Oracle's Moon er-4

by Thea Harrison

  She, a dating expert? She shook her head. This conversation was surreal. “I’ll come up with something,” she told him. What on earth would it be? “It won’t be fancy. You might want to dress casual.”

  He nodded. “Call me when you are ready.” He vanished.

  A date. She stared at the empty place where he had been a moment before as his presence faded. “I am never going to see Damascus, am I?” she whispered to herself. “Not in this lifetime.”

  Then his presence returned, and he curled around her caressingly.

  “I forgot to say good-bye,” he murmured in her ear.

  Instinctively she held up her hands, fingers questing through the air, but his physical form did not reappear.

  Not quite.

  Instead invisible fingers trailed down her face, stroked her throat, traced the edge of her T-shirt’s neckline. She couldn’t see him, touch him. She felt hungry, bewildered and blind.

  So she reached for him the only way she could, psychically, and felt herself align with his presence again. Power to Power, spirit to spirit. Feminine to masculine.

  Astonishment and heat roared out of him. She felt it as a sheet of flame washing through her. Her breasts felt hypersensitive, nipples distended, and sexual hunger speared between her legs, sharper and harder than anything she’d ever known. Her head fell back against the office chair.

  His energy rippled with something like a physical shudder. He hissed, “Good night.”

  Then he was truly gone, and all she could do was whisper, “Holy fuck.”

  And all she could think was: we really do have to get out of the house tomorrow.

  11

  Caught in the last moments before Khalil had left, Grace had a difficult time going to sleep. The warm humid summer night pressed against her skin. She kept reliving the rush of heat that had roared out from him, flashing over her psyche. It altered her understanding of pleasure and desire. She did not think she would ever be able to respond to a mere physical embrace again.

  Would he climax during lovemaking, as humans did? Her body throbbed. She kicked off her sheet, curled on her side and slid a hand between her legs, pressing against the hungry, empty ache. When she finally slept, she dreamed of his huge, invisible hands sliding down the contours of her body, easing her own hand away. Long, clever fingers dipped under-neath the shorts and panties she wore and caressed along the folded lips of her labia, at the edge of her clitoris.

  Her hunger spiked, reverberated back and forth between the physical and the psychic, the one intensifying the other. She needed to climax so badly. It had been so long since she had felt pleasure, and she had never experienced anything like this before, but she needed his physical form too, needed him sliding into her, filling that empty ache, moving with the kind of rhythm her body craved…

  She plunged awake before completion and struggled with disorientation. For one heart-pounding moment, she balanced between a frenzied hope that Khalil was really there and a shocked need for him to not be present, to not have taken his lack of human sensibilities to that extreme.

  She cast out her awareness, searching for him—and he wasn’t there. The quiet, darkened house was serene, and she was quite alone. Her dream had just been a dream. That left her to settle into disconcerted disappointment. She didn’t want him present, but she still ached with emptiness and wanted his touch. She tossed and turned for the rest of the night.

  Early Saturday morning, when the children woke, she started another long, full day feeling disgruntled.

  The temperature had already reached eighty-six by the time she drove Chloe and Max over to Katherine’s at eight o’clock. Katherine gave Grace the phone number of someone who had a twin bed and was interested in exchanging it for Chloe’s toddler bed. Grace also took all the serving plates with the lids, along with the set of four heavy linen napkins, to give to Katherine, who was overjoyed.

  Katherine was also intensely curious, and Grace’s explanation for how she had gotten them took a good twenty minutes. By the time she returned home, it was a quarter to nine.

  Brandon was the first to arrive. He was a stocky man with pale blue eyes that seemed to weigh everything. Grace didn’t especially care for the sensation. It left her feeling like he was judging her and found her lacking. That feeling intensified in their first conversation that morning.

  “We only have twelve people coming from a smattering of local covens,” Brandon said. “Not the eighteen we’d originally thought. Apparently there’s a rumor going around that you’ve had a Djinn hanging around.” He studied her coolly. “He isn’t here now, is he?”

