Oracle's Moon (20 page)

He left the legislature and let go of his physical form as soon as he was able to. Then he took to the winds. Releasing his physical form wasn’t as satisfying as he had thought it would be. Nothing he did that day was.

He could not seem to put enough distance between himself and thinking about Grace and the children. He wondered what they were doing that day. Finally, in exasperation, he chose to leave Earth altogether. He materialized into his physical form on the moon.

There was no sound, because the moon had no atmosphere. There was no wind, no air. The sun was a piercing roar of flame. The sun’s reflected light off the moon’s surface was silver white; fragile, unshielded human eyes would have been blinded by the radiance. It did not discomfort Khalil in any way, because his form was a focus. He did not need to breathe. He crossed his arms, staring at the milky green, blue and white ball that was Earth, while he soaked up the blast of inexhaustible energy from the sun.

The moon was as far as the Djinn could travel from Earth without traversing one of the many crossover passages that led to Other lands in other dimensions. Many theories had been put forth about the Other lands, but Khalil thought that the lands were, in the end, either shadows or mirrors, reflections or folds, of the Earth itself.

Around noon, he wondered what Grace and the children were eating for lunch. It would be cheerful, simple and tasty enough to tempt a picky child’s appetite.

Bah. He was back to thinking about them again. With a silent hiss he flicked his fingers angrily in the direction of the blue-white orb. Then he dematerialized and went to the far side of the moon. That side permanently faced away from Earth. It was much more suited to his brooding mood. The surface was battered and densely cratered. The moon was halfway through its lunar cycle, so part of the far side was in darkness.

Here light and dark were knifelike. There were no soft, colorful shadows of dusk, as there had been at Grace’s house last evening. He chose the darkness and rematerialized to lean back against a boulder and stare at the sharp, bright stars. Away from the Earth’s atmosphere, they seemed closer, but they weren’t.

He pushed away from the boulder and strode along the moon’s surface restlessly. The invisible chains were inside of him. It did not matter where he chose to go. His own thoughts were his cage.

Tasty.

Last night, Grace’s mouth had been tasty, succulent with surprise and a kind of honeyed innocence that had nothing to do with virginity and everything to do with the breathless pleasure of new exploration. Her energy had bloomed with arousal.

She was not all sweetness and light. She had thorns, prickly edges and that quick temper he loved to bait into flaring, but the thing that sent him spearing into the night after kissing her was how the darkness of her pain called to his.

While he was not as bigoted as he had once pretended to be with Grace, he had not known many humans very well. He had met those who were just as he had said, conniving and too interested in the search for Power. He had also met some that he enjoyed, and he had taken humans as lovers before.

As lovers they had been toys, a game he had played at, meaningless diversions when he had been bored and looking for a change. He had taken on his physical form for them, because the human lovers Khalil had known couldn’t sense his full, invisible aspect. They didn’t have the presence or the Power to align with his. They couldn’t know what brought him the deepest, truest pleasure, and he always quickly lost interest in them.

Grace had the ability. She was like no other human he had met before. Her Power was, quite literally, unique. She could match him, fit to his presence in the way that Djinn made love to Djinn, share in formless pleasure and arousal. It was bizarre.

It was perfect.

For the first time he seriously wondered what pleasures the actual human senses might have to offer.

His physical form gave him a limited imitation of what humans experienced with all their senses, bound in flesh as they were. But he never really felt the depth of real physical hunger or pain. He never fully tasted, as humans did, the delicacy or nuances of flavor in food, nor did he know to its fullest extent the intensity of physical sexual pleasure. He only played at those appetites, as did most Djinn, sooner or later.

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.”

G
race 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 been 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.