Oracle's Moon er-4

by Thea Harrison

  Grace stared at Khalil, her mouth open. If she hadn’t fallen in love with him already, that would have done it. Twice.

  Ebrahim’s intensity had splintered into confusion. Khalil told him, “Ask a store attendant to help you pick it all out. And hurry.”

  The other Djinn dematerialized and blew away. Grace asked, He was a bit intense. What was that all about?

  Khalil told her, His mate is damaged. He saw Phaedra and heard us talking. He is hoping you can help his mate. I didn’t remember that when I called on him to pay his debt.

  She pushed the heel of one hand against her temple. Oh, criminy. I can’t promise anything to anyone. Khalil, what I did was a fluke. Honestly, Phaedra did most of the work.

  He squatted in front of her. Max looked so tiny nestled against his chest. I know. And now really isn’t the time. But when the time does come, would you at least be willing to try—for him or any of the others? He gripped her shoulder. No matter how you answer, I will support your decision.

  And if she hadn’t already fallen in love with him, that would have made the third time today. Of course I’ll try, she said. I couldn’t say no.

  He looked into her eyes, took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. Indeed.

  Just then the two Djinn that had been exploring the house assumed physical forms and walked toward them. They wore the shapes of identical women, tall, blonde and strong looking. Grace looked at them with her mind’s eye. Their presences were almost an exact carbon copy of each other; they really were twins. Khalil’s expression darkened as they came near, his face hard. He asked, “What have you discovered?”

  “We have shut off the gas,” said one of them. “There is nothing magical in the ruins.”

  “And the cause?”

  The other twin held out her hand. In her palm was a piece of damaged metal. “We think it was this piece of the stove. It is part of the gas regulation and ignition process called a flame failure device. It appears quite faulty.”

  Grace said, “We used that stove hundreds of times, and it worked perfectly.”

  Khalil looked at Grace. “This was the first time you used the stove since yesterday’s work day, wasn’t it, when you had so many people over?”

  “Yes.” She went a little numb.

  The twins looked at each other. One of them asked, “Did you leave the house for any length of time?”

  Twelve people, not including Olivia, who knew each other well. They looked her in the eye and ate her food and mowed her lawn. Did twelve people do this?

  She nodded and whispered, “For about forty-five minutes.”

  Khalil’s rage flared red-hot against Grace’s senses. His face was vicious. “Brandon Miller has metal devices like this in a hidden workshop. Along with tools with which to alter them.”

  Chloe knuckled her eyes. “Did our lunch break the house?”

  Grace’s arms tightened. She shook her head at the others, silently warning them to stop the conversation, as she said, “It seems so, baby girl.”

  The Djinn returned from their various errands. The first to arrive were the two who had gone to Boston. Then came the one who made the travel arrangements. Ebrahim was the fourth, laden with packages. He had the new diaper bag, stuffed with everything Khalil had requested, and a large plastic shopping bag filled with three different kinds of cheese, crackers, juice, pudding, fruit and animal cookies. Grace opened packages of food so Chloe could nibble, and she ate too, mechanically, because she needed the fuel.

  The messenger to Katherine and John was the last one to return. The Djinn wore the form of a reed-thin girl with a gleaming fall of chocolate-colored hair.

  “They are coming,” she said, her voice as light and airy as a flute. “Katherine told me to tell you, of course they will come. She is shocked and saddened and extremely angry.”

  Khalil said, “Make sure they arrive safely.”

  “Yes.” She vanished again, and two of the others went with her.

  Khalil spread out the new cotton blanket beside Grace and Chloe, and he eased the sleeping Max onto it. Then he went with the rest of the Djinn to look at the house. He returned soon with her knee brace, the hated cane, and Chloe’s Lalaloopsy doll.

  “They will see what is salvageable of your possessions, and if possible, they will work on repairs,” he said to Grace, his voice softer than ever, for Chloe had fallen asleep too. He set Chloe’s doll on the blanket beside Max and knelt to help Grace buckle the brace into place.

