Thea Harrison - Oracle's Moon

Then supper dishes were washed, children bathed, the toys picked up. Chloe did not forget about her story. Khalil settled back in the armchair to read to her about an irritable boy who had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Khalil quite liked that boy. He was sorry when the story ended. Grace stretched out on the couch, and Max lay on top of her, kicking a foot lazily in the air as he sucked his thumb and his eyelids drooped.

Through the open windows and screen door, the evening shadows grew long, while the sunlight turned a heavy gold and the green of the foliage darkened. Khalil could hear traffic sounds, but they were distant and muted. The place was rich with tranquility. He was bewildered at the intense surge of his response. He had already promised his protection a couple of times, first to the children and then to Grace.

Now he actually felt the need to protect them. Whatever quality this quiet, shabby place held, it was more precious than the treasure of kings. He said to Grace, his telepathic voice edged, You will call me whenever you need someone to look after the children, do you understand ?

Grace stirred. She had been looking relaxed and sleepy, but now she stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. I can’t expect you to be available every time I might need a babysitter.

He set his teeth. I want you to burn that roster.

I can’t. She sighed. But I need to go over the list again. I think I should ask for references too. I just thought everybody who was on the roster would be all right.

Her relaxed, sleepy expression had vanished, and she looked troubled again. He said, more gently, Checking references will take time. In the meantime, I will be careful. I will not do anything with the children you would not wish. And I want you to call me. Please.

Her expression softened, and there it was, luminous on her skin, that quality more precious than the treasure of kings. She nodded to him then said aloud, “Bedtime.”

Chloe said, “No.”

“Baby girl, you must,” Grace said, with the kind of tiredness that seemed to indicate there had been many repetitions of the same conversation. “If you don’t go to bed, tomorrow can’t happen.”

Chloe clutched the library book. “We have to keep reading. We can’t stop.” She sounded close to tears.

Maybe the child didn’t want to let go of this precious thing either, Khalil thought. Chloe had already suffered more loss than many children would ever know. He patted her delicate back. “May I come back to help you read another time?”

Chloe turned to look at him. Her wide gaze searched his face. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

Khalil looked at Grace over the girl’s head. Grace had eased upright carefully, so as not to jostle Max, who was almost asleep. Grace met his gaze easily enough, but her expression was guarded, and her energy withdrawn. In that moment, he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, or if she welcomed the idea of his returning so soon or becoming so actively involved in their lives.

But she had made a bargain. His face hardened. It was of no importance how she felt about the bargain after the fact. Now she must live with it.

He turned his attention back to Chloe and told her, “I will come tomorrow.”

With a sudden lurch forward, Chloe flung her arms around his neck. She hugged him so tightly, he could feel her small body straining. He put his arms around her and carefully, carefully hugged her back. First it started as a reassurance for Chloe. Then it turned into something else, something about him, and it was good but it also hurt. He let the little girl go then discovered Grace standing by the armchair, Max in her arms. She was watching him and Chloe, her brows drawn.

He heard himself whisper, “I miss my daughter.”

Grace gripped his shoulder hard, her gaze filling with such pained compassion, he had to look away as Chloe slipped off his lap. Grace said, “I’ll be just a minute.”

He gestured with a hand. It was of no consequence to him whether she was just a minute or many minutes.

She hesitated then left with Chloe and Max. He stood to walk over to the doorway and look out at the deepening evening. A family of raccoons waddled placidly across the lawn.

There was no reason for him to stay any longer. He had accomplished what he had meant to do and visited with the children. He would go.

He didn’t go.

He held himself tensely, trying to soak up that precious something, that invisible treasure. Grace finished saying good night to the children. He listened to her light, uneven footsteps as she approached. He didn’t turn around.

She stopped just behind him. He knew she was going to reach out. He sensed her hand hovering in the air at his back.

Before she could touch him, he turned and gave her a silken smile. “Why don’t we play another round of the truth game?”

She froze, startled, her hand suspended. Wariness crept into her eyes, and the softness in her expression firmed. “Why?”

He moved away from her and prowled around the room. “Why not?”

She turned to track his movements. “That’s not an answer.”

Her energy had roused. She was bristling. Good. Bristling was good. He picked up one of her textbooks, read the spine and set it aside. He picked up another. “I don’t owe you an answer. We haven’t started another round yet.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Screw your game and your rounds and your forfeit. Just talk already, like a rational creature. If you have something to say, say it.”

“Fine.” He slammed the second book down and turned on her. “Why did you call me your friend?”

Silence pulsed between them. He watched her so closely, he saw her blink several times. Her face worked. Pain or laughter or a little of both; he wasn’t sure. Definitely a flash of anger. She said, “Because right now you’re the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got.”

“Katherine,” he said.

“She’s very caring. I don’t know what I would do without her. She loves the children, and she misses my sister almost as much as I do, but she was Petra’s friend. She’s not really my friend. She and I don’t really talk or share confidences.” Grace shrugged and looked out the window. Her eyes glittered. “I know,” she said, very low and bitter. “You’re not really my friend either. We have a bargain. ”

He dissolved and reformed in front of her. She flinched back as he took her by the shoulders. He wanted to shake her for her naiveté. He wanted to shout at her for her foolish compassion and generosity. He wanted to rage through the house and across the land, and tear down this precious invisible thing he didn’t understand. He wanted to dislike her again and fight with her and—

She looked incredulous. Then she did something that truly astonished him. “Come here,” she said.

As he froze, staring, she put both hands to the back of his neck and pulled his head down with such bewildering confidence, he allowed her to get away with it, if for no other reason but to see what she would do next. He bent, and she put her arms around his neck, and she gave him a full-bodied hug as tight as the one Chloe had given him, until her arms trembled from the strength she put into it.

And she didn’t just hug him physically. She hugged him with all of her spirit, her fiery warm presence settling against his, femininity to masculinity, Power to Power.

“I can’t imagine how much you miss your daughter,” she whispered. “But I know how much I miss my family. And it hurts very much.”

He had torn down the stones at the entrance to an ancient pharaoh’s funeral temple at Saqqara. He had caused earthquakes, raised hurricanes, leveled mountains. He had waged war with a first generation Djinn, one of the strongest of his kind, and he had won. He could shred Grace into pieces in an instant. He had thought he was so much older, wiser and more powerful than she.