Jinn
Magic Makes the Man
The Complete Series
Copyright 2019 Jason Hutchinson
AVP Publishing
Copyright 2019 by Jason Hutchinson, All Rights Reserved.
No part of this work may be distributed, transmitted, or reproduced in any form or means, including photocopy, facsimile, recording or other electronic and mechanical methods without the express written permission of the publisher. Brief quotations in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by the copyright laws governing this work. For permission requests, email: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction and any name, characters, incidents or settings are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or decease, or to business, companies, events, institutions, or places is completely coincidental. All characters are over the age of eighteen and are not related by blood or marriage.
Table of Contents
Book One: Wishes, MILFs, and Magic
Book Two: Fangirls and Fantasies
Book Three: The Harem and the Hero
Book Four: The Sergeant and the Succubus
Book Five: Nerdy Girls and Nefarious Forces
Book Six: Breaking the Chain
About Jason Hutchinson
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Magic Makes the Man
Steve found himself wondering why he was fumbling blindly behind him for the door handle. It wasn’t as if the young woman in front of him was an armed assailant. A quick glance up and down revealed a remarkably fit little body, but nowhere to hide a weapon. The thin, silk chemise she wore was loose and flowing yet somehow highlighted her remarkable figure.
The door opened behind him and he tentatively peered out into the entryway, startling a bit.
Amira Nimri was standing there, a step and a half away from the door, reaching towards the knob. There was an oddness about her that only took him a second to fully identify. She wasn’t moving at all.
“She really loved him, you know.” The Jinn whispered from behind him, one hand on his back, the other suddenly pushing out between his left arm and his side. “Razwan. He was Crystal’s master, but he…died.”
The head pulled back from his arm and Steve Ballard slowly turned to face her.
“You’re not kidding me, are you?”
Firefly smiled. “Why would I do that? I want to get out, have some fun, do exciting things!” She paused for a moment. “Don’t you?”
Steve laughed. “Well, yeah, but this is…a lot to take in.”
“Well, you could always wish for something.”
He thought about it. “You said I don’t get three. Do I just get one? And what about all that stuff about the wishes being turned back around on the wisher?”
Firefly laughed. It wasn’t a quick one, either. She went for almost a minute, the laugh narrowing to a giggle before suddenly exploding again. Steve simply watched her, entranced, until it finally settled. By the time it was over, he was wearing one of his own.
With just a twitter of mirth left over, she spoke. “That’s so much bullshit, Steve.” She said. “I’ve never understood why humans have to take a good thing and twist it around. Whoever first said that if it looks too good to be true crap should have kept his mouth shut. Hell, you guys even managed to turn sex into something people look down on.”
“So, if I wish for a new car, it’s not going to land on top of me?”
“What would be the point of that?”
“I don’t know, it’s just what…” He paused himself, gesturing with his eyes back over his shoulder. “Is she, you know, okay?”
“Well, she’s got some resentment issues towards her late husband. The anxiety of the run for government is really starting to wear her down and she sometimes gets a rash on…”
Steve pressed his index finger against the Jinn’s bright red lips, imagining it coming back as red as a raspberry. “I mean, is she fine frozen like that?”
Firefly blinked and even the brief loss of those bright eyes was like the beam of a lighthouse panning past a ship. He felt it.
“Oh, no. She’s fine.” She looked past him again, out the doorway. “What do you think? Hot, huh? You know, I could make that…”
“Yeah, no.” Steve said, drawing the line. “I’m all for the wish thing, but I don’t want to make anyone do anything they don’t want to do.”
Firefly laughed again. She took two steps backwards and somehow ended up on the huge bed, where she bounced playfully up and down. “I always forget that humans can’t read each other’s minds. You know, it would really make the world a better place. Consider the conflict you’re in right now. The opposing geopolitical…”
“What do you mean about reading minds?” Steve interrupted.
“I was trying to tell you.” Firefly pouted.
“Specifically regarding her.”
“Oh.”
The Jinn continued bouncing on the bed, doing a complete pirouette before finally facing him again. “She’s actually really into you, Steve.”
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Book One:
Wishes, MILFs, and Magic
Chapter One
“Plumber, sir.”
The major looked down from the Humvee and into the latrine pit that Steve had spent the better part of the day digging. While the major dabbed a light stippling of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, Steve was pretty much ignoring the river of it that continuously trickled down his back from between his aching shoulder blades.
