Thea Harrison - Oracle's Moon

She chose to keep the rocking chair the children had been rocked in, even though it had been damaged. She wanted to try to repair it, because her grandmother had rocked her and Petra in it as well. Khalil wanted to keep the old leather armchair he sat in to read to the children. It was one of the few physical things he had ever grown attached to. There was nothing else worth salvaging. The structure itself would take an extensive effort to repair, more effort and resources than the house was worth.

On Wednesday afternoon, they sat for a while on the porch, listened to the wind in the trees, and Grace reminisced. Khalil asked her questions, fascinated by the intimate glimpse into her past. He held her as she wiped her face.

“It’s kind of a relief,” she said. “I feel so guilty about that. And it hurts too.”

He could understand it, at least more than he would have been able to before he had met her. This house was where he had stood, looked out the screen door and first felt that magical, precious something.

“You’re losing another huge piece of your past,” he said.

Grace nodded. “And I don’t have to fix the roof,” she said.

He laughed. She put her hands over her face and laughed with him and cried at the same time.

When they checked the rest of the property, they discovered the cavern had completely collapsed. Out of curiosity more than anything else, Khalil let go of his physical form and flowed around the crumbled nooks and crannies of the tunnel to the wreckage below. There weren’t any pockets of space large enough for a man to stand up in, just shreds of old Power and broken rock. When he emerged, Grace held the one thing from the cabinets important enough to keep, the Oracle’s mask, wrapped in cloth.

Meanwhile, the Djinn watched Grace and waited. The numbers of Djinn too damaged to heal themselves were relatively low, but those involved profound injuries. Khalil warned them off, telling them Grace needed time to get her basic needs met and to arrange for the children’s welfare before she could start spending energy on trying to heal damaged Djinn.

By Thursday, Grace herself brought the issue up. “I can’t stand it any longer,” she said to Khalil. “Ebrahim is driving me crazy. I don’t think he’s stopped working once since he showed up on Sunday.”

Khalil rubbed the back of his neck. He, Ebrahim and three other Djinn had been demolishing the house, while Grace watched. Khalil had taken a break for a few moments to join her. “I will talk with him again,” Khalil said. “I will tell him he must leave until you are ready.”

“No,” Grace told him. The day was sweltering, and Grace wore another set of loose, dark shorts made of a soft jersey material that Khalil liked, along with a tank top and sandals. The sun had kissed her skin with color. With her red-gold hair and coppery tan, she looked like a slender, vibrant flame. He approved. “I can’t stand that either—the not knowing, I mean. We need to find out if Phaedra was a fluke and whether or not I really can help any other Djinn to heal.”

He sighed. “Agreed. But after you try with Ebrahim’s mate, you will see no one else for at least two weeks. Katherine and John will be returning with the children on Sunday, and we must still arrange for a place for you—for us—to stay.”

Grace looked at him sidelong. The corners of her lips curved upward when he said “us,” but otherwise, she made no comment about that. Instead, she muttered, “That’s awfully bossy of you.”

By then he read her expressions very well indeed. He took note that she looked relieved, not offended. He called to Ebrahim, who winged toward them immediately. Khalil told him, “Get Atefeh.”

After one startled look at Grace, Ebrahim whirled away. Khalil watched as Grace braced herself visibly. He laid a hand against her back, and she glanced at him gratefully.

Then Ebrahim returned with Atefeh, his mate. Atefeh was so damaged, she could not create a physical form for herself, and she struggled constantly to soak in enough nourishment. She hovered in front of Grace, her presence dull and skewed.

One by one, the other Djinn quit working on the house demolition and joined them. Others appeared silently. Grace glared at the new arrivals, but she didn’t say anything, and they didn’t leave. She turned her attention back to Atefeh, and her expression smoothed, her gaze turning inward. Khalil felt the dark Power rise in her. Silence fell.

He didn’t know what happened next. He sensed movement that occurred somehow just beyond his awareness.

Atefeh flexed with a gasp and fell forward. Thinking the Djinn meant to attack or overwhelm Grace, Khalil lunged to pull Grace away and wrap her in a tight protection. But Atefeh was focused on something else, something only she and Grace seemed able to see. Atefeh keened, a sharp sound filled with pain. Her mate Ebrahim emitted a strangled groan in response, his face agonized as he watched her struggle.

Let me go! Grace said to Khalil. She shoved him with her Power, and he peeled away. She stepped toward the struggling Djinn. “Don’t give up! Don’t try to grab her. Stand still and let her come to you. Try to open up—she has to come inside you.”

Who was Grace talking about? Khalil couldn’t sense anybody but Grace and Atefeh.

Afeteh’s presence shuddered and rippled and suddenly flared with brilliance. For a moment, an ebony-skinned woman stood in front of them, eyes incandescent with triumph. She turned to give her mate a fierce smile. Ebrahim lost his physical form and became a piercing white light filled with joy.

All the other Djinn shouted until the sound rang through the open space.

Then Atefeh’s smile faded. A moment later, her physical form did too. I can’t hold it any longer , the Djinn said faintly. I must rest.

Ebrahim’s fierce white light twined with Atefeh. He said to Grace, Thank you.

You are both welcome , Grace said, even as the two Djinn faded away.

Grace turned to Khalil, beaming. He laughed, caught her up and spun her around. Then he stood and held her tightly.

My miracle, he thought. My Grace.

By Friday, Khalil couldn’t stand it any longer. “I am putting my foot down,” he told Grace at Isalynn’s breakfast table. Even though they had spent the last several nights at Isalynn’s, they never saw anyone but Judith, who took care of the house. Isalynn and her son, Malcolm, had traveled to Washington, but Isalynn had made it very clear before she left that they were to stay for as long as they needed.

Grace had dressed in capri pants and a sleeveless shirt that buttoned down the front. Khalil chose to form jeans and a T-shirt again. He was growing to like that kind of outfit. Grace rested her chin in her hands as she regarded him. She said, “Putting your foot down?”

“I can have feet when I choose to.”

She chuckled. “It’s a very human saying.”

“Indeed.” He folded the newspaper he had been reading and set it aside.

“What are you putting your foot down about now?”

“You make me sound dictatorial,” he said. “Finish your breakfast.”

She raised her eyebrows pointedly. He smiled at her. He adored his sharp, funny, hotheaded human. “I did not know you had such strong opinions about breakfast.” She finished her toast in a few bites. “I ate that because I wanted to.”

“No doubt you did,” he replied. “You have worked yourself into exhaustion every single day of this week.” Each night she had, in fact, barely been able to shower and eat a few bites of supper before falling into bed. He always joined her, sometimes in physical form, sometimes wrapped around her in an invisible embrace. “I am putting my foot down about this evening. Our activities today will be light, and we will quit early.”