I inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled as I lowered myself into a warm, fuzzy trance. The rum was definitely affecting me, but in that slightly drunken haze, it seemed to make things clearer. I could see the energy rising around the circle, like a pale purple mist. The color of my magic ran blue, and the color of Ari’s ran red. Together, our energies blended into a violet hue.
I lifted up the book of ghost tales. “I want to tackle a case that truly keeps me on my toes. I want a challenge—I want to be put to the test.” As I set the book back down, I focused on my desire and whispered, “So mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” Ari said, adding her own energy to the spell.
The room seemed to darken a little as the energy thickened. I shook my head, feeling something rumble around me, like thunder, only without the sound. I picked up the matchbook.
“I want everything Ellison touches to burn. I want him to know what it’s like to lose what he loves. I want him to feel the pain that he caused me. I want payback! So mote it be.” I cackled as I set the matchbook back on the table .
Ari stared at me for a moment, then snorted. “So mote it be, hell yes!” She had been badgering me to cast a spell on him since I called her the day I found out he was cheating on me. But I had held off, wanting to gain some distance first. Now I had the distance and I felt I could afford to ask for a little karmic justice.
I picked up the bottle, frowning as I tugged on the stopper. It had been stuck when I bought it, but for some reason I really wanted to open it now. I worked the stopper, trying to rock it back and forth.
“And third, I want to know what’s like to be a sex goddess. I want to know what it feels like to walk down the street and turn heads—”
“You already do,” Ari said. “You’re gorgeous! You just don’t feel that way so you don’t notice it. I swear, you pull a poor-me attitude and I’ll—”
“Stop right there,” I said. “Ari, I know you think I’m pretty, and I know Killian tells me I’m pretty. But let’s face it—I’ve never known what it’s like to be the one people turn and look at…to be the bombshell that nobody forgets. For once, I just want to know what it feels like,” I added, shrugging. “So mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” Ari said, then she held out her hand toward the bottle—which I was still struggling to open. I whispered, “Open, damn it.”
A spark flew from her fingers to mine and boom, the stopper came loose so quickly I almost fell back. A heady floral scent rose from the bottle, rich and not the least bit stale like you would expect from a perfume bottle that had been closed up for years.
Feeling relieved, I set the bottle down, smiling at it. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Do you know how old it is?”
I shook my head. “I think it’s mercury glass, but I’m not sure. But it feels old. Anyway, so those are my three wishes. Excitement on the job and a test of my talents, Ellison to suffer as much as I did, and I want to be a hot, sexy, mama.” I laughed, realizing that none of my wishes had been in any way generous. “I almost feel selfish for not wishing for world peace, or something like that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We all want world peace but one little wishcraft ceremony won’t ever bring that about, and it’s okay to focus on yourself. Especially when it’s your birthday.” She poured us another round of shots and handed me my glass. “Here’s to you, January, and here’s to the best year you’ve ever had. Hell, I’ll be asking you to throw me a wishcraft ritual for my birthday in May.” Ari was five months younger than I was—she would turn forty-one on May 7.
We tossed back the rum and I reached for another cupcake. As my fingers closed around the paisley cupcake liner, there was a sudden noise—like the hissing of wind—as a plume of smoke began to rise out of the bottle. I stared at it, a little too tipsy to comprehend just what was happening, but then the smoke began to form into a figure over the bottle, a figure that was very large and very muscled and…
“Oh good gods,” I whispered, staring up at the man who was grinning at me. “I didn’t wish for a genie.”
“You may not have wished for one, but that’s what you have,” he said, winking at me. “Your wishes are granted, January Jaxson.” And then he began to laugh.
Chapter Two
“Oh crap, a djinn!” I dropped the cupcake and scrambled off the floor, onto the sofa so I wasn’t within his immediate reach. While I knew that djinns existed, they were rare—almost faerie-tale material—and I never in my life expected to run across one. I also knew that djinns often did their best to twist words and their intent around, and in general, they could be all sorts of mean and nasty.
Ari let out a strangled cough as she crab walked away from the table to where she could roll over, coming to her feet. “Who are you?” she blurted out.
I had to admit, the djinn was a tall man—a very tall man—with a long dark ponytail against his otherwise bald head and he was gorgeous. He was built like a bodybuilder, with warm brown skin and a well-trimmed beard and mustache to go with the hair. His gaze was piercing, his eyes a light hazel color that might be green or pale blue, depending on the lighting.
“My name is Rameer. Don’t bother introducing yourselves, I know who you are.” He folded his arms across his chest and floated completely out of the bottle, his feet forming out of the smoke. He landed on the floor and took a step back, giving me a slow bow. “I heard your wishes and they are complete.”
I froze. In the first place, I had never encountered a djinn before, and I wasn’t sure what to do or how dangerous he was. Second, we had been in the middle of a ritual—drunk or not—and I had no clue how our magic combined with the djinn’s magic might work—or how it might backfire. I sat there speechless, trying to piece together my thoughts, when Ari piped up.
“So, what the hell? You were really trapped in that bottle? I thought that was all just a myth to sell urns and lamps.”
Rameer turned to her, his smile slipping off his face. “It is no myth. Oh, there are certainly mythos built up around my people, but we can be trapped in magical receptacles—though not always a bottle—and we can be forced to serve others. Those of us who make the mistake of letting ourselves get trapped owe the owner of the vessel three wishes. After they make their wishes, they can either choose to set us free, or give us to another person. Usually, we end up being passed around like prize pigs among friends. I’m not sure what happened this last time—I belonged to a woman who hoarded her last wish, and she never did ask for it.”
I cringed. The words “I belonged” made me queasy.
“She probably died, because I found your bottle in a thrift store. I thought it was a pretty perfume bottle. I had no idea that you were in it,” I said, feeling oddly coherent. “I did feel pulled toward the bottle, but…”
Rameer unfolded his arms. “May I sit down? I’ve been in that bottle for so long. It feels good to be out.”
“Of course. Please, sit. Do you want a cupcake?” The entire evening suddenly felt surreal. I was drunk off my ass, offering a djinn a cupcake.