“You said it was important to go back to the beginning, and it was,” Carling said. “The serpent goddess wasn’t just an archaic, superstitious Egyptian folktale. She was a real creature named Python who actually existed. So the next logical step is that the serpent’s kiss really is a serpent’s kiss. Vampyrism became a blood-borne pathogen, and Vampyres are created in a blood-to-blood exchange. But it had to have started as venom.”
After she said that, she and Rune had to tell the story from the beginning. Seremela listened intently to everything they told her. She looked shaken at the thought of history being changed, interrupting only to ask for clarification at certain points in the dialogue until she heard of Carling’s early sketches of Python. “You sketched Python?” the medusa breathed.
“No, I never met Python,” Carling corrected, smiling. “I sketched the illustrations of her that were on the cavern wall.”
“What I wouldn’t give to see those,” Seremela said, eyes shining. “Did you know we call ourselves Python’s children?”
Carling and Rune looked at each other. She had taken a seat beside him on the couch, and he rested his arm along the back, from time to time fingering the hair at the back of her head. Carling shook her head, and Rune said, “I had no idea either.”
The medusa shrugged. “I don’t know if there’s any historical accuracy in that. If the medusas really are Python’s children, that would have happened so long ago it would have predated your Egyptian cavern by thousands of years.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” Rune said. He was watching Seremela, his expression intent. “All I heard was that she died.”
“She traveled to Greece and was killed at Delphi,” Seremela said. “Some versions of the story say she was murdered. In Greek mythology the god Apollo killed her, but Greek mythology is a lot like Egyptian or any other mythology—the myths are mostly strange stories that hold a few kernels of truth. I’ve heard other stories that simply say she was killed when she fell down a fissure in the earth. She lived in Greece long enough to establish the Oracle at Delphi, though.”
“I thought the Oracle was a genetic inheritance, and the Oracle’s ability to prophesy was passed down from generation to generation within a human family,” Carling said. “At least that’s what previous Oracles have told me when we’ve talked.”
The Oracle from Delphi had long since relocated to the States to join the demesne of human witches in Louisville. In each generation of the Oracle’s family, there was always a single woman who inherited the title, along with the oracular abilities, whenever the previous Oracle died. She was separate from the main ruling structure of the witches’ demesne, which was governed by an elected Head, yet the Oracle was a dignitary in her own right. Carling had not met the newest Oracle. The transfer of Power had taken place just some months before when the previous Oracle and her husband had been killed in a car crash.
Carling had to struggle to hide how bitterly she was disappointed in hearing someone else confirm Python’s death. She thought she had control over her expression, but Rune’s hand dropped to her shoulder in a bracing grip.
“Well, the ability to prophesy is now passed down from generation to generation,” said Seremela. “Just as Vampyrism is now passed from human to human. Where the ability of the Oracle originated is another question entirely.”
“Have you consulted an Oracle before?” Rune asked Seremela curiously. He had talked with Oracles just as Carling had, when socializing at inter-demesne functions, but he had never before been interested in talking to one while she was channeling the Power of prophesy. Cryptic ramblings drove him crazy. As he had said to Carling earlier, talking to Python had been like tripping on a bad dose of LSD.
“I consulted an Oracle when I was much younger,” said Seremela. “I was barely fifty at the time, and curious. I found it to be a Powerful and disturbing experience. The prophesying is never a controlled thing, either for the petitioner or the Oracle.”
“Do you mind if I ask what she told you?” Rune asked.
“I don’t mind you asking,” Seremela replied quietly. “But it isn’t relevant to this conversation, and I would rather not discuss it.”
“Time,” Carling murmured. Past, present and future. It would seem the Oracle’s ability to prophesy was immersed with it. She rubbed her forehead and tried to focus. She looked up to find Rune studying her.