Wicked Wish (Dragon's Gift: The Storm Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  The pounding on the door stopped for a second—and then, an incredible blast of force ripped the door off its hinges. I pushed it back with a gust.

  “Hurry!” My hand was shaking. I couldn’t hold it much longer.

  “Got it!” Damian shoved the window open. “Jump out.”

  “You first! I’m holding the door. I’ll be right behind.”

  He paused but didn’t argue, his expression torn. There was no time. He leapt out of the window.

  A surge of energy overwhelmed me, and the door splintered into a thousand pieces.

  The djinn loomed in the opening, wreathed in blue smoke. Again, some nearly irresistible force drew me to him. I hated him, but we were connected in some way. I had never been so close to answers.

  “You thought you could steal from me, little half-breed? You will make a nice addition to my collection of slaves.”

  Again, his cruel voice broke the spell. I needed to get out of there right away.

  “Not today, asshole.” I released my magic and flew out the window.

  Damian hovered a few feet below.

  A cyclone of power erupted from the window above us. Fragments of stone exploded into the air.

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” I cried, and darted away, Damian following. We flew with all our strength.

  The djinn dissipated and reformed into a massive whirlwind, driving down between us. The force hurled us apart.

  “Damian!” I screamed.

  He tumbled head over heels through the air. I fought against the magic wind with my own power, forcing my way toward him.

  The voice of the djinn boomed. “I will destroy you! I will tear you apart, piece by piece.”

  I strained and reached out to grasp Damian’s hand. He pulled me close, and I closed my eyes, bringing to mind images of home. My apartment. I summoned what strength I had, and we exploded through the ether.

  The voice of the djinn thrummed in my ears. “You think you can escape? I know who you are, and I’m coming for you.”

  The cosmos wheeled around us. With a thump, we collapsed against a wooden floor. When I opened my eyes, everything was familiar. My apartment.

  Clothes were strewn everywhere. It looked like a whirlwind had hit it.

  Exactly the way I’d left it.

  Oh, fates.

  Damian scanned the room. “Is this—”

  “Whoa!” I said, interrupting him. “Planes-walking sure makes a mess. It’s like a tornado hit.”

  “And yet…the books and papers are so neatly stacked on the shelf.”

  “Huh.” I died a little inside.

  The euphoria of escaping ended quickly.

  We didn’t get Rhiannon. Didn’t even have a chance.

  Shit.

  13

  I was exhausted. Slightly mortified, I cleared a heap of clothes off a chair for Damian, then collapsed on the couch.

  I glanced at my phone. 5 p.m. We’d been gone overnight and most of the day. So at least time in the Realm of Air worked much as it did at home.

  Seeing that I had three messages from work, I groaned. I didn’t want to face Gretchen right then. I’d just reenacted Twister with an angry djinn, and every muscle ached.

  I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. “What do we do now?”

  Damian sat down across from me. “We can’t stay here long. The djinn knows who we are now, and he’ll find us sooner or later. He could come for you in your home, just as he did for Rhiannon.”

  I sighed. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  Damian reached into his bag and pulled out the pilfered gem. He stared at the object with a distant gaze, darkness flashing in his eyes.

  “Damian?”

  He jerked his head slightly and slipped the gem back into his pocket. “We have the Dragon Heart, and that’s a start. The djinn enshrined it in a prominent place in his vault, which indicates to me that it’s something he values deeply.”

  “So, what’s it do for us?”

  Damian looked up. “Before we set out, I spoke with a mage here in Magic Side. He can help us cast a powerful binding spell that will trap the djinn. Doing so requires three things. The first is an object precious to the target.”

  “The Dragon Heart?”

  Damian nodded. “It will help us exert dominion over the djinn.”

  “Okay…”

  “The second is an object strong enough to hold the djinn. Crafted purely of magic. That’s our next objective.”

  “Hmm…and what’s the last thing?”

  “The binding spell.” Damian got up and strode to the window. “Finding the object to trap him is going to be tricky, though. This is where your expertise as a researcher is essential. What is strong enough to hold a djinn?”

