Everything in Khalil leaped at her words, but he never took his attention away from the real threat, his father. The rage on Soren’s face was blinding. “That isn’t a bargain, that’s blackmail.”

Khalil flattened farther around Grace, tightening his Power in case of a blow. She said, “Call it what you like.”

“You’re talking about his death!”

“I’m talking about protecting his right to choose whatever he wants.”

“We do not sacrifice our people!” Soren took a step toward her, his hands clenched.

Every other Djinn moved forward too, their attention locking on Soren. Ebrahim stepped in front of Grace and Khalil. It was an entirely brave thing to do and, if Soren chose to strike, entirely suicidal.

Khalil dared to loosen his hold on Grace enough to rise over Ebrahim’s head and face his father. “It appears that no one else agrees with you,” he said. “Enough of this. You will not hamper me in any way from doing what I want with my life. Strike the bargain.”

Soren met his gaze. “Khalil, don’t.”

“Strike it.” He didn’t waver, despite the look in Soren’s eyes. Soren in pain was more dangerous than ever, but Khalil also knew that once Soren agreed to the bargain, the older Djinn would be honor bound to keep it. “And for the love of gods, keep peace between us.”

Soren looked around at his people, and his expression grew bitter. “Yes,” said Soren. Then he vanished.

Grace sagged. Quicker than thought, Khalil took form and snatched her close, and as he counted her precious breaths, he knew that every other Djinn would be doing so as well, watching and helping her in any way they could.

“You’ve just gained an entire race of bodyguards, nursemaids and babysitters,” he said in her hair.

She clutched him so tightly her arms shook. “Nobody babysits the children until they’ve read at least three child-rearing books.” She whispered, “Even though all the possible futures kept shifting, I kept seeing you in some kind of prison. I kept trying to figure out how to stop it from happening.”

She was trembling all over. He tilted her face up and kissed her gently, savoring her soft lips and the core of steel inside her and how she kissed him back.

“I am so proud of you,” he said from the back of his throat. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you never called me when Phaedra showed up, even after you promised. I am still pissed all to hell at you for that.”

“Hold on a sec,” she murmured. “I might need to gasp and bite my nails.”

“Gracie,” he said between his teeth.

She buried her face in his chest. “I know, you’re never going to let me forget it.”

“That’s right.” He cupped the back of her head and held her. “I have to ask. Are all the Oracle’s moons going to be like this?”

She pulled back and stared at him. She looked horrified. “Gods, I don’t know. They’d better not be.”

Twenty-One

After the confrontation with Soren, Khalil had lost his taste for the hunt. Not that it mattered. Once the coven had lost their ability to operate in secrecy, it became a bug hunt. Twelve bugs after Therese were apprehended, and the biggest cockroach was Brandon Miller. Jaydon Guthrie, for whom so many crimes had been committed, had known nothing of the attacks. By Monday evening, all the conspirators were in custody.

Khalil was glad, for Grace’s sake, that not all twelve of the people who had showed up for her work day had been involved in sabotaging her house. All but Olivia had been part of the Humanist Party, but only four on Saturday had been part of the secret coven. The other eight had just been unpleasant.

“Somehow that’s a bit easier to take, knowing that not everybody on Saturday had been there all day, conspiring to kill me and the kids,” Grace said to Khalil with a shudder.

“The ones who did are crazy,” Khalil said. “Just like pariahs.”

Once the conspiracy had been uncovered, all eight from the workday who were innocent, along with Jaydon Guthrie and many others, called or e-mailed to express their outrage and grief at what had happened and to apologize on behalf of the Humanist Party.

One of them was the babysitter, Janice. When Grace recognized the number on her new cell phone, she almost didn’t pick up, but then she decided otherwise and ended up talking with the older woman for fifteen minutes. “I have certain beliefs,” Janice said, her voice thick with emotion. “We all believe in something. But what that coven did was monstrous, and even though I knew nothing about it, it hurts my heart to think I had any connection at all with them.”

