Oracle (Book I)

Masterless Black Girls

Bossa flipped the tent flap aside and stepped inside. She was almost immediately impeded by two leaning trees on either side of her hung in coats, robes, and cloaks. Bigger on the inside than the outside, the tent was full of crates of celebration supplies and likely items people didn't want to get confiscated. A corner crammed with fireworks was heavily covered in bright red banners that read FLAMMABLE in big letters. The ceiling was hung in old banners, streamers, and flags. The rest of the space was mostly occupied by a few chairs and tables. A threadbare sofa dominating it's own area in front of the lit hearth was draped in robes since the trees on either side of the doorway were full.

Spotting the right bottles between the slates of a crate deeper inside the tent near the fireworks, Bossa sauntered over and grabbed it. One of her fingernails snapped as she lifted the case. Cursing, she turned and lowered, the crate to the arm of the sofa.

"That's a bad omen", she muttered, nursing her stinging finger.

Right on cue, the tent flap whipped open and someone stumbled inside. Alastair Whitehare. Robes hanging off, shirt unbottoned. Eye glazed.

Oh no. Bossa lifted the case, ignoring the already fading sting in her hand, and started quickly for the exit.

"Hey you," Alastair slurred. "You...I need to talk to you...Bossa Blood Apple."

Bossa stopped and looked around at him.

"Who told you that name?"

Leering at her, he said, "I know what you are...they told me...."

"They shouldn't have been discussing me with you." Get him to sit down so he doesn't fall down then ditch him. Bossa put the case of rush down and sat on the sofa in front of the fire. With some bumping and slamming, Alastair eventually flopped down next to her.

Alastair leaned over and breathed, "Thirsty?"

She gagged. "Uggh! Your breath is foul! That's not gold rush." Grimacing, she asked, "What have you been guzzling?"

"Smeltz vodka." He grinned lazily at her. "A gift from father..." To her dismay and near disgust, he leaned closer, lids lowering half-mast over his pale eyes. Brushing his fingers lingeringly over his throat, unfortunately, he breathed, "You must be dying for a sip of this pure...blue...blood."

As if. "Not particularly thirsty right now. And if I was, you're definitely not the first person I'd think of."

"You lie. You wanna dreenk me."

"Yeah. If only I wanted to be as drunk as you. How much stuff did you have exactly to get so tossed?"

"Whut?"

"You are what you drink. Least that's what they say."

"I could make you drink me," Alastair drawled. "Vampires can't fight their urges when a meal gets up close. 'Specially your kind."

She smiled tightly then stopped smiling.

"You would try and I would break your neck."

The thought seemed to sober the boy a bit. He frowned, almost pouting.

"You're mean. You're a mean black girl."

Bossa rolled her eyes. She patted the arm of the sofa, then pushed to her feet.

"I'm glad we had this talk. Goodnight, Whitehare."

"Wait a minute...get back here. I didn't give you permission ta leave..." He clumsily reached his pawing hands at her.

At a thought, a glaring red spell licked along her index finger. A single jab in the head and Alastair flopped to sofa cushion, asleep.

"Better." Bossa picked up the case and went back to the party.

~

As Bossa appeared from the tent with the gold rush, the music started in a compelling beat that Caprice felt in her chest and deep inside her body. She was talking with Po near the fire but, when people started dancing together, she shyly toed backwards from where they gathered 'round, back towards the scattered chairs.

Rushing over, Bossa took her hands and pulled her back into the chanting crowd. "You wanted to party, so let's do it!" Bossa hooted. She danced a joyously, hands in the air, a big grin on her face, tongue out.

"I'm not much for dancing," Po called, watching her go. With an apologetic look, she firmly planted herself in a chair and pulled out one of her maps. Bending over the parchment, she aimed the small light on the tip of her wand at it and did not look up again.

"I'll be back for you," Bossa said to the other girl over her shoulder.

Po shrank closer to her map.

"We don't do a lot of dancing where I'm from," Caprice said over the music.

"Tonight's the night then."

A hip bumped hers and Caprice looked around, surprised to see Nezzle dancing as she tucked her book in a small pouch to the side of her waist. She took off her sheer robe, bearing tattoos marking her arms and hands from shoulder to fingertip.

After a long anxious moment of glancing nervously at everyone else, Caprice started to move. Rather than standing there, she fell into the flow of motion around her and the music permeating her bones. She touched her dress, loosening the corset and thoughtlessly doing away with it so that her waist and hips moved more freely. Nearby, Grace had Thierry around the waist. When he spotted Caprice, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. I'mma telllll, he mouthed. Pushing her embarrassment aside, Caprice glanced at Grace grinding on him and shouted, "You're one to talk!" As her brother bashfully glanced away, she laughed loudly and danced with heart between her friends.

A few songs later, they collapsed on the grass nearby, panting for breath, muscles well-worked and aching. While they caught their breaths, Nezzle cuddled quietly beside Caprice but Bossa shakily made to get up again.

"I can get some more," Bossa breathed.

Grabbing her arm, Caprice pulled her back into the grass.

"I can't," she laughed. After they quieted, she said, "How did you know? That day we first met. My name, I mean."

"I don't know. Maybe I learned it in a dream."

"Yea...maybe." Perhaps it was the rush, but Caprice started talking. "It was scary. Seeing you standing toe to toe with Master Alastair...I mean, Alastair Whitehare. And Miss...I mean, Karrigan too. People like us don't do that where I come from. They do worse things than kill us, even for a small slight. That is the law in the village. I was embarrassed, you know. I couldn't even look Karrigan in the face let alone raise a wand hand against her." They were so quiet, and watching her, but she barreled on. "And...I envied you. Because you... You're not afraid of them at all. I feel braver when you're around, Bossa, Nezzle."

"There's nothing for you to be embarrassed about," Nezzle said. "They aren't your masters and they aren't ours either."

"And I'm an inspiration to everyone," Bossa said, puffing out her chest. Her boasting distracted from the wet shining in her eyes.

Caprice wrapped her arms around herself, feeling beautiful, warm, and happy. "Yea," she said quietly. She smiled at the open sky above, thinking that maybe world truly was as vast and wonderful as some people said was. At least tonight.