  “Shit.” I stared at the crack in my ceiling. “That’s a tall order. Lemme think.”

  “You think, I’ll heal your wounds.” He came over and knelt in front of the couch.

  I glanced down at my raw skin which looked like it’d been sandblasted with chunks of concrete.

  “At least it was exfoliating,“ I muttered.

  Dizziness flooded my head as Damian’s magic poured over me. Warm and tingly. He placed his fingers on my forehead, and my cheeks burned. There was no way I could concentrate while he healed me. His touch left me euphoric. Wanting.

  My mind raced as I tried to focus. “I don’t know where to begin to look, but I have a friend in Magic’s Bend who might be able to help. Nix Knight. She runs a shop called Ancient Magic with her sisters. They track down magic artifacts for a living. She’s a bit of a bookworm, too.”

  Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Can you handle it on your own?”

  “What? Why? I mean, yes, but what are you going to be doing?”

  “I’ve got a mage to deal with if we want to get that binding spell.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Once you know where the object is, I’ll help you get it. How soon can you leave?”

  I grabbed my phone and started dialing. “I’ll call Nix.”

  I tapped my foot as the phone pulsed, willing her to pick up. At last, a cheery voice greeted me. “Neve! My fates. It’s been so long, how are you?”

  “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call, Nix. I’m in a bit of a bind, and I need your help.”

  I filled her in on the details of Rhiannon’s kidnapping and the djinn. When I finished, she said, “Holy smokes! Of course I’ll help you out. I don’t know of any objects like that, but I know where we should start looking. Can you meet me at the library of Alexandria in the morning? 9 a.m. your time?”

  “Yes! I’ve never been inside…it’s been a dream. Can you really get us in?”

  “Absolutely. I have killer credentials. You can use the Chicago portal and meet me in the entrance hall.”

  “Fantastic.” Nix filled me in on the directions, and I hung up, brimming with excitement.

  The library of Alexandria held the largest collection of magical texts known to supernatural kind. Much of its collection was ancient, consisting of magical scrolls and books. It was founded by the Ptolemies, who were relentless in acquiring knowledge. They “borrowed” books from around the ancient world but seldom returned them.

  I looked at my own book collection and felt slightly guilty for a moment. There were things I needed to bring back to the archives…once I got around to reading them.

  I turned to Damian and briefed him on the plan. “Excellent,” he said. “Once you identify the object, don’t go looking for it without me.”

  I nodded. Duh.

  “Moreover, you shouldn’t stay here tonight. I’ll put us up in a hotel downtown near the museum. While you’re with Nix, I’ll meet the mage.”

  I packed a bag, since I wasn’t sure when I’d be back. My favorite shirt was caked with dried blood. Damn it—I’d need to find a laundromat with powerful magic to get that out.

  An hour later, we were checking into the hotel, which was luxur
y at its finest. I had a corner room on the twelfth floor, and floor-to-ceiling windows provided an unparalleled view of the city and lake. The bed was huge and the bathroom to die for.

  I was ravenous, but first, I needed a bath.

  Ten minutes later, I sank back into the jacuzzi tub, the hot water soothing my sore muscles. The hotel room phone jolted me from sleep. I groaned, weighing whether I should answer.

  Damian, perhaps?

  Good. I had some questions I needed answered.

  I pulled myself out of the bath and glanced at my watch. Yikes. 9 p.m. What would he want at this hour? My heartbeat quickened as I answered. “Hello?”

  “I’m ordering room service,” Damian said. “What do you want?”

  Right. I was starving. “Um, a cheeseburger and fries, with a chocolate milkshake?”

  There was pause on the other end of the line.

  “Don’t judge!”

  “See you in a few,” Damian said, then the line cut.

  I pulled on the lush white robe that hung in the closet and stared into the mirror. Damian had just invited me over for dinner. And it wasn’t a date. But also…it wasn’t not a date. Because it totally wasn’t necessary. I could have just as easily ordered room service on my own.

