Wish Hunter (The Savannah River Series Book 1)

by Hero Bowen

  “Thanks,” she said. “Really.”

  He led her to the front of the abandoned BMW, and she sat on the hood. For a moment, it looked like he was going to check her head, but he lowered his hand and sank down beside her. “No lie, though, you can kick some serious ass for a marriage counselor. I wasn’t expecting you to be a secret ninja.”

  “The wishing business isn’t all birthday parties and scented candles, you know.” She shrugged, her head still pounding. “If you’re a wish hunter, you’ve got to be ready to protect yourself.”

  “I thought the music industry was nasty, but wish-stealing is some filthy business, man.” He gave a low whistle. “Compared to that, give me a pissed-off label exec any day of the week. Didn’t expect to almost get killed twice today.”

  “Look, I really didn’t mean to get you into this mess,” Nadia said, hesitating on the edge of a real apology. If an innocent person had been hurt because of her choices, the remorse would’ve buried her. He hadn’t left her lying on the sidewalk, and that was worth a lot.

  Miles arched an eyebrow. “Not used to people coming after you when you steal their wishes, huh?”

  She flushed a little. “It’s always a risky business. At this point, you might as well give up trying to get your wish back. Honestly, the retaliation won’t be worth it.”

  “So now you’re all about honesty,” he said dryly.

  “I just want to give you a fair warning about what you might be getting into. My bark is worse than my bite, really, but I don’t want you thinking that’s true of anybody else in the wishing world.”

  “Already got that message in the cemetery when bullets were flying and when I got smacked in the stomach a few minutes ago.” Miles’s expression softened, and he looked at her like he had at the restaurant—like she was a person he was curious to know more about. “But I appreciate the heads-up.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. This is sunshine and rainbows compared to what things used to be like under Adrian’s rule. He used to give wishes to drug lords, rapists, murderers—anyone willing to pay up. Had a hard time letting go, which is why his crew is still sniffing around. Those three at Bonaventure were his.”

  “Think that giant was his too?” Miles glanced toward the road where the Chevy had disappeared a minute earlier.

  Nadia massaged her temples. “I wasn’t sure before, but this isn’t Adrian’s doing.”

  The thief’s fuzzy last words filtered back into her head: Call it payment for your mother’s treasonous calls to Atlanta. If that woman could mimic voices, it only stood to reason that Grace’s latest call from Mr. Caldwell at the condemned house might’ve been another spoofed number designed to prove Grace’s guilt.

  The thought alone made Nadia’s stomach sink as she added, “That thief is on the current Wishmaster’s payroll, and that means we’re in deeper shit than you know.”

  Miles grimaced. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

  Nadia pushed herself away from the hood—she couldn’t keep idling here while that thief might be headed for Grace and Basha. The house’s protective powers might not be enough this time, if the stolen wish was somehow used to counteract Basha’s wish. She glanced at Miles, who was staring down at his phone as if checking for cracks. After the wishing bark infusion wore off, his finding powers would be incredibly useful for sensing any incoming threats from the Wishmaster. But how could she get him to come with her? Sure, he’d thrown himself into the fight, but she was under no illusions of what his motivations were. He just wanted his wish back so he could ditch Nadia as quickly as possible.

  An idea came to her—one that would hopefully tempt him to follow her.

  “I need to head home. My mom and babcia might be in trouble.” She took two paces forward. “You should come too. I know you hate me right now, but you’re in this as much as I am, and that means you’re in the line of fire. So, we can lie low at my house until we can figure out our next move.”

  Miles scoffed. “People stop me for selfies on the street. There’s no such thing as ‘lying low.’ Anyway, the Wishmaster will probably just break down the door, if they’re really after us.”

  “There were no paparazzi outside the last time you came wandering into my house unannounced,” she replied, struggling to bite back her sarcasm. “But I promise, it’s the safest place for us. The house is protected by a wish that not even the Wishmaster can break through.” Yet. She didn’t want to think of the lengths Kaleena would go to conquer that obstacle, if she really wanted to dole out punishments.

