The Sibyl (13 page)

I gestured for him to sit next to me as I
took a swig of the amber liquid. The whiskey burned like hell as it
went down. I choked, passing it back to him as quickly as I
could.

“How in the world do you drink that?” I
managed as I caught my breath between coughs. “It’s
disgusting.”

“Perhaps so. Or perhaps you haven’t given it
a proper chance.” Cyrus smiled as he took a sip. “We all need
something to quiet our ghosts, Little One. I am no different.”

He passed the flask back to me. “Now tell me
what troubles you. The spirits?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I swallowed another
gulp as our drinking session officially began. The fire in my
throat went down easier this time. “If I’m honest, I’m trying to
make sense of this Sibyl business.”

“There is no point in trying to find logic
where it doesn’t exist.” Cyrus accepted the flask. “And believe me,
there is no logic where the gods are concerned.”

“I don’t believe in the paranormal, Cyrus. Or
at least, I didn’t think I did.” I took my turn to drink, turning
the flask in my hands. “Now, I’m not sure what to believe. I’ve
seen people who shouldn’t exist. Not here; in Heaven or Hell,
maybe. But not here.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the saying there are
more things between heaven and earth…”

“Than we can understand.” I finished his
sentence with a nod. “I have. I’ve never put much stock into it
though.”

“If you didn’t believe, then why are you
involved in this television show?” Cyrus was studying me in the
firelight as if I were a puzzle he needed to solve. “That is what I
can’t make sense of.”

“Elliot.” I answered before I could stop
myself. “No, it wasn’t because of Elliot. I needed the money the
production company offered me.”

“No, Little One,” Cyrus smiled and sipped. “I
believe you are here because of your beloved. Were you afraid of
losing him?”

“What do the dead have to say?” I decided to
change the subject. I didn’t want Cyrus to see me as some lovesick
college kid hanging onto her crush. So I turned the conversation
back onto the subject he knew the most about. The same one I knew
the least about. “I mean, once you die, your worldly troubles
should fall away, right? What’s the point of coming back?”

Cyrus was right. The more I drank, the easier
it became to swallow the whiskey. I was drinking too much and I
knew I would pay the price tomorrow. I didn’t care. We continued to
pass the flask between us until it was empty, alternating between
staring at the flames and each other. Cyrus finally responded once
the whiskey was gone.

“Life is a difficult thing to let go of, but
the memories of that life are even harder to relinquish. No one can
truly determine what the spirits will say. The most tortured souls
often hold their secrets close, but once they share them, they are
able to find peace. You will learn some horrible things, Eva. I
want to warn you so you can be prepared.”

“It can’t all be bad. Do you have anything
funny to go with all your melancholy?”

“During the time of the second Sibyl, one
spirit wished for her to find the gold he had hidden from his
family. He wanted to make sure it was still there so he could
reclaim it if he were ever reborn. Believe me when I say that I
spent two weeks trying to find his damn treasure. It wasn’t
there.”

I raised an eyebrow as I asked the only thing
I could think of. “How many Sibyls have there been, Cyrus?”

“You are the seventh Sibyl.”

There had been seven Sibyls. I wanted to ask
him questions about these women. How did they survive their role
without going insane? Did any of them actually want to talk to the
dead? I wanted to know, but the whiskey was making it difficult to
concentrate.

I decided to focus on what he said about
finding peace instead of my questions. I could understand the need
for peace. I curled up against Cyrus’ side and laid my head on his
knee. He stiffened, but I ignored his reaction. I was sure it was
the liquor making me so friendly, but I couldn’t stop myself or the
words I found myself speaking.

“I am glad you are here with me, Cyrus. I
think we can be good friends despite your creepiness.”

“I am still creepy?” Cyrus relaxed and I
could hear the amusement in his voice. “Perhaps creepy is a part of
my charm.”

“You never did finish telling me your story.”
I smiled to myself. There was something about Cyrus I found
comforting. He was so solid; so focused on his position as my
keeper. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything I could about him.
“Are you drunk enough to finish telling me your secrets?”

