Thea Harrison - Oracle's Moon

Del Torro’s turning had been a famous event in history. A younger son of Spanish nobility, he had been a priest until the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition tortured and destroyed a community of peaceful Vampyres near his home in Valencia. The Vampyre community had included del Torro’s older sister and her husband. After the massacre, del Torro walked away from the Catholic Church and approached Julian, who turned him into a Vampyre and set him to cut a swath through the officers of the Inquisition. The ten years that followed were some of the bloodiest in Spanish history.

While in theory Grace didn’t have a problem with someone who had decided to go after the Inquisition, um, yikes.

Grace turned her attention back to Julian. “What do you want to talk about?”

Del Torro turned his attention from studying the front of her house and gave her a pleasant smile. He asked, “Is this how you offer sanctuary to strangers?”

“You’re rich and Powerful,” she said. “You don’t need sanctuary. You need a luxury hotel suite downtown. And you lost any right to sanctuary this morning when your friend pulled a sword on my land.”

Behind her, Khalil’s presence flared in surprise, and she realized he hadn’t known what had happened. His attention must have been focused on the house. He coiled tightly around her.

Julian shifted, a sharp, abrupt movement, and del Torro lost his easy smile. “We did not know that she came armed or what she intended to do,” Julian said.

“That seems somewhat careless of you,” Grace said. “Is it supposed to make me feel better about letting you into my house? Because it doesn’t.”

“We had no argument when the Wyr killed her,” Julian said. “We agreed that was justice.”

Was that sincerity or expediency? Something was in the Vampyre’s voice, but whatever the emotion was, it was more complex and nuanced than she knew how to name. He was thousands of years old, and she was twenty-three. She wasn’t even going to try to understand him, because she knew she couldn’t.

“Still not feeling reassured,” Grace told him. “I’m not up to a second consultation in one day. Why don’t you just ask me whatever it is you want to ask me, so I can answer, and you can go away?”

Julian said, “I want to know what you and Carling talked about.”

Del Torro’s gaze lowered. He moved suddenly and muttered under his breath. “Madre de Dios.”

She looked down.

Black smoke wafted around her, covering her from the waist downward. She drifted fingers through the top of it. It curled and eddied just like real smoke. Khalil was making his presence known to the Vampyres in no uncertain terms. She stirred the smoke with a forefinger. It looked really neat, actually, like she was standing in the mouth of a volcano. Or maybe in the mouth of hell.

“Meet my companion,” she said. “He’s not very friendly.”

Khalil Somebody Important. Which probably meant he was the Bane of More Than One Person’s Existence. He might possibly be the Bane of Quite a Few Peoples’ Existences. For the first time since meeting him, Grace felt almost cheerful.

Khalil’s presence expanded to fill the room behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Black smoke lifted like gigantic wings over her head. Out of it wicked crystalline eyes watched the males.

Well, ain’t that another kick in the head.

“There are small children asleep in this house,” hissed Khalil. “And the Oracle has made herself quite clear. You are not welcome here.”

She turned back to face Julian, who stood with blazing eyes and his jaw clenched. He stepped forward and moved his angry face closer to the screen. The black smoke that was Khalil came down over her in a transparent veil. Julian said icily, “We do not hurt children.”

Grace rubbed her forehead and tried to think. She could live with not making friends with the Nightkind King, but making an enemy of him would be downright foolish.

“Look, you might not know what happens when the Oracle speaks,” she said bluntly. “But we aren’t really in control of the experience. Sometimes we remember what is said, and sometimes we blank out. I don’t remember what happened with Carling. I went blank, and the next thing I knew, I was on my knees and the whole thing was over. You have truthsense. You must know I’m telling the truth. Supposedly those of you who are so much older than I can tell that sort of thing, so there’s no point in you returning. I’ve got nothing to tell you.”

Julian gave her a long, hard look. She felt the weight of his personality and his age in that look. Surrounded as she was in Khalil’s veil of protection, she still shivered. Then Julian inclined his head and walked away. Del Torro did not linger either but turned on his heel and followed.

Grace watched as the two men traveled down her driveway to disappear beyond the bushes and trees that bordered the front of her property. The veil of black smoke pulled away from her. She could sense Khalil shooting after the two Vampyres, hopefully to make certain they actually left. The rigidity left her spine, and she shook so hard she staggered and might have fallen if she hadn’t clutched at the doorknob.

She felt a sudden need to look in on Chloe and Max. She grabbed the cane that she left by the front door and turned to hurry down the hall as fast as she could.

Their room was shadowed and quiet. She eased over to Chloe’s small bed first and bent down to check on her. Chloe was sound asleep, her thumb half out of her mouth. Grace swallowed hard, tucked Chloe’s light summer blanket around her and eased over to check on Max. He had crawled to the head of his crib and lay sideways, his feet propped up on the side bars. He was also sound asleep.

Her eyes watered. She hated when that happened. She pushed the edge of her fist against the bridge of her nose as she touched the downy wisp of hair on Max’s head. His hair hadn’t really started to grow in yet; he looked like a bald, happy little Charlie Brown.

Maybe the Nightkind King had spoken the truth. Maybe he hadn’t known or approved of what the other Vampyre had done. Maybe they didn’t hurt children, and Chloe and Max had been perfectly safe the whole time. Maybe she had overreacted.

But she couldn’t afford to risk Chloe’s and Max’s lives on a string of maybes. And she couldn’t afford to risk her own life either, not when they depended on her so much.

Khalil coalesced beside her and looked down at Max too. She turned and gripped his forearm. “Thank you.”

A creature that was not known for having a compassionate nature also did not suffer from an overabundance of conscience. But as Khalil looked into Grace’s full gaze and sincere, grateful expression, he might have experienced a twinge or two.

He turned his gaze to the sleeping baby. Thank you , she said, and that was not something a Djinn heard often. A bargain kept the scales balanced. There was no need for gratitude in such an exchange.

He frowned, reluctantly searched for foreign words and found them.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Once Khalil disappeared, all the tension spilled out of Grace. Suddenly her body ached twice as much as it had before. She stopped in the half bath to brush her teeth. Then she turned off the lights as she made her way to the office/bedroom, and she stretched out on the futon. She didn’t bother to put down the futon or take off the brace, even though it felt hot and tight on her leg. She had learned the hard way that when her knee ached this badly, just rolling over in her sleep might make it flare with a burning, grinding pain.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, billowing the lace curtains in the nearby window and licking along her sweat-damp skin. The scent of green growing things drifted into the house, along with a hint of the nearby river. She stared at the shadowed ceiling, listening to the small familiar sounds of the old house settling into place. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she sensed that, while Khalil had left, he had somehow kept a tendril of connection with them. She could feel his presence in the distance, like a touch of brimstone.