“That’ll be perfect. Hop in, Sergeant…”
“Ballard, sir.” Steve shot back.
Steve was an interrogator. After spending a little more than a year in language school for the Army, he was relatively fluent in Arabic and was trained in common interrogation techniques. In the best interests of the Army, he’d spent most of the last six months of his deployment to Iraq digging ditches. Plumbing had been his pre-military career. It had paid off, too. His barracks back in Georgia had commonly required quite a bit of attention in that respect.
“What’s your MOS, son?” The major asked.
Benson. Major Benson. Steve read the nametape on his ACU top.
“Ninety-Seven Echo, sir.”
The major smiled. “Arabic? Fucking perfect. Hoo-rah. You’re definitely the guy for me.”
Ballard climbed into the back of the Hummer on the passenger side, so he could better speak to the major. The driver was a sergeant like himself and could have been a mute for as far as he spoke. The vehicle lunged into motion with the crunching sound of sand and gravel under the heavy tires.
“Got a lady we need to pay extra special attention to, and you’re the boy to help me out.” Major Benson said. He seemed to consider his own words for a moment, then chuckled.
“That sounds bad, doesn’t it? I’ll try again. The woman’s name is Amira Nimri. She’s the widow of a bigwig around here and is probably going to be elected into the government any day. We like her and we want to keep her happy. Trouble is, the place she lives hasn’t been properly maintained since back in the Desert Storm days and she’s pretty pissy about it.”
“I’m assuming the plumbing is bad, sir?”
“The plumbing is literally shit, son.” The major said, laughing. “All the fucking tools and parts are there, just no on local wants to do it.�
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“Don’t we have plumbers on the base somewhere, sir?” Steve asked, immediately regretting it.
“The CO of that company and I aren’t really that friendly, son, if you’re going to make me admit it. Plus, he already shot it down. Apparently, the boys are pretty busy.”
Steve laughed. The major gave him a look, effectively asking for explanation.
“Not sure what they’re doing to keep themselves busy, with all due respect, sir. I haven’t shit down a pipe for six months.”
It was a toss-up there for a moment. The major’s face was almost impossible to read with the jarring of the Humvee over the uneven roads, but the huge guffaw finally let Steve off the hook.
“You’ll do fine, kid. You don’t look like the superstitious type, either.”
As curious as he was, Steve didn’t want to ask. Sometimes it was just better to be in the dark than really have all the information. It was an Army thing. He just nodded.
Within twenty minutes, they skidded to a stop next to a seriously beat-up looking Volvo with what appeared to be numerous bullet holes along the driver’s side. Not an uncommon sight, really. The place, at least to Steve’s eye, was far more of a palace than just a place this woman was living. It looked to be at least three floors, with numerous balconies and minarets. It amazed him that it had escaped the years of conflict unscathed.
“This is it.” Benson said, hopping out of the passenger seat. “I’m just going to introduce you and run. She can schedule to have someone take you back.”
“Yes, sir.”
The major led Steve up to the door, which was a disappointment. He would have much rather there been a drawbridge or something cool like that. Even the doorbell was modern.
The woman that opened the door was modern, too.
For once, Steve had no problem controlling his wandering eyes. Her face was angelic and she couldn’t have been a day over thirty-five, not the older widow he had been expecting. Dark brown eyes were set off by smoky eye makeup. She was somehow exotic and comforting all at the same time.
“Amira Nimri, this is Sergeant Ballard. He’s going to help with the plumbing.”
The beauty extended her hand and Steve took it, trying to determine the right grip as she responded to the major.
“Thank you, Major Benson.” She said. “I appreciate it and will have your man returned as soon as possible.”
The eyes went to Steve. “Thank you for coming to assist, Sergeant Ballard.”
Steve heard the skidding of tires behind him, kicking gravel up against his boots. He glanced over his shoulder. “He must be pretty busy, too.” He said. “Steve.”
Amira gave him a questioning look.
“You can call me Steve, if you want.” He explained.
“Your Arabic is outstanding, Steve. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll show you the issue.”
Steve’s eyes finally got to wander as Amira Nimri lead him through the huge living space. After a complete inventory of the woman’s remarkable figure in a surprisingly western dress, he was also able to admire the finery of the place, both in artifacts and in decoration.
