World's Okayest Oracle (Reluctantly) Seeks Demon - Softcover

Dade, Olivia

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593818229 ISBN 13: 9780593818220

Publisher: Berkley, 2026

Synopsis

An oracle who can see the future teams up with the far-too-hot demon from her past to avert catastrophe, in this steamy paranormal romance from the USA Today bestselling author of Zomromcom.

Gwen Wexloff might be able to see the future, but not when it matters. Her visions invariably involve piddling issues, which means—unlike most oracles—she’s spent her life predicting for everyday humans instead of international power brokers. After a clutch of brain-slurping zombies escapes from their walled-off compound, though, Gwen experiences the first genuinely world-altering vision of her life . . . and now she needs help.

Unfortunately, that help comes from Hugh Blacke, the same starchy (but annoyingly cute) demon who watched her bomb her oracle verification test years ago. To Gwen's dismay, the two of them will need to work together to unravel the deadly conspiracy behind the zombie breach, despite their complicated past and the secrets they’re keeping.

Even with her newfound power, she couldn't have foreseen how quickly they'd both want more than a simple partnership. But the clock is ticking—and with the fate of humanity at stake, Gwen and Hugh will have to decide how much they’re willing to risk for an unexpected, passionate love...and a future together that might prove very short indeed.

About this title

About the Author

Lifelong nerd Olivia Dade has held various rewarding jobs over the years—librarian, high school teacher, Colonial Williamsburg interpreter—but is thrilled to have finally achieved her ultimate goal of wearing pajamas all day as a hermit-like writer and enthusiastic hag. She currently lives outside Stockholm with her delightful family and their ever-burgeoning collection of books.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

PROLOGUE
20 YEARS AGO

As the door to the hallway opened, Gwen Wexloff looked up from the waiting room’s picked-over re-freshments table with significant reluctance. Even a well-funded academy like Delphi offered very few celebratory cheese platters, in her experience. And since she was graduating soon and understood all too well the limited nature of her own oracular talent, she figured their appearances in her life were shortly going to devolve from rare to nonexistent.

Gather ye cubes of Colby-jack—such a speckly crowd-pleaser of a cheese!—while ye may, and so forth.

At the sight of the stranger in the doorway, however, she abruptly straightened, donned her most winning smile, and did her best to radiate the air of someone who definitely hadn’t been poised to wrap the final remaining slivers of Brie in a napkin and tuck them in her thrift-store tote.

From the looks of the demon’s slick black suit, he was an emissary from the Supernatural and Enhanced Ruling Council, despite his seeming youth. Not part of the oracle verification panel in the adjoining room, though, since those panelists were currently evaluating Matilda Tinley’s staggeringly powerful visions. Because the testing proceeded alphabetically, Gwen would be both the next and final newly minted eighteen-year-old getting verified at Delphi Academy this month. Also the worst. By far.

But at least her caboose status had left her alone with the cheese . . . until now.

The demon was lingering silently in the doorway, dark brows drawn in seeming confusion as he scanned her, then the otherwise-empty waiting room, then her again.

As she walked over to him, she studied him right back.

Apart from the small, curved horns half-buried in his thick brown hair, he appeared more elfin than demonic. Most demon males around his apparent age were pretty boys, their dazzling looks camouflaging their calculating natures, rather than slim, nondescript twentysomethings of unremarkable height and angular features. That said: The demon’s suit hugged him like a best friend, his eyes were weary but sharp, and he radiated authority.

He might not look like an average demon, and he might not be much older than her, but her instincts told her he contained more power within him than most observers might suspect. And apparently he wasn’t much of a talker.

Despite his continued silence and scrutiny, she didn’t let her smile flag.

“You must be part of the SERC inspection task force.” As usual, the headmaster had warned students to be on their best behavior during the yearly inspection, both to discourage the Council’s interference in school matters and to justify the funding they granted to Delphi. “I’d be happy to help direct you wherever you meant to go.”

He paused before answering. “I meant to come here.”

Maybe he’d been sent to interview her because his pickings were otherwise slim? By this point in the evening, almost all her classmates would have returned to their dorms or the leisure-oriented areas of the campus hours ago.

Honestly, a distraction from her worry over her upcoming test would be welcome.

“In that case . . .” She waved him inside, and after another instant of hesitation, he closed the door behind himself and followed her to the faux-leather two-seater couch near the refreshments table. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to eat or drink? Maybe a slice of melon or some grapes? I can make a plate for you.”

She hovered near the table as he sat, hoping he wouldn’t spot those half-melted slivers of—

“I suppose I’d like some Brie,” he said to her dismay, his voice quiet but clear. “Thank you very much.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Sure!”

As she reached for a fresh paper plate, though, he cleared his throat. “Upon second thought, I believe I’d enjoy the melon more.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she told him with all sincerity, and began loading up his plate with the honeydew she loathed. “Anyway, you probably want to hear about my experiences at the school?”

