Jack and Djinn

by Jasinda Wilder

  “No, child. You’re more.” He smiled and kissed her cheek, his whiskers scratching her face, whiskey on his breath. He handed her back to Jack, and took a seat.

  “What’d Gramps say this time?” Jack wanted to know.

  Miriam shook her head, not sure how to respond. “He…nothing. The truth.”

  “Which, then?” Sometimes, when his accent showed through, he sounded just like his grandfather.

  “Don’t worry about it, Jack. He just told me a bit about second sight.”

  A moment later Miriam felt something cold strike her chest, a sense of dread creeping through her. Suddenly, Jack’s face was hard and angry. She turned around to see Ben in his full dress uniform standing less than a few feet away.

  “I wasn’t invited?” Ben’s voice was low and heavy with threat. “That’s insulting. Miriam is my girlfriend, after all.”

  Miriam wanted to take a step back, away from his jealousy-maddened eyes. Instead, she stepped forward, putting as much sharpened steel into her voice as she could muster. “What are you doing here, Ben? Don’t you remember what I told you, last time I saw you?”

  Ben flashed a humorless, arrogant grin. “You think you can sneak around behind my back without me finding out? You’re not so hard to follow, you know. And as for your threat? You won’t do anything. Not here. There’s nothing you hate so much as making a scene. And you wouldn’t want to be embarrassed in front of all these people, would you?” He gestured to the crowd of people around them, some watching the unfolding drama, others remaining oblivious.

  “Come on, Ben, not here, man. Not at my sister’s wedding,” Jack said, his voice calm but hard. “Trust me, pal, this isn’t the wedding you want to crash.” Jack stepped in front of Miriam, shielding her.

  She was aware of Gramps and Jimmy and William all floating up to stand by Jack.

  Ben didn’t seem fazed. “You think I’m afraid of you? A bunch of drunk micks?” There were growls and grumbles and curses at the slur.

  “You should be, boy-o,” came Gramps’ voice. “You’re outnumbered by quite a fair margin.” Gramps stepped forward to stand nose to nose with Ben. Miriam realized that even though Séan Byrne was stooped with age, he was still a large man, and that he had once cut a powerful figure.

  “I know you, son,” Gramps said, “I know what you done to this girl. And boy, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here before I knock your teeth straight down your goddamn bloody throat, y’fucking pig.” Gramps’ accent thickened as he spoke, and he seemed to straighten up, sagging muscles gaining firmness, leathery fists turning to chunks of granite.

  Ben stared into Gramp’s eyes, hate seething with every breath. “I don’t hit old men,” Ben said, “or I’d kill you for that.”

  Gramps huffed, mumbled a curse that Miriam didn’t quite catch, and then rocketed a one-two punch combination that sent Ben to the ground, his fists moving faster than Miriam would have thought anyone, especially an old man, could be capable of. “Don’t let that stop you, punk,” he said, turning away. “Get ’im, boys.”

  Jack, Jimmy, and William darted forward, grabbed Ben by the arms and legs, and carried him out of the banquet hall. Ben was screaming and thrashing, and when the brothers launched him headfirst to the ground, he rolled away and scrambled to his feet, nose bleeding, and rushed the three Byrnes. William and Jimmy stepped aside and let Jack take the rush. Miriam watched as Jack ducked to the side, slapping Ben’s initial punch away and sending a thundering right into Ben’s face, spinning him around. Ben spat blood and scrambled backward, realizing Jack wouldn’t be an easy target. Miriam recognized the look in Ben’s eyes, and it terrified her. She’d seen him do horrible things when he was like this, and she wanted Jack to be no part of it.

  “Gramps, please,” she pleaded, “don’t let them do this. Call the police.”

  The old man, draining a tumbler of whiskey, waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, the boy’ll be fine, girlie. The boys won’t damage him too much.” She realized he thought she was worried about Ben.

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m worried about them,” she said as she gestured to his grandsons.

  Gramps looked at her with incredulity. “Darlin’, he ain’t that scary. He’s a big’un, sure, but you don’t know my boys. They’ll handle him just fine—don’t you worry none.”

