Oracle's Moon
Page 16
Forcing her muscles to unknot, she moved quietly through the living room into the office.
As she studied the room, she tried to remember exactly how everything had been. The stack of papers on her desk was a hodgepodge collection of bills, photocopies of journal articles for her unfinished school projects and various drafts of her resume. The papers seemed slightly disarranged—or was that only because she knew Therese had gone through them?
She rubbed the back of her neck. The truth was, her desk wasn’t all that neat, and she would never have noticed anything if Khalil hadn’t caught Therese. Her computer was on, and she distinctly remembered turning it off earlier. But again, if Khalil hadn’t said anything, she would have shrugged it off, thinking perhaps Therese had wanted to check her e-mail.
Maybe none of it meant anything. Maybe Therese had checked her e-mail. Maybe she had dug through the papers because she had been looking for a pen and a blank piece of paper.
She had been awfully outraged at Khalil’s unexpected appearance.
Was that really bigotry, or was it anger that she had been caught?
Caught doing what, exactly?
Grace and Therese weren’t friends, merely acquaintances. Therese belonged to one of the local covens, and Grace had met her a time or two—enough not to question having her on the babysitting roster or think twice about leaving her alone with the children. But Grace still felt angry and unsettled, betrayed and hurt.
And she wasn’t even sure if she should.
Except for Therese’s callousness. As far as Grace was concerned, even if the other woman had reacted out of anger, what she had said and how she had said it were unforgiveable. Grace went back into the living room, to the bookcase where she kept her purse. She looked through the contents. Car keys, identification, checkbook, a packet of gum, one of Max’s pacifiers. She had the same amount of cash in her wallet that she’d had earlier, sixteen dollars and fifty-three cents. As far as she could tell, Therese hadn’t taken anything.
Grace turned and studied the living room, her hands on her hips. It was the same as her office area, untidy and lived in.
Khalil glanced at her again from under his brows. He asked, Are any of your possessions missing?
His expression promised trouble for Therese if there were. Grace shook her head, her mouth a tight, unhappy line.
I do not care for this babysitting roster if other people like Therese are on it, he said.
I don’t either, she told him. I really don’t.
If she couldn’t rely on the people on the roster, what the hell was she going to do now? She rubbed the back of her neck and added it to the growing list of shit she needed to think about.
And thinking wasn’t going to make the kids supper. She walked toward the kitchen.
As she passed the armchair, she asked, “Will you stay for supper?”
The smooth flow of words in Khalil’s low, pure voice halted.
He said, “Very well.”
…
Friend, Grace had called him.
Khalil resumed reading to the little ones, while he mulled over the word. The baby sucked his thumb and leaned back so he could look up at Khalil’s face. Chloe rested light as a pixie against Khalil’s other side and fingered the edges of the page as she listened to him. Her blonde hair floated like dandelion fluff around her head. His daughter, Phaedra, had not been, even at her youngest, as fragile as these two humans were. These baby birds were warm, soft, openhearted and open-minded. So trusting.
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 br**sts, 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.
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.
As she studied the room, she tried to remember exactly how everything had been. The stack of papers on her desk was a hodgepodge collection of bills, photocopies of journal articles for her unfinished school projects and various drafts of her resume. The papers seemed slightly disarranged—or was that only because she knew Therese had gone through them?
She rubbed the back of her neck. The truth was, her desk wasn’t all that neat, and she would never have noticed anything if Khalil hadn’t caught Therese. Her computer was on, and she distinctly remembered turning it off earlier. But again, if Khalil hadn’t said anything, she would have shrugged it off, thinking perhaps Therese had wanted to check her e-mail.
Maybe none of it meant anything. Maybe Therese had checked her e-mail. Maybe she had dug through the papers because she had been looking for a pen and a blank piece of paper.
She had been awfully outraged at Khalil’s unexpected appearance.
Was that really bigotry, or was it anger that she had been caught?
Caught doing what, exactly?
Grace and Therese weren’t friends, merely acquaintances. Therese belonged to one of the local covens, and Grace had met her a time or two—enough not to question having her on the babysitting roster or think twice about leaving her alone with the children. But Grace still felt angry and unsettled, betrayed and hurt.
And she wasn’t even sure if she should.
Except for Therese’s callousness. As far as Grace was concerned, even if the other woman had reacted out of anger, what she had said and how she had said it were unforgiveable. Grace went back into the living room, to the bookcase where she kept her purse. She looked through the contents. Car keys, identification, checkbook, a packet of gum, one of Max’s pacifiers. She had the same amount of cash in her wallet that she’d had earlier, sixteen dollars and fifty-three cents. As far as she could tell, Therese hadn’t taken anything.
Grace turned and studied the living room, her hands on her hips. It was the same as her office area, untidy and lived in.
Khalil glanced at her again from under his brows. He asked, Are any of your possessions missing?
His expression promised trouble for Therese if there were. Grace shook her head, her mouth a tight, unhappy line.
I do not care for this babysitting roster if other people like Therese are on it, he said.
I don’t either, she told him. I really don’t.
If she couldn’t rely on the people on the roster, what the hell was she going to do now? She rubbed the back of her neck and added it to the growing list of shit she needed to think about.
And thinking wasn’t going to make the kids supper. She walked toward the kitchen.
As she passed the armchair, she asked, “Will you stay for supper?”
The smooth flow of words in Khalil’s low, pure voice halted.
He said, “Very well.”
…
Friend, Grace had called him.
Khalil resumed reading to the little ones, while he mulled over the word. The baby sucked his thumb and leaned back so he could look up at Khalil’s face. Chloe rested light as a pixie against Khalil’s other side and fingered the edges of the page as she listened to him. Her blonde hair floated like dandelion fluff around her head. His daughter, Phaedra, had not been, even at her youngest, as fragile as these two humans were. These baby birds were warm, soft, openhearted and open-minded. So trusting.
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 br**sts, 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.
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.
