Mundir curled his lip. The dislike was mutual. “Of course.”

Khalil smiled at the other Djinn. The debt had been a long inconvenience for Mundir, and holding it over his head had been most enjoyable. Now it was time for another pleasure. “You will clean this kitchen floor with…” He looked at his small nest of human birds, who were staring openmouthed at the new arrival. Khalil asked Grace, “What does one use to clean a kitchen floor?”

She gave both him and Mundir a wary glance. “A mop and bucket?”

Khalil waved a hand and finished giving Mundir his order. “For what you have owed me, you will clean this kitchen floor as humans do, with a mop and bucket, and I suppose that means soap and water as well.” He added telepathically, And you will go gently as you do so, House Gul, for young ones live in this place, and they are vulnerable.

The tight, incredulous expression on the other Djinn’s face alone was worth the cancellation of his ancient debt. Fury shook in Mundir’s voice as he hissed, “This will pay in full what I have owed you.”

Khalil opened his eyes wide. “Of course.”

He caught sight of Grace shaking her head slowly, her gaze wide. He gave her a gleaming smile. Associating with this young Oracle was proving to be beneficial on many levels. So far this morning he had quite virtuously obstructed the path of the Great Beast—an opportunity that did not come around often—and he had also provided a great source of irritation to another Djinn whom he had disliked for countless years. Now he saw that he had rendered the Oracle in a rare state of speechlessness. Aside from her disturbing and mysterious vision, the subject of which he intended to pursue as soon as the little ones were not present, this morning was turning out to be truly fine.

It put him in such a magnanimous mood, he felt like splurging. What the hell. He plucked another connection, and another startled Djinn appeared. This one was Ismat, of the House Shaytan. The form she chose was pleasantly rounded and dark skinned, with hawkish features.

After verifying she was available to pay her debt, Khalil said, “You will go to a respectable restaurant.” He tried to think of a good one. He didn’t know very many restaurants. Finally he said, “The Russian Tea Room in New York will do. You will bring back pancakes for these humans, along with an assortment of other breakfast dishes, and you will create a fine table from which they will dine. The small female has been waiting some time for her breakfast, so do this quickly.” His thoughtful gaze fell on an infuriated Mundir who mopped the floor, and he added, “Oh yes, and bring back a gallon of milk while you’re at it.”

Ismat looked around the kitchen. She grinned as she caught sight of Mundir with a mop and bucket. Eyes twinkling, she said to Khalil, “I see you have finally loosened your tight fist on all those many debts you own. This will pay in full one of the favors I owe you.”

“It will indeed,” he said.

Ismat vanished.

Khalil turned back to his audience at the kitchen table. Excited by the comings and goings, Chloe climbed out of her booster seat and hopped around, squealing. Grace had taken Max out of his high chair to cuddle the baby on her lap. She looked dazed. “I think I’m beginning to see how pancakes could be viewed as an achievement.”

Khalil nodded. He noticed her coffee cup was empty. He fetched the carafe of dark, steaming liquid from the apparatus on the counter. On impulse he searched cupboards until he found a collection of mugs, and he took one for himself. Then he strolled over to sit at the empty chair at the kitchen table and enjoy the fruits of his labor. He poured coffee, first into Grace’s cup and then into his own, and he stretched out his legs.

“I was going to fetch breakfast myself,” said Khalil. “But I decided to drink a cup of coffee and enjoy watching Mundir mop instead.”

Grace had studied the children carefully when she had returned to the kitchen. Aside from Chloe’s upset at having spilled the milk, they acted normally. Khalil was right; they hadn’t heard the voice. She relaxed somewhat, but she hadn’t thought she would be able to set aside the disturbing vision and eat anything. Then Ismat arrived with the food and set a feast of exotic dishes on the table.

Pecan-studded pancakes with macerated strawberries and maple syrup. A superb quiche, cooked with bacon, leeks, black truffle, potato and Gruyère cheese. Russian yogurt with fresh berries and spiced roasted almonds. Cherry and cheese blintzes, and apple smoked sausage. Smoked salmon with chives, creamed goat cheese and a cherry tomato, and micro green salad.

