffed. “You’re our guest!”

He was as large as his voice implied. Ingrid stood only four inches short of six feet, but this man dwarfed her by nearly a foot.

His head and neck reminded Ingrid of an ox, and muscled in places that didn’t seem natural.

Green eyes were shaded by a thick brow, and his long, light brown hair was tied up at the top half, with the bottom half flowing over his broad shoulders.

“Interrupt all you’d like,” he continued in that booming voice. “Why not? Seeing as you’ve joined the team already.” There was a hint of anger behind the confusingly kind words.

“Ignore Raidinn,” the female said. “He takes after our mum. Utterly incapable of social niceties or sympathy for strangers. Come in, join us. I’ve been so anxious to meet you.” She stepped forward, giving Ingrid a once-over, but lingering on her eyes.

“Just like Karis,” Dean said. “Right?”

“Like she plucked them right out of his head. In the park yesterday, I couldn’t get a good look.”

“These were the friends I was telling you about,” Dean said.

The woman nodded, smiling brightly. “The trap wouldn’t have worked without all of us. But especially you, Ingrid,” she added. “Your bravery was commendable. Especially considering how easily detectable you are.”

Ingrid shuddered again. She’d never felt so vindicated for her hermit lifestyle, yet she was hung up on the vagueness of this supposed trap working.

“Those Wranes, they can sense me anywhere?” she asked.

“In theory,” the woman answered. “Think of Earth as an empty gymnasium, and we are the echoing footsteps. It was all of us in such a small space that made such a big noise.”

All of them . Meaning they were Viator. An obvious conclusion, yet it struck Ingrid in a spot she thought had gone dormant. That void where most people placed their friends, their family.

The female stepped closer, staring at Ingrid’s eyes again. Then, as if remembering her manners, she smiled innocently. “Sorry. I’ve forgotten to introduce myself, haven’t I? Here I was scolding my brother for his discourtesy. I’m Tyla.”

She offered her hand, and Ingrid shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Tyla was dressed in all black, simple and unremarkable, just like this Raidinn was.

Her hair was the same shade of brown, her eyes the same piercing green, and she had a similar build, too, like a born predator.

But where Raidinn was sharp, hardened, and shrouded in what could only be described as darkness, Tyla exuded light.

Her eyes were bright and inviting. Her heart-shaped facial structure glowed as she smiled widely.

Ingrid couldn’t help but match it. “You aren’t what I expected,” she said. “When Dean mentioned his team, I pictured… well, a horde of Dean clones. And you know how Dean is.”

“How’s that?” Raidinn begged. “Seeing as you’ve known him all of what, a month?”

Ingrid didn’t flinch before countering. “Ahh, yes, there it is.” Acting like she was in on some joke, she snapped her fingers and flashed a smirk at Raidinn. “That was a perfect impression. All arrogance and sarcasm. Like a teen girl stuck in the body of a caveman.”

Tyla instantly started into a laugh, while Raidinn only stood there with a contrite grin.

“We’re not always like this,” Dean offered.

She met his eyes and smiled. Her way of thanking him for the breakfast. “I figured. Whatever I walked into, it seemed tense.”

“Sorry you had to wake up to that. Did you sleep well?” he asked, but Ingrid’s answer was quickly cut off.

“You two can catch up later,” Raidinn said sharply. “We don’t have the luxury right now.”

“He’s right.” Tyla’s bright eyes had gone from tearing up with laughter to stone-faced in a matter of seconds. “We need to tell you something. And we need to know where you stand on what to do about it.”

Raidinn darted his eyes at Dean. “Should I tell her? Or you?”

The room stilled as Dean considered, giving Ingrid a kindly but ultimately concerned look. It was enough to send a wave of panic over her. This conversation she’d walked into, what they were arguing about, it must’ve been worse than she’d imagined.

“I’ll tell her,” Tyla interjected. “For fuck’s sake. She’s an adult. She can handle it.” A look of understanding was shared between the two women. “Do you want to sit?” she added.

Judging by her tone, it didn’t seem to be a melodramatic offering. It was a suggestion to settle in and prepare for a lengthy conversation. Ingrid didn’t see any sense in getting impatient again so she moved toward the chair, plopping down once Dean had pulled it out for her.

“After you and Dean fought off that Wrane,” Tyla said, wasting no time. “It’s possible that it returned to Ealis, back to Makkar, and told him what you are.”