Magic Gone Wild

by Judi Fennell

  Vana was about to skip that section when one sentence caught her eye.

  The master-djinni relationship begins when the djinni materializes from smoke in front of the master.

  Vana reread it twice—and then a third time—letting the implications sink in.

  She hadn’t materialized in front of Zane at any point. He’d shown up in her bottle. Then, when they’d smoked out of it, she’d gone first, leading him out. That was why he’d broken his leg in the first place; she hadn’t thought to hold on to him for the landing. And even at the hospital, she’d materialized first.

  Which could mean…

  Vana’s knees gave out. Luckily, she thought quickly enough to air-kiss a chair beneath her. And luckily, Zane’s kisses were still working their magic on hers.

  She wasn’t in Service to Zane.

  He wasn’t her master.

  And that meant that she actually could time travel with him back to before they’d made love and, if she didn’t give him the ability to remember it, he’d never know. It would be as if it had never happened.

  Very few things could kill a djinni, but she had no doubt that a broken heart was on that list.

  Her fingers fiddled with the papyrus pages, but she’d look for that list later. When tears weren’t threatening to make reading impossible.

  Zane wasn’t her master.

  Vana took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do next because, with no one laying claim to her magic, she could now go wherever and do whatever she wanted.

  The irony was that she wanted to stay right here with him. Whether or not it was a good idea.

  Vana closed the book and stood on her own two legs, literally and figuratively. She was going to stay. She owed it to Peter and the children, but most of all, she owed it to herself. Just because Zane wouldn’t remember tonight didn’t mean she had to forget. She would carry the memory with her for the rest of her immortal life, but she didn’t have to deprive herself of being with him in the interim. And if her feelings for him ever did become a problem, she could always leave.

  Though it might kill her to do so.

  Vana inhaled. She was a djinni, first and foremost. She had a duty to her people, her family, and herself. Zane was just a momentary respite in the vast expanse of her life.

  A couple thousand years and she’d come to believe that…

  Before she lost her resolve, Vana walked back into the bedroom, drinking in the sight of Zane in her bed. This would be the last time she’d ever see him there. The last time anything could happen between them.

  She walked over to the bed and leaned as softly as she could across it. She drew in a deep breath, her lips so close to Zane’s.

  And kissed them back to 7:52 that evening.

  12

  Vana preceded Zane into the kitchen and, for the second time that evening, fixed the hinges on the kitchen door and the cuckoo clock on the wall. The hour and minute hands circled around to land at seven-fifty-two, that one-minute difference keeping Zane from running into himself and giving the whole thing away.

  Zane handed her the salt shaker again and she felt that same frisson of awareness sizzle through her. Only this time, she knew how much hotter it could become.

  She led the way into the front parlor, put her ego on hold when he brought up the radar and satellite info, and skipped the invitation into her bottle. She only had so much self-control.

  “Zane, why don’t you get your things out of your car? You’ve been through a lot today.” More than he knew, and that secret weighed heavy on her heart.

  “Yeah, okay, but I’d like to talk. Hang out for a few minutes, okay?”

  Her heart broke as she changed their future. And their past—the one only she could remember. “Can we do it in the morning, Zane? After all of… that… well, I’m rather worn out.” She couldn’t even look at him as she headed toward the stairs and began climbing them.

  Worn out was one way of putting it.

  “Vana.”

  She stopped two steps from the top. So close. “Yes?”

  “Does your bottle have to stay upstairs? Can you bring it down here and keep me company?”

  Her heart broke a little more. He thought he was her master, and it’d be best to keep that charade going. “Is that what you wish?”

  “It is.”

  Which only dug the knife a little deeper. She really should have brought them back before the kiss in the garden and stopped it from ever happening. Or better yet, she should have just started their whole time together over.

  Except… she was selfish enough to want him to have some memory of her. “I’ll meet you here in five, how’s that?”

  “Sounds good.”

  It sure did.

  ***

  She was inside her bottle on the mantel when he returned. Close enough to hear (and want) him, yet far enough to keep temptation at bay.

  She’d purposely brought the stopper inside with her. Finally free, she intended to stay that way. If her bottle wasn’t sealed, no one could open it and lay claim to her Services. And by no one, she meant Zane. She needed the option of being able to leave if staying became too painful.

  “Are you comfortable in there?” Zane asked as he removed the dust cover from Peter’s sofa and laid his sleeping bag on it.

  “All the comforts of home.” Which was true. Except the one thing she couldn’t have.

  He pulled his shirt over his head.

  Vana’s mouth turned to sand. She had firsthand knowledge of how every ridge and plane and hollow and muscle tasted and felt and moved. How each one worked in tandem with the others to give her the most exquisite pleasure. Her body started to burn with the memory.

  Then he shed his pants. She should probably tell him she could see out of her bottle, but… why?

  “I’m going to get up early tomorrow,” he said. “There’s a lot of work to do to get this place ready to sell. I’ll try not to wake you.”

