Oracle's Moon (41 page)

I have to try
, said Ebrahim, who hung on grimly.
Because you can’t win in a fight against your father.

Soren. Khalil spun, sharpening his senses.

Isalynn’s backyard zoomed into focus where Soren and Grace stood facing each other. They were alone, Isalynn somewhere inside the house. Soren’s Powerful white blaze of a presence all but obliterated the image of his physical form. In contrast, Grace’s figure was slight and excruciatingly fragile. She looked tired and dirty, and she listed slightly as she leaned on her cane.

Soren glanced up and Grace did too, both clearly aware of Khalil’s presence.

“Young Oracle, you are playing a game you are much too young to play,” said Soren in a gentle voice.

“I wasn’t aware that I was playing a game,” Grace said.

“You cannot keep me from my son.” The gentler Soren sounded, the more dangerous he became. “And it is beyond foolish for you to try.”

“I know.” She tilted her untidy head. “Once the explosion occurred, I kept seeing you in visions, and I couldn’t get you out of my head. Every course of action we took. All those pathways to possible futures. They all led to you. I kept trying to think my way out of this. Then I realized I couldn’t.”

Khalil felt crazed. Soren was the head of the Elder tribunal and one of the strongest Djinn in the world. He could break Grace with a single flex of his Power, and if he deemed it necessary, he would do so without hesitation.

Let go of me now
, he hissed at Ebrahim.
Or I will tear you apart.

I have a message from Grace
, Ebrahim said.
She thought you might return quickly.

That was possibly the only thing the other Djinn could have said that would make Khalil pause. He snarled,
Speak fast.

She asked for us both to trust her, no matter what she said
, Ebrahim told him.
And she said when you came, you should call the Djinn now.

What was she doing?

Khalil did trust her. Her temper was too rash, and she said foolish things, and she had terrible impulse control, which he was going to talk to her about just as soon as they were alone again. But she was wise beyond her years, compassionate and strong too.

And when she loved, she loved with all of her fiery heart. That was a warm, giving place to be, surrounded by her love, the only place he wanted to be. When he realized it, all the chains and sense of restriction were gone.

All right
, he said.

Ebrahim let him go.

Khalil pulled connections as he dove to earth. He plunged to Grace and wrapped himself around her so tightly he was a dense, dark, protective veil that covered her from head to foot. As he surrounded her, he could feel her exhaustion and the determination that stiffened her spine.

I love you too
, he said to her. Joy pierced her, bright as the morning. It beamed out to him. He took it and doubled it back to her.

Ebrahim joined them, standing battle tense at their side. The other Djinn Khalil summoned began to appear until they filled the entire yard.

Soren took a long, thoughtful look around. Then he turned back to Khalil, ignoring Grace. Soren’s expression was pained. He said, “I heard your attachment to the human had grown too strong.”

“According to whom?” Khalil growled. “My attachment to Grace is nobody’s business but ours.”

“She will pass, Khalil,” said Soren. “They always pass. It’s inevitable, and it happens too quickly, and while that is a shame, we cannot grow to love them too much.”

“That is your definition. Those are your limits,” Khalil told him. “They are not mine.”

“Pay attention,” Grace said. She raised her voice. “All of you, pay attention. I am the last Oracle. There will not be another. The Power will not pass on to my niece or to some other female descendant when I die. However long or short my life might end up being, this is it. For the people in your Houses who are damaged, I am their one chance at healing. I am
your
one chance at healing, if you become too damaged to heal on your own. Do you understand? I can’t guarantee anybody’s healing—but I know you won’t get another shot when I’m gone.”

Ebrahim said, “The Oracle speaks the truth. She healed Khalil’s daughter Phaedra earlier today.”

A profound silence filled the yard. The gaze of every Djinn locked on her.

“Back to you,” Grace said to Soren. “I offer you a bargain.”

“Which is what?” Soren bit out the words.

“I will do everything in my Power to heal any Djinn who comes to me,” Grace said. “No reservations, no matter when, no matter what the issue, I will give to each person everything I possibly can.”

“What do you require in return?” asked Soren. He had frozen, a pillar of white ice.

“I want the life of your son,” said Grace. “I want Khalil, free and clear. I want him to live in whatever manner he may choose, whether that is with me or not. Whether he chooses to fall into flesh and live a mortal life, or not— Yes, I’ve seen that is a possibility. I’ve seen other possibilities too, because nothing in the future is fixed. You will not imprison him. You will not try to stop his choices in any way, because if you do, I will never help any of you.” She turned, looking at the surrounding Djinn. “Never. I swear that on my life.”

Everything in Khalil leaped at her words, but he never took his attention away from the real threat, his father. The rage on Soren’s face was blinding. “That isn’t a bargain, that’s blackmail.”

Khalil flattened farther around Grace, tightening his Power in case of a blow. She said, “Call it what you like.”

“You’re talking about his death!”

“I’m talking about protecting his right to choose whatever he wants.”

“We do not sacrifice our people!” Soren took a step toward her, his hands clenched.

Every other Djinn moved forward too, their attention locking on Soren. Ebrahim stepped in front of Grace and Khalil. It was an entirely brave thing to do and, if Soren chose to strike, entirely suicidal.

Khalil dared to loosen his hold on Grace enough to rise over Ebrahim’s head and face his father. “It appears that no one else agrees with you,” he said. “Enough of this. You will not hamper me in any way from doing what I want with my life. Strike the bargain.”

Soren met his gaze. “Khalil, don’t.”

“Strike it.”
He didn’t waver, despite the look in Soren’s eyes. Soren in pain was more dangerous than ever, but Khalil also knew that once Soren agreed to the bargain, the older Djinn would be honor bound to keep it. “And for the love of gods, keep peace between us.”

