Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(63)

He whirled out of the house and rampaged across the land.

She was not in the meadows. Nor was she near the river. He could not locate her anywhere, and the light was failing fast. His sense of urgency turned to frenzy. In fifteen, twenty minutes at the most, it would be full dark. Her eyesight was limited, and her knee was not strong.

She was so fragile. She was only human.

Then he saw the door set into the side of the hill. It stood open. That would be the tunnel that led to the place where the Oracle spoke.

He dove. He didn’t waste time assuming a physical form. Instead he roared down the tunnel to the cavern.

Thirteen

The female Djinn gave Grace a smile that looked eerie in the flashlight’s sharp beam, elongated shadows filling in the hollows at cheeks, temples, underneath her black starred eyes. “Very good, human,” Phaedra said. “How could you tell?”

“You choose a physical form that has something of Khalil in it,” Grace said quietly.

Phaedra walked close to circle Grace like a prowling cat. “My physical form has something of both my parents,” said Phaedra. “I do not want to forget anything they did for me or to me.”

Grace held very still and tried not to let her unease and sadness show. She might wish with all of her heart that it was not so, but dark, angry spirits really did tend to be dark and angry because they held on to things.

She said, “Khalil told me how your mother kidnapped and tortured you, and how he had to go to war with her to free you.”

As Phaedra circled around, she trailed fingers along Grace’s back and across her arm. “Did he tell you it took him five hundred years to free me?”

Khalil always felt hot when Grace touched him. By contrast, Phaedra’s touch was oddly cool. Goose bumps broke out over Grace’s chilled flesh. She cleared her throat and said softly, “No, he didn’t say. I’m so sorry.”

“I spent five hundred years trapped,” said Phaedra. “Five hundred years because he was too cautious to fight Lethe on his own. No, he had to take his time, build allies, create an army. Clearly it was not an issue of some urgency to him.”

Grace struggled to reconcile that information with the pained sadness she had sensed in Khalil whenever he referred to his daughter. She said gently, “I don’t know what to say.”

“I used to dread Lethe’s visits,” Phaedra said. “Then I looked forward to them, because as much as they hurt, anything was better than the dark, empty, airless hole she kept me in. Then I learned that was just a phase too, as I became the dark.”

Grace couldn’t imagine what such a lengthy, profound deprivation interspersed with torture might do to a mind, inhuman or otherwise. What would it take to recover? Djinn might not need physical food but they gained nourishment from Power and energy sources like the sun. Had Phaedra actually starved? Was there anything left of her that was salvageable?

“Khalil said he thought Lethe was insane,” she said.

“Did he?” Phaedra thrust her face close, black eyes blazing. “Then why did it take him five hundred years!”

“I don’t know,” Grace whispered.

Just like she did with Khalil, she felt surrounded by Phaedra, but this time there was no pleasure from a warm, male presence. She felt surrounded by razors, any one of which might cut her at any time. She knew Phaedra was trying to frighten her. It was crude and obvious, like playground bullying.

It was also working. She thought she had felt alone at times before, but she had never felt as alone as she did right then. She patted the thread that led to Khalil. The connection felt so insubstantial, it seemed like a mirage. She kept part of her mind focused on it tensely, but she did not tug on it.

Phaedra cocked her head, unblinking. The purity of her white face was pitiless, stark. “Why don’t you ask him sometime, since he apparently likes to talk to you?”

“How did you know to come here?” Grace asked.

“You mean, how did I know he comes to see you and your cute widdow famiwee?” Phaedra said. “His new human toys? It’s been remarked upon.” Phaedra opened her eyes wide and said in a pseudo-confidential tone, “I don’t have friends, but I do have sources.”

“What do you want?”

“Why do I have to want something to be here?”

“Because you wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something you wanted,” Grace said. Her gut had tightened into a knot without her permission, as if her instincts knew to expect a body blow. She had no one to ask for advice and no backup. All she had was the training her grandmother had given her.

Phaedra lifted her head and looked around. “I like it here. It reminds me of old times. Don’t you like it here?”

Grace said, “I do.”

That brought Phaedra’s black sparkling gaze back to her, a quick glance that told Grace she had surprised the Djinn. Phaedra gave her a sarcastic smile. “Aren’t you going to offer to try to help me?” she said mockingly. “Like everyone who tries to find and talk to me?”

“Nope,” said Grace. “I didn’t try to find you. And I can’t help you.”

She had surprised Phaedra again. Phaedra’s expression grew ugly. “I thought it was your job to help people.”

“It is my job,” Grace said, as gently yet as firmly as she could, “to give people who ask the chance to consult with the Oracle. You have to want to help yourself. You have to make the journey here, you have to ask for the consultation, and it’s up to you whether or not you make anything good out of what the Oracle gives you. I’m not a doctor. I don’t make house calls. I’m not going to try to be your friend, and this isn’t therapy. I will not presume that I know what you need or what you don’t need. That’s on you. I’m sorry about what happened to you. I can’t imagine the horror you went through. I also can’t imagine all the gifts and talents you have, not least of which is immortality, and my God, just the sheer amount of time you people have to get over shit. You’re the one who owns your life. It’s your responsibility what you make of it.”