Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(90)

Grace fumbled. There had to be a connection somewhere in her ringing head. She swept out with her mind, did a wide, blind scoop, and yanked with all of her strength.

That was when the earthquake hit Louisville.

Nineteen

A supernova blasted toward Grace. The sense of oncoming destruction blocked out everything else. She huddled around Max, trying to cover him with her body.

Later she would find out that her property was the epicenter of an earthquake that registered 5.8 on the Richter scale. She never even felt it. Nearby streetlamps warped and bent like they were sticks made of soft wax, trees fell, the cavern caved in and her car was thrown to the street, where the pavement buckled. Luckily, the surrounding area was not as developed as more urban areas and damage was minimal, although a roof and part of a stone wall collapsed at a nearby cemetery. And it was luck, not intention: that was how out of control Khalil had been.

Instead of destruction, what she felt was a gentle black smoke that swirled around the yard, blanketing her and the kids. It blocked out all the heat and noise. At the same time Khalil covered the burning house with Power. The fire died with an eerie suddenness.

Grace gripped Max in one arm and glanced around, dazed, as she tried to scoot awkwardly toward Chloe, hampered by having only one free hand and her goddamn useless knee.

Strong arms lifted her and Max. She blinked as Khalil formed around them. His expression was stark and shaken. Her gaze lowered to his moving lips. She made out his words. “Stop. I’ve got you.”

“Chloe,” she said. She couldn’t hear herself speak, and the only way she could control her dizziness was by tilting her head. She tried to say Chloe’s name again. With both her and Max in his arms, Khalil spun toward the swimming pool.

He froze, staring.

A Djinn was wrapped around a sobbing Chloe, the presence so gossamer thin she was transparent. It was Phaedra. When Grace called Khalil, she must have pulled both connections by accident.

Max’s body was rigid and shaking in her arms. She turned her attention to him. He was still screaming with such lusty energy his face was a darkened red.

She decided right then and there that screaming was awesome. Screaming meant you were alive. If you had the strength to scream, hopefully you had the strength to recover. But still.

“We need a doctor,” she said to Khalil.

He looked at her again, a sparkling crisis in his eyes, while his jaw flexed.

She was making sound when she talked, wasn’t she? She put more force into the next words. “A pediatrician. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

His Power flared. A strange Djinn appeared. Khalil said something in a sharp whip of a voice that she heard as if from a distance. After one wide-eyed glance around, the Djinn nodded and whisked away.

Oh, good. That meant a doctor would be coming. She looked at Max again. He wasn’t bleeding. That had to be good too. She had no idea what to do for him. There were classes for that sort of thing, what were they called? Whatever they were, she should take some. Her head was pounding, her ears hurt, and her skin and knee felt like they were on fire.

Then Khalil knelt, and Chloe was there, still sobbing and wrapped in towel, and he simply enfolded them all. Grace leaned against him while she wrapped her arms around the children, and Khalil put his face in her hair. She thought he and Phaedra said things to each other, but she wasn’t sure, because it was such a strain to focus on anything, so she just concentrated on holding those poor, scared babies.

Black clouds like smoke filled her head, or maybe it was the dark sea. This time the vision came to her so softly, it was as if she fell into a dream.

She was surrounded with people.

Petra touched her hand and looked at her with such gratitude. Thank you for looking after them.

Of course, Grace said. What else would I do?

Gram smiled proudly and said, I knew you would figure it out.

Then a strange, angry man told her, Check the insurance again. I would never fall asleep at the wheel.

Grace stared. She recognized him from photographs in the newspaper. He was the independent trucker who crossed the meridian line and caused the head-on collision. But that’s what I was told.

It’s a lie.

The trucker faded back into the sea, and suddenly the world snapped back into place. Khalil knelt in front of her. He cupped her face, handling her with a tense care that was in sharp contrast to the banked violence of emotion in his elegant face. She startled badly when she realized the kids were no longer on her lap. She grabbed his wrists.

He shook one of his hands free to hold a vial up to her mouth. She watched his lips as he said, “Drink it.”

She could feel the magic in the vial even in her dizzy confusion. It was a “cure-all” healing potion, expensive and rare. When she opened her mouth to ask where the kids went and how he had gotten the potion, he tilted the precious contents of the vial between her open lips, and she had no choice but to swallow.

An intense golden glow filled her body and drove back the dark sea. The Power from the potion pulsed in her skin, her knee and her head. Khalil wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nudged the rim of another vial between her lips. “Drink another one,” he said.

By that time her dizziness had lessened, and she heard him for real. She didn’t waste time on asking how he had gotten them or how much they cost. Instead she drank, and that time the Power in the potion blew away the clouds in her head. She said, “The kids.”