[Elder Races 04] - Oracle's Moon

by Thea Harrison

  When he had caught Therese digging through the papers on Grace’s desk, Max and Chloe had been in the living room. Max had been chewing on a stuffed animal while he watched Chloe pull toys out of her toy box. Khalil had felt a rage so deep at Therese, the only reason why she remained unharmed was because the children had been present.

  Friend.

  Over the last day, Khalil had been busy with his own life. He hadn’t accomplished everything he wanted to do. He still wanted to discuss Grace’s vision with one of the first generation Djinn of his House. He was too disturbed to dismiss the experience. Even if the vision had been Cuelebre’s, Khalil had heard the voice too. “Global,” Grace had said. And “elemental.” Perhaps the Oracle needed to distance herself from the visions that came for other people, but he did not.

  Other matters interfered with his goals. He ended up talking through the night with certain members of his House about an issue that had arisen with House Shaytan. House Marid had convened this morning to decide how they would, as a collective, respond to certain actions made by Shaytan members. When the folk of the air gathered en masse, they did so over oceans or deserts, because their energies swirled like gigantic tornadoes and endangered those who were bound to flesh.

  He had been bored by House Shaytan’s actions and had found the discussions and arguments made by his own House just as dry and uninteresting. Why must everything always be balanced, down to the most precise equation? Grace was right; they had become a pedantic lot. Perhaps House Shaytan had meant to cause offense, and offense had certainly been taken, but nobody had actually been attacked or injured.

  When it came his time to speak, he urged his House to ignore the whole idiotic thing and get back to the business of living their lives. The other Djinn were startled and disturbed. Grudgingly, one or two admitted that the issue might not be as urgent as had been first believed. Then a few others agreed, and eventually the whole assembly had disintegrated into disgruntled mutterings.

  The entire process had been a colossal waste of time, and that was not a phrase an immortal being, who had all the time in the world, bothered to use that often.

  After that, because the Djinn were part of the greater Demonkind collective, Khalil traveled to the Demonkind demesne offices in Houston.

  Demonkind were like the Nightkind in one regard; they were the only two Elder demesnes in the United States that contained a variety of creatures, for the Wyr, despite their immense variety, were all essentially two-natured beings.

  However, for the Nightkind, Vampyres had long since become the dominant race, and their demesne was ruled by a Vampyre monarch.

  The Demonkind demesne was unique among the U.S. demesnes. Like the human U.S. government, and also like the Djinn, the Demonkind demesne was the only one that governed by consensus, through representatives of each Demonkind race: the Djinn, devils, the medusae, ogres, monsters (those creatures who did not develop a Wyr form, such as the Sphinx) and, unfortunately, the Goblins.

  Everyone considered the Goblins unfortunate.

  Djinn elders from the five Houses took turns acting as representatives in the Demonkind legislature. Khalil was currently serving his two-year term. It was not an especially onerous task, although it was time consuming. When he reached his own offices in Houston, he assumed his physical form to spend the afternoon reading through papers and answering e-mails.

  At midafternoon, he took a break. On impulse he Googled “Grace Andreas” and “Oracle.” He discovered the Oracle’s website and read all the information posted there. The history of the Oracle was long and rich, even by Djinn standards.

  Friend.

  His world was vast and intricate, and built on associations upon associations. His House. The Djinn. The different creatures of the Demonkind. The Demonkind demesne’s various alliances and antagonisms with humankind and the other demesnes. Favors granted and favors owed.

  In all of his associations, Khalil thought, very few would call him friend.

  How had Grace known to align her energy with his yesterday? Her surprise seemed to indicate she had done so by accident. He had dismissed her so cavalierly at first. He was shocked at how much there was to discover about her. He thought of how she had felt, her psychic presence resting against his, feminine and complex, with layers of Power, both old and young. It had been delicious, exotic, surprising and enticing. Sexual.

  Remembering it, he held himself under tight control.