“This is all beautiful.” Steve said, keeping to his Arabic.
“It was all collected by my former husband.” She said, glancing back over her shoulder. Her long, black hair was like silk displayed under showroom lights; glossy and nearly electric.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Nimri.”
She laughed, which definitely threw him off guard. “Oh, no. It was about time. He was really getting up there.”
Steve pictured a wrinkly old guy with this vision of a woman in front of him. Sadly, it was all too common, but it wasn’t something he was going to bring up.
As they walked through a room, the door they had entered by slammed shut behind them, causing the numerous oil paintings on the walls to clatter before finally settling. He didn’t mention that, either, but remembered Major Benson’s comment about superstition.
“Looks like there’s a lot of history in this house, Mrs…”
“Amira. It means…well…you know what it means. I usually have to explain it to people. It’s weird that it’s usually Americans that ask.”
Steve laughed, thinking of a movie line. Our names don’t mean shit. “Our names are generally just names, so I think most people think it’s cool.”
“And you’d probably laugh at a girl being named ‘Princess’ back in the states, too.”
Steve hesitated for a moment, but something made him decide he wanted to be straight with her. Hell, she wasn’t an officer. “Yeah, probably would. But Amira’s a different story.”
The woman stopped in front of an ornate door and turned, smiling.
“That’s sweet of you to say, Steve. I see you already see the tools and equipment. The bathroom’s right through there.”
“Perfect.” Steve said, looking down at the equipment. It actually was going to be a pleasant change; especially due to the air conditioning. “I’ll just let you know if…”
She was gone.
Steve looked around. He hadn’t really been looking down that long.
“Heatstroke.” He said, smiling.
He pushed open the bathroom door and realized what Hell would probably look like.
Chapter Two
The stench was horrific and there was water running everywhere. Fortunately, it was all going towards a central drain in the middle of the intricate mosaic-tile floor, but it was arcing nearly to the ceiling at some points.
Steve didn’t actually see what might have been causing the terrible smell, but it was about enough to make his eyes water. No wonder the hottie had scampered, he thought.
The first thing he needed to do was determine where the shutoff valve was. As the lady of the house had pretty much literally disappeared, he knew he was on his own. A quick scan told him that all of the plumbing was on the south wall. There didn’t seem to be any access hatches in the bathroom, so he was going to have to find the other side of the wall. The plumbing looked modern enough that there was sure to be a valve close by.
“Just going to look for the shutoff.” He said, hearing the words echo in the nearly-empty room adjoining the bathroom. Better to announce myself than be shot, he thought.
As he approached one of the side doors to work his way around, the bathroom door slammed shut.
“Drafty.” Steve said to himself, but he could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck.
It wasn’t something he talked about with just anybody, but he’d often spoken with close friends about feeling things and getting ‘bad vibes’ in certain places; old homes especially. Any building with a past seemed to have a lot of energy running through it. Sometimes, that energy was bad.
The energy in the Nimri place was…odd, to say the least.
Cracking the door at the other side of the room, he peered inside. It looked like a bedroom, and he didn’t want to snoop, but the woman was gone and he needed to explore in order to accomplish what was expected of him.
It was gorgeous. An oversized bed far larger than the standard King was the dominant feature in the huge room, though there were also other pieces of furniture. A chaise, a comfortable-looking couch, as well as a cushioned ottoman with what appeared to be leather cuffs built-in.
Kinky, he thought. Mostly, though, he was a bit embarrassed for her. It had been like that in the plumbing business. Sometimes he saw things that he knew would embarrass the hell out of his clients, but he had to simply ignore them.
“Outta sight, outta mind.” He whispered as he tried to follow the wall to where it abutted the bathroom. As easy as it was to say the words, it was a lot harder to actually live them. Mental images of Amira Nimri were making it inordinately hard to avoid thinking about it.
The walls didn’t seem to match. Steve walked back out into the other room, eyeing the turbulent bathroom. He stepped back into the bedroom. It wasn’t something most people would ever notice, but his plumber’s eyes noticed th
e discrepancy in the dimensions of the rooms.
There was a little over two feet missing from the bedroom.
After a minute, Steve realized that there was no obvious hatch that would allow him to access the plumbing.
He laughed in the empty room.
“Ha. How about Open Sesame?” He said it in Arabic, feeling another rising of his hackles as the words rolled off his tongue.
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