Soren looked around at his people, and his expression grew bitter. “Yes,” said Soren. Then he vanished.

Grace sagged. Quicker than thought, Khalil took form and snatched her close, and as he counted her precious breaths, he knew that every other Djinn would be doing so as well, watching and helping her in any way they could.

“You’ve just gained an entire race of bodyguards, nursemaids and babysitters,” he said in her hair.

She clutched him so tightly her arms shook. “Nobody babysits the children until they’ve read at least three child-rearing books.” She whispered, “Even though all the possible futures kept shifting, I kept seeing you in some kind of prison. I kept trying to figure out how to stop it from happening.”

She was trembling all over. He tilted her face up and kissed her gently, savoring her soft lips and the core of steel inside her and how she kissed him back.

“I am so proud of you,” he said from the back of his throat. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you never called me when Phaedra showed up, even after you promised. I am still pissed all to hell at you for that.”

“Hold on a sec,” she murmured. “I might need to gasp and bite my nails.”

“Gracie,” he said between his teeth.

She buried her face in his chest. “I know, you’re never going to let me forget it.”

“That’s right.” He cupped the back of her head and held her. “I have to ask. Are all the Oracle’s moons going to be like this?”

She pulled back and stared at him. She looked horrified. “Gods, I don’t know. They’d better not be.”

A
fter the confrontation with Soren, Khalil had lost his taste for the hunt. Not that it mattered. Once the coven had lost their ability to operate in secrecy, it became a bug hunt. Twelve bugs after Therese were apprehended, and the biggest cockroach was Brandon Miller. Jaydon Guthrie, for whom so many crimes had been committed, had known nothing of the attacks. By Monday evening, all the conspirators were in custody.

Khalil was glad, for Grace’s sake, that not all twelve of the people who had showed up for her work day had been involved in sabotaging her house. All but Olivia had been part of the Humanist Party, but only four on Saturday had been part of the secret coven. The other eight had just been unpleasant.

“Somehow that’s a bit easier to take, knowing that not everybody on Saturday had been there all day, conspiring to kill me and the kids,” Grace said to Khalil with a shudder.

“The ones who did are crazy,” Khalil said. “Just like pariahs.”

Once the conspiracy had been uncovered, all eight from the workday who were innocent, along with Jaydon Guthrie and many others, called or e-mailed to express their outrage and grief at what had happened and to apologize on behalf of the Humanist Party.

One of them was the babysitter, Janice. When Grace recognized the number on her new cell phone, she almost didn’t pick up, but then she decided otherwise and ended up talking with the older woman for fifteen minutes. “I have certain beliefs,” Janice said, her voice thick with emotion. “We all believe in something. But what that coven did was monstrous, and even though I knew nothing about it, it hurts my heart to think I had any connection at all with them.”

“I guess it’s hard to understand terrorism in any form,” Grace said. “We just have to learn how to move on now.”

Isalynn insisted Grace, and by extension Khalil, stay at her house for the foreseeable future. Security had swarmed Isalynn’s neighborhood, and her house was large and comfortable. Grace agreed, and that was the last decision either she or Khalil had to make Sunday evening. After an early supper, a hot shower and the comfort of soft, old clothes that one of the Djinn investigators brought, Grace couldn’t keep her eyes open. While Khalil joined her for the companionship, even he was tired enough to rest, drifting and thoughtless throughout the dark night.

Once the authorities confirmed that all twelve conspirators were in custody on Monday, the first thing Grace did was call Katherine. Even though nobody believed the children were still in danger, Katherine and John agreed to stay with them in Houston for the week, so that Grace and Khalil could deal with the aftermath of the house fire.

There were so many details to attend to. The house insurance. Grace also remembered what the ghost of the trucker had said about his accident insurance. An investigation into that was set in motion.

Khalil had called it—there was no lack of willing help on hand. A half-dozen Djinn were available at any given time. With a few determined Djinn pursuing the issue, they discovered that the trucker had not let his insurance lapse, as the insurance company had at first claimed. Instead, the company had made a mistake in processing his payment. Turned out, the insurance company owed his widow and Grace a settlement. It wouldn’t be a fortune, but it would be a substantial addition to Grace’s growing resources.

In the meantime, while Chloe and Max were in Houston, Khalil arranged for a leave of absence from his duties, and he and Grace tackled the job of sorting out what might be salvageable from the house. They saved some family mementos, photographs, all the historical papers and journals from previous Oracles that were stored in trunks in the attic, the files and computer, some of the children’s clothes and toys and the summer clothes Grace had stored in the office.

She chose to keep the rocking chair the children had been rocked in, even though it had been damaged. She wanted to try to repair it, because her grandmother had rocked her and Petra in it as well. Khalil wanted to keep the old leather armchair he sat in to read to the children. It was one of the few physical things he had ever grown attached to. There was nothing else worth salvaging. The structure itself would take an extensive effort to repair, more effort and resources than the house was worth.

On Wednesday afternoon, they sat for a while on the porch, listened to the wind in the trees, and Grace reminisced. Khalil asked her questions, fascinated by the intimate glimpse into her past. He held her as she wiped her face.

“It’s kind of a relief,” she said. “I feel so guilty about that. And it hurts too.”

He could understand it, at least more than he would have been able to before he had met her. This house was where he had stood, looked out the screen door and first felt that magical, precious something.

“You’re losing another huge piece of your past,” he said.

Grace nodded. “And I don’t have to fix the roof,” she said.

He laughed. She put her hands over her face and laughed with him and cried at the same time.