Linen napkins. And milk.

The bounty from the famous Tea Room was so rich, strange and plentiful, even Chloe fell silent.

Grace’s reaction was just as rich, strange and plentiful. She shouldn’t have agreed to allow any of it. The whole thing was as bad as the talking-cat nonsense. Or maybe it was worse? She couldn’t decide, and the dilemma was making her feel a little too much like the witch Samantha’s cranky, disapproving husband Darrin from the TV show Bewitched.

But the fragrance of the steaming gourmet food hit Grace where it truly hurt. Still shaken from the vision, too tired and hungry herself, Grace took one look at Chloe’s wide, shining eyes—and reached for the nearest serving spoon to place small heaps of the delicacies on Chloe’s plate.

After Chloe had plenty, Grace served herself, took her first bite and was transported with delight.

Her enjoyment was helped immensely when Mundir finished mopping shortly after the food arrived and disappeared with a sneer. She was grateful when the hostile Djinn left. It was a little difficult to try to eat while he cleaned her kitchen floor.

Who was she kidding? She would have wanted to eat that breakfast in the middle of tornado warnings with smoke alarms going off. The fact that she relaxed and stuffed herself in Khalil’s presence kind of proved her own point.

Oh gods, the smoked salmon.

She gave Max his bottle, and he drank contentedly while she savored each bite of the rich, exquisitely prepared food. While she had accessed the Oracle’s Power only a few times since she had inherited it, she found the stories her grandmother and Petra had told her about the aftermath were true. She felt shaky, like she was loosely attached to the physical world. Eating breakfast helped to anchor her more fully in her body. The intensity of the vision faded, and the reality of her own life came to the forefront of her mind where it belonged. She set the whole experience aside, to examine it later. For now she focused on the children and the present.

Khalil lounged in his chair, a massive, regal figure, his presence crackling against her hypersensitive awareness. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His arms were thick, and his chest was wide with the appearance of muscles. He watched Chloe eat, his radiant eyes lit with an indulgent expression. He chatted with the little girl, asked her questions about her doll and friends, and from time to time he sipped coffee or chose to sample a bite from one of the dishes. Once or twice he glanced at Max with a slight smile.

Did his smile hold a touch of wistfulness? She thought of his brief, tragic statement about his daughter who had sustained some kind of damage and had apparently not recovered from it. For a moment he had shown an immense rage and deep grief before his expression smoothed over.

He clearly liked creating mischief, and he carried more arrogance in his little finger than anybody else she had ever met. But she did not sense any true malevolence in his actions. Despite his acerbic and high-handed manner, all in all he had treated her far better than she had expected.

Then there were the children. They were her anchor, her terrifying responsibility, and now somehow they had become a bridge to this Powerful creature.

Aware of their bargain, she said hesitantly, “Would you like to hold Max?”

Surprised pleasure lit Khalil’s hard face. He said, “If the small gentleman would deem that acceptable.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” she said. “He’s pretty easygoing, and he likes people.”

She handed Max over to Khalil, sticky banana-coated hair, bottle and all. Max grinned, kicked his legs and burbled conversationally. Khalil held the baby straight out in both hands, staring at him. Now that he actually had hold of Max, he seemed frozen and unsure about what to do.

Grace covered her mouth to hide her smile. She suggested, “Set him on your lap.”

Khalil’s gaze shifted to hers. He settled the baby on his lap. Max leaned back against his arm, tilted his bottle up and waved a foot in the air as if drinking his bottle while hanging out with a Djinn was an everyday occurrence. Grace patted the baby’s shoulder. She might be biased, but she thought her nephew was one pretty-cool guy.

“Do you think he likes me?” Khalil asked, his black brows drawn together.

His uncertainty was so unexpectedly endearing, Grace bit her lip. She opened her mouth to reply, but her niece beat her to it.

“Sure,” said Chloe as she chewed on the end of a sausage. “I like you too. But I’d like you better as a horsie.”

Khalil grinned, and Grace murmured warningly, “Chloe.”