“I guess it’s hard to understand terrorism in any form,” Grace said. “We just have to learn how to move on now.”

Isalynn insisted Grace, and by extension Khalil, stay at her house for the foreseeable future. Security had swarmed Isalynn’s neighborhood, and her house was large and comfortable. Grace agreed, and that was the last decision either she or Khalil had to make Sunday evening. After an early supper, a hot shower and the comfort of soft, old clothes that one of the Djinn investigators brought, Grace couldn’t keep her eyes open. While Khalil joined her for the companionship, even he was tired enough to rest, drifting and thoughtless throughout the dark night.

Once the authorities confirmed that all twelve conspirators were in custody on Monday, the first thing Grace did was call Katherine. Even though nobody believed the children were still in danger, Katherine and John agreed to stay with them in Houston for the week, so that Grace and Khalil could deal with the aftermath of the house fire.

There were so many details to attend to. The house insurance. Grace also remembered what the ghost of the trucker had said about his accident insurance. An investigation into that was set in motion.

Khalil had called it—there was no lack of willing help on hand. A half-dozen Djinn were available at any given time. With a few determined Djinn pursuing the issue, they discovered that the trucker had not let his insurance lapse, as the insurance company had at first claimed. Instead, the company had made a mistake in processing his payment. Turned out, the insurance company owed his widow and Grace a settlement. It wouldn’t be a fortune, but it would be a substantial addition to Grace’s growing resources.

In the meantime, while Chloe and Max were in Houston, Khalil arranged for a leave of absence from his duties, and he and Grace tackled the job of sorting out what might be salvageable from the house. They saved some family mementos, photographs, all the historical papers and journals from previous Oracles that were stored in trunks in the attic, the files and computer, some of the children’s clothes and toys and the summer clothes Grace had stored in the office.

She chose to keep the rocking chair the children had been rocked in, even though it had been damaged. She wanted to try to repair it, because her grandmother had rocked her and Petra in it as well. Khalil wanted to keep the old leather armchair he sat in to read to the children. It was one of the few physical things he had ever grown attached to. There was nothing else worth salvaging. The structure itself would take an extensive effort to repair, more effort and resources than the house was worth.

On Wednesday afternoon, they sat for a while on the porch, listened to the wind in the trees, and Grace reminisced. Khalil asked her questions, fascinated by the intimate glimpse into her past. He held her as she wiped her face.

“It’s kind of a relief,” she said. “I feel so guilty about that. And it hurts too.”

He could understand it, at least more than he would have been able to before he had met her. This house was where he had stood, looked out the screen door and first felt that magical, precious something.

“You’re losing another huge piece of your past,” he said.

Grace nodded. “And I don’t have to fix the roof,” she said.

He laughed. She put her hands over her face and laughed with him and cried at the same time.

When they checked the rest of the property, they discovered the cavern had completely collapsed. Out of curiosity more than anything else, Khalil let go of his physical form and flowed around the crumbled nooks and crannies of the tunnel to the wreckage below. There weren’t any pockets of space large enough for a man to stand up in, just shreds of old Power and broken rock. When he emerged, Grace held the one thing from the cabinets important enough to keep, the Oracle’s mask, wrapped in cloth.

Meanwhile, the Djinn watched Grace and waited. The numbers of Djinn too damaged to heal themselves were relatively low, but those involved profound injuries. Khalil warned them off, telling them Grace needed time to get her basic needs met and to arrange for the children’s welfare before she could start spending energy on trying to heal damaged Djinn.

By Thursday, Grace herself brought the issue up. “I can’t stand it any longer,” she said to Khalil. “Ebrahim is driving me crazy. I don’t think he’s stopped working once since he showed up on Sunday.”

Khalil rubbed the back of his neck. He, Ebrahim and three other Djinn had been demolishing the house, while Grace watched. Khalil had taken a break for a few moments to join her. “I will talk with him again,” Khalil said. “I will tell him he must leave until you are ready.”

