I turned to Shirley. “I don’t want to wait a few more days.” Then again, maybe I did. Who knew what disaster they were going to predict?
Shirley chewed her lip as the reporter droned on.
“The heat index in the impact zone is one eighteen. But where we are, Stone, you’re looking at a breezy seventy-five.”
A restless stir wound through me. I needed to know what might happen next. It might even give me some clue as to what was going on with Galen.
The newsman smiled, his teeth blazingly white. “Thanks so much. This is Stone McKay, and you’re watching PNN twenty-four-hour live coverage of Oracle Watch 2021. More after this break.”
They cut to a commercial for Fang-zite. The all-natural male fang enhancer. A handsome vampire held up a bottle and winked at the camera. “Show her you’ve got a little something extra…with Fang-zite.”
Ew. I slid off the table. “I need to move.”
Shirley caught my sleeve. “Are you sure you want to be alone right now?”
I glanced at half a dozen pairs of sympathetic eyes. “I’m sure.”
There were no secrets around this camp, which meant I’d be hearing about the prophecy about a minute after Fletcher Turley, junior reporter.
The last batch of oracles had threatened my life and my sanity. Maybe this time, they’d go easier.
And maybe I’d grow wings and fly.
The TV blared behind me. “Tune in tonight, when we take a special look at supernatural hoarders. We’ll visit a voodoo queen buried in bones. A vampire who can barely fit into his coffin. And a pet-hoarding MASH surgeon. The doctor is in, but she can’t even get into her hutch!”
I winced. Would they quit it with the reruns? My roommate had accidentally bred a gaggle of swamp creatures, and in doing so scored the only successful prank ever pulled on our camp commander. Rodger snagged the prize—three weeks’ leave. I’d gotten cleanup duty, and a reputation.
My dingbat colleagues could never resist a practical joke. When PNN showed up, my friends made me out to be some crazy cat lady of the swamp. I was both impressed and horrified.
Add that to the footage PNN shot of me wrangling the beasts and Supernatural Hoarders had their best ratings in years.
I had to believe they’d stop running it. Eventually.
Ever since peace broke out, PNN seemed to be having trouble filling the twenty-four-hour news cycle. There was no slow period for them, no downtime. Not with vampires, werebats, and other nocturnal creatures in the audience.
Maybe they’d have more to report on after the prophecy.
What an unpleasant thought.
Luckily for me, the clinic was busy. I spent the next several days focusing on my patients rather than dwelling on gods, newsmen, or my less-than-stellar personal life.
Just as bad as Galen leaving me was my complete inability to understand what had made him do it. We’d faced down the prophecies before—what made this any different? I turned it over and over in my mind until I was sick.
Those weeks with him had made me feel more alive than I had been in the ten years since Marc’s death. I didn’t want to go back to that. It hurt too much.
How was I supposed to simply move on?
I treated a werehyena with a bad lung infection and one of our motor pool mechanics for a broken arm. I also saw a fury with a heart condition. Heart issues were common in the more high-strung of the supernatural races, which was no excuse, really. This was where preventive medicine really paid off.
As the days wore on, my colleagues bugged me less and less about how I was feeling. It didn’t stop me from hoping that Galen would come back safe and that somehow, someday, we could put this war behind us forever.
Marius burst into the recovery tent as I walked a demigod up the aisle between beds.
Dang, the sun was down already?
My patient was moving slower than I liked. I shook my head. “That’s it. I’m keeping you overnight.”
The wiry young soldier held up his hands, his Celtic war braid winding over one shoulder. “Lay off, Doc. I’m fine.”
He was in pain, the dufus. I didn’t care how fast demigods healed. He needed a twenty-four-hour stay. It was my personal minimum after doing this type of hernia surgery. But the New God Army hadn’t come out with non-combat surgical guidelines yet, and of course this yahoo was in a rush to get back to his unit. I couldn’t force him back to bed.
“No heavy lifting,” I warned him.
He puffed out his cheeks at me.
“Petra.” Marius stood behind me.
I held up a finger. “Just a sec,” I said, focusing on the demigod. “I’m not the one who tried to impress a girl by lifting a manticore.”
The soldier crossed his powerful tattooed arms over his chest, looking everywhere but at me. “I feel fine, Doc.”
“You come right back in if you detect any tenderness or swelling,” I said, handing over his release forms. Just like that, he was out the door, letting in a gust of warm air. “You’re welcome,” I hollered after him.
Antiseptic and desert dust. This place always smelled the same.
Marius stood watching me. “We’ve got a prophecy.”
“Oh wow.” My stomach sank. He didn’t look happy. “Were you there?”
He kept his eyes on me. “Yes,” he said, leaning against the nurses’ desk.
“So what’d they say?” I adjusted the stethoscope on my neck, trying to keep my breath steady.
“The peacekeeper will find love,” Marius began.
I blinked twice. Okay, that was good. Hope surged. Maybe Galen would come back.
“As,” he continued, “a hideous new weapon is born.”
He had to be kidding me. “We don’t need any more weapons.” The old-fashioned swords and cannon fire were destructive enough.
“You can’t beat love,” Marius said simply.
Did he suspect?
I’d deny it like my life depended on it—which it did.
Still, I could understand his interest. The prophecies predicted an eventual end to the war—if they all came true. Marius had a bigger stake in that than anyone.
Every last one of us was enlisted in the army until the end of the conflict. Since I was a half fairy, I’d be here for about 150 years. Our werewolf roommate, Rodger, had the least amount of time. He’d grow old and die like a human. But Marius was immortal. He was here for eternity.
Long after lights out that night, I lay awake and thought about it.
The peacekeeper will find love.
I’d found it already. Twice. And both men had left me. Marc I couldn’t fault. Galen was another story.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe this meant Galen had misinterpreted his orders, or that he’d have a short mission. Maybe he’d be back. He could be sorry for how he’d ended things.
He should be.
I woke the next morning still thinking about it.
What would I do if he did come back?
Marius had gone into his death sleep, either in his footlocker or—more likely—in the makeshift lair we’d cobbled together out by the tar swamps. I glanced that way, watching firebirds as they soared and dove for bog beetles. I sat up and saw a note fluttering on the outside of our door.
If it was another sympathy note, I was going to scream.