by Cate Lawley
“Breathe,” Jackson whispered into the charged silence.
I jerked my head around to look at him.
Leaning close, he said, “You look about three seconds away from cardiac arrest.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Right. Breathing helped.
Our driver asked, “Is your driveway the one with the Audi A8?”
And once again my father had inserted himself into my life. That could only mean that drama was around the corner.
“Yes, that’s it.” I turned to Jackson and said with false enthusiasm, “You get to meet my dad.”
Jackson shot me a confused look.
Without making eye contact, I said, “Best advice I can give you: run away now.”
The driver grinned at me in the rearview mirror, like we shared some insider girly knowledge about this situation. I wanted to say, “It’s not what you’re thinking. Really, really not.” But I smiled back at her.
As I climbed out of the rideshare car and stared at my dad’s sleek, shiny Audi, I had a rather unpleasant revelation. It was quite possible that my father had distracted me at a critical moment, just as Jackson’s first wish was coming to fruition. Delaying my response would increase the odds of greater mischief unfolding.
On the one hand, it seemed like a stretch. On the other, things like that did not happen coincidentally when my dad was involved.
I muttered, “Always maximizing the chaos, aren’t you, Dad?”
Jackson touched my arm, breaking the fixed stare I’d leveled on Dad’s car. “You okay?”
“Just tired of living inside one long, failed attempt at juvenile humor.”
“I don’t know what that means, but if it has anything to do with a spry-looking older guy who I’m guessing is your father—he’s headed this way.”
I wrinkled my nose and said, “I don’t suppose you want to use one of those wishes to banish my father to another plane of existence, just for a decade or two?”
“You do understand that I’ve made a concerted effort over the last few years to become a better person. You get that, right?” He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me in the direction of the house. “And to eliminate confusion, that was me saying no.” And he gently propelled me in the direction of my father.
“Hello, Father. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that first wish slipping out into the world unfettered?”
“Aw, now, don’t be in a huff over a little bit of fun. I’m an old man, not long for this world. And with no grandchildren to dandle on my knee, I have to find some way to pass the time.”
“You’re not funny. I’ve told you stop going on about grandkids. I’ve told you not to mischief-meddle in my life. And I’ve told you to stay out of my business.” I pointed a finger at the old reprobate. “I’m done this time. I haven’t a clue why you’re here, but you can go home.”
“Are you certain you don’t want your dear old dad’s help?” And then he stretched out a hand to Jackson. “Patrick Kelly. And who might you be?”
Quiet as I could, I murmured, “I wouldn’t.”
But Jackson ignored my warning, and the two men shook hands.
Dad gave me puppy-dog eyes. “You wound me, daughter.”
“Please,” I said. “Now—much as I love you, Dad—get lost. We have damage control on the schedule for the rest of the day. Remember, you’re allergic.”
“And that, my darling girl, is why I’m here. I know where your lost Caitlin is.”
I smiled at him. “But she’s not lost. We were just on our way to pick her up.”
“Ah.” He appeared chagrined, but it didn’t last. “I can get you there faster.”
Jackson looked interested. “How—”
I stepped in between Jackson and my dad. “Eh-eh. Do not engage the crazy old Irish guy. He’s not nearly as harmless as he looks.” After I’d done a little dance to keep Jackson behind me, I said to Dad, “What exactly do you want?”
He shrugged. “Is it so terrible that I want to spend a little time with my daughter?”
Since we ate dinner together once a week, and that was usually plenty of father-daughter time for both of us, I wasn’t buying it. I crossed my arms. “Spill.”
“I’ll tell you if you let me take you both out to dinner later tonight.”
“Come on, Jackson, we’re done.” I started for the front door, careful to check Jackson was right behind me. “I just need to grab my car keys.”
“I’ll fetch your girl,” Dad said to our retreating backs.
I didn’t think twice or pause. “No way.”
