I am a vindictive bitch, Grace thought, and I’m going to hell for enjoying this. “Therese Stannard.”

“Thank you,” said the senator. “I will follow up with you soon. Is this why you feel unable to take petitions?”

“It’s one of the main reasons,” Grace confessed. “I’ve also experienced some shifts in the Oracle’s Power itself. I think I’d better take some more time to work with it before I expose other people to it.”

“Shifts in Power,” Isalynn said slowly. “Interesting. Did you know that I’ve consulted with the Oracle several times through the years? I petitioned your grandmother when I first thought of running for senator, and then again when I became Head of the witches’ demesne. I also petitioned your sister when she became Oracle five years ago.”

“I had no idea,” Grace said. Max had climbed to his feet while holding on to her leg, and she ran her fingers gently through the soft tuft of baby-fine hair at the top of his head. “But then you know we’re supposed to keep petitions confidential.”

“Yes.” The anger in Isalynn’s voice had been replaced with warmth again. “Your sister had quite a different voice from your grandmother. I think each Oracle acts as a different lens for the Power. You will bring your own strengths and abilities to the experience.”

“Seems like it, anyway,” she muttered, scratching the back of her head. Grace hadn’t interacted much with Isalynn. Not only was Isalynn much older, but she was a true Power broker on the world stage, and they didn’t move in the same social circles. But Grace really liked her.

“I intend to petition you too, as soon as you are able,” Isalynn said. “In fact, since your three months were up, I was going to petition you next week.”

“I see,” she said, biting her lip. What if she didn’t take any more petitions? What if she could quit and still hold on to the Power? What would she do with her life then? She had the impulse to confide in the other woman but held back for now. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Isalynn told her. “Just keep in touch and let me know when you’re ready for consultations again. Since you’ve had Power shifts, it might be good for your next consultation to be with an experienced witch, anyway. I can provide that for you or get someone else to do it, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Grace said, startled at the thought. “I think that might be a really good idea.”

“In the meantime, I’ll look into the issue with the roster and get back to you.”

Grace hung up thoughtfully after the call ended. She and Max looked at each other. She said to him, “That conversation didn’t suck.”

“Fffft,” he said.

“I agree,” she told the baby as she picked him up. “You are a wise young man.”

He put his head on her shoulder and patted her.

Later that morning, she finally turned her attention to washing a load of her own clothes, which was when she rediscovered the envelope in her pocket from Don and Margie. With Khalil’s arrival and her unexpected clash with Therese, she had forgotten all about it. When she opened the envelope, she found five twenty dollar bills inside. She bit her lip as she considered the cash. Whatever else happened, whether she continued to act as the Oracle or stopped altogether, she would have to honor her promise to them.

That afternoon, she had another surprise phone call. The kids were down for their nap when the phone rang. She lunged to answer before it could wake them up. It was Jaydon Guthrie. He wanted to discuss the details for the Saturday work day. She had met Jaydon a few times, although she did not move in the same social circle as the Guthries either. Both Jaydon and his wife—Melinda or Melissa—had at-tended Petra and Niko’s memorial service, along with virtually all the dignitaries in the witches’ demesne and many from the other Elder demesnes as well. Most of what she knew about Jaydon, she had learned from Petra, who’d had more of an acquaintance with him through attending de-mesne functions. (Grace really wasn’t looking forward to those. She wore cutoffs, not cocktail suits or dresses.)

A tall, dark-haired, lean man in his late thirties or early forties, Jaydon was a criminal prosecution lawyer, with an inherited multimillion-dollar house in affluent Mockingbird Valley and a model-gorgeous blonde wife. He was also head of one of the oldest, most established covens in the demesne. He had run a few times unsuccessfully against Isalynn LeFevre for Head of the witches’ demesne, but Isalynn proved to be an impossible candidate to beat.

Jaydon came from a moneyed family and was Harvard educated, while Isalynn attended the University of Kentucky College of Law. A Powerful witch in her own right, Isalynn had learned her craft growing up in a poor small town in southern Kentucky. She had a strong grassroots appeal coupled with a sophisticated legal mind, and she balanced all the layers of her dual legislative roles with seeming effortlessness.