  Gramps wasn’t going to do anything but watch, and if it were anyone besides Ben, he’d be right.

  She ran into the melee, Gramps and Jack’s mom calling after her. She pushed between Jimmy and William, who grabbed for her, too late. Jack was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists up, body turned sideways. His nose was bleeding now, and one eye was purpling; Ben wasn’t faring much better.

  Just as Miriam reached Jack and caught at his sleeve, Jimmy wrapped his burly arms around her midsection and pulled her away, saying, “You’re gonna get hit, you daft girl. Jackie can take him.” Miriam tried to thrash free, but Jimmy held her tight.

  Ben was biding his time, waiting for the right moment; she’d watched him bounce enough drunks out of the bar that she knew his style. He didn’t just toss them out, he followed them into the parking lot and tore them apart. He’d stand his ground, let them hit him a few times, let them think they were winning, and then he’d explode in a fury of military-trained technique. Ben wasn’t content to just break a nose or black an eye—he had a taste for snapping bones, catching a punch in one hand and using the heel of his palm to crush his victim’s elbow.

  She watched, helpless, unwilling to let her magic free in this moment, knowing she might accidentally hurt Jimmy or someone else, not to mention the spectacle of it all. But she knew she had no control over it, and she felt the fires burning, seeking release. She had to fight just to keep it in, keep it down.

  Then, between one breath and the next, her fears came true. Jack threw a quick right jab and Ben blocked it, caught it, and flashed his opposite palm into Jack’s elbow like a lightning strike. Miriam heard the bone snap, and Jack bellowed in pain. She screamed, twisting and thrashing against Jimmy with renewed desperation.

  “Help him!” she shrieked.

  Jimmy let her go and rushed in. A slow smile spread across Ben’s face. He spat a gobbet of blood and kicked Jack aside, and turned to deal with Jimmy. William waited until Ben was tangled up with Jimmy, and then he joined the fray. William was a stocky man with a barrel chest and buzzed hair the same color as Jack’s. He wrapped a thick arm around Ben’s neck and squeezed, holding the larger Ben nearly aloft, bending backward to get the proper leverage. Jimmy backed away and slugged Ben repeatedly in the stomach. Miriam was at Jack’s side, but he brushed her off until he realized who it was, and then he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away, trying to get her inside. Other family members were crowded around the door at this point, watching. She heard someone in the doorway gasp, and she whirled to see that Ben had thrown William over his shoulder and was lighting into Jimmy with a wicked barrage of hammering blows to the kidneys and liver. William was on his back, moaning, struggling to his feet. Jack, cradling his arm, growled, and turned to rejoin the fight.

  Miriam felt desperation run through her. These people had welcomed her as family, treated her kindly and with affection. She couldn’t just stand by and watch as Ben tore them apart. Not over her. Miriam put her hands around Jack’s broken elbow and channeled a tiny thread of the magic, felt it respond to her call and rush into Jack, healing him instantly. He looked at her, pain fading from his eyes, to be replaced by fear for her. He could tell what she was planning.

  “Jack,” she whispered. “I…”

  She felt something inside her tear open. She had to stop this, had to keep anyone else from getting hurt because of her.

  Before Jack could stop her, she kicked off her heels and darted in between Ben and Jimmy, pushing Ben away with her hands on his chest, meeting his crazed eyes with her own. “Stop, Ben,” she said, “please stop. Leave them alone. I’ll go with you.
Just stop.”

  Ben backed off, and Jimmy staggered away, bleeding from his nose and cuts to his forehead and cheekbones. He was battered but enraged. He brushed the blood from his eyes and charged back at Ben, but Miriam held out a palm to stop him.

  “No, Jimmy, it’s okay. I’ll go.”

  Jimmy looked down at her, shaking his head. “No, you can’t—”

  Jack was reaching for Miriam. “What are you doing? Miriam, talk to me! You can’t! Don’t do this!”

  She only shook her head, turned away. If she looked at Jack, her resolve would weaken. These people would gang up on Ben if she asked them to, and they’d win, eventually, but the cost…too many people would get hurt. Jack’s arm had been broken, Jimmy was gushing blood from a dozen places and clutching his ribs, and William was still gasping for breath and rubbing his neck where Ben had wrenched it nearly to breaking.

