The Sibyl by Cynthia D. Witherspoon Page A

make her
wishes come true.
    Here’s hoping I could utilize her tricks now
to contact an ancient god I wasn’t convinced existed.
    I found what I was looking for in the back of
the television cabinet. The candle was white and stubby, but it
would have to do. I snagged it along with a hotel matchbook and
returned to the desk. Once I had cleared off enough room, I set the
candle up on top of the golden mirror Cyrus had left behind and lit
it.
    “Apollo, keeper of the Sun, creator of the
Sibyls, aid me in my quest.”
    I sat down in front of the candle, wondering
if I should fold my hands like I used to do in Sunday School. I
figured it didn’t matter, so I interlocked my fingers together as I
closed my eyes.
    “I know nothing about your powers, and only
little more about being your Sibyl. Golden One, grant me the
strength to survive this life as your servant. Allow Elliot’s show
to be a success. In return, I promise you the attention you seek.
Television is a voice heard throughout the world. Its images speak
to millions of people. Let me do this for you. If I am to be your
Sibyl, grant me my wish. Let our project be a success.”
    I closed my eyes, focusing on everything
which had led up to that very moment. Elliot’s first proposal of
this ridiculous show, Kathy Carter thrusting the mirror in my
hands; even the horrible spirits I had encountered so far. I saw
myself being able to protect myself from them.
    I opened my eyes to see the flames glowing
brighter. The mirror itself shimmered, but no spirits were coming
through. I began to wonder if Apollo had heard me or if I were a
fool asking for help from the shadows surrounding me. If everything
I had experienced had been nothing more than tricks of the light.
Perhaps Elliot was right. Perhaps I did need to see a doctor when
we got home.
    I sniffed out the candle as quickly as I
could. There was no doctor who could help me. I wasn’t a fool. I
believed in what could be proven through science. But I also
believed in myself and what I had seen.
    I couldn’t afford not to.
    
    I must have fallen asleep over the books on
the desk because the next thing I knew, I felt myself being lifted
up from my chair. Cyrus’ whisper woke me up more than his
disruption of picking me up.
    “Spellwork, Little One? I didn’t think you
had it in you. Now hush. Let the dead rest when you do.”
    “What?” I muttered, suddenly all too awake.
My keeper was holding me close to his chest with my ear pressed
against his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
    “You are talking to them.” Cyrus laid me down
on the bed and I sunk down with a sigh. “A habit I am sure you will
control in time.”
    “I don’t talk in my sleep.” I was going to
say more. Refute him. But he simply smiled as he pulled the
blankets over me. I felt like a kid being put to bed; safe and
warm. Suddenly I was surprised at how much I wanted him to stay. As
he nodded his farewell, I reached out to him.
    “Stay. Tell me a story.”
    “A story?” Cyrus froze in mid-bow. “Haven’t I
told you enough for one night?”
    He was joking with me. I could see his half
smile in the faint light from the hotel’s window. I nodded,
snuggling down further into my pillow with a yawn.
    “Yes. Tell me more about you. If you are
going to be by my side indefinitely, I may as well know who you
are.”
    “Indeed.” Cyrus pulled up the chair next to
my bed and collapsed his long frame into it. “What would you like
to know?”
    “Anything. I don’t care.” I was getting
sleepy again and I was fighting against it. “How did you come into
this life of yours?’
    “I was a soldier, Ms. McRayne.” Cyrus leaned
forward, linking his fingers together in front of him. “A man
married to the service of Greece. I lived, no, I breathed the very
battles which killed many of my comrades.”
    He paused as if deciding what he should say
next. “I was meant to serve Artemis, goddess of war. I did, for a
time. I wore her charms