The last rumors Grace had heard from Petra were that Jaydon had given up for the time being on trying to beat Isalynn in the witches’ demesne elections, and he might be running for District Attorney in Jefferson County during the next election, while Isalynn’s supporters were urging her to consider the next gubernatorial race.

A few weeks after Isalynn had set up the babysitting roster for Grace, Jaydon initiated the quarterly work-day volunteer effort on her behalf. When Grace heard of it, she first thought Jaydon’s long-standing rivalry with Isalynn was still going strong. Then she felt embarrassed, because it seemed mean-spirited of her, especially when both plans were meant for her benefit. And the Guthries were well-known for championing community service. Jaydon’s wife worked actively to fund-raise for the local Humane Society and sat on the Board of Trustees for the Jefferson County Library System.

Still, Grace hadn’t expected to hear from Jaydon personally. He confirmed that eighteen witches from several covens had signed up for Saturday. A full coven had thirteen members, so like Isalynn’s babysitting roster, Jaydon had achieved cross-coven support. Eighteen people would be a great turnout for a volunteer work day.

“I’m sorry Melissa and I will not be able to make it,” he said. “We have another function we need to attend, a fund-raising luncheon for the library that Melissa’s been working on. She has three guest authors flying in for readings and book signings. I’m afraid she volunteered us to act as hosts for the authors before consulting me.”

A little taken aback, Grace said, “I understand.” She didn’t understand, not really. Neither Jaydon nor his wife had attended the first work day either, and Grace frankly hadn’t expected them. Mowing, whacking weeds, moving furniture and repairing fences didn’t exactly sound like their schtick. “Thank you anyway.”

“Brandon will be attending.” Brandon was one of the witches in Jaydon’s coven, and he had supervised the last work day. “He can help with who does what.”

“That’s great,” she said. “I thought I would buy sandwich things and make a salad for lunch. Get some fruit, something for dessert, and have iced tea and coffee for everybody. I might cook a casserole or some spaghetti, as well.”

Jaydon said, “It’s supposed to be ninety-six again on Saturday. People are going to be hot, busy and sweaty, and you’re going to have your hands full as it is. There’s no need to heat up your kitchen further or tire yourself out by trying to cook something for everybody. Sandwiches, a salad and plenty of cold drinks will do nicely.”

That sounded sensible to her, and she was more than happy to cross one more thing off her to-do list.

On Friday afternoon, when she had finally finished getting everything ready for Saturday, she found herself in the half bath, humming and putting on makeup. Mentally she called herself a few choice words while she did it. “Crackbrained idiot” headed the list. Khalil had, after all, kissed her when she had been a total mess. Twice.

She paused, mascara wand poised in midair. That was a good thing, wasn’t it?

Anyway, it was too warm to put on much makeup. She settled for a light dusting of blush, a tinted lip gloss and a few brushstrokes of mascara. And she might have fluffed her hair a bit. And put on a light print summer skirt, along with a spring green tank top.

Was the skirt too much? She thought it was; she just couldn’t help herself.

After all, “we’ll see” meant taking a good long look at…possibilities. Right?

No. The skirt was too much. Too hopeful. She wasn’t hopeful; she was cautious. She had told Khalil no more kissing or…or whatever for a reason. She took off the skirt and yanked on shorts. Then she washed her face. By the time Khalil appeared, the house was clean, the children fed and bathed, and she was freshly scrubbed and scowling. She and Chloe were busy stacking the day’s toys into the toy box, while Max hung onto the box’s edge and peered at the contents with interest.

Khalil’s presence eased into the living room before his physical form appeared. Intense, male, sensual, he curled around her with lazy intent. The tiny hairs along the back of her neck and arms rose. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. She stood frozen in the middle of the living room floor, while Chloe, once again oblivious, trotted around the room and chattered.