“No,” Grace told him. The day was sweltering, and Grace wore another set of loose, dark shorts made of a soft jersey material that Khalil liked, along with a tank top and sandals. The sun had kissed her skin with color. With her red-gold hair and coppery tan, she looked like a slender, vibrant flame. He approved. “I can’t stand that either—the not knowing, I mean. We need to find out if Phaedra was a fluke and whether or not I really can help any other Djinn to heal.”

He sighed. “Agreed. But after you try with Ebrahim’s mate, you will see no one else for at least two weeks. Katherine and John will be returning with the children on Sunday, and we must still arrange for a place for you—for us—to stay.”

Grace looked at him sidelong. The corners of her lips curved upward when he said “us,” but otherwise, she made no comment about that. Instead, she muttered, “That’s awfully bossy of you.”

By then he read her expressions very well indeed. He took note that she looked relieved, not offended. He called to Ebrahim, who winged toward them immediately. Khalil told him, “Get Atefeh.”

After one startled look at Grace, Ebrahim whirled away. Khalil watched as Grace braced herself visibly. He laid a hand against her back, and she glanced at him gratefully.

Then Ebrahim returned with Atefeh, his mate. Atefeh was so damaged, she could not create a physical form for herself, and she struggled constantly to soak in enough nourishment. She hovered in front of Grace, her presence dull and skewed.

One by one, the other Djinn quit working on the house demolition and joined them. Others appeared silently. Grace glared at the new arrivals, but she didn’t say anything, and they didn’t leave. She turned her attention back to Atefeh, and her expression smoothed, her gaze turning inward. Khalil felt the dark Power rise in her. Silence fell.

He didn’t know what happened next. He sensed movement that occurred somehow just beyond his awareness.

Atefeh flexed with a gasp and fell forward. Thinking the Djinn meant to attack or overwhelm Grace, Khalil lunged to pull Grace away and wrap her in a tight protection. But Atefeh was focused on something else, something only she and Grace seemed able to see. Atefeh keened, a sharp sound filled with pain. Her mate Ebrahim emitted a strangled groan in response, his face agonized as he watched her struggle.

Let me go! Grace said to Khalil. She shoved him with her Power, and he peeled away. She stepped toward the struggling Djinn. “Don’t give up! Don’t try to grab her. Stand still and let her come to you. Try to open up—she has to come inside you.”

Who was Grace talking about? Khalil couldn’t sense anybody but Grace and Atefeh.

Afeteh’s presence shuddered and rippled and suddenly flared with brilliance. For a moment, an ebony-skinned woman stood in front of them, eyes incandescent with triumph. She turned to give her mate a fierce smile. Ebrahim lost his physical form and became a piercing white light filled with joy.

All the other Djinn shouted until the sound rang through the open space.

Then Atefeh’s smile faded. A moment later, her physical form did too. I can’t hold it any longer, the Djinn said faintly. I must rest.

Ebrahim’s fierce white light twined with Atefeh. He said to Grace, Thank you.

You are both welcome, Grace said, even as the two Djinn faded away.

Grace turned to Khalil, beaming. He laughed, caught her up and spun her around. Then he stood and held her tightly.

My miracle, he thought. My Grace.

By Friday, Khalil couldn’t stand it any longer. “I am putting my foot down,” he told Grace at Isalynn’s breakfast table. Even though they had spent the last several nights at Isalynn’s, they never saw anyone but Judith, who took care of the house. Isalynn and her son, Malcolm, had traveled to Washington, but Isalynn had made it very clear before she left that they were to stay for as long as they needed.

Grace had dressed in capri pants and a sleeveless shirt that buttoned down the front. Khalil chose to form jeans and a T-shirt again. He was growing to like that kind of outfit. Grace rested her chin in her hands as she regarded him. She said, “Putting your foot down?”

“I can have feet when I choose to.”

She chuckled. “It’s a very human saying.”

“Indeed.” He folded the newspaper he had been reading and set it aside.

“What are you putting your foot down about now?”

“You make me sound dictatorial,” he said. “Finish your breakfast.”