  Miles seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment. “All right, I see what you’re saying. But I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m not letting you pull another fast one on me while I figure out what I’m gonna do about my wish. This isn’t an olive branch.”

  “Then come on and keep up.”

  She broke into a sprint and took out her phone to dial her mom on the move, but the call rang through. Trying Basha’s number and then the house number, she got the same endless chimes and no answer. She hadn’t even stopped to check if Miles was following, but his footsteps pounded on the sidewalk behind her.

  Her mind erupting with every worst-case scenario, she rushed past the live oaks and the giddy lovers trying to take nighttime pictures in front of the armillary sphere on Troup Square, maybe hoping their love would never be eclipsed. Perhaps there was a celestial sphere out there somewhere that had the exact moment marked for when Nick would be forever blocked from her life, steeping her world in a bereaved darkness.

  Nick . . . It physically ached to admit it, but all thoughts of clearing the debt and reviving Nick would have to sit on the back burner for the time being. The woman who beat them up was a newbie that Nadia had never run into before. Was Kaleena expanding her operations? Or had her assumptions about the thief been wrong, and the Atlanta Wishmaster was making moves against the Kaminski family? Most troubling of all was the realization that the woman hadn’t just seized a random opportunity to grab a wish. She’d known exactly where to look and who to trail.

  For now, though, Nadia couldn’t worry too much about that. She had to focus on stopping everything from imploding. If Kaleena took all of Nadia’s wishes as punishment, her chances of ever making a wish for herself would disappear. But first, she needed to make sure Kaleena hadn’t already gunned for Grace and Basha, thinking they had some part in this.

  “Would you slow down for a second?” Miles yelled, but Nadia ignored him.

  Finally, she turned onto her street, and her anxiety prompted her legs to move faster. Of course, there could be an innocent reason they weren’t picking up the phone: her grandmother had her record player on too loud or she was pruning in the tub, and her mom had already headed out for her date and didn’t want to be interrupted. But where the Wishmaster was concerned, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  A minute later, Nadia came to the front gate of the Kaminski Mansion. The streetlight was still out, but she didn’t need it to navigate the front path. As she was about to push open the gate, something caught her eye—a bronze glow underneath her feet. She jumped back as if she’d been shocked.

  “Why are you—” Miles jumped back too, having just caught up.

  Nadia’s guts liquefied as the refreshed shape of the Zhar-Ptitsa’s feather glinted menacingly up at her, just in front of the gate. It wasn’t the faded echo of the first. That would’ve vanished by now. No, this was unmistakably strike two. The very thing she’d been scrambling to avoid.

  She might not have been gone long, but news traveled fast.

  “So much for me warning them,” she whispered, terror crawling through her like freshly hatched spiders. Nadia finally remembered that Miles was standing beside her. “You should stay out here. I’ll deal with this.”

  He eyed the sprayed feather on the ground. “What’s got you so spooked? What is this?”

  “It’s a warning from the Wishmaster. One more and . . . well, the consequences won’t be pretty.”


  Miles’s face fell. “Who’s it for?”

  “Me—and them.” Nadia tipped her head toward the house. “Seriously, you should just stay out here.”

  She pushed through the gate and headed up the front path, only to find Miles bounding after her.

  “No way,” he said. “The only reason I came here was to stay somewhere safe, remember? Plus, I’m not going anywhere till I have my wish back in here.” He thumped on his chest.

  Nadia muttered a curse. She deserved his distrust, given how she’d treated him before, but these were abnormal circumstances that would take too long for her to explain.

  She sucked in a breath as they walked past the statue in the yard, its corroded face sending shivers down her spine. “I’m coming back out, Miles. I’m not trying to scam you here.”

  “Never said you were.” He put up his hands. “But like I heard once, ‘trust, but verify.’ I’m coming in whether you like it or not. Besides, you don’t look good, Nads,” Miles said as they reached the porch steps.

  She shot him a grimace. “Don’t call me that. And just wait out on the porch for a minute. I’ll come back out to get you.”