  Unable to face sleeping in their—her—bed, Vana had parked herself on her divan. She scrunched a throw pillow beneath her arms. “That’s okay. I’m always up with the sun. I’ll probably have to wake you.”

  “I doubt it,” he said, looking right at the bottle as if he knew exactly where her face was. As if he could see her, and for a moment, she wanted to remove the silvered surface that protected her privacy.

  But then reality and a certain memory crashed in, and she was thankful he couldn’t see the effect it had on her, from heated cheeks to her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat and her nipples pressing against the fabric of her shirt.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “Zane, why do you want to unload this place so badly? It’s part of the town’s history. It’s Peter’s legacy that he wanted for his family. For you. You can’t sell it.”

  Peter had loved having his parties here, with pony rides in the pasture, a barbecue in the fire pit, music and dancing in the parlor, and sweethearts strolling through the rose garden. Seeing them enjoying what he’d been able to provide had been a source of pride to Peter, knowing that he’d had enough to share.

  “Look, Vana.” Zane climbed into the sleeping bag commando, which shouldn’t surprise her because he’d been commando in bed next to her.

  Yes, a very long night.

  “I know you cared about my great-grandfather, but people today, they don’t. As long as this place remains an empty eyesore at the edge of town, it’s always going to be known as his house, and people will continue to talk about him. The best way to put the stories to rest is to sell it and let another family make memories here. Spruce it up and make it a home for the town to be proud of instead of an object of gossip and derision.”

  He left off the whole subplot about the reason they gossiped being her fault, and she would kiss him for that if she didn’t know how dangerous kissing him could be. But she’d certainly never forget that he didn’t lay the blame at her feet.

  “But you could change their perception
, Zane. I can help you.”

  “Even if I wanted to, Vana, I can’t. I have to go back. Training camp starts in another month, so everything needs to be done by then.”

  “Your career can’t be a substitute for your family.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He punched his pillow and repositioned it under his head. “There’s no one left of my family, and I sure as hell don’t call this place home. It’s been an albatross around my neck ever since I was a kid. I can’t unload it quickly enough.”

  She tried to understand, but his issues weren’t hers. On the plus side, however, the threat of a sale would keep her from focusing on what she couldn’t have.

  “Vana?”

  “Hmmm?” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, trying to figure out what her next move was.

  He was propped on an elbow, the sleeping bag barely covering his hips, that magnificent chest on display, and she knew what she wanted her next move to be.

  “Is it… that is, are you comfortable in there?”

  Nope.

  “Yes.” One word. Terse. Strained. For all manner of reasons.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, rippling the washboard abs she’d kissed a half hour ago. “Okay, then. See you in the morning.”

  Vana was right; it was a long night and she didn’t sleep a wink.

  13

  “You better get out of here. I’ve called the cops.”

  Vana jumped out of bed and swiped the sleep from her eyes. Only about fifteen minutes’ worth, which was obviously fifteen minutes too long if a woman could slip into the house undetected and aim a spray can at Zane.

  The woman took a step back when Zane stood up, hiking the sleeping bag around him.

  “Who the hell are you?” he growled, the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

  “Get back.” The woman brandished the can.

  Vana squinted to see what was written on it. Mice? Mice came in cans nowadays? What did the woman think a mouse would do to Zane, bite him?

  Vana readied her lips. She was so going to kiss those rodents good-bye. Well, in the figurative sense.

  “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but you’re trespassing.”

  The woman shoved the can in front of her in case Zane had missed it. “I’m not the one squatting in an abandoned building. You better get out of here before the cops show up.”

  “Good. Let them. This is my house so you’re the one who’ll go to jail.”

  “Nice try, but I happen to know the owner hasn’t sold it yet. I’m here to take the listing.” The woman wrapped her other hand around the can as if she were getting ready to fire. Vana hoped she didn’t have an itchy trigger finger. “Now I suggest you leave.”

  “You’re Cameron Williams? The real estate agent?”

  The woman swiped at her nose and her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  Zane’s shoulders relaxed. “Zane Harrison.”

  The mice can dropped. As did the woman’s mouth.

  Vana’s heart dropped, too. A real estate agent. He really was serious about selling the place.

  “You’re Zane Harrison?”

  “In the flesh.” Zane hiked the sleeping bag up again. “Er, so to speak.”

  At least he could speak; Vana was still stuck on the fact that this woman was going to help Zane get rid of Peter’s house before she had a chance to un-Invisible the children, not to mention set them free.

  “I’m really sorry. I walked in and saw you and thought, well…” The woman tossed shoulder-length auburn hair over her shoulder and tugged the hem of her blouse over her figure-hugging skirt. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Zane gathered the sleeping bag tight around his waist with one hand—reminding Vana that he was commando under there—and extended the other. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you were looking out for the place. And that you didn’t use the mace.”

  There was no way a mace fit inside that can. That made even less sense than mice.

  The woman shook his hand. And didn’t let go. “Well, a woman does have to be careful.”

  “Your name helps.” Zane was the one to break contact. “I was expecting a guy.”