“I don’t get drunk. It’s not possible.” Cyrus
shifted beneath me. I couldn’t help but move too. I moved just
enough to look up at him without removing my head from the spot I’d
claimed. After a few moments, he continued. “You are the strange
one, Eva. None of the others have been as curious about my past as
you are.”

“I told you, we’re going to be friends.” I
frowned. “Unless there is some rule you haven’t shared with me
about Sibyls and Keepers can’t get to know each other.”

“No.” Cyrus shook his head. I felt his hand
brush against my hair before he pulled back. “I don’t believe such
a rule exists. I will share my past with you, Sibyl. Just as the
rest of the dead do.”

“You’re being creepy again, bringing up the
dead and all.”

Cyrus chuckled. “Do you want to hear this or
not?”

“I do. I’m infinitely curious. You left off
where you were first cursed by Apollo.”

“Yes, I remember.” Cyrus fell silent for a
moment before he began. “As I said, I became tied to Delphine. As
the weeks passed, men from my regiment came to Cumae searching for
me. Despite my newfound status as her guard, Delphine didn’t trust
me. She barricaded herself into her rooms. My men passed me by
without ever learning of my fate.”

“Did they consider you a traitor? A
deserter?” I didn’t mean to interrupt him, but I wanted to
understand. “Were you ever able to speak with them again?”

“No, they never found me.” Cyrus’ features
looked twisted in the shadows. “I was given up for dead. As the
years passed, I grew to hate the role thrust upon me. How could I
not? I had no freedoms whatsoever. Delphine did not leave her
father’s house unless forced to. She despised the looks she
received from the townspeople. I was always behind her, acting as
her shadow. Many labeled me her slave, and she did nothing to
dispel those beliefs. Yet, her life was peaceful. Boring. It was
torture for a man who had strived in the fires of war.”

“Didn’t you say she was ran out of town?” I
studied the flames lighting the room around us. I tried to imagine
what his world had been like. Cyrus was ancient. You didn’t have to
be a psychic to see the age in his eyes.

“Indeed she was. Delphine had seen her
hundredth birthday pass when the fear became too much for those who
knew of her. It was in the spring when the mobs gathered to put an
end to her life. She had survived in the comfort of her home for so
long, she became convinced the world had forgotten about her. It
hadn’t. As the mob crashed down her gates, I did the only thing I
knew to do.”

“You fought them, didn’t you?” I turned just
enough to see his face. “You must have, being her guard and
all.”

“I wish I could say I had been so brave,
Little One.” Cyrus smiled down at me. “But alas, no. A true warrior
knows which battles to fight, and which to avoid. I pulled Delphine
down into the servants’ quarters. The men who had come for her head
looted the wealth her parents had left behind as they searched for
us. They called out horrible things, promising to send her down to
Hades before the night was through.”

“If the two of you were truly immortal, why
didn’t you fight them? I don’t understand.”

“I would have fought them – Delphine as well.
But it would have been for naught. Our days in Cumae were over. We
both realized it. Killing the men who had attacked her house that
night would have been a waste of Greek life. Since we had a method
to escape, I saw no reason to send them to their deaths.”

“So you’re a big softie after all.” I had
returned to my original position of resting on his knee with a
smirk. “How did you escape?”

“A servant passage.” Cyrus chuckled as if the
memories he were recalling were funny to him. Perhaps they were.
“It was the easiest thing in the world. Delphine dressed in the
clothes of a male servant. We slipped out into the night, using the
light from the fires set in her house to find our way out of town.
We returned to the forest where we had been damned. Though I hated
her, I came to respect her. Here was a woman who had known nothing
but luxury during her existence, yet she discarded it with such
ease. Delphine accepted her banishment to the forests, adapting as
I did to life in the wild.”

We fell into a comfortable silence then,
watching the flames. Every once in awhile, he would stroke my hair
and I was sure he was just as wrapped up in his own memories of his
life as I was in the story he had told me. I found it to be very
sad.

I don’t know how long we stayed on the couch,
but soon, Cyrus was shifting beneath me. “You must return to your
room, Eva. Whiskey can be wicked if you don’t sleep it off.”

