Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(70)

Almost every metropolitan area in the States had at least one bar or pub that catered to a mix of Elder Races clientele. Louisville had two, both under the same ownership, although they were located in very different parts of town. Grace drove to the nearest one, Strange Brew, a pub that was located about fifteen minutes’ drive away on the edge of the historic district of Old Louisville.

Old Louisville was located north of the university and south of downtown. While it was not actually the oldest part of the city, the area had a large collection of pedestrian-only streets and almost all of the architecture was Victorian. Historically, it had housed some of the area’s wealthiest residents but had suffered several declines over the last hundred years. Now it held a diverse mix, including large professional and student populations, and some areas were more fashionable than others.

Strange Brew was the area’s original Elder Races bar, and it was not located in one of the more recently fashionable areas of the neighborhood. An immigrant Light Fae from the Seelie Court in Ireland had opened the pub in 1878. The second bar, Deep Waters, was located on the riverfront, near the Waterfront Park and the river cruises. That one tended to attract the out-of-town tourists.

Strange Brew was more of a hangout for locals. So far, it had successfully weathered all the many changes the area had undergone. It was located at one end of a block-long, utilitarian brick building. It had a storefront entrance on the street, an alleyway entrance that led to a pothole-filled parking lot and a long mishmash of different levels and rooms in between, including a basement bar. The pub was wildly popular on St. Patrick’s Day, although to the best of Grace’s knowledge, it had never boasted a visit from a real leprechaun.

Grace was already rethinking the whole excursion when she turned down the side street that led to the packed parking lot. Going to an Elder Races bar had sounded good in theory, but the reality was, at ten thirty on a Saturday night the pub would be crowded and noisy and probably filled with more than its fair share of students.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she muttered. She cruised slowly, searching for a parking spot. The lot was full. She pulled out and looked along the street for a space.

“I do not see why not,” Khalil said, looking around with curiosity and interest. “You require supper and a drink. This seems popular enough. People must approve of the nourishment.”

She bit back a smile. He had his own kind of wisdom and deep knowledge, but he didn’t have a real connection to some things. Maybe the difference had to do with being embodied. It would be easy and potentially lethal, she thought, for someone to mistake that difference for naiveté.

She said, “I don’t think people really come here for the food.”

He glanced at her, amused. “Then why did you want to come?”

Good point. Khalil knew of Janice’s and Therese’s reactions to his presence, but he wasn’t aware of how the other witches had acted earlier that day.

She was tired of tensions and difficult conversations. She rubbed her face. She had told him about the one conversation that would really matter to him. The rest, she decided, was irrelevant, at least for tonight.

She settled with muttering, “You’ve never been on a date. I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“You have succeeded,” Khalil informed her. “I am en-tirely comfortable. And now that we are here, we might as well go in.”

Up ahead, she spotted a car pulling out of a space. The timing seemed like kismet. And it was really too late to go anywhere else and still try to stick to her timetable. She pulled into the spot.

Khalil said, “Piloting a vehicle is more complicated than I would have expected. You appear to handle yours with proficiency.”

She burst out laughing. “You drive a car; you don’t pilot it. You pilot boats and planes.”

“Then I must learn to drive.” Khalil gave her a wicked smile that was highlighted in the yellow glow of nearby streetlamps. “I lied,” he said. “I do not have a present for you. I do, however, have something for you from Carling and Rune.” He dug into the back pocket of his jeans and handed her a folded envelope.

“What’s this?” she asked, unfolding it.

“I reminded them of their obligation to you as Oracle,” Khalil said. His smile had disappeared, and something edged and dangerous took its place. “And that they had been derelict in fulfilling their part of the bargain.”

“You did?” She blinked at him, astonished. “I didn’t think they were derelict. Carling healed Max’s ear infection and saved us a trip to the doctor.”

He shook his head. “No, Gracie. She did not do that as an offering to the Oracle. She did that because he was a baby and he was sick.”

She wasn’t sure what moved her more, Carling’s act of healing, or Khalil acting on her behalf. Or how he called her Gracie.

“Open it,” he said. “See what she sent for you.”

She tore the envelope open and pulled out a note and a check. She looked at the check first.

And started counting zeroes. Her hands began to shake.

No. This couldn’t be right. She started counting all over again, and then again. Her mind refused to move beyond an incoherent stutter. She said, choked, “Oh, my God. Oh. My. God.”

“Is that good?” he said, watching her sharply.