  Taken aback, Grace muttered, “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, he’s not. I can’t believe six people canceled because of that.”

  Brandon shot her a sidelong glance. “Djinn are Powerful and unpredictable. They make folks nervous.”

  “Folks need to get over it,” she snapped.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Her ready temper flared, but before she could say something she might possibly regret later, Brandon asked her for a list of projects. Since he was about to spend the day working on her property, she decided it was probably best to just let the subject drop. For now.

  It was the height of summer, and everything was overgrown. She hadn’t had the time or the energy to keep up the fenced-in backyard. As a result, the yard was too unkempt to take the children out to play. The main issues, she told Brandon, were mowing the property (not an insignificant task, since it took a good ten hours for a single person to sweep through the open areas on a riding mower), moving a dresser downstairs to the office, and getting the backyard in shape so she could take the children out to play.

  She said, “We used to keep more of the property mown, but right now I’ll be grateful to have the area around the house, the main path to the back, and the grass by the driveway cut down.”

  He nodded as he listened. He had turned his attention to studying the house. “A couple of the guys are bringing their riding mowers,” he said. “We can get the whole property done this time around.” He pointed at the roof. “Got some tiles missing. That roof won’t make it through the winter.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I know.”

  That earned her another assessing glance. “Well,” Brandon said after a moment. “Winter’s several months away yet.”

  Then a couple of cars turned into the driveway, and the work day began.

  It was a sticky, sweltering, tiring and sometimes strained day. Several of the witches would barely speak to her. One or two others treated her with a smooth, smiling courtesy that seemed even worse. Her Power bristled, as it had when she had explored trying to sell part of the riverfront, but just as it did not pay the monthly bills, it also didn’t mow the lawn, so she shoved it aside irritably. For some reason the ghosts in the house were agitated too, which added to the undercurrent of tension, although Grace was fairly certain she was the only one who could sense them.

  She was grateful to see someone she really liked, a quiet witch in her thirties named Olivia, who worked as a reference librarian for the Ex Libris Library in Louisville. Ex Libris was the major repository in the United States for resource materials on or about humankind’s witchcraft, Power and magic systems. The library also had one of the largest collections worldwide. Olivia belonged to a coven of professional academics, teachers, professors and other librarians.

  Olivia gave Grace a genuine smile in greeting. Grace found herself gravitating toward the librarian as the day went on.

  Once tasks were allocated, people dispersed and got busy, and the underlying tensions dissolved somewhat. Grace was constantly being pulled from one question to another. Which dresser did she want brought downstairs? Where did she want it put in the office? Did she want all the clothes that were in the dresser brought down too, or did she want them left upstairs? Did she care if the rosebushes out front were trimmed, and would she like them watered? Did she know there was a hole in the backya
rd fence? The hole would need to be repaired before she took the children out to play again. Would she like that done today?

  Then late morning, as Grace and Olivia arranged the lunch on the table, the house phone rang. Grace picked it up.

  The caller was Brandon on his cell phone, from the back meadow. Cell phones didn’t work on the property very well, so their connection was spotty, but he managed to ask Grace to come to the back to give the men some advice. “If it isn’t too much trouble,” he said through the crackle. “We were hoping you and Olivia might bring some iced tea too.”

  “Sure,” she said, looking at the full, heavy pitcher and glasses with resignation. She hung up and told Olivia, “I’ve got to go to the back meadow. Would you mind helping me carry drinks back for the guys?”

  “Of course,” Olivia said. She surveyed the table. “We’re done here anyway. People can help themselves to lunch whenever they’re hungry.”

  They collected everything. Olivia grabbed the full gallon of iced tea before Grace could. She didn’t say anything, just picked up the glasses, and they headed out. “I have to admit,” Grace said. “I’m relieved to get away from everybody else for a few minutes.”

