Magic Gone Wild (33 page)

“You don’t even care about the dish?”

She shrugged. “It’s just a dish.”

“But it moves.”

“So?”

That took away his bluster. “You don’t want it back?”

“Why? There are others.” She couldn’t look at Colin. She’d explain this to him afterward, but oh, how she hated for him to hear her say this. If she could be certain of her magic, she’d make him unable to hear it, but she didn’t want it to backfire and ruin his ears.

“Oh.” Gary lost more of his bluster. The jerk had actually thought he’d entrap her.

Poor, misguided man. The thing with the djinn was a djinni in control of her magic could be a formidable opponent. One
out
of
control
of her magic would be even worse.

“So what do you want?” Vana tapped one
khussa
in the air—and made sure he saw it.

He did. “That. I want to do that.”

“Tap your toe?”

He snorted. “No wonder you’re enslaved by mortals if that’s what you come up with.” He circled around her.

She let him preen. Let him think he had the upper hand. She was no more his genie than she was Zane’s, which meant she could do to him whatever she wanted—and there was a
lot
that she wanted to do to him.

“I want to be able to walk on the air like you do.”

“No problem.” She kissed the air, and Gary was hanging upside down from the doorframe. Wow, she’d actually done what she’d set out to do.

“Not like this, you idiot!”

She wanted to
tsk-tsk
at the name-calling, but she didn’t want to overplay her hand just yet because the fun was only beginning.

She kissed the air instead, and this time Gary was upright. Well, if he could call being hunched over and trying not to bang his head on the ceiling since his feet were five feet off the floor “upright.”

“Put me down, genie!”

“The name is Vana, if you don’t mind.” But she lowered him anyway. Maybe a little harder than she’d planned.

Or not.

“Your name is whatever I want it to be, genie. I’m the master.”

She ground her back teeth together, trying to refrain from flinging him into the cold, dark fireplace. Where was Merlin when she needed him?

Merlin
poofed
into the room.

“Yo, Van, what’s shakin’, bab—Oh, ho! What have we here?” Merlin glided around Gary three times, his feathers changing color with each rotation. Right now they were ebony with the tiniest lick of flames on the edges.

“Seriously, Van? You’re wasting firepower on
this
?”

Gary’s face got as red as those feather tips. “Get out of here, bird. This doesn’t concern you.”

Merlin nodded and stroked his chin with one wing while coasting with the other. His circles were getting smaller. And his flames were getting bigger.

“You know, that’s true, bug guy—I mean,
big
guy.” He narrowed his eyes. “This actually doesn’t concern me. I have every faith Van is going to be able to handle you perfectly.”

Merlin looked at her, saluted, and winked. “Have at it, babe. Enjoy.” Then he burst out in one of the biggest fireballs Vana had ever seen.

It singed off Gary’s eyebrows.

He glared at her, but the effect was ruined without eyebrows.

“I want riches. Right here. Right now.” He even stamped his foot, the spoiled bully.

“Very well.” She kissed the air and—

“What the hell did you do?” he screamed, staring at his forearms.

Where a long line of
stitches
practically bisected the length of both limbs.

“Um…”

“Get rid of these right now!” He flung out his arms.

That was too easy.

But it
was
what he wished for…

Vana kissed the air.

“What the fuck?” Gary stared at his shoulders—that had nothing hanging from them.

“You wanted me to get rid of them.”

“Not my
arms
, you moron!” His eyes narrowed, mean and beady. Maybe she should turn him into a rat instead of a toad. “Put them back on, genie.”

She raised an eyebrow and the room fell silent.

Finally, Gary exhaled. “Fine. Vana.”

“That’s better.” She kissed the air, and he had his arms back.

Too bad they were on the wrong sides.

“What the fuck?” Gary flung them awkwardly—not that Vana could blame him. It must be difficult to gain control over backward appendages. “Put them back the right way!”

“Is that what you wish?” she asked, trying desperately to keep the humor out of her voice. See how much
he
liked being bullied.

“Of course it’s what I wish. That’s why I said it! What—you need me to spell it out for you?” He still didn’t get it.

“There
are
certain rules and protocol you need to follow, Gary.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid about being a genie.” Especially in this minute when she was in full command of all her djinn power. Was this how DeeDee felt all the time? It had a lot to recommend it.

“Fine. What are they? How do I get my arms back? And my money?”

“You want money? That’s what this is all about? That’s why you’re hounding Zane to sell the place? That’s why you want to turn Peter’s memory into a laughingstock?”

Gary crossed his arms—well, he tried to. “Do you mind?” With his palms up, he looked like he was pleading. A very good look on him.

Vana kissed the air; she’d had enough fun at his expense. Being a bully didn’t feel good, no matter how nasty he was.

“It’s about time.” Gary shook his hands. Of course he didn’t say thank you. For that alone, Vana seriously considered replacing his legs with his arms and vice versa. “And I don’t have to do a thing to turn Peter’s memory into a laughingstock. He did that all by himself—or
you
did it for him. Right?”

She should have turned him into a toad. She didn’t understand croaking. “Peter was a great man, and you need to remember that.”

“Oh, sure. Peter was great. It was his all-powerful being who couldn’t get it right.” Gary shook his head. “And now I’m saddled with you.”

Okay, that was just way too easy.