  I sighed. Get a hold of yourself, Neve. Damian was dangerous, not to mention one of the Order’s most wanted criminals.

  Crap! The Order. I really needed to call work, let them know I was sick or something. Maybe after dinner.

  I joined Damian in his room, which was nearly identical to mine. His gaze lingered briefly on the robe, but he said nothing and went to the minibar. “Beer?”

  “Sounds divine.” I’d drink my milkshake later.

  Room service arrived, and we ate at the small table in the corner near the windows. I smiled. Damian ordered exactly what I had, minus the shake.

  My stomach growled, and parched, I gulped down the beer. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Back there at the palace, when the djinn arrived, he said something odd—as if he’d met you before.”

  “That’s right.” Damian took a swig of beer.

  “How do you know him?”

  He leaned back in his chair casually. “I’ve been hunting him. I met him only once before, but he got away.”

  “I see.” I dug into my burger. Fates, it was good.

  “Your tattoo has grown.” His eyes were on my wrist. Trails of white ink snaked out from the robe. “I saw you rub your arm when the djinn appeared. Is it connected to him? And that place?”

  So he’d caught that. No point in hiding it now. “I think so. It appeared after my fight with the thief. I mean, I think I felt it—forming?—when we arrived in the Realm of Air, but I didn’t notice it until we were on the Jewel.”

  “May I see?”

  I hesitated momentarily, then pulled the oversized sleeve up and turned my forearm over. Damian gently took my arm and inspected it closely. “It’s remarkable. It must be tied to your powers—now that you’ve begun using them.” He traced his fingers over the pattern, following it up where it disappeared beneath the robe. “Where else does it go?”

  Warmth blazed through me. There was something between us, no question. He was dangerous and off limits, but...

  I bit my lower lip and leaned back, letting my arm slide out from his grip.

  Damian’s eyes followed my movements. I saw a flash of something. Desire. Lust. Craving.

  He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, wrenching his eyes away and looking at the floor. “You should head back to your room.” His voice was rough and disconnected. “It’s late, and we’ll have an early morning.”

  Confusion shot through me. Had I done something wrong? I rose abruptly. “Yeah. Of course.”

  Tension tightened between us like a wire pulled taught. Unsure of what had just happened, I turned and left.

  “Nevaeh.”

  I stopped outside of the door and looked over my shoulder. Damian’s jaw was tense, and he looked distraught. “Goodnight.”

  “Night, Damian.” I headed back to my room and flopped on my bed, utterly confused.

  My alarm beeped at 8 a.m., and I groaned. I was so not a morning person.

  After a quick shower, I threw on my favorite pair of black leggings, a green silk blouse, and my boots. I recalled my “date” with Damian the night before and cringed. So awkward. I would have to shove that memory deep down into the recesses of my brain.

  With half an hour before I was due to meet Nix, I tossed my jacket over my shoulder and raced to the hotel lobby. It was going to be tight.

  Magic Side had several magical gateways—portals—that connected it to magical cities and places around the globe. The portal that gave access to the Library of Alexandria, however, was inside the Field Museum in Chicago proper. Luckily, Damian and I had stayed downtown in the Loop.

  I dropped my overnight bag with the nice lady at the front desk. Damian would pick it up for me later, but I’d keep my backpack, which held a few books and my notebook.

  There was a perfect cappuccino waiting for me.

  Before I could wonder whether the desk clerk was a mind reader, she smiled and nodded, motioning behind me.

  I turned and saw Damian across the way on his phone. He was wearing tan trousers and a blue dress shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.

  I sighed, imagining how our night could have ended.

  He caught my gaze and raised his coffee in acknowledgment as he stepped out the front doors, then disappeared into a black SUV that pulled away.

  I grabbed the cappuccino and followed him out, where I found an identical black SUV. A man in a suit opened the back door and caught my eye. “Ms. Cross? This is for you. Courtesy of Mr. Malek.”

  I nodded my thanks and climbed in, muttering, “I could get used to this.”

