Wish For Me (The Djinn Order #1) (6 page)

I looked at her. “That’s why I love you. You always have my back.”

She nodded. “And I’m putting that little line on a t-shirt too. It was pretty good.” We shared a laugh.

“Wanna have a girl’s night?” I suggested as I watched Ash flick through the channels. It was the middle of the day so nothing was on but a bunch of bullshit.

“You know I do.” Girl’s night always included take out food from four of our favorite restaurants, action flicks, and on-demand karaoke via cable TV, which would last well into the wee hours of the morning if Ash had anything to say about it.

“Rocky Road ice cream for dessert?”

“And chocolate cake,” Ash added. “Ooh, and chocolate chip cookies!”

I laughed. “No wonder your ass has spread like peanut butter. You eat like a cow out to pasture.”

“Fuck you. I get nothing but compliments and praise about this ass. Men like curves and booty, I don’t give a shit what society would have you think.”

“What?” I had a sudden revelation. Not about men loving curves, I already knew that, but about what Irving had said the night I’d met him. My skin flushed with heat as it dawned on me.
Irving liked the way I looked.
He had tried to relay that to me, but hadn’t really known how so he had bailed on the compliment all together.

I resented the giddy feeling that flooded my gut. This changed nothing. Irving still treated me like a pimple he was itching to pop, and the fact that he may have been attracted to me didn’t justify that. This wasn’t fucking elementary school where the boy picked on the girl he liked. We were adults and either Irving was going to act like it or get used to being cursed out on a daily basis.

“Out of your head, St. Pierre.” Ash snapped her fingers in front of my face. I grinned and swatted at her hand.

“I’m here. Now go get your sketchpad. I have an idea for a new tattoo.”

“About fucking time. I haven’t tatted you in months.” Ash grabbed a pencil and her pad from her room and eagerly flipped it open to a fresh page. “Okay, now where are we putting this tat?”

I lifted my shirt and bared the space on my hip.

Ash nodded her approval. “Nice. And what’s the idea for the ink?”

I smiled, knowing she would love it. “A mechanical bat.”

Two weeks passed and I didn’t summon Irving. After the night of foolery with Ash, I felt empowered and pissed off all over again. Girl’s Night was notorious for doing that. I now seriously contemplated forfeiting my wishes and banishing Irving from my life forever, and every day that passed without me being able to take my anger out on him, I just became more resolved.

I didn’t know what had happened to Irving in his past to make him despise the human race like he did, but whatever it was didn’t give him the right to treat me like crap and insult me every chance he got. And the way he kept calling me
human
? I swore that if I ever saw him again, I would make an oath to slap him every time he said the word.

Dammit
. This entire situation sucked. I wanted my damn wishes, but I also wanted Irving not to be a complete asshole. It seemed that I might end up disappointed on both fronts.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to finally join us for dinner.”

I smiled as I entered my parents’ kitchen where they were preparing dinner on the second Friday I’d gone without summoning Irving. His Chronolier was still on the shelf in my closet and the key was hanging around my neck, but it was getting pretty easy to pretend I’d never met Irving and had no clue that Djinn existed, which kind of worked for me.

I greeted my dad first and bit his brown-bearded cheek for his comment. “Sorry, Father dear. I’m taking summer classes and have been pretty wrapped up in my school work.” I smoothed down a piece of his dark brown hair that was sticking up.

“Or wrapped around a man,” Elena muttered in my ear before kissing me on the cheek. My aunt was single and childless and often joined my parents for dinner, so I was not at all surprised to see her there.

“You must always make time for family, no matter what,” my dad scolded me. He winked a brown eye and jerked a thumb toward my mother, who was stirring something on the stove. I giggled and stepped around him so I could wrap my arms around her.

“
Bonjour, Maman.
” She pretended to ignore me until I pulled a strand of ash blonde hair from her perfect little bun with a nice, hard tug.

“Damn you,
fille!
”

I laughed and jumped out of the way when she tried to swat me, but I could see her smile and knew she was happy to see me.

“So tell me, how is your school work
really
coming along,” my dad said once we’d all sat down around the dining table.

I grinned. “I wasn’t lying, Dad. I really have been taking my classes more seriously. Summer classes are shorter and more difficult. Can’t afford to fool around.”

“That’s my Daffodil.” He winked at me over his wine glass.

