Oracle's Moon er-4

by Thea Harrison

  Then the original youth made a mistake. He laid a hand on Khalil’s arm.

  “Hey, about those contacts—”

  The physical sensation of being touched without his permission was a thousand times worse than when another Djinn male came too close. Hissing, he whirled on the youth, whose somewhat silly face rounded in an O of surprise.

  Suddenly Grace shouldered into the midst of all of them, pushing the young men away, and inserting herself between them and Khalil.

  “Go on, guys,” she said with cheerful firmness. “You’re interrupting my date.”

  One of them grinned at her. “Sorr-ee.”

  Khalil watched malevolently as the one who had dared to touch him edged away to the other side of his group. “Didn’t mean anything by it,” the young man grumbled. “All I wanted was to know what he did to his eyes. Thought I might go to his ophtha…ophtha…Is it ophthalmologist or optometrist?”

  One of his friends exclaimed impatiently, “Oh, it doesn’t matter, numbskull. Eye doctor.”

  Arguing now and shooting wary glances at Khalil over their shoulders, the group edged down the street. Khalil watched them until they had gone half a block away, and he was sure they wouldn’t be back. Then he turned back to Grace. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were narrowed. The sparkling expression of pleasure had disappeared from her face. He sensed storm clouds gathering in her energy.

  “What was that all about?” she asked.

  His face stony, Khalil said, “He touched me.”

  She took a deep breath, and the storm clouds dissipated somewhat. “You must make allowances, Khalil. Peoples’ decision-making skills are impaired when they’re drunk. They didn’t mean any harm.”

  He still didn’t have to like it or allow it. But as he walked over to put his arm around her, he took her point to heart.

  Intoxication could make one do foolish things, even intoxication of the senses. He would do well to remember that.

  Grace sighed and slipped her arm around his waist. Together they crossed the street, and he opened the door. A blast of chaotic light and noise assaulted all of his senses as they stepped into Strange Brew.

  15

  Grace had been in Strange Brew perhaps a half-dozen times since she had turned twenty-one. The interior of the pub was the same throughout, bare brick walls and lots of wood—wooden bars, floors, stools, tables and chairs. There were three bars: one at the front of the building, one toward the back and the third in the basement. They all had a patina of age that darkened their surface. They were scarred from years of use and glossed from countless polishing.

  The basic decor was original and bright, with colorful posters and prints hung on the walls, gathered, Grace had heard, throughout the years from the owner’s travels. There was also a thoroughly modern sound system installed, which was currently blasting the Rolling Stones over the speakers.

  The pub was packed, of course, with people shouting to be heard over each other and the pounding music. Grace paused to get acclimated.

  Sparks of Power blinked throughout the crowd like fireflies. Several human witches were in the room. She could sense them by the feel of their Power, although she didn’t recognize anyone. Through the brick archway that led to another section, she saw a couple of Dark Fae standing close in conversation. A dwarf headed toward the back rooms shoved her way aggressively through the crowd. Grace caught a glimpse of the dwarf’s craggy face. Her beard hung to her short waist in several braids and was threaded with colorful beads.

  Grace didn’t see any Light Fae. Perhaps the owner was in another room, or he might be at the other location. Grace couldn’t remember what his name was, but she would bet he was wealthy enough that he didn’t have to work on a Saturday night if he didn’t want to.

  Further down the bar, she noticed a male Vampyre. Like most Vampyres, he was attractive, although somewhat di-sheveled. He leaned against the bar as two humans, one male and one female, hung off his shoulders. All three were flushed and looked inebriated.

  Grace’s forehead wrinkled. Either they were all on a date, she guessed, or the Vampyre was a bottom-feeder. A few Vampyres couldn’t give up drinking. Vampyres couldn’t feel the effects of alcohol through direct consumption, but they could if they drank from intoxicated humans. Nicknamed bottom-feeders, they trolled bars and looked for willing participants, offering to buy drinks in return for sips of the humans’ blood in a kind of quid pro quo.

