Wish in One Hand (Once Upon a Djinn Book 1), page 12
With no universal disaster pending, I asked for Zeke’s whereabouts.
Baz tapped a few keys on his Blackberry. “According to the security grid, he’s in the recreation area with Michael and Mena. Looks like the gents are having a game of billiards while Mena cheers them on.”
Without another word, I pushed myself off the couch to locate my wandering djinn encyclopedia. I couldn’t think of Zeke any other way without wanting to either kiss him or kill him. One of the options broke my personal rules and the other broke the big Rules, so I was stuck.
I descended the stairs slowly. As crappy as my attitude was, I needed the extra time. Too bad the scant minutes didn’t calm me like I hoped. One look at Zeke bent over Mena, who was bent over the pool table, made my already hot temper reach boiling levels. They didn’t even like each other, for petesakes.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Zeke raised his dark-chocolate eyes and grinned. I could’ve done without the smoldering gaze, but the toothy smile pissed me off worse. I would’ve slapped him, but the current audience would’ve made therapy time way too interesting.
“I’m teaching your lovely associate how to bank the 8-ball into the corner pocket without scratching.” As he released the last syllable, his arms and hers completed the motion. The white sphere cracked against the black one, easing it past the stripy-red one to drop neatly into the hole.
Mena began to laugh in the lilting way she had. Until then, I never realized I loathed her. One look at my face wiped all traces of amusement from hers. “Sorry.” Her words came out mumbled. Which made me feel like a shit.
“Good shot.” I tried to squelch the green monster in my head. Mena was not trying to steal my man. If stealing an EX-boyfriend could even be possible. Especially at our age. Especially since I knew she hated Zeke with the fire of a thousand marshmallow roasts.
“Feeling better, Michael?” If I kept the interactions light, maybe no one would remember I stormed into the room like a PMS-crazed Medusa sans Midol.
“Almost back to normal, thanks to Mena. She thinks I need to visit the clinic in town, just to be sure, though.”
“Whatever you need to do, do it. If only to make sure you’re ready for the bar exam. It’s soon, isn’t it?” He nodded.
With the niceties handled and my blood pressure approaching normal, I focused on the man I didn’t want to need. “Can we have a moment alone?”
“Anything you need, I got, Babydoll.”
Think calm thoughts. Think calm thoughts. I chanted the mantra in my head, for all the good it did. I used every bit of willpower I could find to let the nickname slide. He had always used it to piss me off. He never understood that I got more pissed because I fell for it every single time. Nodding toward the source of irritation, I walked from the room. In my wake, I heard Mena mumble something about getting back to work. Michael sounded mortified about forgetting his studies and left, too.
As I strode toward the conference room, I felt like a shit. Both Mena and Michael needed whatever downtime they could eke out. Taking their fun away because of Zeke wasn’t fair. Of course, dealing with his laughter didn’t have anything to do with fairness either.
“We were merely playing a little pool and having fun. You do remember fun, don’t you, Josie?” He ambled past me into the conference room, dropping into the chair at the head of the table. My chair.
“You had your fun. Now it’s over.” I paced along one side of the big oval. I had easily twenty other seats to choose from, none of which I wanted. “After what happened, I think we’re done playing games.”
“Really, Jo, there’s nothing to get upset about. Mena was just—”
“I wasn’t talking about your display with my best friend.” As the words came out, I admitted his actions were partly why I got so angry. “I was talking about my latest Efreet encounter.”
For a moment he stared at me with his hands tented over his nose. “He’s taken another life?”
If he wanted to play like he didn’t already know, I didn’t have the energy to stop him. As much as I didn’t want to acknowledge the truth, his question forced the issue.
How one ‘yes’ could sound so fragile and pathetic, I’ll never know.
He shook his head as a low whistle escaped him. “He didn’t take nearly as long as I’d hoped. The murders before the last war. They weren’t spaced so closely together—”
“And now?”
“This isn’t then. At least then, we—I mean, they knew who they were up against.”
