Oracle's Moon (23 page)

His energy rippled with something like a physical shudder. He hissed, “
Good night.
”

Then he was truly gone, and all she could do was whisper, “Holy fuck.”

And all she could think was: we really do have to get out of the house tomorrow.

C
aught in the last moments before Khalil had left, Grace had a difficult time going to sleep. The warm humid summer night pressed against her skin. She kept reliving the rush of heat that had roared out from him, flashing over her psyche. It altered her understanding of pleasure and desire. She did not think she would ever be able to respond to a mere physical embrace again.

Would he climax during lovemaking, as humans did? Her body throbbed. She kicked off her sheet, curled on her side and slid a hand between her legs, pressing against the hungry, empty ache. When she finally slept, she dreamed of his huge, invisible hands sliding down the contours of her body, easing her own hand away. Long, clever fingers dipped under-neath the shorts and panties she wore and caressed along the folded lips of her labia, at the edge of her clitoris.

Her hunger spiked, reverberated back and forth between the physical and the psychic, the one intensifying the other. She needed to climax so badly. It had been so long since she had felt pleasure, and she had never experienced anything like this before, but she needed his physical form too, needed him sliding into her, filling that empty ache, moving with the kind of rhythm her body craved…

She plunged awake before completion and struggled with disorientation. For one heart-pounding moment, she balanced between a frenzied hope that Khalil was really there and a shocked need for him to not be present, to not have taken his lack of human sensibilities to that extreme.

She cast out her awareness, searching for him—and he wasn’t there. The quiet, darkened house was serene, and she was quite alone. Her dream had just been a dream. That left her to settle into disconcerted disappointment. She didn’t want him present, but she still ached with emptiness and wanted his touch. She tossed and turned for the rest of the night.

Early Saturday morning, when the children woke, she started another long, full day feeling disgruntled.

The temperature had already reached eighty-six by the time she drove Chloe and Max over to Katherine’s at eight o’clock. Katherine gave Grace the phone number of someone who had a twin bed and was interested in exchanging it for Chloe’s toddler bed. Grace also took all the serving plates with the lids, along with the set of four heavy linen napkins, to give to Katherine, who was overjoyed.

Katherine was also intensely curious, and Grace’s explanation for how she had gotten them took a good twenty minutes. By the time she returned home, it was a quarter to nine.

Brandon was the first to arrive. He was a stocky man with pale blue eyes that seemed to weigh everything. Grace didn’t especially care for the sensation. It left her feeling like he was judging her and found her lacking. That feeling intensified in their first conversation that morning.

“We only have twelve people coming from a smattering of local covens,” Brandon said. “Not the eighteen we’d originally thought. Apparently there’s a rumor going around that you’ve had a Djinn hanging around.” He studied her coolly. “He isn’t here now, is he?”

Taken aback, Grace muttered, “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, he’s not. I can’t believe six people canceled because of that.”

Brandon shot her a sidelong glance. “Djinn are Powerful and unpredictable. They make folks nervous.”

“Folks need to get over it,” she snapped.

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Her ready temper flared, but before she could say something she might possibly regret later, Brandon asked her for a list of projects. Since he was about to spend the day working on her property, she decided it was probably best to just let the subject drop. For now.

It was the height of summer, and everything was overgrown. She hadn’t had the time or the energy to keep up the fenced-in backyard. As a result, the yard was too unkempt to take the children out to play. The main issues, she told Brandon, were mowing the property (not an insignificant task, since it took a good ten hours for a single person to sweep through the open areas on a riding mower), moving a dresser downstairs to the office, and getting the backyard in shape so she could take the children out to play.

She said, “We used to keep more of the property mown, but right now I’ll be grateful to have the area around the house, the main path to the back, and the grass by the driveway cut down.”

He nodded as he listened. He had turned his attention to studying the house. “A couple of the guys are bringing their riding mowers,” he said. “We can get the whole property done this time around.” He pointed at the roof. “Got some tiles missing. That roof won’t make it through the winter.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know.”

That earned her another assessing glance. “Well,” Brandon said after a moment. “Winter’s several months away yet.”

Then a couple of cars turned into the driveway, and the work day began.

It was a sticky, sweltering, tiring and sometimes strained day. Several of the witches would barely speak to her. One or two others treated her with a smooth, smiling courtesy that seemed even worse. Her Power bristled, as it had when she had explored trying to sell part of the riverfront, but just as it did not pay the monthly bills, it also didn’t mow the lawn, so she shoved it aside irritably. For some reason the ghosts in the house were agitated too, which added to the undercurrent of tension, although Grace was fairly certain she was the only one who could sense them.

She was grateful to see someone she really liked, a quiet witch in her thirties named Olivia, who worked as a reference librarian for the Ex Libris Library in Louisville. Ex Libris was the major repository in the United States for resource materials on or about humankind’s witchcraft, Power and magic systems. The library also had one of the largest collections worldwide. Olivia belonged to a coven of professional academics, teachers, professors and other librarians.

Olivia gave Grace a genuine smile in greeting. Grace found herself gravitating toward the librarian as the day went on.

Once tasks were allocated, people dispersed and got busy, and the underlying tensions dissolved somewhat. Grace was constantly being pulled from one question to another. Which dresser did she want brought downstairs? Where did she want it put in the office? Did she want all the clothes that were in the dresser brought down too, or did she want them left upstairs? Did she care if the rosebushes out front were trimmed, and would she like them watered? Did she know there was a hole in the backyard fence? The hole would need to be repaired before she took the children out to play again. Would she like that done today?

