Oracle's Moon er-4

by Thea Harrison

  Taking on a physical form took effort and Power. The more real the form that Djinn took on, the more it cost them. To create a fully human form, with the most complicated thing of all, a brain, was an irreversible act. The Djinn called it “falling into flesh.” There were between stages of formation that were reversible, but most Djinn only bothered with forming a facade.

  If he created a more complete form, with real skin, he could discover what she felt like when he licked her lips. He could truly know why that sensation shivered through her energy and Power, and heightened her arousal to a fever pitch. The effort would be tiring and cost him more Power, but as long as he did not fall completely into human flesh, he could discard the form whenever he chose.

  And then he would know.

  He returned to Earth with a more settled frame of mind and went through the rest of his day.

  Now as he knelt in front of Grace, he tried to initiate a controlled, rational, balanced exchange, but she denied all of it. She denied him. Worse, she ordered him to leave.

  He usually liked when she dictated, but he didn’t like that. He glared at her angry face. Those plush, soft lips of hers were folded into a tight line. She sat bolt upright with her arms wrapped around her middle. She pressed her legs together and turned them to the side. None of that looked promising, controlled or rational. It certainly didn’t look balanced.

  He frowned and studied her more closely. She didn’t just look angry. She looked hurt and resentful, but he would be damned if he would leave just because she ordered him to go. He gritted his teeth. “I kissed you last night when I was angry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Surprise changed her expression and posture. Her arms loosened, and her tight lips unfolded. “Are you apologizing?”

  He considered. The tricky thing was, he wasn’t sorry for the kiss. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know.”

  She watched him. A shrewd spark had entered her eyes. “You were more than just angry.”

  His own gaze narrowed. He did not reply.

  She began to enunciate, as if she were speaking to an idiot. “Here’s what you should apologize for: you left last night without saying a word. And you arrived this evening without a word of greeting to me. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

  “I looked at you,” he muttered. He couldn’t stop looking at her, in between reading the pages of Chloe’s book. Grace moved with athletic grace, despite her leg. That was when he had noticed that her limp had become pronounced again.

  Her flow of words hiccupped only for a moment. “You were rude. You tell me I can’t take back calling you my friend. Well, let me tell you something, Khalil. Friends don’t treat each other that way.”

  He felt as if she had punched him between the eyes. Not because she had told him off—she had been lecturing him since they first laid eyes on each other. He tried to think back. He was almost certain that this was the first time she had ever said his name. That changed something, somehow. It was…more intimate.

  “Grace,” he said, experimenting. She had a lovely name. He watched her face change and grow uncertain; she must have felt it too. “I have had much to think about. I am sorry for leaving so abruptly and for coming back so—” Conflicted. Convoluted. Contrary. He finished, “Complicated. And I don’t want to be friends.”

  She flinched, and said sarcastically, “Oh, so I can’t take that back, but you can?”

  “I don’t want to take it back,” he said, putting emphasis on the last word. “I want to change it.”

  She froze again. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night you kissed me too,” he pointed out. His eyelids lowered. “I want you to kiss me again.”

  She sucked in a breath. Color flared into her cheeks. “What? W-why?”

  He cocked his head. “Why do you think? I want to know if you would like to kiss me again. Am I too strange for you to enjoy?”

  The color in her cheeks deepened. She looked perplexed, flustered, all of her vivid colors bright, from the azure-jade honey of her eyes, to her strawberry blonde hair, and that dark red flush that highlighted her cheeks so beautifully. Then her gaze fell. She said in a strangled whisper, “I loved kissing you. Couldn’t you tell?”

  He smiled, surprised by the pleasure her honesty had brought him. “I was busy at the time. I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.”

  “I don’t know about kissing you again, though.”

  That jolted him. He didn’t like it. He came up on both knees and grasped the seat of her chair, on either side of her slender legs, and came nose to nose with her. He said, “Explain.”

  She looked at him directly. When she spoke, she did so with evident difficulty, and there was no denying the truth in her words. “Times are hard for me right now. I have things I’ve got to do. I don’t know how I’m going to get some of them done, and the kids must always come first. If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I…Khalil, you’ve said you’re sorry, and I accept your apology, but you hurt my feelings, and it made my day harder. I just don’t think I should get tangled up in something that does that to me. It’s not fair to the kids. Poking at you and indulging in the truth game for a little while was about as much foolishness as I dare to indulge. I’ve been too impetuous lately about a lot of things, and I need to be more careful. I think friendship is all I can offer you.”

  He had to give her credit. She very clearly drew a line he had not foreseen, and it was a sensible, responsible one. He should be relieved. Maybe he should be offended. He was certainly chagrined. He had spent all that time today considering whether or not he would take her as a lover. It had never occurred to him to spend any time considering whether or not she would take him. So, he should go.

  He didn’t go.

  Instead he took her hands in his. They were so much smaller than his, fine boned, the fingers slightly reddened from her hard work. Gravely, he raised them up to kiss them, first one hand then the other. “I will not make things harder for you. I said I would protect you and the children, and I will, in this way too.”