“I . . . yes. Whatever you’re comfortable telling me.” He accepted the overloaded, sagging plate and a fork with murmured gratitude. “I’m Hugh, by the way. A representative from SERC, as you surmised.”

“Gwen. Lovely to meet you.” She claimed the last two pieces of Brie for herself with only a small twinge of guilt. From the looks of him, he could easily afford all the bloomy-rind deliciousness he might desire. “I’m happy to chat about whatever you’d like.”

Other than her plan to squirrel away any remaining cheese cubes inside her purse, anyway.

The couch squeaked as she settled beside him, and she took a sip of her ginger ale as she discreetly inhaled his faint, pleasantly smoky scent. Wow, his body really radiated heat up close. She’d heard that about demons. Never experienced it personally before now, though.

“Okay, so. The teachers are fantastic and incredibly patient. Especially Ms. Carr in the Prophetic Skills Department, who . . .” she began.

As she rambled, he ate his melon and asked occasional follow-up questions, his brown eyes intent on her. He didn’t fidget. Didn’t look away.

He listened to her as if she were . . . well, important. Which she wasn’t, but feeling otherwise—if only for a fleeting minute with a stranger—was glorious. Under his steady, patient gaze, with his proximity warming her entire right side, her tension gradually eased, and her smile turned entirely genuine.

He was cute. Solemn and not much of a talker, but cute.

Did demons ever date humans? More specifically, would a demon powerful enough to represent SERC at such a young age ever consider asking out an oracular lightweight like her?

Her common sense said no. But when he angled himself to face her more directly and his knee bumped hers, he didn’t move away. Neither did she. And even through his suit pants and her leggings, that bare inch of contact hitched her breath and sent pleasant tingles up her spine.

After several minutes, she began wrapping things up. “Anyway, all of us really like having individual rooms in our dorm, even if we have to share bathroom facilities.”

Gwen especially appreciated the lack of a roommate, given her sibling-packed, overcrowded bedroom back home . . . not to mention her utter failure to make friends at the academy.

Oracles were notoriously competitive—everyone wanted the best-paid, most perk-filled positions available after graduation—and standoffish. After all, too much camaraderie could persuade them to let down their guard and let critical, proprietary information slip. And shared information was wasted information, useless in building an oracle’s reputation or earning their keep with their eventual employer, who invariably preferred to be the sole entity benefiting from said information.

Besides, Gwen had long ago earned her reputation at the academy as an oracular dud. Having to share a room with someone who clearly—and accurately—considered her an inferior seer, too underpowered to bother befriending or even acknowledging, would have hurt even more than her current isolation.

“I’m so grateful to SERC for its generous funding, and I hope you pass that along to the councilors.” Exactly the sentiment her headmaster had urged students to share with the inspectors, and also her personal truth. “Is there anything specific you’d like to ask me?”

“Yes.” Head tilted, he regarded her solemnly. “Although I get the sense you’re leaving out anything that might be considered unpleasant.”

She had to laugh. “You’re a SERC official, Hugh. Under the circumstances, can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t.” His eyes crinkled appealingly in answering amusement. “But . . . are you happy here at the academy? Is there anything you’d change?”

Other than the negligible amount of talent she possessed and her utter loneliness? Neither of which he nor SERC could remedy with increased funding or by fiat?

Her smile faltered. “Well . . .”

No matter how patiently he might wait for her answer, he didn’t care about her personal problems. Why would he? Why would anyone?

As long as he was asking, though, she shouldn’t lose this singular opportunity to argue for at least one important change at Delphi. Even though haranguing a SERC official required far more boldness than she typically possessed and wouldn’t please the headmaster either.

But it was important, so she gathered her nerve and did the right thing.

“I’m fine. Besides, I’m leaving the academy soon, so my happiness or lack thereof is unimportant.” When he frowned and opened his mouth to respond, she simply kept speaking. “I do have a suggestion for the Council, however.”

He didn’t look happy about her dodge, but he let it go. “Yes?”

“As you know, SERC prohibits outsiders from visiting the campus and disallows most travel to and from the academy for both students and faculty during the school year. For good reason.”

Everyone—government agencies, corporations, wealthy elites—wanted a seer of their own, since having an oracle’s predictive capabilities at one’s disposal generally led to big money. Many of those who couldn’t bid highly enough to claim the most talented Delphi Academy graduates would, if given the opportunity, gladly abduct those students instead. So would numerous criminal gangs, human or otherwise, both for profit reasons and to prevent prophecies of their future schemes.

Unlike most other Enhanced designations, oracles’ power didn’t give them any good means of self-defense. They couldn’t place wards on their dorm rooms or incinerate their enemies or even read the thoughts of would-be abductors. Before graduation, then, their protection lay almost entirely in Delphi’s strict protocols and careful guardianship of its students.