  As we sped through the city, I considered calling in to work. By now, I’d missed a couple days, and I was sure Gretchen was furious. Still, better to beg for forgiveness than have to explain and ask for more time off. Instead, I dialed my friend Ronnie, who worked at the Field Museum, and let him know I was running a little late.

  I’d known Ronnie for half a decade, and we occasionally worked on research projects together. Although he was Magica, he lived outside the city and worked as a conservator, specializing in ceramics.

  Ronnie was also in charge of the Field Museum’s portal. He’d shown it to me several times, but I’d never had the credentials to use it before. I suspected that the librarians in Alexandria, who had a bit of a reputation, wanted to make it as hard as possible to visit. Luckily, Nix had connections and had sent me the passcode.

  The driver dropped me in front of the Field Museum’s monumental columned entrance. Ronnie had warned the museum guards that I would be arriving, and they let me pass through the staff-only doors. I ducked into the gift shop, and then, running a little late, darted downstairs.

  The portal itself was located inside a 4,300-year-old ancient Egyptian chapel that once belonged to the royal chamberlain of Pharaoh Unas. It had been legally purchased by the museum at the turn of the twentieth century, when those sorts of acquisitions were permissible, and traveled by boat from Egypt to Chicago. Nowadays, the chapel was sealed up behind a wall in a break room, off limits to the public, but accessible to Magica with permission.

  The break room was as one might expect—white walls, fluorescent lights, and a few tables—except along one side of the room was a pair of ten-foot-tall double doors.

  Ronnie, a slender man with dark hair, stepped into view. “Neve!”

  I hugged him. “Hi, Ron. Nice to see you. Working on anything good these days?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. I’m restoring some of the Chinese bowls from the twelfth-century Java Sea shipwreck.”

  “Coooool!” I loved shipwrecks. And so did Ronnie.

  Ronnie unlocked the double doors and pulled them open, revealing the small limest
one chapel inside. It was no bigger than an elevator, and its walls were elaborately decorated from floor to ceiling with carved hieroglyphs and scenes. Traces of original ochre and cerulean paint were still visible on some of the walls.

  “Here you go,” he said. “I have a meeting in five, so I have to split. Stop by when you get back. We’ll grab a coffee.”

  “Sure thing, Ron. Thanks so much!” I waved and entered the chapel.

  The floor was covered in sand from its original display in the museum’s old location. The space was dimly lit by a pair of fluorescent bulbs along the base, and it was a good five degrees colder inside. The magic portal itself was a false door at the back of the chapel. False doors were common in Egyptian tombs, thresholds between the worlds of the living and dead through which spirits could pass. The side panels were covered in hieroglyphs, and the door was framed with moldings and lintels decorated with offering scenes.

  I stood in front of the portal and nodded to the carved figure of Netjer-User, the tomb’s owner and supposedly one of the sons of a pharoah.

  “Hi, Netjer-User. Thanks for letting me pass.”

  He was seated on a throne, and ochre paint still colored parts of his skin.

  I pressed a sequence of hieroglyphs Nix had texted me, each illuminating beneath my touch as I told the portal my destination.

  I took a breath and stepped through. The limestone hieroglyphs dissolved around me, and I was sucked through the ether.

  14

  I emerged into a colonnaded library hall decorated with Greco-Roman statues and let out a sigh. “That’s so much better than planes-walking.”

  Light streamed in through high windows, and dust motes drifted gently in the air. I was alone. Nix apparently hadn’t arrived yet.

  To pass the time, I strolled about the hall, studying the sculptures set into niches. Modern histories erroneously claimed that the library of Alexandria was burned to the ground. The truth was much sadder and more remarkable. During the Roman period, Egypt’s overlords lost interest in the pursuit of knowledge, turning their attention instead to the pursuit of coin. Without powerful patrons, the library languished. The magic world, understanding what a resource it was, slowly moved it stone by stone and scroll by scroll into a pocket dimension, similar to that occupied by Magic Side.