Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(58)

The Oracle’s moon was soon, perhaps tonight or tomorrow. She could feel the approach, especially here in the dark. It felt like a convergence, all times, the past and all possible futures, coming together.

She had been taught that she could only access the Power deep in the earth, yet it had come in daylight, and not just once. She had called it up several times now.

She’d also been told that the Oracle could not consult the Power for herself, but only for others. Yet she had called the ghost of the serpent woman and had talked with her.

What else had she been taught that was wrong, or at the very least incomplete?

Each Oracle acts as a different lens for the Power, Isalynn had said. You will bring your own strengths and abilities to the experience.

Which was exactly what? She wished she could ask her future self for advice.

She let the cloth fall away from the mask, and she held it up to her face, pretending she was a petitioner. How did they feel when they faced the mask? This time she barely touched the Power before it welled up, more readily than ever before.

The Power felt good in the dark, filling her to the brim and then spilling out into the cavern, an endless witching sea. She sensed thousands of sparks in the sea like distant glints of moonlight on water, and all the sparks were ghosts. She searched for ghosts she recognized, Petra, her grandmother, the serpent woman, but she didn’t see any of them.

Visions normally came when the Oracle used the petitioner as a focus as she called up the Power. Cuelebre had been an inferno of Power; perhaps his ferocious energy had been what had drawn the Oracle. The serpent woman had been an unusual ghost, attached to the Oracle’s Power and to Grace. For Grace to get any specific vision now, she needed more of an outside focus. Disappointed, she let go of the dark sea. She wrapped the mask up again as it began to subside.

Then something else Powerful flowed down the tunnel to join her in the dark. It was a Djinn, but unlike any Djinn Grace had met thus far. This presence was jagged with razored edges. It radiated a discordance that cut at her awareness. She held herself utterly still, thinking hard.

Then she turned on the flashlight.

The form of a tall woman, dressed in black, stood in front of her. The Djinn’s form had a lethal grace. Her ivory face was regal and fierce, a feminine version of a handsome, inhuman visage that had already become so dearly familiar to Grace. Crimson hair flowed like blood past her shoulders, and her eyes were two black, crystalline stars.

She said into the cavern’s absolute silence, “Hello, Phaedra.”

This time on Saturday nothing would interrupt Khalil’s agenda.

Djinn were cursed with a terminal curiosity. It was often their worst weakness, and sometimes it was their downfall.

Khalil was no exception. If a door was open, he peeked through it. If it was closed, it made the peeking so much better. If the door was locked, well. There was a natural progression to this sort of thing.

Things weren’t adding up, and he didn’t like it. The an-cient social contract between Oracle and petitioner, the PayPal link on the website, the general shabbiness of Grace’s home, the lack of repair. Her inability to access premium health care when she needed it the most, the unpaid bills, a cover letter to apply for a job, when she already had to do too much, had to meet too many responsibilities, was too alone.

He called in one of the multitude of favors owed to him, this time from a Djinn who had a particular facility with accessing information via the Internet. The information Khalil was interested in wasn’t particularly hard to find. Grace’s bank account balance was abysmal, and the money that the website drew in was hardly worth the breath it took to mention.

That was when Khalil grew angry. He searched for his old ally Carling and her lover Rune. They weren’t in hiding, so they weren’t particularly hard to find either.

They were in a beachside villa in Key Largo.

More specifically, Carling Severan was under house arrest in Key Largo. By association, Rune Ainissesthai, the Wyr gryphon who had recently been Dragos’s First sentinel but had now become estranged from the Wyr demesne, was under house arrest too, because Rune had mated with Carling and would not leave her.

Carling was a very old, very Powerful sorceress, and a Vampyre in the late stages of the disease. The Elder tribunal had judged that the fluctuations in her Power made her too much of a danger to others. The tribunal had placed Carling under a kill order. Carling and Rune made a compelling argument for suspension of the sentence, for they claimed to have found a way to put her in partial remission.

No one wanted to execute a kill order prematurely. The social and political ramifications would be enormous. Carling had once been Queen of the Nightkind; most recently she had been a Councillor on the Elder tribunal itself. Not only that, but Rune would fight to the death for her. As a result, the Elder tribunal placed Carling under quarantine and observation for three months in order to verify the truth of their argument. Carling and Rune had just finished their first week.

So Khalil went to sunny Key Largo. The villa had an acre-length private beach. Two-story windows along one side of the main house overlooked an infinity pool beside the ocean. The property also had two guesthouses where the Elder tribunal Councillors who were Carling’s observers and jailors stayed. The prison was altogether luxurious.

The villa was shining with Power as Khalil approached. He studied it from high in the air. The Demonkind Councillor Soren, a first generation Djinn who was also of the House Marid, was one of Carling’s two wardens. Her other warden was the Elven Councillor Sidhiel. Wards had been placed all around the borders of the property, ostensibly, Khalil assumed, to keep Carling contained and not to keep others out.