Then late morning, as Grace and Olivia arranged the lunch on the table, the house phone rang. Grace picked it up.

The caller was Brandon on his cell phone, from the back meadow. Cell phones didn’t work on the property very well, so their connection was spotty, but he managed to ask Grace to come to the back to give the men some advice. “If it isn’t too much trouble,” he said through the crackle. “We were hoping you and Olivia might bring some iced tea too.”

“Sure,” she said, looking at the full, heavy pitcher and glasses with resignation. She hung up and told Olivia, “I’ve got to go to the back meadow. Would you mind helping me carry drinks back for the guys?”

“Of course,” Olivia said. She surveyed the table. “We’re done here anyway. People can help themselves to lunch whenever they’re hungry.”

They collected everything. Olivia grabbed the full gallon of iced tea before Grace could. She didn’t say anything, just picked up the glasses, and they headed out. “I have to admit,” Grace said. “I’m relieved to get away from everybody else for a few minutes.”

“They’re a charming lot this morning, aren’t they?” Olivia said, snorting with scorn.

Grace darted a glance at her. The librarian’s short chestnut hair gleamed with honey highlights in the sun, and her gray eyes were vivid with intelligence. Olivia had a quiet Power that ran deep; she worked daily with books and resources of Power, so she must be proficient at her craft. Usually witch librarians were symbologists who could read, control and infuse words and images with Power.

Grace said, hesitantly, “I didn’t expect how people are acting today. Everybody except you, I mean. There are people from several different covens here. I thought they would be more, I don’t know, talkative and happy to get to know each other. The last work day was a lot noisier.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I keep forgetting, you’re not part of a coven, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, covens are like professional guilds with networking opportunities and regular continuing education in various magical disciplines,” Olivia said. “A witch might not necessarily have any close friends in her coven. People can have stronger ties to their bowling leagues, their churches, their reading groups or any political party they belong to.”

Grace frowned. “Okay, that’s a good point, and it’s not something that would have occurred to me. How does that apply to people here today?”

“When I look around at who is here today, I don’t see people who are silent because they don’t know each other,” Olivia said. “To me, they look like they’re not talking because they know each other very well.”

Grace stopped walking. “What are you saying?”

The librarian shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I’ve seen some exchanged glances and raised eyebrows, like there was an unspoken conversation going on. I thought people were acting standoffish because of me. Early this morning I got a phone call from Brandon who said they had more than enough people showing up, so they didn’t need me. It seemed a little too high school for me, like I was disinvited to a party, so I decided to come anyway, because I wanted to see how you were doing and to say hi.”

Grace said slowly, “That doesn’t make any sense. First Jaydon called Thursday and said eighteen people were going to show up today. Then Brandon arrived this morning, and he said—at least I thought he said…” Under Olivia’s intelligent, attentive gray eyes her voice trailed away, and she scowled as she tried to remember. “Okay, maybe he didn’t actually say what I thought he said. He said twelve people were coming, not eighteen, and then he asked me about a rumor of a Djinn hanging around. I just thought the two things were connected and that people were backing out of the work day because of Khalil.”

Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “You have a Djinn hanging around?”

“Yeah.” Grace stiffened. “What of it?”

Olivia grinned. “Nothing, just cool. I’ve met exactly one Djinn in my life, and she was pretty freaking spectacular.”

Grace looked at her sidelong. She could feel the skin in her face start to burn. “We’re going on a date tonight.”

“You’re
dating
a Djinn? That’s even better.” The older woman laughed. “I’ve heard stories of—never mind.”

“I have to say, your attitude is refreshing,” Grace muttered. “Most of the people I’ve been talking to have been pretty negative.”

“You’ve been talking to the wrong people,” Olivia told her. “Pay no attention to what Brandon says or tries to imply. He’s one of the biggest bigots I know. You do know he was one of Jaydon’s strongest supporters, when Jaydon ran against Isalynn LeFevre in the demesne elections, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t make the connection,” Grace said. She shrugged, somewhat impatiently. “I’m not really into politics.”

Olivia started walking again, and Grace did too. “Isalynn’s a conservative about some things,” Olivia said. “That’s part of her long-standing appeal. She’s an advocate for less government. But she’s a moderate when it comes to dealing with the Elder Races demesnes. Jaydon has argued for a stronger federal government and less sovereignty for the seven demesnes. He has a strong support base of people who are anti–Elder Races entirely. It doesn’t matter what race—Vampyre, Wyr, Djinn, Light or Dark Fae, whatever. The group wants the Elder Races out of Kentucky and out of the federal government.”

“But we’re part of the Elder Races,” Grace said.

“To some people we’re not,” Olivia replied. “Sure, we’re witches, but we’re human. A lot of them want the inhuman Elder Races to move their governments to an Other land and be treated as foreign countries.”

“That isn’t feasible,” Grace said, still frowning. “They’re as much a part of our society as the fifty states. None of the demesnes are going to uproot and change their locations.”

Olivia shrugged. “That isn’t stopping people from trying. Anyway, things got pretty heated in the last election, with lots of demonstrations and name-calling. Just something for you to think about when you’re dealing with Brandon.”

Grace shook her head. She still didn’t see how any of that applied to her. As the Oracle, she was supposed to remain neutral and treat all petitioners alike. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have personal opinions. But she couldn’t imagine anyone would care about what she thought about politics. “Well, I know the witches’ grapevine is very active. If they all know each other, maybe Brandon’s attitude has influenced the others.”