  She pushed past him and opened the door. But Miles slipped into the entrance hall behind her, ducking under her arm when she meant to slam the door in his face. Evidently, according to Basha and the house, he was still on the good list and welcome inside.

  On a normal evening, there were always lights on, with the chatter of a TV, radio, or record player drifting through the halls. Now, the house sat in strange, dark quietude, as though it had been abandoned and was apprehensively waiting for its owners to come back.

  “Mom? Babcia?” Nadia called out. She edged toward the kitchen and peered around the door, but there was no sound except for the droning fridge. “Are you here?”

  She drew back from the kitchen and crossed the entrance hall to the living room on the right-hand side. It was what Nadia had always called the “showroom,” since no one ever used it unless there was a special occasion. Usually, family gatherings took place in the den beside the kitchen. But if the Wishmaster had come, it’d definitely fit under the umbrella of a “special occasion.”

  Just not the good kind.

  Taking a nervous breath, Nadia pushed open the living room door. Amber light enveloped the room in a hazy glow, as though a fire flickered inside—but the grate was cold and unused. Instead, the glow came from the antique brass lamps and the chandelier that had been dimmed to almost the lowest setting. With all the dark wood paneling and the drawn velvet drapes that sucked in what little light remained, the room seemed impossibly small, spotlighting only the red-and-gold jacquard couch in the center. Two figures sat there in silence, backs straight, hands resting politely in their laps. A chill rattled up Nadia’s spine.

  “Why didn’t you answer?” Nadia asked, knowing it was a stupid question and aware of Miles peering at her from beside the doorway.

  Grace said nothing. She didn’t even look at her daughter. She just trained her eyes on the family portrait above the fireplace of the four remaining women in the Kaminski line, with one figure notably taped over in black.

  “One of Wishmaster’s people called and told us everything.” Basha broke the silence, but there was no relief in it. “They explained truth—what happened at Bonaventure.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Nadia saw Miles point toward the kitchen and creep away.

  “You did not say the wishing box was destroyed,” Basha continued. “You told lie.”

  Nadia shook her head. “I didn’t, Babcia. I thought you already knew after Black Hat called Mom.”

  “You no speak.” Basha raised a finger. “I speak now. You cannot be blamed for box breaking, but you should have told us yourself. But that is not all, as you know.”

  Nadia’s stomach sank like a rock. She’d been dreading this conversation. Had Black Hat realized that Miles had saved her life and gained a wish—and then realized that Nadia took it for herself? Or had someone like Croak been watching them in Bonaventure from afar, unseen?

  “You steal wish and keep for yourself, when you know we owe debt to Wishmaster.” Basha clicked her tongue in distaste. “After all that was said earlier, you defy me, and you defy your mother. You think only of yourself and not the rodzina and what it would do to us.”

  Apparently, Grace had been instructed not to talk either. She only flinched and kept staring.

  Nadia floundered. “I wasn’t trying to defy you, and anyway, I don’t have it anymore,” she babbled. “I wanted to wish away the debt, Babcia! I saw the chance, and I took it. But someone stole the wish from me—someone who works for the Wishmaster.”

  “Foolish dziecko! What do I tell you? Keep head down, play nice, all will be well!” Basha groaned. “Now, you put me in dangerous position. You force me to act against Wishmaster. I have ways, do not mistake, but I no want use them. Wishmaster might retaliate and take our wishes, but . . . is last resort. If no options, I use. Even if our wishes are taken, it will save our lives.”

  Nadia fidgeted. “It’s just two feathers, not three. We can still get back on Kal—I mean, the Wishmaster’s good side.”

  Basha rose from her seat, shaking her cane at Nadia. “Is no ‘just this’ and ‘just that.’ Why did you no listen? I do not speak for good of my own health.”

  Rage festered inside Nadia, heating her face. Her grandmother was right—of course she was—but why couldn’t Basha see the full picture? Why couldn’t she understand that Nadia had been trying to do the right thing by freeing everyone from the debt? Sure, it came with the bonus of giving her free rein to resurrect Nick, but that wasn’t her sole reason.

