Oracle’s Moon excerpt by Thea Harrison

ORACLE’S MOON an excerpt
by Thea Harrison on Tuesday, February 7, 2012 at 9:37pm ·(Facebook)

“Hello, are you still there?” she asked.

Even though she spoke softly, the sound of her own voice shattered the deep, late night silence. She couldn’t sense Khalil’s presence in the house or even on the property, like she had earlier. But now that she had turned her attention toward him, she could feel a tenuous thread of connection that streaked through the air like a vapor trail left from an airplane.

Still, she got no response when she called his name, not even a shift in the air. Terrific. He wasn’t paying attention.
She felt the impulse to pace but stifled it. Pacing had become more trouble than it was worth. Instead, she spun the office chair in circles. Of all the foolishness she had been guilty of in her life, feeling peeved that Khalil didn’t respond when she called him—especially after she had been so insistent that he go away—ranked high on the list.

Maybe he was on a date. Maybe he had a mate. Maybe he had several mates. Maybe he was watching TV. Hell, as far as she knew, maybe he didn’t even need a television set, he just sucked up the information on the airwaves.

She pinched her lower lip and spun in more circles, watching the shadowed room go round and round.
An affinity to things of the spirit meant sometimes going past the teachings from her childhood, to an understanding that resided deep in her gut. She patted along the edges of the connection, learning as she explored the thread. When she was confident she had a good sense of it, she wrapped her awareness around the thread and yanked.

Far in the distance, an immense cyclone whipped around to give her its full, startled attention. She stopped spinning and sat back in her chair as it streamed toward her, spitting with fury.

The cyclone exploded into the house. The window curtains spun into a knot, and all the loose papers on the desk blew around the room. Black smoke seethed in the office and coalesced into the figure of one outraged Djinn.

He wore a dark crimson tunic and trousers, his raven hair pulled ruthlessly back from that elegant, inhuman face. His ivory skin was luminous against the rich red, and his diamond eyes shone brighter than the backlit computer screen, casting the shadowed office into even deeper darkness.

Yeow. He seemed bigger when he was angry.
He snarled, “You dare?”
Well, that experiment went well. She raised her eyebrows and pinched her lower lip again. “Would you rather give me a cell phone number that I can call?”

He gave her an incredulous glare. “How did you know to do that?!”

“I’m good at what I do?” she offered. What exactly had she done? She patted the air, found the thread of connection and gave it another small, experimental tug. Sulfurous anger boiled the air. Okay. Whatever it is, it must be like pulling the tail on a cat.
He bared his teeth and hissed at her. “Stop doing that!”

She muttered, “Also? Apparently sometimes I can be kind of stupid.”