But then I realized that someone would have to alter butt-grabbing Caitlin’s memory, and that was not a skill I’d mastered. I could create a little confusion, but it might not be as laser-targeted as I’d like. Putting a hazy cloud over the last year of the woman’s life was hardly fair.
As I thought through my conundrum, I’d slowed my pace—and given myself away.
“See now,” Dad said. “You know I’m your man.”
“No, Jackson and I have it covered.”
And we did. Or I did. I was gonna bamboozle the woman the old-fashioned way—lie to her face.
And if that didn’t work…then I’d call Dad and hope he didn’t laugh when I begged him to help. Please, Goddess, let me lie well, because I did not want to owe my dad a favor. That seemed like a very, very bad idea.
CHAPTER TEN: In Which…Road Trip!
After a few more attempts to finagle my indebtedness to him, Dad finally gave up.
“Did your dad’s car just disappear?” Jackson asked. “From the middle of the street?”
I sighed. “Yep. He does like a good show, especially if he’s the star. Don’t worry; he’ll have made certain no one saw him. There’s mischief, and then there’s a whole lot of cover-up work. Dad tries not create too much for himself.”
“Ah.” Jackson nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “What do we do now?”
“Now we book it out to your isolated cabin, find the fair Caitlin, and hope like heck a little luck kicks in and we can convince her that the impossible jaunt across Texas she took was not, in fact, a magical one.” And while I went through our to-do list, I rubbed my gold ring like mad.
I grabbed my car keys from the house, and we were off. If I was careful and rode that thin line between speeding and speeding ticket, we’d make it in about an hour. That was assuming Jackson’s directions were spot on. I rubbed my ring again.
We hadn’t even cleared Austin traffic when my curiosity got the better of me. I had to ask, even if the answer twisted my heart up into knots. “What were you expecting to hear from Baba Yaga?” When he shot me a confused look, I said, “Earlier, when you saw my wish magic, you thought it had something to do with your sentence. I was just wondering what you were thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking. Not at first.” He watched the scenery go by for several seconds before he said, “I’d forgotten.” Turning to look at me, he said, “I’d forgotten that my ten years were almost up. Might be up.”
“You don’t know when your sentence is up?”
With a wry smile, he said, “I do now. I checked my calendar after your green light show in the holding cell room. Yesterday was ten years.”
He’d been living without his magic for ten years, and he hadn’t been watching the clock tick down the final seconds of his sentence. That said something. I wasn’t sure what, but it was a significant something.
“When I saw that light, when I realized it was magic, I jumped to the conclusion that Baba Yaga had come. I thought she was returning to—” He frowned. “I’m not sure. I panicked a little. She’d left my sentence open, saying something about returning to evaluate in ten years and then something about impotence, which made the rest seem pretty tame in comparison.”
I bit my lip and tried not to laugh.
“Go for it. Laugh at the poor magic-less guy who might not ever have sex again. That’s very adult of you.”
&n
bsp; Which, of course, made me laugh. But my mirth fled when I realized he might mean that literally. “Oh, wait, sorry. You’re not… She didn’t…” I waved in the general direction of his crotch.
Jackson grinned. “Are you asking me if all my parts are still present and working?”
I almost denied it, but… “Yeah.”
“Everything’s in working order. So far. With Baba Yaga, who knows.” He shrugged. “But I can’t do anything about it, so I’m just going to keep living like I’ve been living.”
Really? For a not-dense guy, Jackson was acting a little thick. “Except you can. You can do something about it, if she settles some arbitrary punishment on you. Three wishes—well, two wishes,” I reminded him.
“Whoa. I don’t know about that. Wish magic versus Baba Yaga’s magic? The world might explode. Or worse, it won’t work and will only piss her off. Yeah, that seems most likely, so…pass. But thanks. Besides”—he caught my gaze—“living without magic hasn’t been so bad.”
My insides turned warm. They’d just had a Moment.
Or had they?