  “I’ll never get it right, will I?” Nadia retorted, her tongue no longer under her control. “I made this debt, and I wanted to fix it. I did what any of you would’ve done, given the opportunity. Don’t pretend you’d have acted differently if an untracked wish fell into your lap.”

  Basha sighed. “I would believe if you were no clinging on to dead husband. Is not selfless act, dziecko. Basha is no stupid.” Her eyes narrowed. “You go to place where Nick died yesterday, and you no think is strange coincidence? I ask you to obey and you disobey. You do it for him, not for us. If given choice, you would no pick rodzina—you pick him.”

  The sheer insensitivity in her grandmother’s words struck a jarring chord in Nadia’s chest. What did it matter what the endgame was, if the run-up helped everyone? Why couldn’t she have more than one goal? In fact, she was starting to wonder what would have happened if she had managed to clear the debt with a wish. Would her grandmother have conjured up some other reason to stop her from bringing Nick back?

  Nick was her rodzina, her family.

  “Maybe if you helped us rack up wishes instead of hiding away in this house, we’d be done by now!” The explosive words burst out of Nadia before she could stop them. “But you wanted to delay us, didn’t you? That way, you wouldn’t have to pretend to be sympathetic and listen to me begging you to give me answers. It happened in our family once, somewhere in our history, so why couldn’t it happen again? You say you care so much about the rodzina, but that’s only when it suits you.”

  Basha raised her cane. “I beat sense into you right now! Is no our fault. Is all you and this foolish dream that you will no let die. You do this for him, no for us. Now you put us in danger!”

  “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me go to the Wishmaster to ask for a wish,” Nadia nearly shouted. “Maybe there’s still time. She doesn’t hate me the way she hates you. If I beg her, maybe she’ll help. If she says yes, then I won’t need anything else from you. You’ll never have to see your stupid, selfish little granddaughter again.”

  Basha jabbed the point of her cane into the floor, making a dent. “You no go to Wishmaster! You no make this worse!”

  “I had a life without you, and I want it back. It’s my right to make my own choices.” Tears stung Nadia’s eyes, but she refused to let
them fall.

  Basha turned her back on her. “Leave this house and take wretchedness with you. Is no wanted here. Is no welcome. We give and we give and we give to you, and you repay us with lies, insolence, and disrespect. I no have it in my house!”

  A strange tug pulled at Nadia’s waist, as if invisible hands were around her. She glared at her grandmother.

  “Mama, no!” Grace yelled, finally finding her voice. “You both just need to calm down and talk about this when you’re not so fired up. I really do think she was trying to do the right thing.”

  Basha waved a dismissive hand. “Two granddaughters, and both rotten as fallen apples from tree. I had hope for you, Nadia. You had promise, but you disappoint all same. Your core is no good either. Is moldy and spoiled. You same as sister, wanting only wishes for yourselves!”

  “I asked for one wish, damn it!” Nadia fired back. “One. Not two, not three, just one. Am I not allowed a smidgen of hope after everything I’ve been through, or do you really only care about the business and debt? Don’t you give a shit that my heart got ripped out and stamped on, and I’m barely breathing over here?”

  Basha whirled around. “You no curse at me! I take soap to your mouth and scrub!”

  Grace took hold of Basha’s shoulders, only for the older woman to shuffle her off. “Please, Mama. Both of you, go to bed, and you can talk about this in the morning.”

  Basha pretended not to hear and glared at Nadia. “Perhaps my wish keep my Grace and me alive. But you make us forever prisoners here if Wishmaster threaten to take more than just wishes. You agreed with plan to take no more risks, keep head low. But now, another feather because of you!”

  “You really can’t see past your own problems, can you?” Nadia spat. “Kaleena was right all along.”

  Basha glowered. “Your rotten apple of sister will no save you. But perhaps she let your mother and me live when you have paid price for this.”

  “Mama, don’t say that!” Grace jumped in again.

  Basha aimed her cane at Nadia. “She make me this way. Both granddaughters—they destroy me! I take no more, Grace. I am done. Finished.”