Spellbound (Otherworld 12)

No, not something. Someone. Jaz. Jasper Haig, a psychopath obsessed with Hope. The guy in her recent visions.

Kate and Logan. Hope. Jaz. Hope's unborn baby. Adele Morrissey's clairvoyant son. Me. Some other witch-sorcerer hybrid kid I'd never heard of.

Maybe I'd never heard this exact prophecy, but I'd heard the whispers. About us. Claiming we were signs that something was coming. Something big.

I'd fluffed it off as superstitious garbage. To every supernatural in a position of knowledge and power, it was just ignorant supernaturals struggling to see patterns in chaos.

Now, though, we lived in an age where strange events could be shared with every supernatural who had an Internet connection. The people ignoring the "signs" were the informed ones, those from the council and the Cabals, with records to prove these events weren't more than a historical blip. They were the elite, and in any society, the average citizen outnumbers the elite by hundreds or thousands to one.

I looked out at a small sample of those "average citizens" and I could only imagine how many more hadn't heard Giles's message. Those who needed just a little more convincing . . . like having him gather every one of those "signs" and shove them in the faces of the general supernatural populace.

The revival meeting continued for another twenty minutes, though Giles added nothing new. Just kept repeating his message and making promises, while his audience hung on his every word.

The man had the gift of persuasion and obvious experience using it. So where had he come from? I detected a faint French accent. Very faint. It reminded me of Cassandra's, just the barest roll on her r's and buzzes on her th's, signs of a life in France hundreds of years ago.

Roni had hinted that Giles was old. Really old. Could he be a vampire like Cassandra? When I studied him, though, I could see him breathing.

She'd also said I was "going to flip" when I found out who he really was. Who he was, not what. Did that mean "Giles" was a fake name? But why?

Was the goal to convert me? Send me back to the council and the Cabals as a sleeper agent? Or a missionary for those open to his message?

If that was the case, then my escape route was clear. Fake a conversion. I just needed to be very careful how I did it.

When the meeting ended, Giles whisked me into the back room, where Roni, Althea, and refreshments waited. Bottled water, juice,

and a lovely meat and cheese tray.

I ignored the food and drink. Giles joked that it wasn't poisoned, and sampled the offerings first. I still wouldn't touch anything.

Roni kept casting anxious glances my way, like she couldn't believe I'd heard Giles's spiel and wasn't hailing him as a prophet. Giles and Althea seemed unconcerned. If I had experienced a sudden conversion, they'd know I was faking.

Yet once it became apparent that I wasn't going to make a good party guest, Giles decided I was spoiling the mood. He hinted that I could stay if I ate something. When I refused it was back to my cell.

He returned me himself--blindfolded--accompanied by Roni and Severin. He'd sent Sierra on some task with Althea. Did that mean Giles had already decided I was only worth half a guard detail? Good.

"So what did you think of our little meeting, Savannah?"

I shrugged, counting off three more steps, then said, "That prophecy you were talking about. I've never heard of it before."

He chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Your circle keeps you quite insulated, don't they?"

"No. I'm a lot better informed than most of those kids. I have complete access to council records, agency records, Cabal records, Coven records, even the werewolf Pack's Legacy."

"Everything fit for your reading consumption."

I scrunched my nose, turning my blindfolded eyes toward him in feigned confusion. "Huh?"

"They give the appearance of total access. But all the information is filtered through them, is it not? If, for example, Paige Winterbourne had council records she didn't want you to see, she'd simply remove them from the files."

I said I didn't think she'd do that, but let some doubt creep into my voice, and he replied with a condescending, "I'm sure she wouldn't."

I counted off another three steps. "So this prophecy . . . do you think the Cabals have it?"

"Somewhere. Though I wouldn't be surprised if even your guardians didn't know about it. Their access is filtered as well. It's all filtered, Savannah, to keep everyone in her place." A beat pause. "Especially you."

This time I'm sure it was him who was counting off steps before he said, "They're afraid of you, Savannah. You know that, don't you?"

"As well they should be."