It was the same as any other farmhouse in the Midwest. A simple, two-story structure, with a wraparound porch and sharply angled roof. At one time it’d been painted white, although it was peeling in several places and there was mold creeping up the foundation.
Nearly hidden behind the large oak and dogwood trees, it looked abandoned from the distant road and the overgrown path deterred any stray trespassers.
Even the locals had learned to avoid the area, disturbed by the odd silence and strange sense of being watched by unseen eyes.
The location of the house was no accident. Beneath the bluffs along the river was a spiderweb of caves that had been the source of local legends for years.
Some claimed they had been Jesse James’s hideout. Or connected to the Underground Railroad. Others said they’d been used by smugglers.
And the always favorite rumor that they were a body dump for the Chicago mob.
The truth was far more dangerous.
The caves had been home to demons since long before the humans had ever arrived.
Standing in one of the deepest caves the small man was lost among the shadows.
Not that he would have stood out even in brightest sunlight.
He was one of those people who were easily overlooked.
Short, with sporadic tufts of gray hair on an almost bald head, he had pale skin that was nearly translucent and a pudgy belly that was hidden beneath a loose brown robe. His eyes were a watery blue, although they were usually covered by a thick pair of reading glasses.
He was insipid. Forgettable.
And if it weren’t for his ability to retain vast amounts of knowledge he would never have been invited to become one of the rare Oracles that sat on the Commission.
He was a walking, talking library.
He was also a warning on the dangers of judging a book by its cover.
Speaking a spell of protection that would alert him if anyone approached the isolated cavern, Brandel allowed his spirit to slip from his corporal body, and entered the shimmering portal.
He shivered, despite his lack of a physical form.
The silvery fog that lay between dimensions had always unnerved him.
Perhaps because he understood illusions.
The fog might feel tangible, but the truth was that there was a gaping void lurking just out of sight.
He made a sound of impatience as a large Adonis with a halo of golden curls and bronzed naked body appeared.
Raith was addicted to his current body, refusing to leave it behind even when it meant expending a vast amount of his energy.
Vain moron.
“I told you never to contact me when the Commission is in session,” he said telepathically, easily able to communicate his annoyance without speaking out loud.
Raith shrugged one broad shoulder. “There is a disturbance.”
Brandel made a sound of impatience. “The danger to the vampires has been contained. There is no threat to our arrangement,” he said, referring to the spirit that had so nearly created complete chaos.
“I do not speak of the vampires.”
“Then what?”
The perfect features hardened. “A whisper of ancient magic.”