She kissed the air and Gary was a donkey. An ass, to be specific. Wearing a saddle.

His legs fell out from under him, and he hit the floor with a
thud
hard enough to bounce the table where Colin lay. The smart kid twisted just enough that when the table hit the floor again, some of the duct tape gave way. He started working himself free. Colin always was resourceful.

“Oh God, turn me back, gen—I mean Vana. Now.” Gary stared at his splayed front legs.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She took a step closer to him. He couldn’t kick her from that position. “You don’t like being at someone’s mercy. Made to do things you don’t want to. Having no control. It stinks, doesn’t it?” Like he did. Donkey or otherwise.

He nodded, the big brown donkey eyes looking a bit teary.

“This is how you made Zane feel when you were children, you know. You were a bully. And you still are. Leave Peter’s memory alone. Leave Zane alone. Matter of fact, why don’t you leave this town alone? Everyone could use a break from you. If you promise to leave here, I’ll turn you back.” She tapped her
khussa
again. “No more bullying people, Gary. No more trying to wheedle them out of the votes or their inheritances or their possessions.”

She held out her hand and kissed both Emeline’s lantern and the freed Colin into her hands. “I am not your genie. I never was. And if I ever see you in this town again, you’ll wish I’d left you a donkey. Do we understand each other?”

Gary bared his big, yellow teeth in an equine snarl.

Vana puckered up.

Gary lost his bluster and hung his head. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

“And not a word to anyone. They wouldn’t believe you anyway. And then the stories about Peter would stop and the ones about you would begin. Do you want that legacy? Because if you think today’s demonstration was something, just wait until I put it on a grand scale in your dubious honor.”

“Can I at least have something before I leave? Say… a couple thousand bucks?”

Talk about easy… She bit her lip. “Um, sure. I can do that.”

She magicked a herd of deer into his backyard as she spirited Colin home.

33

Zane pulled into the driveway a little after nine. It’d been a long, frustrating day, and the gargoyle playing ostrich in the front yard didn’t help matters.

He parked the car, his knee twinging as he got out. He’d put it through the wringer today to prove to the team’s trainers—and himself—that it was back to a hundred percent. He’d worked his ass off rehabbing it in just eight months, and all the ladder-climbing yesterday had convinced him to set up today’s appointment because he needed to show them he was better than second string. He wanted to start, dammit.

He hadn’t gotten a “no,” but he hadn’t gotten a “yes,” either. But at least the lack of a “no” allowed him to hope.

He’d then tracked down his attorney on the golf course in sweltering ninety-five degree heat to see if Gary’s threat could pose a problem, only to be charged time and a half to get called an idiot for not accepting the offer in this tough real estate market
and
to learn there was no way to prevent Gary from bidding on the house without facing a major discrimination lawsuit that could tie up
any
sale to
any
one for ages.

Then, to top it all off, his condo building was being fumigated so he’d had to drive three hours twice in one day to spend another night under the same roof as Vana. After the last two, he didn’t know how many more he could take without taking things further, regardless of the complications that would arise.

The woman was one giant complication. She got under his skin in a huge way—to the point that he had to wonder why he was backing off. She was his genie; she wasn’t going anywhere. How much longer could he fight the attraction—and seriously, why did he want to? He turned to fire when she was in his arms and she melted in them. They were a match made in Heaven—or whatever constituted genie nirvana.

Nirvana… She was aptly named.

God, it was going to be another torturous night. He should have stayed in a hotel in Philly. But he hadn’t and here he was, debating whether or not he’d tell the gargoyle with its head buried in the flower bed that he could see it.

Nah. He’d had enough of magical beings—except for the one he had a feeling he’d never have enough of.

He opened the front door to find Eirik standing beside Henry, who was fluttering his doors in what looked to be a heated discussion. They froze in place the second he walked in.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, plucking a note with his name on it that was floating in the air at eye level.

Zane,

There is baklava in the kitchen and I’m in my bottle upstairs. Send Merlin to get me when you’re home. I need to talk to you.

~Vana

If only she needed something else from him…

“Oh, honey! He’s ho-o-o-o-me!” The bird flew into the foyer with a piece of—baklava?—balanced atop one of the children on his back, his cornrowed tail feathers knocking three glass bottles and the old-time photos over. “Miss us?”

Zane plucked the plate off Merlin’s back, then fixed the toppled items. “Where’s Vana?”

Merlin rolled onto his back and crossed his wings on his chest, his feathers strumming his gold belly. “Guess that’s a no.”

“Merlin, is there a point to you being here?” Zane asked as he bit into a piece of flaky pastry. He loved baklava, and this was the best he’d ever tasted. One more plus in Vana’s favor.

“Point? Uh, no. But most people like having me around.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Okay. Fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted. But it looked to me—and Henry and Eirik and even little Lucia—like you’d walked out on her. Just when she needed you, too. We all did. We were about to send out the troops.”

“Needed me? Why? And what troops?”

Merlin shook his head. “Nope, you’re not getting the story from me. Ask her. As for the troops, those gargoyles aren’t as dumb as they look, you know.”

“Then why is one standing with his head stuck in the ground in my front yard?”

Merlin smacked his forehead with his wing and landed on the sofa. “You know, you try to give them the benefit of the doubt and look what happens. I better go fix this.” He disappeared in a cloud of gold flames, just as Vana ran down the steps.