Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(64)

Halfway through, Phaedra turned her back and stood rigid. Grace finished speaking to that bloodred fall of hair. Even though her heart was pounding, the chill of the cavern was seeping into her bones. It was a strain to stand so long. Her muscles quivered with tiredness, and her knee ached like a son of a bitch.

Then Phaedra laughed angrily.

Well, what the hell, Grace thought. Let’s throw that useless little sanctuary law out there. Just for shits and giggles.

“And should this matter to you,” she said quietly, “if you do anything to hurt me, you violate inter-demesne law. I don’t know who would be sent after you then. I doubt it would be Khalil. So did you want a consultation with the Oracle or is this a social call?”

Phaedra turned to regard her, bloodred eyebrows raised. Phaedra’s expression was so cold, Grace shuddered. She staggered as her bad knee threatened to give. She might have fallen if she hadn’t worn the brace.

Along with the useless little law, Grace readied herself to throw what was probably a useless little spell—the spell of expulsion she used to get rid of a dark spirit. It felt like getting ready to throw a cupful of water on a bonfire, but she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

Phaedra was staring curiously at her legs. Then she looked up with a razored smile. “I will not be beholden to you for a consultation.”

Grace blinked. What a Djinn-like thing to say. Did Phaedra still have a shred of honor, a sense of what balance was supposed to be? Maybe Grace shouldn’t make too much of it. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

And she was so damn tired of worrying about the boundaries she wasn’t supposed to cross as Oracle. The Power was still roused from when she had called it up. She held on to it tightly as she said, “If that’s the only thing stopping you, you don’t have to owe me a favor. Really, it’s quite okay to send cash.”

A heartbeat. Then another.

Well, hot damn. The dark sea that filled her didn’t so much as even quiver when she mentioned money. It certainly didn’t give any hint of retreating or leaving her. Maybe the part where the Oracle was forbidden to ask for money had been just another legend.

Or maybe this was a whole new ball game, now that the ghost of the serpent woman wasn’t acting as a backseat driver.

Phaedra laughed. “Prophecy from a crippled Oracle. I might like that. I will think about it. Perhaps I will return.”

Grace held her breath as Phaedra stalked close. The Djinn trailed a finger down Grace’s forearm again. A moment later, Grace felt a sharp, slicing pain. She stared down dumbly. Her arm was bleeding. Phaedra had cut her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Phaedra whispered with a smile. “It’s just a small payment for your lecture. I didn’t really hurt you. Much.”

“You goddamn, freaky bitch,” Grace said, because, hells bells, it had been a righteous day, and all of a sudden, pow, her temper was done lost and gone.

She pulled on everything she had and threw the expulsion spell. She meant to reach for the Power she had been born with, but her anger got in the way. Both Powers jettisoned out of her. She felt the spell strike Phaedra full on.

The force of it lifted Phaedra’s physical form and hurled her across the cavern. She struck the wall and slammed into the ground.

“Oh, shit,” Grace said. Oh, shit. She limped over to Phaedra’s prone figure as fast as she could. The Djinn was sprawled on her stomach, dark red hair covering her face. “Are you all right?”

Phaedra began to laugh as Grace reached her. “The crippled Oracle has quite a punch. I didn’t see that coming.”

“I didn’t either,” Grace said. “You pissed me off and I lost my temper.”

Phaedra pushed her hair back. A champagne-colored liquid trickled from the corner of her mouth. As Grace watched, the liquid faded back into the Djinn’s skin. Awkwardly, Grace struggled to kneel on her good leg, as she said, “You’re not bleeding, are you?”

Phaedra came up on her hands and knees to face Grace, her expression mocking. “Don’t tell me you care.”

“Don’t confuse who you are with the rest of the world,” Grace snapped. “I do care. You’re the one who doesn’t.”

The mockery faded from Phaedra’s face. Grace kept her guard up and both Powers at hand as they stared at each other. As she focused on Phaedra, something roused in the dark sea. She held her breath and concentrated.

She said, “If you ever do want to petition the Oracle, there is someone who would like to see you.”

Rage and curiosity warred for supremacy in Phaedra’s expression. “Who is it?”

Grace said, “A ghost.”

She watched as the rage won. Phaedra bared her teeth and spat, “My mother?”

“No,” Grace told her. Balancing on her good knee was more tiring than standing. The muscles in her thigh began to tremble. “It’s someone else.”

Phaedra’s anger faded slowly, until what remained was feral and bewildered. “I don’t know any other ghost who would be interested in talking with me.”

“Suit yourself,” Grace said. “Just know the offer is there if you want it.”

The Djinn flowed to her feet with the same impossible grace as Khalil had, and Grace fought to rise. She couldn’t leverage with her bad leg. Phaedra watched her struggle with an unreadable expression.