  Pleasant supper smells wafted through the shabby, comfortable house. Chloe grew restless and wriggled out of his lap to run to the kitchen. She announced, “I’m hungry!”

  “Hello, Hungry, I’m Grace,” said Grace. “Nice to meet you.”

  Chloe giggled, and Khalil smiled. He rested his cheek on the top of Max’s head. The boy had a strong, light energy and a kernel of Power that was like a rosebud waiting for the right season to unfurl. His wispy tuft of hair smelled like clean baby. Khalil approved of this little man. Very much so.

  Grace said behind him, “Dinner’s ready.”

  He nodded, set the children’s books aside and carried Max into the kitchen.

  The room was complicated. He paused to take it all in. The table was set simply with three place settings. Each plate had a few slices of apple. There was a fragrant central dish that, if Khalil didn’t miss his guess, looked like broccoli, rice and cheese. Chloe’s place had a small glass of milk. The other two plates had glasses filled with ice and a brown, clear liquid. A bowl had been set on the table in front of Max’s high chair. It was filled with different colors of goop. Khalil had no idea what was in that bowl; he assumed it must be food.

  Khalil turned his attention to Grace. Her red-gold hair was disheveled, and her cheeks were touched with a healthy faint blush, a far better color than her chalky complexion of the last couple of days. He guessed her earlier paleness had stemmed from exhaustion. The shadows on her face had eased as well. She was barefoot and wore a yellow tank top, along with short, dark green pants that just covered her scarred knees. The pants emphasized her slender ankles and arched, graceful feet. She was not wearing the knee brace, so her leg must not be not causing her as much discomfort. He was glad to see that.

  Really, she was well formed all over, with high, small breasts, a long, narrow waist and a flat stomach that flared gently into rounded hips. All in all, her physical form was entirely pleasing to gaze upon.

  He remembered how shapely her lean, muscled legs had been, except for the livid red scars. He was suddenly angry on her behalf. The physical damage from the accident might be permanent, but it had been wholly avoidable, if only she’d had access to Powerful medical care. Now she would have to suffer some kind of limitation, if not outright discomfort or pain, for the rest of her brief life.

  Then he remembered another thing. She had said, I didn’t have health insurance or the money to pay for that kind of treatment. He looked around with a new perspective, noting the signs of age and wear in the furnishings. He remembered the page on the Oracle’s website that explained donations. It even had a PayPal button. Why did Grace not have enough money?

  He had visited often enough now to realize that, while at times the house might be cluttered with the business of dealing with small, active children and daily life, underneath the clutter, it was clean.

  His scrutiny must have grown too prolonged, because her pretty, fine-boned face grew self-conscious. She gestured awkwardly at the table. “I know you said you don’t need physical refreshment,” she said. “But you seemed to enjoy nibbling at things and drinking coffee yesterday at breakfast, so I set a place for you.”

  She was not only poor, she was generous. He smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said.

  Her gaze widened.

  He murmured, “Maybe that phrase isn’t quite so bad after all, as long as it isn’t overused, as some people are wont to do.”

  “I can’t believe I just heard someone use wont in a sentence with a straight face,” she murmured back.

&nbs
p; He laughed. “Will you show me how to fasten Max into his seat?”

  Her vivid eyes sparkling, she did just that. He slipped the baby into place and secured the fastening. Chloe had clambered into her seat. She was already eating a slice of apple. Grace gave the girl a strange look. However, she said nothing. Instead she picked up the serving spoon and served Chloe first. She offered a spoonful to Khalil, who nodded. He was curious to taste what they would be eating. Grace served herself last. She sat in her chair by Max and began to feed him bites of the colorful goop.

  Khalil tasted his own small serving of supper. He was correct. It was creamy cheese, broccoli and rice, simple and actually quite tasty. He took another bite and said telepathically to Grace, I did not understand the expression on your face just now as you looked at Chloe.