Had I imagined it, or had he just implied that I was better than magic? Because I thought he might have just said a life with me in it and without magic was okay. But that was a huge inference to make from one glance. Wasn’t it?
Yes, it was.
“Ah, about these three wishes,” Jackson said. “How exactly did that happen? There was a bright flash of green-tinged light and then…what?”
He wasn’t studying the scenery—but he definitely wasn’t looking at me any longer. I’d imagined the Moment. I must have.
But my insides were still all squishy, so it hadn’t been imagined. Maybe one-sided, but not imagined.
What had he asked me? Three wishes. “That’s what happens when you trap a leprechaun.”
“But I didn’t trap you; not exactly. You volunteered, remember?”
“Yeah, I don’t remember volunteering. You know Annabeth and I had a few beers last night. And whatever you told Annabeth and then she told me”—I wrinkled my nose—“I don’t remember any of it. Besides, the leprechaun laws of magic are pretty specific. Stick me in a cage, close the door, and lock it, and you get a ‘trapped’ leprechaun.”
“All you had to do was flag down one of the volunteer jailors, and they’d let you out. I don’t get how that’s trapped.” Jackson pointed and pulled his phone out. “You’re going to turn up here, south on the highway.”
“Think you can find it on a map?” He nodded as he tapped his phone, so I went ahead and tried to answer the unanswerable question. “First, it’s just ridiculous. For years now, it’s been that way: trapped, three wishes. I think it started as a negotiation process, then it became tradition, and from there, well, we simply lost the ability to choose.”
His mapping program started to speak, and he silenced it. “You’re telling me your ancestors used wish magic to bargain their way to freedom so often that it became a law of magic?”
“A magical law—I guess so. I never thought about it like that, but it fits. This is pretty cool. Us, talking about magic.”
“How do you mean?”
I’d said it without thinking, but it was a simple truth. I never had conversations about magic that weren’t filled with family drama or tainted by failed expectations. “My family doesn’t hang out around the dining room table discussing politics or magic. I can barely be in the same room with half of them for more than a few minutes. My brothers all have a warped sense of humor. Family gatherings are exhausting.”
“And you can’t talk to your friends. I get it. What about Annabeth? Does she know?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue.”
“You’re sure about that?” He held up both hands when he saw my look. “Sorry. But I have to say I’m surprised you’ve been able to keep the big green secret for so long.”
I had known Annabeth longer than any of my other non-magical friends. Maybe she had some suspicion? No, no way. “Watch the green comments, buddy. But how about you? Have you let anyone in on your big secret?”
I was surprised by how much I hoped his answer would be “no.” I didn’t want him to be that close to anyone—which was a less-than-admirable sentiment to discover in oneself.
“I haven’t. Never even been tempted. Like I said before, I started out trying to survive from one day to the next. By the time I felt like I could come up for air, a few years had gone by. I’d made some friends, bought a house”—he tipped his head in my direction—“met you, and magic had faded away into the background.”
I didn’t know what to say. My magic could be irritating at times—when I got locked up and sent wishes out into the world, for one—but it was also a part of me. I might think life would be better without it, but I was also aware on some level that I didn’t really want it gone.
And Jackson had gone ten years without his magic. I wanted to ask him if he worried he’d never get his magic back. If he wondered when Baba Yaga would return, or worried she wouldn’t. But none of those questions passed my lips.
After we’d driven for some time, Jackson said, “About these last two wishes—I don’t want them hanging over my head forever. I’d hate to be responsible for a Caitlin repeat.”
“Or worse.” Really, those West Texas orbs hadn’t ended up being all that bad. There was that baseball team that my brother had accidentally cursed. A cursed baseball team had to be worse than creating a small-town tourist attraction. Two different brothers, but both had been trapped by women following some less-than-satisfactory behavior on the part of her siblings.
“That look says there’s a story.”
