Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(24)

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.

Cuelebre knelt on her other side, staring at her. His rough-hewn features looked bloodless, his gold eyes molten.

“Stop,” she croaked to Khalil. “I’m here. I’m back.”

Looking wild-eyed, he stopped.

“What the unholy f**k was that?” Cuelebre asked. He sounded quite calm and utterly terrifying.

Grace shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said. “All I know is that the Oracle’s Power roused for you, and that just doesn’t happen, unasked in daylight.” She shuddered. “Did you hear a…really bad voice?” Khalil’s arms tightened, and the two males exchanged a glance.

“We both heard it,” said the dragon.

“I was in the kitchen with the children,” said Khalil. His own voice did not sound pure in that moment. Instead he sounded rough and shaken. “And I still heard it.”

Grace sucked in a breath. “They didn’t, did they?”

Khalil shook his head. “No. They were unaware.”

Cuelebre looked at Khalil. “I must get back to my mate. You are staying?”

“Yes,” said Khalil.

Cuelebre dug into his shirt pocket and handed a heavy white card to her. She turned it over to look at both sides. There was no name, just a phone number printed in heavy, embossed black. Cuelebre said, “That’s my personal cell number. Call me immediately if you see anything else.”