  “Stop, all of you,” Miriam pleaded, her voice catching. “I’m so sorry…I caused this. I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t have—” Miriam saw Mary, the bride, standing next to Jack, the hem of her beautiful dress dragging through the dirt of the parking lot. “Mary, I’m so sorry I ruined your wedding….” Miriam’s voice broke then, and she turned to Ben, pushing him to his car. “Go, Ben. Let’s go.”

  She heard Jack behind her, pleading with her, but she heard Gramps’ voice raised over his, “Let her go, son. It’s her choice. Let her go.” Jack seemed close to sobbing, and she heard Gramps say, “If she loves you, son, she’ll find a way.”

  Oh, Jack.

  Miriam slid into the leather seat, hearing Ben’s ragged breathing beside her. “I’m glad you came to your senses, Miri,” he said, wiping blood from his chin. She wasn’t sure this was coming to her senses, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  * * *

  Ben was silent all the way back to his apartment, and that suited Miriam just fine. She had nothing to say. She had gone with him to stop the violence, not to be with him. The thought of letting him touch her, after what she’d experienced with Jack…no way. Not again. She would die before she let Ben touch her again. She delved inside herself for the coiled heat of the magic, seeking its reassurance, feeling it brush against her, reaching for her.

  She followed Ben into his apartment, sat down on the couch, and rubbed her aching, dirty feet. She had kicked off her heels and was now shoeless. She desperately wanted to change out of the dress, but she had no clothes here. Except…she glanced at Ben, leaning against a counter in the kitchen, an icepack against his cheek, staring at his phone, ignoring her now. She padded on silent feet into Ben’s room, dug in the bottom drawer of the dresser, and found a pair of gray U of M sweat pants and a long T-shirt with a picture of a long-eared, sad-looking donkey on the front. Eeyore? Really? Miriam hated the thought of wearing her clothes, but anything was better than being on display for Ben.

  When she came out, Ben glanced up and saw what she was wearing. “What the hell, Miriam? You can’t just go around wearing other people’s clothes. Besides, I liked you in that dress.”

  He was acting as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal.

  She stood in the entry to the kitchen, letting her disgust and hate for him show in her eyes, letting her anger boil just beneath the surface. “I don’t care what you like, Ben. I’m not here for you. Nothing has changed—you need understand that.” She wanted to let the fire burst through her skin, send it out to consume him, but she reined it in. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m nothing to you. No one. I fucking hate you, Ben. I only came with you because those people didn’t deserve that.”

  Ben shifted forward, placing his hands on her arms, acting as if he cared. As if he had a single kind bone in his body. “But you came, and that’s what counts.” He leaned in as if to kiss her, and she jerked herself out of his grasp, clenched her fist, and swung it at him with all her strength. She felt her fist connect with his jaw, heard a resounding crack, and Ben flew backward against the wall. He stared at her in shock, then spat a tooth out into his palm, along with gob of blood and saliva.

  “What the fuck, Miriam?” He probed the gap where his tooth had been with his tongue.

  “You do not get to touch me. You don’t lay a goddamn finger on me,” Miriam said.

  Her anger was roused, her adrenaline pumping. She didn’t care anymore. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted. She’d had an amazing man, and she’d walked away from him. Now she was fearless.

  He threw the tooth away, ripped a strip of paper towel from a roll hanging under a cabinet, placed a piece of ice in it, and held it against his gum. “I’ll let that one go, but if you ever do that to me again, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Miriam interrupted. “Beat me half to death? Oh, wait, you already did that. Break my ribs? Crack my cheekbones? Yep, you’ve done all that, too. What’s left, Ben? Or should I even ask? Are you going to actually rape me this time? Bring Rachel over here and screw her in front of me? Or maybe you want a threesome? Is that it? Want us both at the same time?” She slammed her palms against his chest, knocking him backward with more force than she’d ever possessed. “Or maybe I should drop to my knees and suck you off like a good little girlfriend? But then, I wasn’t ever your girlfriend, was I? I was just a…what was it Rachel called me? A side-fuck? A piece of ass on the side?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled. “Seriously, Miriam, what the hell has gotten into you?” Ben pushed past her and retreated to the living room.