  “They must be in a lot of debt to you if they’re still working to cancel it out,” Grace said.

  “None of the Djinn owe me anything anymore,” Khalil said. “Now they’re working for you.”

  Her eyes rounded. “No pressure, right?” she muttered. “That’s a hell of a burden of hope they’re piling on my shoulders.”

  “I have been talking to them. I promise you, nobody will expect anything more than you can give.” He brushed at her face lightly with the tips of his fingers, eyes burning. Then he leaned forward to kiss her with tautly controlled passion. His hand dropped to circle the base of her throat. I think this time you scared the immortality out of me.

  I’m sorry, she said again.

  He leaned his forehead against hers, and he said in her head so softly she barely heard him, Grace, you almost died. I don’t want to know what that’s like.

  She didn’t need to say that she was going to die sooner or later while he wasn’t, because the fact hung over their heads like the sword of Damocles that dangled by a single hair. She stayed silent and stroked his face, her eyes closed, and absorbed the hot comfort of his presence.

  But because the Oracle’s moon could be a freaky bitch too, it didn’t care if there were only so many epiphanies a girl could take at a time. The endless day wasn’t done with her yet, as the dark sea took her again, the riptide filled with beginnings and endings, all potential futures and the past.

  This time the vision that took her was sharp as a blade’s edge, and she saw that the real sword hanging over their head was not her mortality, but something else entirely. Image upon image of possible futures bombarded her. She flinched back with a gasp.

  Khalil grabbed her shoulders. His touch snapped her back into the here and now. He studied her with a sharp concern. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone completely white.”

  She stared at him, heart pounding, then her expression turned grim. “No,” she said. “One thing at a time. Right now we’ve got enough on our plate.”

  “Gracie,” he said between his teeth.

  Gods, she loved it when he called her that, with his perfect blend of exasperation and tenderness. She put the knowledge of the vision behind her for the moment and opened her eyes wide at him. “I don’t recall when I said I would tell you every little thing that went on inside my head. I sure don’t remember you bargaining for it.”

  He looked infuriated and unpredictable and actually a little evil, and there it was; she tumbled head over heels in love with him for the fourth time that day. She thought she would really love to spend whatever time she had in this life, tumbling head over heels every time she looked into his eyes and fell into forever. Always loving, always falling.

  “I will get it out of you,” he growled, so very softly over the heads of the tired, sleeping babies.

  “Wow, you really can’t stand a secret, can you? Are you going to spend Christmas with us? Teasing you about presents is going to be a blast.”

  He let go of her, slapped his hands on the tree trunk on either side of her head and leaned over her. He looked fierce, like he might explode, except she could feel his emotions in truth. Sparring with each other had become a game they both loved to play. All of his real rage was directed elsewhere. “You are such an impudent and disrespectful human.”

  “Indeed, that is what you are wont to call me.” She grinned at him. “See what I did there?”

  One corner of his sexy mouth twitched. She stroked her presence along his, aligning with him soft
ly.

  His hands slipped on the tree trunk. He sank a fist into her hair and just held her, looking into her eyes with a steady promise. Her home might be in ruins, her life forever changed, and the sword might fall and cut them, but right in that moment, she had never felt so alive.

  He let his fingers loosen and stroked down the back of her neck as he turned his head. Then she heard voices. Katherine, John, their kids and the Djinn escort had arrived to take Chloe and Max safely away to Houston. Khalil gathered Chloe off Grace’s lap. Using the cane, Grace levered herself to her feet.

  Katherine had clearly been crying, and John, who had loved Petra and Niko too, was grieving and enraged all over again. They stared in grim, shocked silence at the ruined back of the house. When they collected the sleepy kids, they did so with a special tenderness. As John and Khalil carried the children to their minivan, Katherine squeezed Grace’s hand so hard it hurt. “John told his boss he had a family emergency, and it’s true. Don’t worry about the kids, all right?”