I sighed. “Several stories, all involving my brothers and their romantic lives going awry. But they didn’t care what havoc their wishes caused. You and I care, so nothing outrageous is going to happen.” I paused. “Nothing else outrageous is going to happen.”
“So what’s the trick to wishing without creating chaos?”
“All you have to do is keep your wishes low-key. Two simply and clearly worded wishes that have minimal impact on you and the world, and we should be good. And as long as I’m close at hand, I can nudge them.” I wrinkled my nose. “I can nudge them a little.”
“What exactly does low-key entail?”
“Not making anyone disappear…or die.” He raised his eyebrows, and I said, “You’d be surprised what types of wishes result in death, dismemberment, or the alteration of time.”
“All very bad things that I would like to avoid.”
“Smart man.” I turned onto a small farm-to-market road, following the phone’s directions. At some point in the drive, Jackson had turned up the volume. “Sticking to minor alterations of non-living physical things should be okay.”
“What if it’s something I can just buy or do myself? Is that a problem?”
“Other than the wisher’s innate desire to ask for something otherwise unattainable, no. But wish magic has its own quirks. The more you think about it, the more it will push you to go big rather than small, to go for the impossible rather than the practical.” Another reason it was good to stay close to those wishes.
Where my brothers were concerned, that would have required sticking close to someone they’d recently pissed off enough to, say, lock them in a bathroom. Then again, none of my brothers minded creating a mess. It was all a great big joke to them anyway.
“The way you talk about wish magic, it’s as if it’s a living thing with its own agenda.”
“Welcome to life as a leprechaun.” I slowed down to a crawl and then turned down a dirt road. I could already see the small cabin from the memory I’d shared with Jackson.
He glanced at the clock. “Less than an hour door to door—not bad.”
“Traffic was light.” I looked to the right. “And there’s your field of overgrown grass and wildflowers. The grass isn’t as green and the flowers not so abundant, but that’s it.”
“Since she’s not wandering around i
n the field, I’m guessing she made her way to the cabin.” He rubbed his eyes. “I hope she made her way to the cabin.”
“There aren’t that many options: asleep or passed out in the field, inside the cabin, hitchhiking, or she could’ve just hiked out to the road and flagged someone down to call from their phone. Oh! I didn’t even think—she didn’t have her cell on her, did she?”
“No purse and a tiny dress. I don’t think she had a cell phone on her.”
So butt-grabbing Caitlin had been wearing a tiny dress. I really was not predisposed to like this woman. I reminded myself—rather forcefully—that she’d been placed in a frightening situation, and I should have some care for her emotional state. Uh-huh.
I pulled into an area with beaten-down grass that looked like it might be intended for parking. “Are you ready?”
“To brave the lion in her den?” Jackson nodded. “I only hope she’s not off her rocker or in shock. And I hope you have some kind of plan in mind, because I’ve got nothing.”
I got of the car and gave him a weak smile. “Gas leak? Sleepwalking?”
“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? We are so screwed.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: In Which our Heroine Meets the Butt-Grabbing Caitlin
“It’s about time you people showed up. Oh, hi, Jackson!” A woman I presumed to be Caitlin tilted her head, flipped her long hair back from her face, and said, “What are you doing out here?”
Caitlin wasn’t in shock. She didn’t look uncomfortable, or even surprised to see us. Maybe there was hope for a non-magical solution after all. I would so love to avoid owing my father.
“Hi,” I said.
But that was all I said. Before I could even begin to tell a wild tale of gas leaks at the community center leading to sleepwalking, which led to sleep-hitchhiking, Caitlin was walking to the door of the small cabin. “Where are the cameras?”
“Cameras…” I tried to think of a scenario where cameras might play into instantaneous, non-magical travel.
But that one stumped me.
“Ah, who were you expecting?” Jackson asked in a carefully neutral voice.
“Well, obviously I’m being Punk’d, or what was that show, a really long time ago…?” She waved her hands, glittery nails and all, in the air. “The one with the hidden cameras?”