  “They’re a charming lot this morning, aren’t they?” Olivia said, snorting with scorn.

  Grace darted a glance at her. The librarian’s short chestnut hair gleamed with honey highlights in the sun, and her gray eyes were vivid with intelligence. Olivia had a quiet Power that ran deep; she worked daily with books and resources of Power, so she must be proficient at her craft. Usually witch librarians were symbologists who could read, control and infuse words and images with Power.

  Grace said, hesitantly, “I didn’t expect how people are acting today. Everybody except you, I mean. There are people from several different covens here. I thought they would be more, I don’t know, talkative and happy to get to know each other. The last work day was a lot noisier.”

  Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I keep forgetting, you’re not part of a coven, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, covens are like professional guilds with networking opportunities and regular continuing education in various magical disciplines,” Olivia said. “A witch might not necessarily have any close friends in her coven. People can have stronger ties to their bowling leagues, their churches, their reading groups or any political party they belong to.”

  Grace frowned. “Okay, that’s a good point, and it’s not something that would have occurred to me. How does that apply to people here today?”

  “When I look around at who is here today, I don’t see people who are silent because they don’t know each other,” Olivia said. “To me, they look like they’re not talking because they know each other very well.”

  Grace stopped walking. “What are you saying?”

  The librarian shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I’ve seen some exchanged glances and raised eyebrows, like there was an unspoken conversation going on. I thought people were acting standoffish because of me. Early this morning I got a phone call from Brandon who said they had more than enough people showing up, so they didn’t need me. It seemed a little too high school for me, like I was disinvited to a party, so I decided to come anyway, because I wanted to see how you were doing and to say hi.”

  Grace said slowly, “That doesn’t make any sense. First Jaydon called Thursday and said eighteen people were going to show up today. Then Brandon arrived this morning, and he said—at least I thought he said…” Under Olivia’s intelligent, attentive gray eyes her voice trailed away, and she scowled as she tried to remember. “Okay, maybe he didn’t actually say what I thought he said. He said twelve people were coming, not eighteen, and then he asked me about a rumor of a Djinn hanging around. I just thought the two things were connected and that people were backing out of the work day because of Khalil.”

  Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “You have a Djinn hanging around?”

  “Yeah.” Grace stiffened. “What of it?”

  Olivia grinned. “Nothing, just cool. I’ve met exactly one Djinn in my life, and she was pretty freaking spectacular.”

  Grace looked at her sidelong. She could feel the skin in her face start to burn. “We’re going on a date tonight.”

  “You’re dating a Djinn? That’s even better.” The older woman laughed. “I’ve heard stories of—never mind.”

  “I have to say, your attitude is refreshing,” Grace muttered. “Most of the people I’ve been talking to have been pretty negative.”

  “You’ve been talking to the wrong people,” Olivia told her. “Pay no attention to what Brandon says or tries to imply. He’s one of the biggest bigots I know. You do know he was one of Jaydon’s strongest supporters, when Jaydon ran against Isalynn LeFevre in the demesne elections, don’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t make the connection,” Grace said. She shrugged, somewhat impatiently. “I’m not really into politics.”

  Olivia started walking again, and Grace did too. “Isalynn’s a conservative about some things,” Olivia said. “That’s part of her long-standing appeal. She’s an advocate for less government. But she’s a moderate when it comes to dealing with the Elder Races demesnes. Jaydon has argued for a stronger federal government and less sovereignty for the seven demesnes. He has a strong support base of people who are anti–Elder Races entirely. It doesn’t matter what race—Vampyre, Wyr, Djinn, Light or Dark Fae, whatever. The group wants the Elder Races out of Kentucky and out of the federal government.”

  “But we’re part of the Elder Races,” Grace said.

  “To some people we’re not,” Olivia replied. “Sure, we’re witches, but we’re human. A lot of them want the inhuman Elder Races to move their governments to an Other land and be treated as foreign countries.”