  She glanced at him, eyes dancing. Little Miss is on her very best behavior. You should feel flattered. She’s even eating her apple slices. Holy moly, she just took a bite of broccoli. Pay no attention to me while I faint.

  He chuckled and looked at Chloe. The little girl sat very straight. She chewed vigorously with a beatific smile. He said to her, “I like libraries too.”

  That opened a floodgate. Chloe didn’t stop talking. He learned about story time, and somebody named Katherine, and also other people named Joey and Rachel, and something strange he really didn’t understand, because it was a person and yet not, and it seemed to have adventures in a castle in the living room.

  There was no castle in the living room. This had to be a product of her imagination. The odd person/not-person was a Lalaloopsy—

  Grace interrupted. “Wait, your doll is called a Lalaloopsy?”

  “Uh-huh,” Chloe said.

  Grace muttered, “I thought it was Lala Whoopsie.”

  Well, that explained that. Sort of.

  And Chloe took off again. She very much needed and wanted a big bed now, and waiting was terribly hard even for big people, and would Khalil read…she meant, would he help her read another book after supper?

  “Yes,” he said. He exchanged an amused glance with Grace as Chloe bounced in her seat with excitement.

  He honored the gift of the apple slices on his plate by eating them. They were crisp, crunchy and tart. Then he drank the brown liquid. He discovered that it was iced tea, refreshing and cold. Max dribbled goop out of his mouth and giggled. Every once in a while, Grace looked at Khalil. She did so surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye, as if she didn’t want to be caught showing any kind of interest.

  Each glance reminded him of how entertaining it had been to flirt with her, tease her and indulge his sense of mischief. He could sense feathery, delicate touches as she reached out psychically to touch his presence. She always withdrew again almost immediately. She didn’t appear to realize that he could sense every time she did it, and she couldn’t possibly know how erotic that was. It was as if she trailed her fingers very lightly along his bare skin. Aroused, he clenched down hard on himself, and his self-control turned fierce.

  And he loved all of it.

  Somehow the evening slipped away. He was not quite sure how it happened. At one point he looked down to discover his small serving of supper had disappeared from his plate. Max accidentally knocked over his bowl of food. The expression of openmouthed surprise on the baby’s face was so comical, the rest of them burst out laughing. Grace cleaned up the mess. There wasn’t much to clean up, since Max had been close to the end of his meal anyway.

  Then supper dishes were washed, children bathed, the toys picked up. Chloe did not forget about her story. Khalil settled back in the armchair to read to her about an irritable boy who had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Khalil quite liked that boy. He was sorry when the story ended. Grace stretched out on the couch, and Max lay on top of her, kicking a foot lazily in the air as he sucked his thumb and his eyelids drooped.

  Through the open windows and screen door, the evening shadows grew long, while the sunlight turned a heavy gold and the green of the foliage darkened. Khalil could hear traffic sounds, but they were distant and muted. The place was rich with tranquility. He was bewildered at the intense surge of his response. He had already promised his protection a couple of times, first to the children and then to Grace.

  Now he actually felt the need to protect them. Whatever quality this quiet, shabby place held, it was more precious than the treasure of kings. He said to Grace, his telepathic voice edged, You will call me whenever you need someone to look after the children, do you understand?

  Grace stirred. She had been looking relaxed and sleepy, but now she stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. I can’t expect you to be available every time I might need a babysitter.

  He set his teeth. I want you to burn that roster.

  I can’t. She sighed. But I need to go over the list again. I think I should ask for references too. I just thought everybody who was on the roster would be all right.

  Her relaxed, sleepy expression had vanished, and she looked troubled again. He said, more gently, Checking references will take time. In the meantime, I will be careful. I will not do anything with the children you would not wish. And I want you to call me. Please.

  Her expression softened, and there it was, luminous on her skin, that quality more precious than the treasure of kings. She nodded to him then said aloud, “Bedtime.”