  “Most people do.” Cameron knelt down to pick up her mice-mace thing. A good four inches of thigh showed through the slit on the side of the skirt. “You can’t be too careful these days.”

  She better be careful…

  “But what are you doing here so early?” asked Zane. “Our appointment isn’t until one.”

  Cameron stood up and smoothed the skirt down her legs. Zane’s back was to Vana, and while the play of his muscles there was very nice, it didn’t allow her to see his reaction.

  “I wanted to take a look around to have some suggestions for you when we meet. I know what attracts buyers.”

  And she obviously thought fiddling with the neckline of her blouse attracted Zane.

  Vana smiled. She knew exactly what Zane found attractive.

  “Actually, it turns out there are a few, ah, issues I want to clear up before I list it. Plus, as you can see,” Zane shook the top of the sleeping bag, “I’m not exactly dressed for our meeting. So, how about if we postpone until next week? I promise both the house and I will be in better shape.”

  It was so not possible for him to be in better shape.

  Ms. Cameron Williams gave Zane a lingering once-over, obviously thinking the same thing, which made Vana want to claw her eyes out for more than just selling the house.

  And yes, she knew she was being totally irrational, but hey, she was going on fifteen minutes of sleep. Irrational was the best any of them could hope for.

  “That’s fine. Or, better yet”—Vana highly doubted it would be—“there’s a charity dinner Saturday night to benefit the high school. Everyone in town will be there. You can come with me and I’ll introduce you around. Set things in motion.” Selling the house wasn’t the motion chicky was talking about. “After all, word of mouth is the best advertising.”

  Vana stomped her foot. Both feet. Twice. The woman was asking Zane out on a date Over Her Dead Body. Cameron’s, not Vana’s.

  “Hey, is that a football trophy or something?”

  Holy smokes! Ms. None-Too-Subtle Williams was staring at her bottle. Vana must have moved it with her temper tantrum—um, foot stomping.

  And great, Cameron Dahling was walking her way.

  Vana’s fists curled at her sides. The woman did not want to get any closer.

  Yet still she approached.

  Luckily, Zane managed to intercept the woman and scooped up the bottle. “Or something.”

  Vana smirked, knowing full well Cameron couldn’t see her but still reveling in being the one in Zane’s arms. Again, irrational, but who cared?

  “Oh. Well, okay.” Cameron tossed her hair over her shoulder again, then tilted her head to the side.

  Oh, come on! Did she really think that was going to work?

  Vana wished she could’ve figured out how to restore the children to their human form already. Ms. Williams would so not be coming on to Zane if she knew he had a passel of kids living here.

  Of course she still had to tell Zane about them.

  “So will you come to the dinner with me? I really think it’d be a good idea.”

  Vana just bet she did.

  She pursed her lips. One little wart. That’s all she wanted to conjure. Right on the end of Cameron’s nose.

  Instead, a rose popped into bloom in front of the window.

  Vana sighed. Thank the stars it’d only been a rose. And that it was outside. Zane was right. No magic where anyone could see it.

  Zane shook her bottle enough to let her know he’d seen it. “I think dinner would be a good idea.”

  He did?

  “My date and I would love to come.”

  His date?

  “Your date?”

  Heh. Ms. Cameron hadn’t seen that one coming, had she?

  Of course, Vana hadn’t eith
er.

  “That’s not a problem, is it?”

  “Um, well, no. Of course not.” Cameron brushed some hair off her forehead. “That will be lovely. The, uh, the dinner starts at seven. I’ll put your name on the list. What, um, what’s your date’s name?”

  “Vana. Peters.” Zane didn’t miss a beat, but Vana’s heart certainly did. “Great. We’ll see you then.”

  “Yes. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Not half as much as Vana would.

  14

  Vana managed to make breakfast on the first try. Sure, she’d done a lot of air-kisses while doing so, conjuring ingredients and cookware, but her magic had seemed to be working just fine for the past twelve hours.

  Zane didn’t know what the difference between today and yesterday was, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was just thankful the rose hadn’t been on fire when it’d popped up in front of the front window. And that Cameron hadn’t seen it.

  He wondered why, though. Why the rose. That didn’t seem to be the work of a jealous woman, and yeah, he’d kind of been hoping Vana had been. Subtle Cameron was not, which would have been a problem if he hadn’t volunteered Vana as his date for that dinner. He’d seen her type before—and it wasn’t one he found attractive. Vana, on the other hand…

  “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked Vana.

  “Mind?” Vana asked over her shoulder as she poured the batter onto the griddle.

  “About coming to dinner with me. I probably should have asked before I volunteered you.”

  “Being asked would have been nice, but I still would have said yes, so there’s no problem. Besides, I kind of had a feeling that woman was railroading you. No one likes that.”

  Was it his imagination or had there been a little sneer when she’d said that woman?

  Probably not. More like wishful thinking on his part. He’d hoped that she would have come out of her bottle last night and they could have examined this attraction between them, but at the same time, he’d wanted to find the stopper and keep her locked in so they wouldn’t.