  She nodded. Was that resignation or disappointment that flashed in her eyes?

  Then he leaned forward and kissed her mouth. This time he did so lightly, and just as they had last night, her pretty lips fell open in surprise. He caressed them with his, enjoying their soft, plush terrain. He pulled back and said to her firmly, “I have heard you, and I respect your reasons, but you should not say no. I have apologized and you have accepted it. That means we should put that behind us and look to the future.”

  She looked down at their hands. Her expression twisted with uncertainty.

  He said firmly, “Grace.” Her gaze flashed back up to his. He cupped her cheek and told her, “I am busy tomorrow. But I will come on Friday to read to the children. And you should say ‘we’ll see.’”

  “You should not tell me what to say,” she said, scolding.

  He stroked his thumb over her lips as he raised his eyebrows. “And?”

  For a moment she looked undecided. He braced himself for another argument. Then a reluctant smile broke over her face, and her dimples appeared again. “All right. We’ll see.”

  10

  Grace was busier than ever on Thursday and Friday. Aside from the usual activity involved in daily caretaking for Chloe and Max, getting ready for a group work day involved as much work as the work day itself did.

  The morning after her talk with Khalil, she woke up before the kids did, with a course of action already settled in her mind. The ninety-day grace period for a new Oracle was a custom, not a law of physics or magic, or some kind of sacred covenant with a god. It wasn’t even a bargain, and like calling up the Power in the daylight, Grace couldn’t think of a single reason why she couldn’t change it.

  Isalynn LeFevre, acting in her capacity as Head of the witches, had been the one to order the babysitting roster staffed by volunteer witches. A tall, striking, African American with an ageless beauty, Isalynn looked like she could have b
een thirty, but Grace guessed she was closer to her midfifties, for she was not only one of Kentucky’s longest-serving, most popular senators, she had also been Head of the witches’ demesne for over twelve years.

  “After all,” Isalynn had said to Grace at Petra and Niko’s memorial service, “the Oracle is not only one of our demesne’s resources and strengths, but it is our heritage too, and it is our responsibility to support you.”

  Before Grace had time to rethink things and back out of her decision, early on Thursday morning, before the children got up, she sent an e-mail to Isalynn LeFevre’s office.

  Dear Senator LeFevre,

  Due to unforeseen complications, I will be unable to take petitions as the Oracle for at least another month, and I ask that you put out a public notice to this effect. I will also post a sign at the end of my driveway. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause to petitioners.

  Also, while I am grateful for the roster your office put together, I will require babysitting references from each person on the list before resuming my duties.

  Thank you for your continued support.

  Best regards,

  Grace Andreas

  She sat in a clench for several minutes afterward, her awareness locked on the Power that rested so deeply inside. If she was wrong, it might still abandon her and go to Chloe. I claim you, and I will hold on to you, she said, as she called it up. You will stay with me. You’re mine.

  As it had before, the dark sea welled up readily at her command, still immense, still dangerous, but no longer bucking against her control.

  Okay. She relaxed slowly, and the Power settled back into place again. Another hurdle accomplished. She turned her attention to the children and breakfast.

  She had expected an e-mail reply from one of LeFevre’s aides, but when the phone rang at twenty after eight, the caller turned out to be Isalynn herself. “Hello, Grace.” The senator had a strong, warm, confident voice. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “Good morning, ma’am,” Grace said. The Head of the witches’ demesne did not have any other honorific. “Or should I say Senator?”

  “Please call me Isalynn,” said the senator. “I was concerned when I read your e-mail. How are you and the children doing?”

  Grace took a deep breath. She had no idea how she was supposed to answer. She said, cautiously, “It’s been challenging.”

  “I can imagine,” said Isalynn. “You have had a lot on your plate. My office will put out a public notice for you later today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, is there a problem with the roster? It was my understanding that all the names you were given had already been cleared.”

  “Yes, there has been a problem,” Grace told her bluntly. “The last babysitter looked through my papers and got on my computer without my permission. Maybe there’s some kind of innocent explanation for that, but I’m not comfortable with what happened, and I don’t want her back in my house. Without any better information, I also don’t feel good about calling anybody else right now.”

  “I see,” said Isalynn. The warmth in her voice dropped to an icy, clipped anger. “What an unfortunate thing to have happen. I apologize, Grace, and I promise you, I will look into this issue personally. Who was it that behaved so inappropriately?”

  I am a vindictive bitch, Grace thought, and I’m going to hell for enjoying this. “Therese Stannard.”

  “Thank you,” said the senator. “I will follow up with you soon. Is this why you feel unable to take petitions?”

  “It’s one of the main reasons,” Grace confessed. “I’ve also experienced some shifts in the Oracle’s Power itself. I think I’d better take some more time to work with it before I expose other people to it.”

  “Shifts in Power,” Isalynn said slowly. “Interesting. Did you know that I’ve consulted with the Oracle several times through the years? I petitioned your grandmother when I first thought of running for senator, and then again when I became Head of the witches’ demesne. I also petitioned your sister when she became Oracle five years ago.”