  Usually they found no lack of willing participants, as drinking increased the sense of euphoria caused by a Vampyre’s bite—or so Grace had heard. As long as the humans were of legal drinking age, the transaction was entirely legal, although it could get dangerous. Continuing to drink on top of blood loss also increased the effects of intoxication for a human, and if a Vampyre grew impaired, he lost his ability to gauge when to stop feeding.

  She shook her head at the sight of the trio, turned away and shouted at Khalil, “I want to go to the bar and ask if they’re still serving food.”

  “As you wish,” he said. That was when she noticed how rigid he had become. His expression had turned stony again, and his eyes blazed with a brilliant, sharp-edged light.

  She paused, staring up at him. She had no idea what Khalil was thinking. Djinn are Powerful and unpredictable, Brandon had said. They make folk nervous. Shoving that unwelcome thought aside, she asked Khalil, “Are you okay?”

  He had been surveying the room, his mouth tight. His gaze came down to her. “Do not trouble yourself with concern over me,” he said. “Order your food.”

  “All right,” she said. She glanced around again. “I didn’t think about how hard it might be to find a place to sit on a Saturday night.”

  “I will locate a seat,” Khalil said shortly.

  She hesitated again, searching his expression. Finally she said, “We don’t have to stay, if you don’t like it here.”

  That brought his gaze back to her. “This place is…an adjustment,” he said. “And I am still adjusting. I will let you know if I need to leave.”

  “All right.” She sighed. Apparently this venture was not going so well. What else had she expected from a goddamn ridiculous date? But her stomach was so empty, the hunger pains felt like they were shooting through to her spine. Maybe she could grab a quick sandwich, and then they could leave.

  Khalil strode through the crowd. His height and natural arrogance were such that people automatically moved out of his way. Feeling much less effective, she wiggled her way through the crowd and actually managed to reach the bar.

  Two bartenders were working hard. She waved as one whisked past her to deliver tall mugs of foaming beer at one end. She waved again as he passed, this time carrying a tray of empty dirty glasses. He gave no sign of acknowledging her presence, and she scowled.

  Over the sound system, one song ended, and another one by the same band began. It must be Rolling Stones night. The raucous lyrics pounded in her eardrums.

  Someone came up behind her, his body brushing against her back. She stiffened, already aware that it wasn’t Khalil even as she began to turn. A low voice said in her ear, “Hello, darlin’. Lemme buy you a drink.”

  She cast a leery glance over her shoulder. A handsome male smiled down at her. His eyes were glazed. Ugh. It was the bottom-feeder. “I’m with someone,” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the music. “And he’s going to be right back.”

  The Vampyre said, “I’ll buy ’im a drink too. We kin all have a party. I’ll s’ply the likker.” He leaned forward confidingly. “Know what the best thing is about being me?”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Grace said.

  “The high we can all get is entirely legit, ’n for you guys it’s free. You’re welcome.” He braced a hand on the bar, effectively trapping her with his body, as he looked her up and down. “Shew,” said the Vampyre, his southern accent slurred. He swayed. “Yer all dressed up like a garden. I’d love to pick yer flowers.”

  Gr
ace dropped her head over her hands and groaned as she leaned against the bar in an effort to get away from him. She said, “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”

  “You smell good too.” The Vampyre dropped his nose into her hair and sniffed noisily. “Kinda like watermelon. I think. I dunno, it’s been so long since I’ve eaten food, I forget.”

  Ugh! She twisted around and shoved at him. It was like trying to shift a planted tree. “Seriously? My companion isn’t friendly. You need to go away now.”

  He grabbed at her hands. “Anybody ever tell you, yer so purty you could make a dead man come?”

  She stared at him in shocked affront. “The hell did you just say to me?!”

  At the same time, one of the bartenders yelled, “Earl! Don’t make me come after you. Back the truck up, buddy, or I’m tossing you out!”