  “I won’t.” Grace squeezed her hand in return.

  The older woman’s eyes glittered. “Get their killers. Get all of them.”

  “I promise you, we will.”

  She walked around the house with Katherine and gave her a fierce hug good-bye. Then she stood beside Khalil and watched them drive away with the last of her family and with four Djinn as invisible guards.

  That was when Khalil released his iron grip on his temper, and his rage whipped the air in a vicious whirlwind.

  He turned to her, his face stern and deadly, and she knew what would happen if he sent his renegade angel’s voice ringing through the sky in a call to war. She had seen it in the vision as one of the possible futures. It would bring the sword down on them.

  He had so very many connections. His call would be answered. Djinn would appear like meteorites that slammed into the ground to became tall, shining figures. Tens of Djinn, then scores, then hundreds. Their numbers would be dotted with a few rare figures that shone with a radiance that was especially piercing. She had recognized one of them.

  Soren, the Elder tribunal Councillor for the Demonkind and a first-generation Djinn.

  That would be the beginning of the end for her and Khalil. Soren would slash the fragile hair from which the sword hung. And the sword would fall and slice them apart. If they were to have a chance at any time together, Khalil couldn’t send out that call.

  His Power compressed in readiness. She grabbed his arm. “No! You mustn’t. Khalil, please don’t.”

  He looked down at her, his expression hard, as the wind howled around them. “Tell me one reason why I should not.”

  She projected all the urgency and conviction she could into her voice, because she could tell his attention was already slipping away from her.

  “Because if you do that, we may never see each other again after today.”

  20

  He stared at her. If anything the howling wind worsened as his expression turned cold and remote. For a terrible moment she thought he had already slipped away emotionally and she really had lost him. She started howling inside a little bit, too.

  Then he pivoted in a circle, spitting curses savagely. She watched him, her gut in a twist. He seemed to reach out and grasp his rampaging Power and haul it forcibly back under his control. She had to lean hard on the cane as her muscles shook.

  She whispered to the quieting storm, “Thank you.”

  He spun back to her. “That is what you saw,” he said. “Earlier.”

  Her attention dropped from his incandescent eyes. He held himself so tightly, the clenched muscles in his biceps twitched. She tried to speak in a way that might be calming to an adult, not to a small child. It wasn’t something she was good at. “That’s one of the things I saw, yes.”

  He inhaled, shuddered, and the maelstrom of energy pulled back into his body. “Okay,” he said as he strode over to her. “What do you think we should do?”

  She had just realized her car was no longer in the driveway. She cocked her head, looking around. The Honda was tilted on its driver’s side several yards away, by the road. She wondered if the car would be drivable if they tilted it back over and added it to the list of things to do as Khalil joined her.

  “We can’t create an inter-demesne incident,” she said. “If you call Djinn to help hunt down the people who did this, that’s what would happen.”

  “The sanctuary law is an inter-demesne law,” he snapped.

  “Yes—inter-demesne law. Not Djinn law. No matter how tempting it is, don’t send Djinn swarming all over Kentucky, because nobody will react well to that. We have to work with the witches’ demesne. Offer help. This has to be justice, not revenge. We need to talk to Isalynn LeFevre. After that…” Her voice trailed away as visions threatened to take her over again, and she drifted, lost in a tangle of thought and shifting possibilities.

  He gripped her shoulder. “After that, what?” he prompted, watching her with close attention.

  Once again his firm touch anchored her back in her body. She gave him a grim smile. “We’ll have to see where we are after that.”

  Suddenly Ebrahim stood right beside them. “The Oracle’s life may still be in danger. I will go with you and help to protect her.”

  Khalil’s eyebrows rose. “I will not allow anything to happen to her. But if you wish to add your presence, that is acceptable.”

  Grace had jerked back at the other Djinn’s sudden appearance. “You’ve got to stop doing that!” she said to Ebrahim. “Pretend I’m surrounded by a ten-foot bubble, and you can only materialize outside it. Then walk toward me.”