  “I had no idea,” Grace said. Max had climbed to his feet while holding on to her leg, and she ran her fingers gently through the soft tuft of baby-fine hair at the top of his head. “But then you know we’re supposed to keep petitions confidential.”

  “Yes.” The anger in Isalynn’s voice had been replaced with warmth again. “Your sister had quite a different voice from your grandmother. I think each Oracle acts as a different lens for the Power. You will bring your own strengths and abilities to the experience.”

  “Seems like it, anyway,” she muttered, scratching the back of her head. Grace hadn’t interacted much with Isalynn. Not only was Isalynn much older, but she was a true Power broker on the world stage, and they didn’t move in the same social circles. But Grace really liked her.

  “I intend to petition you too, as soon as you are able,” Isalynn said. “In fact, since your three months were up, I was going to petition you next week.”

  “I see,” she said, biting her lip. What if she didn’t take any more petitions? What if she could quit and still hold on to the Power? What would she do with her life then? She had the impulse to confide in the other woman but held back for now. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize,” Isalynn told her. “Just keep in touch and let me know when you’re ready for consultations again. Since you’ve had Power shifts, it might be good for your next consultation to be with an experienced witch, anyway. I can provide that for you or get someone else to do it, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said, startled at the thought. “I think that might be a really good idea.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll look into the issue with the roster and get back to you.”

  Grace hung up thoughtfully after the call ended. She and Max looked at each other. She said to him, “That conversation didn’t suck.”

  “Fffft,” he said.

  “I agree,” she told the baby as she picked him up. “You are a wise young man.”

  He put his head on her shoulder and patted her.

  Later that morning, she finally turned her attention to washing a load of her own clothes, which was when she rediscovered the envelope in her pocket from Don and Margie. With Khalil’s arrival and her unexpected clash with Therese, she had forgotten all about it. When she opened the envelope, she found five twenty dollar bills inside. She bit her lip as she considered the cash. Whatever else happened, whether she continued to act as the Oracle or stopped altogether, she would have to honor her promise to them.

  That afternoon, she had another surprise phone call. The kids were down for their nap when the phone rang. She lunged to answer before it could wake them up. It was Jaydon Guthrie. He wanted to discuss the details for the Saturday work day. She had met Jaydon a few times, although she did not move in the same social circle as the Guthries either. Both Jaydon and his wife—Melinda or Melissa—had at-tended Petra and Niko’s memorial service, along with virtually all the dignitaries in the witches’ demesne and many from the other Elder demesnes as well. Most of what she knew about Jaydon, she had learned from Petra, who’d had more of an acquaintance with him through attending de-mesne functions. (Grace really wasn’t looking forward to those. She wore cutoffs, not cocktail suits or dresses.)

  A tall, dark-haired, lean man in his late thirties or early forties, Jaydon was a criminal prosecution lawyer, with an inherited multimillion-dollar house in affluent Mockingbird Valley and a model-gorgeous blonde wife. He was also head of one of the oldest, most established covens in the demesne. He had run a few times unsuccessfully against Isalynn LeFevre for Head of the witches’ demesne, but Isalynn proved to be an impossible candidate to beat.

  Jaydon came from a moneyed family and was Harvard educated, while Isalynn attended the University of Kentucky College of Law. A Powerful witch in her own right, Isalynn had learned her craft growing up in a poor small town in southern Kentu
cky. She had a strong grassroots appeal coupled with a sophisticated legal mind, and she balanced all the layers of her dual legislative roles with seeming effortlessness.

  The last rumors Grace had heard from Petra were that Jaydon had given up for the time being on trying to beat Isalynn in the witches’ demesne elections, and he might be running for District Attorney in Jefferson County during the next election, while Isalynn’s supporters were urging her to consider the next gubernatorial race.

  A few weeks after Isalynn had set up the babysitting roster for Grace, Jaydon initiated the quarterly work-day volunteer effort on her behalf. When Grace heard of it, she first thought Jaydon’s long-standing rivalry with Isalynn was still going strong. Then she felt embarrassed, because it seemed mean-spirited of her, especially when both plans were meant for her benefit. And the Guthries were well-known for championing community service. Jaydon’s wife worked actively to fund-raise for the local Humane Society and sat on the Board of Trustees for the Jefferson County Library System.

  Still, Grace hadn’t expected to hear from Jaydon personally. He confirmed that eighteen witches from several covens had signed up for Saturday. A full coven had thirteen members, so like Isalynn’s babysitting roster, Jaydon had achieved cross-coven support. Eighteen people would be a great turnout for a volunteer work day.

  “I’m sorry Melissa and I will not be able to make it,” he said. “We have another function we need to attend, a fund-raising luncheon for the library that Melissa’s been working on. She has three guest authors flying in for readings and book signings. I’m afraid she volunteered us to act as hosts for the authors before consulting me.”

  A little taken aback, Grace said, “I understand.” She didn’t understand, not really. Neither Jaydon nor his wife had attended the first work day either, and Grace frankly hadn’t expected them. Mowing, whacking weeds, moving furniture and repairing fences didn’t exactly sound like their schtick. “Thank you anyway.”