Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(60)

The tradition was very like those found in certain American Indian nations. The elders gave their teachings and healings to the people, passed down oral histories thousands of years old, and they often provided a place where sacred ceremonies were held. It was the people’s responsibility to support and honor them. Like any church or social service, it cost money to provide the space and time for sacred ceremonies. Mortgages, rents and utilities had to be paid. Lawns had to be mowed, firewood cut, properties maintained and food bought.

As the unknown writer explained, often petitioners were grieving or otherwise preoccupied with important issues and challenges in their own lives when they arrived to consult the Oracle. The experience could be overwhelming. It often left one with a sense of epiphany, so it was important to come already prepared to fulfill the contract.

No matter how nicely the webpage was phrased, Khalil thought, the underlying message was plain. Don’t forget to make your offering, because the Oracle won’t bring it up.

His respect for Grace grew. It took a particular kind of strength to hold true to one’s side of a bargain, no matter what. Most Djinn did not bother to find that out. If someone reneged on a bargain, they took revenge.

And he could not quite let go of all his anger, as he glanced around at the spacious villa that was, by anyone’s accounting, extremely luxurious, and he compared it to Grace and the children’s situation. If anyone should know better, it should have been Carling, who was so well versed in bargains, payment and balance not only in the culture of the Djinn but also in matters of magic.

So he chose to explain but not hold back the bite in his tone. “What exactly do you think you owe the Oracle for your consultation?”

Rune moved suddenly, his aggression ebbing. Stricken awareness flashed in Carling’s long, dark eyes. “Oh, damn,” she said. She and Rune looked at each other. Something passed between them, a troubled shadow from the recent past.

Rune said in a quiet voice, “We owe the Oracle everything.”

“She is in need,” Khalil told them. “You will pay her what you owe.”

“Of course we will,” Carling said. “And offer our deepest apologies. Thank you for telling us, Khalil.” She looked at him oddly. “You are still in contact with her? I—would not have expected that to go well.”

“She is my friend.” Khalil crossed his arms. “We are going on a date tonight.”

Silence filled the villa. Both Carling and Rune stood frozen.

Khalil had nearly forgotten one detail. He added thoughtfully, “I am to dress casually.”

Rune’s suntanned skin darkened dramatically. He broke into a convulsive fit of coughing. “Excuse me,” he whispered. “I need a drink of water.”

Both Khalil and Carling watched Rune stride rapidly out of the room. Carling’s face was rigid as she watched her lover leave, but her gaze held an expression that looked, to Khalil, peculiarly pained, as if she had been betrayed.

Carling turned back to Khalil. She raised her eyebrows. “So what are you going to wear?”

He didn’t have a clue. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. He said, “I thought I would Google for images of casual wear in Louisville.”

Carling had begun to relax. At that she went rigid again, closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Khalil.”

“No?” He frowned. “Perhaps I should wear a garment like the one Rune is wearing then.”

Carling said, “No.”

A half hour later, Khalil strode toward Soren’s quarters in the north guesthouse. His business with Carling and Rune had gone much better than he had expected.

He had arrived prepared for a confrontation. When he walked away, he had a check written to Grace, along with a handwritten note of apology from Carling.

He had also received impromptu dating advice from Rune, of all people. Rune and Khalil had come very close to becoming enemies in the past. As far as Khalil was concerned, they were still not that far away, so he listened impassively as Carling called Rune back into the room.

“I’m going to write a quick note to Grace and write her a check,” she told Rune. “You need to tell Khalil what to wear for a casual date. Be specific.” Rune gave Khalil a sleepy-looking smile. She smacked Rune in the chest with the back of her hand and added sharply, “And be serious.” She pointed at Rune as she said to Khalil, “Pay attention to what he says. He’s dated quite extensively, and he’s been quite successful at it.”

Carling strode out of the room. Khalil and Rune regarded each other warily. Khalil remembered again how Carling had described male Djinn. He thought her metaphor probably applied to him and Rune as well. They were two betta fighting fish flaring their fins with aggression while talking about dating. It was an oddity.

When the silence had stretched between the two males for too long, Khalil finally said, “Speak.”

“Jeans. T-shirt. Either boots or sneakers,” Rune said. “Pay for everything, and open doors for her. Dating’s simple. Listen to what she says, tell her she’s beautiful and make her happy.”

Dating did not sound simple, except perhaps for one thing. Khalil looked at the Wyr quizzically. He said, “Grace is beautiful.”

That caused the other male to pause. For the first time in their spiky acquaintance, Rune gave him a crooked, yet real smile. “Dude, let her know that with the same kind of sincerity. You will make her happy, and it doesn’t matter what you do. You can go to a movie, take a walk in a park, hold hands, go to a restaurant for a meal or to a bar for a drink, sit on a beach and watch the sun rise at dawn or stand on your head—it’s all just variations on the same theme.”