“Cut the crap, Zeke.” Opposite him at the table, I placed my hands palms down on the oak surface. “I know you were in the war. You’re the one who suggested the punishment, after all. I’ll bet you helped carry it out. Didn’t you? You lying sack of—” I cut him off before he could protest. “Lying by omission still counts. And before you try to think it, we’re not leaving this room until you spill the truth about everything.”
“You can’t handle—” he began in a really bad Jack Nicholson impression.
I raised a hand. I didn’t have the juice to blow-dry his hair and he knew it, but he also knew I might try something more painful than magical. “Out with it. Now.”
He stopped being so damned relaxed for once. Eyes I’d seen twinkling in humor more times than I could count grew cold. “It’s war, Jo. It’s hard. It’s ugly. We lost friends, amongst both the allies and the enemy.”
“But you turned them into dogs.”
He pierced me with a hard glare. “Djinn turned Efreet into dogs. The Efreet didn’t return the favor. They don’t adhere to our Rules, Jo. They want to kill someone, they kill him. Sometimes their own kind, if one stands in the way. And depending on the Efreet’s mood, people died in inventively cruel ways.” He snorted. “What happened to Arthur horrified you? Well, Babydoll, he did those kids a kindness compared to what I’ve seen.”
He walked to a nearby window where the Rockies rose dark against a moonlit sky, but the scenery didn’t appear to interest him. “When I told you I wasn’t in the last war with Mary, I meant it. I couldn’t be.”
“Then how do you know so much about it?” My hands ached to sooth the muscles bunched along his shoulders. Before I lost myself in touching him, I said, “And don’t give me any bull about hearing the tale from someone else. I know you as well as you know me.”
“The truth, Jo? I know so much about Mary’s war because I served in a war exactly like it. Four hundred years earlier.” He paced around the table toward me. “And the one before that.” Another step in my direction put me on the retreat. “And the one before that.” We stopped when my back hit the wall, his face inches from mine. The rage in his eyes made me cringe.
“Hell, Babydoll, I watched Atlantis sink under the waves of the Mediterranean during one such war.” Pain etched his features until he barely resembled the man I once loved.
“The last conflict? Let’s say I’d had my fill. I couldn’t watch another djinn slaughter.” His hand cupped my cheek. I’d never seen so much emotion in those eyes without an orgasm nearby. Seeing this side of him scared me shitless. “When you wonder why I became the man who once disgusted you, there’s your answer.”
As he stepped back, I let his words settle into me. Tucking away the insight I wasn’t ready to deal with yet, I tried focusing on the war that might be ahead. Basically, to stop the Efreet we’d need a massive, all-out, group effort. Such an undertaking by beings who didn’t really get together for much of anything was unheard of. Creating genie brotherhood of any magnitude isn’t easy and it’s sure as hell not quick.
When I first realized every djinn deserved to be free, I didn’t have a clue how to go about it. Hell, back then I didn’t have clue one whether other masterless genies existed, let alone how to locate them. I was only one woman suddenly freed by circumstance, with boatloads of power and no idea how to do anything useful with it. Well, anything beyond granting wishes to whoever got his clammy hands on the brooch I called home.
One thing I did know? I didn’t want anyone to have to grant another thoughtless wish simply because their Master said so.
After fighting with Zeke, I spent a lot of time wandering the streets of whatever city looked promising. I scoured newspapers for stories about lottery winners and meteoric rises to fame. Each lead I followed could be a potential genie handing out impossible goodies. Still, my first dozen rescues amounted to nothing more than good luck.
I think the turning point came after scanning a snippet in some tabloid. It wasn’t that much of a lead, but I’d reached the point where I’d either chase one more wisp of hope or give up altogether.
Needless to say, the rescue went totally spastic. Even with Reggie’s genes working on one side and my djinn curse working on the other, I still floundered my way into that ‘lucky’ human’s home like an elephant on crack. I took a bullet, but the pain never mattered. It only mattered to locate and free the genie. That day I rescued the man who became the first of my network: Basil. Years later, with his help, my self-appointed mission really rocketed.
