The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(33)

Once they landed in Miami, they took a car service to Grace and Khalil’s house.

Olivia had called ahead, so they knew that Grace and Khalil waited at home for their arrival. Sebastian’s heart began to pound as the car pulled up to the front of an attractive ranch house. They climbed out. He reached for Olivia’s hand as they walked up the path, and she squeezed his fingers.

When he rang the doorbell, a pretty, titian-haired young woman answered the door. She rushed forward and threw her arms around Olivia, and the two women murmured to each other as they hugged.

A massive male Djinn walked up beside them. Khalil had white, regal features, long raven hair held back with a strip of leather and those typical, piercing, diamond-like eyes. Phaedra looked a lot like her father.

“Come in,” Grace said. She kept an arm around Olivia’s waist as she said, “I asked Atefeh and Ebrahim to babysit Max and Chloe so we could have time to ourselves without the children. I have been so worried about you. Are you really better?”

“Almost a hundred percent,” said Olivia with a small smile.

The ground glass in Sebastian’s chest shifted, cutting at him. His voice was harsh as he said, “You know why we’re here. I need to petition you.”

Khalil frowned, but Grace turned to Sebastian immediately. Even though her face was young, her hazel gaze was filled with a kind of compassion that seemed ageless. “Please, come sit and talk with me,” she said.

Somehow there was an indefinable yet essential shift in Power, and it was the Oracle that spoke to him.

Sebastian followed her to a gleaming oak dinner table with six matching chairs, set in front of ceiling high windows that looked over the ocean. The Oracle sat at one end of the table, and gestured for Sebastian to sit at her right. He complied, while Olivia and Khalil remained several steps away, present but not participating.

The Oracle said, “Tell me your story.”

It poured out of him in a convulsive rush, while she listened in silence. Finally he stopped speaking and watched her.

The Oracle frowned, her gaze unfocused, and rubbed the polished surface of the table with her fingertips. Then her lips moved silently. She looked for all the world as if she were talking to herself.

Sebastian clenched his hands into fists.

He thought, This is where she tells me there is no hope. This is the final answer to my question.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to wear his sunglasses for one more moment. He tore them off and flung them across the room. They shattered to pieces against the opposite wall.

The peripheral vision on his right side was almost completely gone, but he still sensed the Djinn shifting in unfriendly reaction.

Then the Oracle’s expression underwent a drastic change.

“Khalil,” she bit out. “Please retrieve that shrunken head from Jamaica for me, will you?”

“As you wish,” said the Djinn. His physical form dissipated, and he blew away.

Sebastian and Olivia had no time to do anything other than exchange one mystified look. Then Khalil returned again to place the shrunken head in the Oracle’s hands, his expression filled with distaste.

The Oracle spoke again, silently. This time she appeared to be arguing. Her expression flashed with anger. She slapped a flattened hand on the table and barked out, “You will obey!”

Her Power shifted. To Sebastian’s magical sense, she seemed to reach out, grasp hold of an insubstantial something and shake it.

The next voice that poured out of her mouth was not hers. The rapid words it spoke were not English, but an indigenous language that was, to Sebastian, all too familiar.

Before he could react, Power flared out of the shrunken head. It cut through him like a saber and blasted him out of his chair.

Then with a snap, the Power disappeared.

Disoriented, his head ringing, Sebastian struggled to his hands and knees. Dimly he became aware that Olivia had fallen to her knees beside him. She flung her arms around him. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” he heard himself say.

Nearby, Grace said in horror, “Oh my God, I really am holding a shrunken head.”

The Djinn said in a gentle voice, “Yes, Gracie. I will just remove that object from this house forever, shall I?”

“Pleeeeeassse.”

Olivia cupped Sebastian’s face. Her hands were shaking. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He tried to focus on her. Everything in his head throbbed.

“Your eyes,” she whispered. “The black—it’s all gone.”

He shook his head and then wished he hadn’t. Carefully he shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Your face is blurry. Everything is blurry.”

Grace said, “It will probably take a few weeks for your vision to return to normal.”

He blinked in her direction. “What did you do?”

“For the first time in my life,” Grace said grimly, “I forced a ghost to do something. And I’m not sorry, either. That chieftain was a snot. Feel free to use the guest room if you need to lie down.” A chair scraped across the floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go wash my hands in Purell for a couple of hours.”

The sound of her footsteps retreated.

Holy hell. Did Grace just say what he thought she’d said?

Carling had been right all along. They had needed the chieftain to use the shrunken head to lift the curse. It had been a totally impossible solution that had, somehow, still happened.