  Chloe said, “No.”

  “Baby girl, you must,” Grace said, with the kind of tiredness that seemed to indicate there had been many repetitions of the same conversation. “If you don’t go to bed, tomorrow can’t happen.”

  Chloe clutched the library book. “We have to keep reading. We can’t stop.” She sounded close to tears.

  Maybe the child didn’t want to let go of this precious thing either, Khalil thought. Chloe had already suffered more loss than many children would ever know. He patted her delicate back. “May I come back to help you read another time?”

  Chloe turned to look at him. Her wide gaze searched his face. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

  Khalil looked at Grace over the girl’s head. Grace had eased upright carefully, so as not to jostle Max, who was almost asleep. Grace met his gaze easily enough, but her expression was guarded, and her energy withdrawn. In that moment, he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, or if she welcomed the idea of his returning so soon or becoming so actively involved in their lives.

  But she had made a bargain. His face hardened. It was of no importance how she felt about the bargain after the fact. Now she must live with it.

  He turned his attention back to Chloe and told her, “I will come tomorrow.”

  With a sudden lurch forward, Chloe flung her arms around his neck. She hugged him so tightly, he could feel her small body straining. He put his arms around her and carefully, carefully hugged her back. First it started as a reassurance for Chloe. Then it turned into something else, something about him, and it was good but it also hurt. He let the little girl go then discovered Grace standing by the armchair, Max in her arms. She was watching him and Chloe, her brows drawn.

  He heard himself whisper, “I miss my daughter.”

  Grace gripped his shoulder hard, her gaze filling with such pained compassion, he had to look away as Chloe slipped off his lap. Grace said, “I’ll be just a minute.”

  He gestured with a hand. It was of no consequence to him whether she was just a minute or many minutes.

  She hesitated then left with Chloe and Max. He stood to walk over to the doorway and look out at the deepening evening. A family of raccoons waddled placidly across the lawn.

  There was no reason for him to stay any longer. He had accomplished what he had meant to do and visited with the children. He would go.

  He didn’t go.

  He held himself tensely, trying to soak up that precious something, that invisible treasure. Grace finished saying good night to the children. He listened to her light, uneven footsteps as she approached. He didn’t turn around.

&nb
sp; She stopped just behind him. He knew she was going to reach out. He sensed her hand hovering in the air at his back.

  Before she could touch him, he turned and gave her a silken smile. “Why don’t we play another round of the truth game?”

  She froze, startled, her hand suspended. Wariness crept into her eyes, and the softness in her expression firmed. “Why?”

  He moved away from her and prowled around the room. “Why not?”

  She turned to track his movements. “That’s not an answer.”

  Her energy had roused. She was bristling. Good. Bristling was good. He picked up one of her textbooks, read the spine and set it aside. He picked up another. “I don’t owe you an answer. We haven’t started another round yet.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Screw your game and your rounds and your forfeit. Just talk already, like a rational creature. If you have something to say, say it.”

  “Fine.” He slammed the second book down and turned on her. “Why did you call me your friend?”

  Silence pulsed between them. He watched her so closely, he saw her blink several times. Her face worked. Pain or laughter or a little of both; he wasn’t sure. Definitely a flash of anger. She said, “Because right now you’re the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got.”

  “Katherine,” he said.

  “She’s very caring. I don’t know what I would do without her. She loves the children, and she misses my sister almost as much as I do, but she was Petra’s friend. She’s not really my friend. She and I don’t really talk or share confidences.” Grace shrugged and looked out the window. Her eyes glittered. “I know,” she said, very low and bitter. “You’re not really my friend either. We have a bargain.”

  He dissolved and reformed in front of her. She flinched back as he took her by the shoulders. He wanted to shake her for her naiveté. He wanted to shout at her for her foolish compassion and generosity. He wanted to rage through the house and across the land, and tear down this precious invisible thing he didn’t understand. He wanted to dislike her again and fight with her and—