Thea Harrison - Oracle's Moon

Her arms tightened protectively on Chloe’s delicate body. “I am going to make you the best pancakes you ever had,” Grace said. “The very, very best. But first I need for you to be a big girl for a few minutes. Would you keep your brother busy so I can go talk to the man at the front door? You can show Max your doll.”

Chloe smiled. “Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Welcome.”

Chloe scampered to the table, grabbed up her doll and shoved it in Max’s face. Max had been fingering the top of his sticky head thoughtfully. He laughed and reached for the doll as Chloe danced it around on his high-chair tray.

Feeling twice as clumsy as usual, Grace grabbed hold of the counter and used it to haul herself to her feet, balancing all of her weight on her good leg. She hurried toward the front of the house. Tension and antagonism crackled in the air like thunder and lightning. Khalil stood in front of the screen door, arms crossed and expression stony. On the other side of the flimsy barrier an angry dragon towered in human form.

“I see we’re not getting along,” Grace said breathlessly as she came up beside Khalil. She put a hand on Khalil’s bicep and said telepathically, Thank you .

He threw her a disgusted glance.

Hilarity bubbled up. Oh, yes, that’s right, he didn’t like to be thanked. Well, that was his problem. She kept her hand on Khalil’s arm and turned to the Lord of the Wyr. “Good morning. What can I do for you? Can I help you quickly, or did you want to consult with the Oracle? I’m in the middle of feeding two children, so if you want a consultation, it will have to wait until after breakfast.”

The dragon’s hot gold gaze shifted from Khalil to her, and she felt the impact to her bones. “Interesting,” said Cuelebre. “How did you get a prince of the House Marid to answer your door like a servant?”

“Do not answer that,” Khalil said between his teeth. “It is none of his business.”

Grace had, in fact, been about to answer Cuelebre’s question. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she shut it with a snap.

According to the database article she had read, the House Marid was the most Powerful of the all the Houses of Djinn. So Khalil was a prince? The article hadn’t mentioned anything about royalty, just that the Houses used consensus in decision making. She filed the observation under “irrelevant at the moment but interesting enough to pursue at a later time.”

“Hungry kids,” she said to Cuelebre. “Ticktock.”

This was the second demesne ruler that she had been rude to in as many days. Clearly she was on a roll. She had just five more demesne rulers in the United States to go. Give her to the end of the month, and she would have plenty of time to piss off everybody. Probably the confessional booth she would soon call home should be in a foreign country where no one knew her name.

Underneath her fingertips, laughter danced through Khalil’s energy. She glanced up and was startled to discover his expression was as stony as ever.

Cuelebre said, “I do not consult with Oracles.”

Her attention returned to the dragon’s brutal, impenetrable face. She thought, I bet you don’t. You would not let yourself become that vulnerable to a stranger.

Cuelebre continued. “I came to find out what happened between you, Carling Severan and my First sentinel yesterday.”

“Funny how many people want to know about that,” Grace muttered. Even though Rune had made his resignation clear yesterday morning, apparently Cuelebre was still not acknowledging it.

Khalil said coldly, “You should have told me what you wanted when I asked why you were here, dragon. I could have told you the Oracle doesn’t remember anything from that consultation.”

Cuelebre’s gold gaze did not waver from hers. “Is this true?”

She sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business—it wasn’t any of the Nightkind King’s business either—but yes, that’s true. I don’t remember what happened.”

Just as Julian had reacted, something flickered over Cuelebre’s face, only this time Grace fancied she understood a little of Cuelebre’s expression. There was a touch of weariness, perhaps, or maybe disappointment. Cuelebre’s broad shoulders might have sagged a fraction of an inch.

Of all the challenges the Lord of the Wyr faced, he had chosen to take the time to come here and to ask her this question. She wondered if he would miss his First. She thought maybe he would. Or maybe she imagined all of it.

Ignoring Khalil, Cuelebre gave her a curt nod and turned to go.

Something stirred deep inside, a familiar, Powerful leviathan. Shocked, she sucked in a breath and called out, “Wait!”

Cuelebre had reached the path. He pivoted on one heel, inhumanly fast for someone so large.

Grace said to Khalil, “Stay with the kids for a few minutes? Please?” Her own voice sounded strange and disconnected from her.

His eyes narrowed on her, but he said, “Very well.”

She unlocked the screen door and walked down the porch steps toward Cuelebre.

As she approached him, a shadowy, ancient tide welled. It came from an endless ocean that touched everything, flowed everywhere. Even though the bright morning was sunlit all around, this tide came from the dark of the Oracle’s moon.

Part of her remained astonished. She had been taught that the Oracle’s Power was something so deep, they must access it from the recesses of the Earth. The most ancient traditions from Delphi held that the Oracle must speak from a temple in a cavern. Of the seven Elder Races gods, Nadir was the Oracle’s goddess, the goddess of the depths. Grace had never heard of the Power rising, uncalled, in the full light of day.

The tide filled her up, covered her eyes, spilled out of her mouth. She heard words and knew she was talking, but she could not focus on what she said, because someone else was speaking quietly. That quiet voice grew in strength until it became a gigantic noise, like the roar from an invading army.

“Nevertheless, the question remains unanswered. Do the stars feel pain? When the sun flares to its death, will it do so in agony? We must choose to believe it will, for the Light is a creature just as is the Dark.… It is impossible for those living to look upon me and not to speak of the nature of evil, for the living cannot grasp the true meaning of who I am. Lord Death himself has forgotten that he is but a fraction of the whole, for I am not form but Form, a prime indivisible. All these things were set in motion at the beginning, along with the laws of the universe and of Time itself. The gods formed at the moment of creation, as did the Great Beast, as did Hunger, as did Birth along with Finality, and I am the Bringer of the End of Days.…”

Then a vision came hurtling out of nowhere, and a vast scene slammed into Grace. She vaguely sensed her body tilting as she lost her balance, but it felt as though it happened from a great distance.

She saw an exquisite infinity of stars, strewn across unimaginable distances, colossal shining clusters of galaxies spiraling with outstretched arms. As the voice spoke, one by one the stars vanished, swallowed by a black figure that walked a scorched land. The horror that washed over her was indescribable. She tried to scream, but she had no voice of her own, drowned into silence by the words that were spoken in a cadence that drummed the world out of existence.

Stars.

Two ageless, shining stars, crowned by raven hair and surrounded by a corona of sunshine. The purest Power she had ever known surrounded her, scorching and fierce, and finally, finally the dark, inexorable voice was extinguished. She could have sobbed from the relief.

Her world rattled. Gradually she became aware that she lay on the ground, looking up at Khalil, who bent over her. He held her in his arms and blocked out the sun with his body, just as he blocked out the voice with his presence. He shook her and said her name. She received the impression he had been calling her name over and over.