“What?” Chloe said, wide-eyed again. “Was that bad?”

Grace noticed that Chloe wasn’t really eating the sausage, just chewing on the end of it. “Are you done eating?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then stop chewing on that. It’s time for you to have that bath.” She stared at all the food on the table. It could wait for fifteen minutes. She would put it away after she got the kids clean. She turned to Khalil. “Thank you so much for breakfast.”

He looked resigned. “You are welcome.”

She gave him an evil grin as she nudged Chloe. “Come on, honey. Say thank you to Khalil for the pancakes.”

Chloe knew how to turn on the charm. She gave Khalil a high-watt beam worthy of a beauty-pageant queen. “Thank you!”

Khalil held Grace’s gaze as he returned her smile, his own laced with a grudging amusement. Then he turned his attention to Chloe. He said to the little girl, “You are welcome. Did you enjoy them?”

“Yes!”

“I’m glad.”

Grace held out her arms for Max, and Khalil handed the baby over to her. “Well,” she said, somewhat awkwardly. What now? Should she tell him to go, only much more nicely than she had before? “I really appreciate you coming when I called.”

He gave her an exasperated glare. “Shut up.”

She hadn’t actually meant to tease that time, so she burst out laughing. Sobering quickly, she said to Chloe, “It’s not okay to tell someone to shut up. It’s very rude, especially if they’re only trying to be nice.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Even I know that.”

A clean kitchen floor, and an excess of caffeine and carbohydrates, must have gone to Grace’s head. Feeling giddy with her own mischief, she turned back to Khalil and told him, “So you should actually apologize to me.”

His eyes widened. He looked from Grace to Chloe’s upturned, expectant expression, then back to Grace again. She thought for the first time since they had become ac-quainted, real respect entered his expression. “I apologize for telling you to shut up,” he said gravely, while his gaze promised her some kind of retribution for her impudence.

But he would not do anything to hurt either her or the children. He had said so, and his associations and his word meant everything to him. No wonder Djinn considered information to be so valuable they would trade for it. Grace blinked at him with a creamy, innocent smile and once again chose the dumb route to Damascus.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and clean up the kitchen while I bathe the kids?” she said to the Djinn prince of the House Marid.

Retribution? He could bring it.

She took the children to their bedroom to gear up for the bath. Chloe could carry her own summer outfit, shorts and a daisy-patterned T-shirt, along with Max’s diaper and a shirt that read: BAD TO THE BONE. They would be getting another wash in the kitchen sink.

She wanted to find a way to make the upstairs more accessible. Some of that would come as her leg strengthened, which was a good thing since Max got bigger and heavier every day. She grabbed baby shampoo, a washcloth and a towel from the cabinet in their room that she used as a linen closet.

The safety gate at the bottom of the stairs had a frame that could be left pinned in place while part of it opened like a real gate. When she had the funds, she could get a second gate to put at the top of the stairs. Then they both could stay fastened in place, and she wouldn’t have to keep hauling one gate up and down the stairs. She added a second gate to her wish list, along with getting Chloe a twin bed, although moving a dresser downstairs on Saturday topped the list.

Chloe scampered ahead of her and rounded the corner to the kitchen. With Max on her hip, Grace paused to tuck Cuelebre’s card carefully in her spiral-bound phone book in the living room then joined Chloe. Of course the kitchen was still a mess, and Khalil was nowhere in sight.

That surprised Grace. Not the mess—she had expected that he would ignore her cheeky order to clean up the kitchen, but she could have sworn she still sensed Khalil’s presence, and she had been geared up to continue their argument.

Frowning, she bathed the children with swift efficiency. She set Max on the clean floor afterward while Chloe skipped off to play in the living room.

Then she turned her attention to the kitchen table. There was quite a bit of food left over, and a lot of it would freeze well. She put it away, enjoying the thought of a few easy, delicious meals.

Had Ismat paid for all this food, or had she simply whisked into the restaurant and taken whatever dish she fancied? If Djinn went around stealing things all the time, they would be prosecuted like any other thief—but the trick would be to catch them.