Now the very idea of a Djinn/Efreet war might tear apart everything I’d worked for, unless I could stop the killer and prove he acted alone. Because if the Efreet made a comeback, the future of djinn-kind made a rough patch of road seem like glass. Hell, we’d be lucky if we had a future after this.
FOURTEEN
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
If I could’ve wished for one whole day to ignore the road ahead, I would’ve spent it on a tropical island with a stack of books. Instead, I got the auction. When I awoke in the wee hours of morning, I found myself looking down the barrel of a bad day filled with the promise of worse yet to come. Hours of rubbing elbows with humanity lay in my path like a forest of poison ivy and burrs.
Our annual shindig. Dealers from all over the world would be in attendance, along with buyers for a slew of private collectors and some of the more adventurous antiques hunters.
In past years, I enjoyed schmoozing, meeting new people, and selling them things they would cherish for years to come. Too bad, my brain wouldn’t let me enjoy the event. It scurried between what I learned from Zeke and what I needed to do with the knowledge. Add in the image of tortured djinn kids plastered in my head and schmoozing seemed vulgar.
And wouldn’t you know it, Basil had the place packed. This would probably be our biggest sale yet. We had artifacts from a gaggle of ancient genies, plus a few key pieces of celebrity bling. I just couldn’t get into the spirit of it.
In my first few minutes on the floor, representatives from Christie’s and Sotheby’s introduced themselves before wandering toward the buffet. I should’ve followed, chatting up some of the more interesting items. A little PR for the company couldn’t hurt, but I didn’t care.
More proof I wasn’t myself, I sure as hell had no interest in eating.
Wonderful aromas filled the room. Baz’s caterer must’ve outdone herself. Mini-quiches filled several platters. Tiny duck a l'orange bites lay farther down the table, next to pate de fois gras on little crackers shipped in from France for the occasion. All of it wasted on me when I should’ve been all over the food. Make something into an appetizer, and I’m so there. This time, the thought of future casualties made the idea of gourmet goodies as repulsive as licking the inside of a PortaPotty.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Zeke said as he brushed against my arm. He held two crystal flutes filled with mimosas.
I kept my hands folded over my chest. Evangeline would’ve wept at the thought of perfectly good booze mixed with anything so crass as orange juice. Despite my upbringing, I usually loved the beverage. Considering the recent circumstances, champagne mixed with orange juice sent my innards swirling.
“A whole penny? Trust me, they aren’t worth that much.”
“Dwelling on them again, I take it.”
Gazing at the sea of human faces, I couldn’t help but wonder what those children might’ve accomplished if they’d been allowed to live out their human lives instead of becoming djinn.
“They were so young.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Josie. They both lived plenty of years.”
“As slaves maybe.”
“They made their own choices.”
Considering my change from human to djinn, I was willing to bet neither youngster had been given the choice I ignored having. “You know how it probably went down as well as I do. They got their hands on something shiny and, when faced with a three-wish limit, they thought they’d be smart. The little voice said ‘wish for more wishes’. Hell.” I fought to keep my voice steady against the pressure building inside me. “Why wish for a few more when you can have them all?”
Zeke set one glass down on the tray of a passing waiter and then squeezed my arm. My story didn’t differ too much from anyone else’s. Irrational greed swamped me, and then rewarded me by exchanging my humanity for a prison. Sure, I received a shitpot of power as a lovely parting gift, but when you can’t escape your circumstances, a prison’s a prison however sparkly.
“Maybe you’re smart to skip the liquor today,” he said as he blinked his own drink away and gave the humans a gentle nudge to look elsewhere.
“Don’t wish in here.”
“No one saw anything they’d admit to seeing,” he said. “You need to hold it together, Josie.”
“I’m fine. Just pissed.”
“And everyone can tell. Your business needs this, and we all need you in business.”