  Ebrahim contemplated her, curiosity in his radiant gaze. He said finally, “As you wish.”

  Khalil asked her, “Are you ready?”

  “Almost,” she said.

  She turned to face the house. It looked undisturbed from the driveway, even peaceful. She had lived her whole life in that house. She had played jacks on the porch and kissed her first boyfriend at the front door. While she went to college, she had daydreamed about getting a place of her own one day. Once she had been excited at the thought of leaving home—but that excitement was with the understanding that home was always going to be there for her to come back to when she needed it.

  With Khalil close behind her, she walked inside. The sight of the black ruin that had been the back of the house punched her. The blast had taken out not only the kitchen, but the portion of the second floor above it. That meant the bathroom and probably the back bedroom—her bedroom—was gone as well. The living room was not unscathed either. The force of the explosion had blown furniture across the room and broken lamps and picture frames.

  She found her purse under the bookcase, which had been knocked over. Khalil lifted the bookcase so she could pull her purse out. She looked for the black, spiral-bound phone book and finally found it between the upended coffee table and a wall. Some pages were creased, some torn. Her grandmother had written some of those numbers. So had Petra. Grace smoothed the book shut, tucked it carefully in her purse and set it to one side.

  Afterward she turned and stared at the remains of the kitchen table. Nausea roiled. She and the kids would have been sitting right there. Beside her, Khalil stood quietly with every appearance of patience, but his tall form felt compressed and dangerous.

  A cyclone arrived in the middle of the chaotic living room. Grace recognized the Djinn. It was Ismat, wearing a male form, his arms wrapped around Therese from behind, one hand clapped over the witch’s mouth. Therese’s gaze darted around at the devastation. She appeared frozen in horror.

  Ismat gave Khalil a fierce smile. “Therese is part of a secret coven that belongs to an anti–Elder Races political group.”

  “The Humanist Party,” said Khalil. He sounded ice-cold. “They support Jaydon Guthrie.”

  “Yes. The coven is broken into three cells. Therese only knows the identities of the witches in her cell, like Brandon Miller. She might not have
known why Miller wanted to discover if Isalynn LeFevre had contacted Grace, but she knows enough to have made some educated guesses.”

  Grace asked, “Which are?”

  Ismat looked at her. “The coven’s real target is Isalynn. Therese isn’t clear on what the coven leader plans to do, other than remove Isalynn from power.”

  Grace started to shake. She had lost count of how many times she had lost her temper in the last twenty-four hours, and whoopsie-daisy, it was starting to skip out on her again. “How does this involve us?”

  “The Oracle’s prophesies are too unpredictable, too dangerous. All it would take is the right question or the right prophecy for everything the coven is working toward to be uncovered.” Ismat’s smile had disappeared, replaced with an expression of dark sympathy. “Therese knows how to do some interesting things with sympathetic magic,” he said. “For example, if you made a poppet of a truck driver and timed things just right, you might be able to control his driving long enough on a rainy night to radically change his course.…”

  When Ismat said “truck driver” a formless roar filled Grace’s ears. She whispered, “Let go of her.”

  Ismat raised his hands immediately. The twin investigators formed on either side as he stepped back from Therese. Khalil moved behind Grace while Ebrahim joined the group. The two women stood in a circle made up of watchful, waiting Djinn.

  Grace’s heartbeat pounded in heavy, hard slugs. She gestured to her bad knee and said hoarsely, “You did this?”

  Therese’s Snow White beauty was gone. “You’re going to take their word for it? They’re so alien; they don’t even have bodies.”

  “Your bigotry is not my issue,” Grace said. “Did you do this?”

  “It’s not bigotry!” Therese said. She looked terrified and ashen, her lips bloodless. “All the Elder Races occupy positions of power and prestige. Their lives are filled with a sense of entitlement. They have more Power, more money, more influence in government, and they live so long they get deeper entrenched into everything they touch!”