Invisible arms came around Grace. Her mouth fell open, and her thoughts stuttered. Large, unseen hands stroked up her arms, along her shoulders, and trailed up the back of her neck. Long, strong fingers slid into her hair. He tilted her head back, and hot lips caressed her lightly. Then his tongue eased into her mouth. He kissed her deeply, and his energy tightened around her, heating with lazy arousal.

She stared at the ceiling blindly. This had a stealthy wickedness beyond anything she could have imagined. Her whole body trembled.

“Why are you doing that, Gracie?” Chloe asked.

Slowly, unhurriedly, the pressure on her mouth eased, and his touch slid away. Grace managed to close her mouth and swallow hard.

“Huh?” Chloe asked. Small fingers poked Grace in the stomach. Chloe stood in front of her, peering up at the ceiling in curiosity. “Why are you looking up like that?”

“No reason,” Grace wheezed. He totally destroyed her capacity to think, and she couldn’t seem to get her breathing under control. A low chuckle sounded in her head.

“Rachel has clouds in her bedroom. Can we have clouds too?”

Grace tried to concentrate. Aside from how much it might cost to buy blue and white paint, she didn’t know how to paint clouds. Even if she taught herself how, the project would take hours of standing on a stepladder.

“Honey, I don’t think so,” she said. She watched Chloe’s face fall, and her heart twisted. There were so many things she couldn’t afford to do for them. A thought occurred to her. “Tell you what. We’ll get some glow-in-the-dark stars. I saw a package the other day at the toy store when we bought coloring books. Would you like to look at stars when you go to bed?”

“Yes!” said Chloe happily.

As Grace and Chloe talked, Khalil materialized in front of Max, who was still hanging on to the toy box. Khalil wore undyed linen again. The gentle beige color emphasized his pale, elegant features and the raven sleek sheen of his black hair. He gave Grace a sparkling, wicked glance over one wide shoulder.

Grace’s pulse started a helter-skelter race, hurtling through her veins. Max crowed, his little mouth making a rounded “O” in surprise. He started to squeal in delight.

The baby let go of the toy box and took two tottering steps toward Khalil before he fell on his diapered bottom. He scuttled over to Khalil as fast as he could on hands and knees.

“Oh, my God,” Grace said. “Oh, my God! Did you see that?”

Three very different sets of eyes turned to regard her with mild surprise. Khalil had already knelt to pat Max’s small back in greeting. At Grace’s exclamation, he frowned fiercely and looked around, as if searching for hidden dangers.

Grace hurried over and plucked Max out from under Khalil’s hand. “What a smart, big boy you are!” she exclaimed. She swung the baby high, and he shrieked with laughter. “You’re so clever!”

Khalil rose to his feet. Both he and Chloe still looked mystified. “What happened?”

“He walked! He let go of the toy box and took his first two steps toward you!”

A bright, keen smile broke across Khalil’s face. “I saw it, but I did not realize those were his first steps. He is young for this?”

“He’s nine and a half months,” Grace told him. Grace beamed up at Max as she held him high. “That’s a bit young to start walking, but we were all early walkers—I don’t know about Niko, but Petra, Chloe, and I started when we were around nine or ten months old. It’ll take Max a while to really get going.”

Never one to miss out on a good party, Chloe started hopping around the room. “Yay, yay, yay!”

Just as suddenly as the euphoria hit, Grace’s face twisted. She snatched the baby close, hugging him tight as her eyes swam with tears.

Suddenly Khalil was right beside her, his expression sharp. What is it?

Grace said, Petra and Niko aren’t here to see him.

Khalil’s gaze darkened with sympathy. He put an arm around her and drew both her and the baby close. Grace turned her face into his wide shoulder. She told herself she hid her face because she didn’t want to disturb the children, but she might have leaned on his straight, strong figure a little bit.

Khalil’s arm tightened on her. He distracted Max by talking to him while Grace pulled herself together.

Clearly ready for the next good thing that involved her, Chloe started shouting as she ran around the room. “It’s story time! It’s story time!”