  “That isn’t feasible,” Grace said, still frowning. “They’re as much a part of our society as the fifty states. None of the demesnes are going to uproot and change their locations.”

  Olivia shrugged. “That isn’t stopping people from trying. Anyway, things got pretty heated in the last election, with lots of demonstrations and name-calling. Just something for you to think about when you’re dealing with Brandon.”

  Grace shook her head. She still didn’t see how any of that applied to her. As the Oracle, she was supposed to remain neutral and treat all petitioners alike. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have personal opinions. But she couldn’t imagine anyone would care about what she thought about politics. “Well, I know the witches’ grapevine is very active. If they all know each other, maybe Brandon’s attitude has influenced the others.”

  “Maybe.” Olivia gave her a slight smile. “I’m not sure I’m the best resource for you to ask, since I don’t belong to a clique and I don’t gossip. Clearly I’m not part of the ‘in’ crowd today.”

  Grace sighed. She said bluntly, “I like you.”

  The other woman laughed. “I like you too. What’s more, I respect the hell out of you for what you’ve taken on with the kids. A lot of young women your age wouldn’t have done it.”

  “I had to,” Grace said. “I love them.” She was also the only one who could pass on to the children what she had been taught about their family and heritage.

  “Well, still, kudos to you. If you ever get away from the munchkins, stop by the library some time for coffee.”

  Surprised pleasure bloomed. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Grace and Olivia reached the back meadow. Four men had taken on the chore of mowing and had gotten roughly half of the meadow finished. Brandon was using Grace’s riding mower, and the other three had brought their own, hauled behind pickup trucks and SUVs on small flatbed trailers. At the moment all four mowers were quiet and abandoned, the engines turned off. The men were standing and talking in a cluster near the door to the cavern, which stood open.

  Either Grace’s Power bristled again, or she did. She swiped the back of a hand across her warm, damp forehead as she and Olivia reached the m
en. “That door wasn’t un-locked and open when you found it, was it?” she asked tersely. She had been tired and preoccupied when Don and Margie had come, but she hadn’t been that careless, had she?

  “No,” Brandon said as the men clustered around the two women for glasses of iced tea. “We unlocked it. I was going to wait and go down with you, but then I went ahead and checked the tunnel and cavern’s ceiling and walls, myself. It looks fine from the inside for now. Did you notice how much erosion has occurred on this side of the path? It’s developed a fissure down the side of the bluff. You need to keep an eye on this and check the tunnel and the cavern on this side after a strong storm.”

  “I think you should put some stones or tree stumps along that,” said one of the other men. “Make the path safer in the dark. If you use the path much in the dark.”

  “Well, no,” Grace said. “But occasionally it’s unavoidable, and an accident would not be good.”

  She had been aware of the fissure erosion and had been keeping an eye on the path, although it had not occurred to her to watch the tunnel and the cavern from the inside. Brandon could have waited to talk about this until he got back to the house. It wasn’t urgent enough to warrant the effort it took her to make the trek. Probably the whole point behind asking her and Olivia to come out was to get cold drinks brought back while they stood around and talked for a half hour. She felt a surge of irritation, which was totally unreasonable, given how much time they were volunteering. When Brandon offered to haul a truckload of stones over next week to shore up the widening gap, she felt like even more of a bitch.

  Olivia and Grace collected the glasses when the men had polished off the last of the gallon of tea. Grace took one last look at the open doorway.

  “Don’t forget to lock that,” she told Brandon.

  “We won’t,” Brandon said, his blue eyes watchful.

  But he was always watchful.

  She could still feel him watching as she turned to leave.

  The group finished all their projects and called the work day to an end just after five thirty. Everything on Grace’s list had been accomplished and the hole in the backyard fence repaired. Despite whatever personal tensions might have existed throughout the day, she made a point of thanking each one individually when they left.