I let Cyrus lead me up the stairs, finding my
own steps unsteady. He was right. I needed sleep if I was going to
survive my first day as a ghost hunter. As we crossed the threshold
into my room, I found the whispers had gone silent.

I was asleep the moment my head hit the
pillow.



“Eva, you have got to sit still.”

Jonathan Ford was two seconds away from
smacking the back of my head with his hairbrush as I adjusted in my
chair for the umpteenth time. Not that I could blame him. He had
been sent by Theia Productions to make sure I fit the role I was
determined to play on our show. Connor had sent in a small army
along with him. There were three people from Wardrobe along with
countless people to set up the old farmhouse. I swear, he sent the
entire Hair and Makeup department to make me more presentable which
is where Jonathan fit into the picture. The man was a perfectionist
with a vision; this is why he was getting so frustrated with
me..

I wasn’t being very helpful.

“Fine.” I groaned as I slumped down into the
chair. “I’ll behave.”

“Sit up.” Jonathan pulled at my shoulders
until I complied. “There’s a good girl.”

He made small talk about his life in L.A. as
he danced around my chair with scissors and potions meant to make
my blonde hair even lighter. Thirty minutes of my life I would
never get back passed as he worked. To be fair, I was taking the
time to read up on the history surrounding the old farmhouse. It
wouldn’t look very professional for me to be meeting with the
family of the victims and not know the first thing about them.

I was struck by the sadness of the story.
Samuel Tillotson had been a farmer; a good man who simply snapped
after being confined in his small house for months after a massive
blizzard hit Black Hollow in January of 1876. The newspaper
clippings sensationalized the story. Journalists at the time
claimed Samuel found his wife in bed with another man. None of
these claims had any sources, nor did they make any sense.

If you are trapped in a small house during
one of the worst snowstorms in history, how can people get to you?
How could a lover trek through the ice undetected? And as far as
the possession, well. I’d seen the nightlife Black Hollow had to
offer when we pulled into town yesterday. There wasn’t any. I’m
sure there was even less in 1876.

I switched my focus to the police report the
guys in Research had managed to get a hold of. The handwriting was
tiny and it was extremely difficult to read. I could make out how
Samuel’s body was found with a knife buried in his chest.
Catherine’s bones were piled up next to him. They couldn’t
determine how long they had been there due to the frozen
temperatures. The police were quick to note it was an apparent
suicide, although no note was found and it was unclear whether
Catherine had been murdered or died from natural causes during the
blizzard.

The researchers had found us a good story.
One filled with the promise of vengeance or, at the very least,
madness. I chalked one up for them as Jonathan continued his
assault on my poor hair. I must have made a face because the man’s
chatter was interrupted by Cyrus chuckling from his perch by the
door.

“You look miserable, Little One.”

“That’s because I am.” I grumbled as I blew
at the strands covering my right eye. “You would be too if you were
in my position.”

“Indeed I would.” Cyrus smirked. “Then again,
I know better than to put myself in such a situation.”

“Just be quiet.” I pouted as he continued
laughing at me. Jonathan huffed despite the fact my words weren’t
meant for him. He fell silent as well as he tugged my newly
bleached hair into thick pink rollers.

“There. It’s not much, but it is all I can do
for now.” Jonathan clapped his hands as a group of women began to
swarm around me with tackle boxes filled to the brim with creams
meant to highlight my natural beauty.

I hated each and every one of them.

“Cyrus, go find Elliot.” I managed as a perky
assistant brushed a thick paste across my forehead. “Tell him I
want to see him right this instant.”

“I can’t.” Cyrus shrugged. “Bound to you,
remember? I’m not allowed to leave my post.”

“You can’t or you won’t because you’re
enjoying this too much?”

Cyrus gave me a lopsided grin. “Both?”

“Just go. No one could get past this group if
they wanted to.”

“Very well.” Cyrus stood with a sigh of
annoyance before disappearing into the shadows. He would have to
learn how to use the door like normal people if he was going to act
like a bodyguard. Well, a human one at least.