I aimed for his mid-section, but I stopped myself. He was right, damn him.
“Excuse me, Miss Mayweather,” one of the temporary help said. “Mr. Hadresham asked me to inform you the auction is beginning.”
My mouth closed with a snap over the words I still had for Zeke.
He’d probably been an elder in his human society when he’d been invited to become a genie. He couldn’t know how shitty it felt to make a monumental, life-changing decision without either the knowledge or the maturity to back it up.
Like I had.
Nodding at the worker, I waved my hand toward the front of the room. They could start without me on stage, but decorum dictated I should at least fake interest in the festivities.
“Thank you for joining us at the annual Mayweather Antiquities auction,” Basil began, his calm, soothing accent reaching into my bones. I should’ve sat down and talked this out with my partner. We might not have reached any conclusions, but my nerves would’ve been less jangled. “I trust you’ve all had ample opportunity to peruse the objects included in today’s sale.”
Baz continued whipping the customers into a buying frenzy but I stopped listening. When the first strains of the auctioneer hit me, my brain tuned out the garble. I didn’t need to know what the items were. I sure as hell didn’t care what they sold for. Though I usually found those specifics interesting, my mood was shot. Besides, Basil could handle everything. He always did. One glance at the stage told me the old Cockney bloke was in his element. And he deserved to be proud. He put so much effort into making these things go off without a hitch.
Personally, I would’ve been happier escaping the whole damn event and crawling back to my library. A few decades down there should be plenty. This whole thing with the Efreet should be decided by then. Right?
Movement registered on the edge of my attention. Zeke wandering off in search of more interesting companionship. Good for him. Hell, good for both of us. Not only did I make lousy company at the moment, but I also didn’t want his particular brand of companionship. Of course, I couldn’t help but be unhappy when he cozied up to Renee, offering her the mimosa meant for me.
She shook her head, holding up a tumbler full of bright red liquid. If I expanded my hearing, I would’ve caught my receptionist saying she didn’t drink. Judging from the way she pointed to her glass, she was expounding on the wonders of cranberry juice and tonic. Watching the inestimable Mr. ben Aron trip over his own chivalry would’ve been funny if he didn’t take the rebuff so damn well. In seconds, a waiter appeared with the very cocktail mixture she’d been excitedly explaining.
I really had to hand it to Zeke. He makes the world spin around his little finger without expending more than a little wish power.
Sometimes I really hate the guy.
“Miss Mayweather?” A hand gripped my elbow. Lost in thought, I whirled to face my attacker with a wish on my lips. Good thing I didn’t start off on the offensive, since my ‘foe’ turned out to be a man old enough to be my father. Literally. The guy could’ve served in the First World War. In fact, he seemed so familiar, he might’ve actually served alongside Reggie before my father realized there was no profit in fighting the Kaiser and went AWOL.
“I am so sorry to have startled you,” he said with a wheezy flourish.
Before I could stop myself, my gaze searched for his oxygen tank, in case he started turning blue. I didn’t find one. He was so close to taking the big dirt nap I could almost hear his arteries saying a final prayer. His grip on my arm was surprisingly strong for someone so close to death.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I told him.
“I couldn’t miss the opportunity to tell you how very much like your aunt you look.”
“My aunt?” I began and then I realized why the old guy looked familiar. I’d met him in New York shortly after WWII.
He’d been in antiques himself back when I’d been playing housewife in the Bronx. After my Master and husband became listed amongst the missing in Europe, I had to hock what little we owned to pay the bills. Someone had to keep the lights on until Benny came home.
Maybe if I’d known he’d never come back from Germany, I would’ve held onto the pieces of our life together, if only to remind me of the man I loved. Unfortunately, I didn’t find out Benny was gone until after I’d sold most everything. I was a free djinn with nothing to show for it—no husband and no mementos of our life together. Too bad for Benny he didn’t use his last wish to save himself. Holding onto it so he wouldn’t lose me didn’t do him any damn good in the end.