As the pitch-black joke at school went: What do you call a seer with a known address? Amber. Short for Amber Alert.

High walls and armed guards surrounded the Delphi Academy campus, and even students’ families weren’t told its exact location. When attendees left for winter or summer holidays, they did so in secrecy, using false names. And immediately after graduation, the vast majority of seers traveled straight from their successful verification tests to their new workplaces . . . and disappeared from public sight entirely. Their names might appear in eventual news articles about thwarted catastrophes or unlikely investments that made billions, but those stories would feature no information that could potentially lead to the responsible oracles’ locations.

“I fully understand the need for tight security. Here’s the thing, though.” When she laid a hand on Hugh’s forearm, his dark suit’s sleeve was warmer than a blanket plucked fresh from the dryer. “I realize demons don’t get sick, but humans do.”

“Yes.” His dark brows had beetled again. “From what I understand, SERC funds an acute-care medical facility on this campus to address that very issue.”

She squeezed his arm soothingly. “Which I appreciate, but that’s not my point.”

His nod encouraged her to make that point, so she sucked in a deep breath and spoke plainly. “I don’t think you or most Supernaturals understand how unpleasant and frightening illness can be or the intense loneliness of feeling terrible without loved ones near. Even with a clinic close at hand.”

When Matilda’s cough had turned to pneumonia last month, Gwen had ventured into the infirmary, despite knowing that her presence might not be welcome. She’d found her classmate crying for her mother—whose petition to visit her daughter had just been denied.

“When students have anything more serious than a cold, either families should be allowed access or we should be sent to a secure medical facility outside Delphi where they can see us.” Gwen’s voice wobbled, but she laid out her opinions without apology. “Also, if our family or friends are seriously ill or injured, students and faculty should be able to leave campus. When Ms. Carr’s grandfather was dying a few years back, she couldn’t even say goodbye.”

Gwen’s own parents couldn’t have afforded either the time off needed to travel to Delphi or the expense required to bring her home. But the changes would help others, which was good enough for her.

Hugh didn’t withdraw in stiff affront at her temerity, as she’d half expected him to do. If anything, he leaned in even closer. So close that the faint brush of his minty breath against her face raised goose bumps.

“All right.” When his lips pursed in thought, her gaze lingered there. “What should SERC do about their legitimate safety concerns, then?”

It didn’t sound like a challenge. More an invitation to explain her thoughts further.

She foundered for a moment, unused to anyone actually soliciting her opinion and uncertain how security logistics actually worked. Only—hadn’t her civics class recently discussed the absurdly expensive new building that housed the Supernatural and Enhanced Ruling Council’s offices?

“I don’t know. But if SERC can figure out how to secure their own headquarters, they can figure out how to secure this campus and its inhabitants more humanely,” she told him. “If they care enough to try.”

“Fair enough.” His head dipped in a little nod. “I’ll raise the concern with my contacts on the Council and see what can be done.”

She blinked at him. “Really?”

He didn’t intend to question her ability to fully comprehend such fraught matters? Or simply make a show of listening before patting her on the head and dismissing her complaint as soon as he left this waiting room?

“I suspect you’re right.” His forehead creased as he considered the issue. “Some of the councilors are functionally immortal. All the others have access to expensive, high-powered healing spells, so even the Enhanced humans within SERC may not recall how it felt to be sick and alone. And since there are no oracles presently on staff at SERC, no one there grapples with the sort of isolation that you and your classmates experience.”

His free hand settled over hers for a fleeting moment, so lightly it was more a hot breeze than actual weight. “I’m sorry that they—we—haven’t had the empathy to fully understand your position before now. I’m grateful for your willingness to share the issue with me.”

Would it be weird and embarrassing and creepy if she kissed him for saying all that?

Yeah. Probably. Darn it.

She nudged his knee with hers instead. “I’m grateful that you listened. Also that you did have enough empathy to care. As a thank-you, please accept the final two pieces of Brie from the cheese platter.”

He’d earned that Brie. He should have it.

When she plucked her plate from the side table and offered its contents to him, though, he lifted a hand in refusal. “You should either eat it here or take it with you, Gwen. For that matter, you should bring the remaining food from the platter back to your dorm, since you’re the final student facing the panel tonight. Otherwise, it’ll simply go to waste.”

Well, who was she to argue? Especially when that’d been her plan all along?

After one final, happy squeeze of his slim, hot forearm, she leapt to her feet, returned to the refreshments table, and began loading up her first napkin.

“Um . . .” He hesitated. “So . . . what’s—what’s your favorite type of cheese?”

She beamed at him over her shoulder. “What an excellent question!”

Edition details

• Publisher: Berkley
• Publication date: 2026
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0593818229
• ISBN 13: 9780593818220
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 464