  “What’s gotten into me? I’m finally past caring what you do or say, that’s what.” She followed him, feeling invincible.

  She knew he’d snap eventually, but she didn’t care. She’d lost Jack, and nothing else mattered.

  “You need to calm down.” Ben sat down and turned on the TV, trying to dismiss her. She grabbed the remote from him and hurled it at the flat-screen TV screen, the glass smashing and splintering.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down! You’ve treated me like shit for a year, and I let you! You hit me and insulted me, made me feel like shit, and what do I do? Do I leave you, like any sane person would? No! I stayed with you, because I was weak and pathetic, and because I even wondered if somehow, deep down maybe, past all the bullshit, that you cared about me even a little bit. But then I find out that you’ve had another girlfriend the whole time. And she knew about me?” Miriam was pacing in front of Ben, seething with rage. The fire inside was nearly uncontainable, sizzles of heat and fire popping from her pores, her hair flickering and wavering as if alive.

  Ben was speechless at her outburst, staring with comical sadness at his ruined flat-screen. “You crazy bitch,” he finally said, “look what you did to my TV! That thing cost me two thousand dollars!”

  “I don’t give two shits about your TV, Ben!” she screamed.

  “God, Miriam, you’ve really lost it, haven’t you?” He shoved her out of the way, and she could see his anger starting to rise. He’d actually thought he’d won her back, as if she would just come crawling back to him like a little puppy dog.

  “Yes! I’ve finally lost it, Ben. You crashed Jack’s sister’s wedding. You hurt Jack, Jimmy, and William, and you probably would’ve hit Gramps if he hadn’t hit you first.”

  “Gramps? What are they, your family now? And he hit me. I don’t hit old men.”

  “Yes, they’re like family to me. And Gramps is more of a man than you could ever hope to be.”

  “You’re starting to piss me off, Miriam. I promised myself I was done hitting you, but you’re making it hard to keep that promise.” Ben turned away from her, righting the TV.

  “You think I care if you hit me? I’m used to it. Go ahead. Nothing matters anymore. I walked away from the man I love to keep you from hurting him or his family.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but it had popped out, and she realized how deeply she meant it.

  “The man you love?” Ben whirled back to her, fist raised. Miriam didn’t flinch. “You’ve known him for what,
two weeks? Three? What about me?”

  Miriam laughed, a harsh cough of sarcasm. “You? You think I ever loved you? I was afraid of you, Ben. The only reason I ever stayed with you, the only reason I ever let you fuck me, was because I was afraid of you. Because I didn’t think I was worth anything else. And then I met Jack, and he showed me how a real man loves.”

  That one hurt him; Miriam could see the rage steeping in him, coming to a boil. “You little slut. You cheating little whore!”

  She chose her next words with care, wanting them to dig deep. “Making love with Jack was the best thing I’ve ever felt. He knows what I want and how to give it to me. He’s a bigger, better man than you in every…single…way.” She hadn’t really, technically, had sex with Jack yet, but Ben didn’t need to know that. Besides, it was the quickest way to hurt him.

  Primal fury filled Ben’s eyes, and his fists clenched, lifted. Miriam tilted her head back, keeping her hands at her sides. Let him do it, then. She didn’t care. She could use the fire inside to protect herself, but why bother? She’d brought what was coming on herself with her words, and she refused to use her magic to protect herself. Miriam almost laughed out loud, thinking how easily the word “magic” came to her now. She had magic. She was a creature of fire. She didn’t know where it had come from, or why it hadn’t protected her before, or how she had gotten it, and that was a set of questions that needed answering.

  But not now.

  She waited, expecting a blow that never came. Chest heaving with anger, Ben grabbed Miriam by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her arms. He wrenched open his door and threw her out, hard enough that she slammed against the far wall.

  “Get out of here. Get out before I kill you.” The rage in his eyes was murderous, but he seemed in more control of it than she’d ever seen him. She didn’t question it, though. She turned and fled, hearing the door slam behind her.