  “C’mon, it was just a joke. Don’t you get it?” With a sloppy grin, the Vampyre shuffled back a step. He pointed at one of the speakers. “Vampyre—Rolling Stones—the end of ‘Start Me Up’? A joke’s no good if you gotta explain—”

  Two massive hands clamped down on the Vampyre’s shoulders. Grace looked past the Vampyre to Khalil’s furious face. The renegade angel was gone, replaced by an expression of such glittering malice, Grace knew things were not going to go well for Earl in the near future.

  “I’m not going to get any dinner,” she said to the man next to her at the bar.

  The man didn’t respond, probably because he didn’t hear her. He was too busy staring along with the rest of the bar, as Khalil took the Vampyre by the back of the neck and belt, lifted him overhead, twisted and threw him through the arched doorway, across two rooms. The Vampyre struck the brick wall with a crack that was audible even over the blaring music. He disappeared as he slid to the floor. Conversation stopped.

  A nearby woman said huskily, “Someone get that guy a superhero costume with really tight tights.”

  Yes, Grace thought, as she stared at Khalil. He is magnificent. And he seems so much bigger when he’s enraged.

  And this has got to be the most cursed date in the history of…ever.

  The commotion began. Where the Vampyre had fallen, a growl sounded, and a wave of people scrambled back, like a wave rippling outward. Khalil smiled a calamitous smile. His hair had slipped out of the leather tie again and fell about his face. He looked entirely anarchic. He strode forward.

  Grace turned back to the bar as the sounds of destruction began. “Do I have to do anything about this?” she asked herself. “I don’t think so. This isn’t one of my problems.”

  She saw a bowl filled with peanuts and popcorn nearby and pulled it toward her. If only she could reach that bottle of beer, sitting on the counter behind the bar. It wasn’t what she normally liked to drink, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She stood on tiptoe and strained, and managed to hook her two longest fingers around the bottle. She wiggled it her way. Then she dug in her purse, found a ten-dollar bill and dropped it on the counter.

  Behind her, chaos spread. When she looked over her shoulder, people appeared divided into two groups, those that pushed for the door, and those that moved toward the chaos. Either the second group thought they could help in some way, or they were going to join in the fight. Some of them, no doubt, were touching Khalil without his permission. None of them had realized what Khalil really was. If they had, they would all be racing for the door.

  Grace made sure she had a firm hold on her purse with its precious contents. Then, carrying the beer and the bowl of snacks, she headed toward the group working to get out the door.

  She had only limited success, but she would take it. She lost a third of the beer and half the peanuts and popcorn by the time she reached outside. Inside, the music had stopped. Sounds of shouting, cursing and splintering wood replaced it. Outside, most of those who had exited the bar, talking to each other or on their cell phones. A few were laughing. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Grace took a couple of healthy pulls off the beer before setting the bottle on the sidewalk next to the building. Then she ate the peanuts and popcorn while she walked to her car. It wasn’t what she had hoped to get for supper, but it stopped the noisy hunger pains.

  The car was quiet when she drove home. No sexy, distracting, unpredictable Djinn, no chattering Chloe, no whees, hoots or other random, cheerful noises from Max. No unexpected kicks in the head from anybody. The house was quiet too when she unlocked the door and let herself in. Peaceful. It was nice to be alone for a little while.

  To tell the truth, she missed the children, but it would also be nice to have the rest of the night without them. Maybe for once she could sleep past the crack of dawn.

  She set her purse in its spot on the bookcase by the front door. She had the impulse to cook herself something real for supper. A warm meal sounded good. But cooking seemed like too much effort. Instead she ate one of the nectarines left over from lunch.

  Including travel time, the date had lasted just under an hour. She had been on some pretty bad dates, but that was a record even for her. Forget about a midnight deadline. She could brush her teeth and be in bed by quarter after eleven.

  So she took off the flower garden. (Pick yer flowers. Ha!) She slipped on a pair of shorts, washed the makeup off her face and brushed her teeth. Then, because the whole evening had taken on a surrealistic quality, she had to look at the check again. That gorgeous, unbelievable, life-altering piece of paper. She sighed with happiness as she tucked it away. Her problems and challenges hadn’t vanished, but she was starting to see a way through them, and the relief made her feel so buoyant, she realized just how much of a crushing weight had been on her shoulders these last few months.

  That was when Khalil arrived. He exploded into the house in a blazing rush and formed in front of her. He was back to his original form. In black. His hands were on his hips, his eyes shone like supernovas, and he was glowering.

  Oh dear. Himself did not appear to be happy. Grace was fairly certain that was not her problem either.

  “I looked for you,” he said. “You were not in the bar’s immediate vicinity.”

  “No, I wasn’t, was I?” she said. “Did you have fun on your first date?”

  “I do not believe that is how dates are supposed to go,” he informed her.

  “Is that so?” She sat on the couch. “How do you believe dates are supposed to go? And what do you think went wrong?”

  “That son of an ass put his hands on you,” he said edgily. “He insulted you.”

  She shook her head. “Nope,” she said in a calm voice. “That’s not what went wrong. Would you like another shot at answering, or should I just tell you?”

  He remained silent, watching her.

  “Okay, here we go,” she said. “You were wrong. I was wrong to go out with you. The date itself was wrong. We made the decision to go out, and it all snowballed from there. Of course the date was a disaster. It was going to be a disaster no matter what we did. We are about as different as two different creatures can get. You’re a prince of the Djinn—and I still have no idea what that means.…”

  “It means nothing,” he snapped. “It’s an honorific. All the male elders in the five Houses are princes, and the female elders are excellencies. They’re titles of respect, that’s all.”

  “All right,” she said, letting go of that. “So what, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’m mortal. You’re not. I’m human, and you’re not. We come from very different cultures; we have different expectations, abilities, and goals for our lives, and—”

  “Stop,” he said. “You’re wasting time.”

  Again, he caught her openmouthed. “What?”

  “We’re still on our date, and you’re wasting time.” He glanced at the living room clock. “We have forty minutes to go before midnight.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said faintly.

  “I am completely serious,” he said. He prowled close, took her hand and yanked her to her fee
t. “You made a bargain. You’re going to stick to it.”

  “Khalil, no,” she said.

  “Yes.” He looked ruthless. Worse, he looked about as calm as she had felt mere moments ago. “Not everything that happened was a disaster. You had fun up to a certain point. You laughed and were happy. I was watching you. I understand the stories your face tells so much better than I did before. I know what your happiness looks like now.”

  She shivered as his intense male energy slid against hers, and they aligned again. That strange thing they did together felt more than good. It felt incredible. She struggled to ignore it and whispered, “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, with such confidence it shook her. It really shook her. “The kiss wasn’t a disaster. It was perfect.”

  She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about that kiss, because he was right, it had been perfect. His wonder, their tender exploration. “I…don’t think it counts when you weigh that against everything else.”

  “Of course it counts,” he said. He stroked her cheek, down her neck, and along the edge of her neckline. He watched where his fingers trailed, his expression turning hungry. He told her huskily, “I had to release my other form so I could transport back. I do not have the Power to create it a second time in one evening. Although I want to, very much.”

  Grace’s heart started to pound. She swallowed hard and whispered, “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

  “I shouldn’t have left you alone at the bar,” he whispered back. His fingertips trailed down her bare arms, then his hands settled firmly on her hips. He lowered his face to hers, slowly, eyes intent.

  “We should have left as soon as we saw how busy it was.” Her eyelids felt so heavy. They fluttered shut.

  “I should have kissed you a second time in the car. And a third time.” His mouth settled over hers, and he kissed her deeply, in a spiraling aggression that she met with her own escalating urgency. He growled at the back of his throat and muttered against her lips, “This is not the same. But it is still so damned good.”