I groaned. “Dad, seriously. You know I hate being called that, family tradition or not. You guys and Ash are the only ones who know that is my hippie ass middle name and I want to keep it that way.” Irving had stated he would figure it out, and I wondered if he had yet. Then again, who cared?

“I hate the tradition too,” Elena said around a mouthful of shepherd’s pie. “I think one of us should end this travesty and give our daughters names after our favorite desserts, instead of flowers.”

I grinned. “I claim shortcake! Strawberry Shortcake St. Pierre.”

“Ooh, I like it. I choose eclair. Chocolate Eclair Favreau.”

“Caramel Flan St. Pierre,” my dad tossed in with a goofy grin. Elena and I burst out laughing, more at my dad’s silly expression than anything.

“You all are such children,” Mom said, reaching for more of my aunt’s spinach salad. But the corners of her lips were turned up into a smile, telling me she enjoyed our antics more than she would ever admit to.

I stayed for dessert—my mother’s famous Crêpes Suzette—and a few rounds of what we called Vulgar Charades, but after that, I told my family I needed to get home because I had a test to study for. It was true, though the idea of studying on a Friday night made me want to gouge my eyes out.

It was as I settled into bed for a long night of Jim Carrey’s greatest hits on Netflix, that Irving came to me. I was completely shocked by his appearance, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t summoned him. It was because of the
blood.

He was covered in it, so much that I had no idea whether Irving was the bleeder or if I should be reporting a murder to the authorities.

Irving stumbled across my bedroom and reached for me. “Glory,” he choked out.

“Irving!” I exclaimed, shooting out of bed to help break his fall as he collapsed to the floor. I let him roll over in my arms, not wanting to hold him too close. I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already was.

He cried out and reached for his left shoulder. That’s when I saw the steel arrow sticking out of it.

“Ohmygod!” I screeched.
Irving had been shot.
“Tell me what to do, Irving!” But all he gave me was a gargled groan.

I shot to my feet and practically ripped the door down trying to gain access to the hallway. I was so glad Ashlyn had a date that night. There was no way I would have been able to explain why a man was bleeding out on my floor and why I hadn’t bothered to call an ambulance.

I threw open the door to the linen closet and pulled every available towel from the shelves. I tripped in my mad sprint back to my room and ended up slamming my foot into the doorframe.

“Fuck!” I cursed, but the adrenaline racing through my body swallowed the pain and allowed me to focus on Irving, who was bleeding
everywhere.
How could a single arrow cause this much damage?

I dropped to my bare knees, grabbed a big towel, and applied as much pressure as I could to his wound without touching the arrow. Irving still cursed me, though.
Shit.
That damn arrow had to hurt like hell!

“I’m going to pull it out!”

He grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “Barbs,” he growled.

“The arrow has barbs?” He nodded. “Fuck. Okay, how do I take it out then?”

“Button,” he sputtered. “Find—” He was cut off when his body spasmed with pain. His teeth clenched in agony and blood spurted from his nose when he coughed.

I cursed again. “Hang in there, Irving. I’m going to get this fucking thing out of you.”

He roared in agony as a response.

I searched for the button while trying to keep Irving from bleeding to death on my floor. I found it hidden in between the steel fletchings at the base of the arrow. As gently as possible, I pushed the button, keeping the other hand firmly on Irving’s shoulder.

Irving’s blood-curdling bellow let me know that the button had done something excruciatingly painful.

“I’m sorry!” I cried.

“Out! Out!” he shouted.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I followed orders. I wrapped a hand around the steel shaft, apologized for what I was about to do, and yanked.

Irving’s roar could have been heard for miles. I didn’t even stop to wonder what my neighbors might be thinking was happening in my apartment at that moment.

I tossed the arrow aside. “Okay, Irving. It’s out. Everything is going to be all right now.”

Irving’s mouth flopped open a few times before he was able to gasp, “
Hunters.
”

Then his body went limp in my arms as he slipped into unconsciousness.

There was no way in hell I could lift Irving’s massive body onto my bed all by myself, so I made him as comfortable as possible on the floor. I removed his duster and unhooked his suspenders so they wouldn’t irritate his injury. After cleaning his bloody face, I stuffed one of my pillows under his head then laid down beside him on the blood-soaked floor to wait. I was covered in blood now as well, and couldn’t return to my bed. And I was worried. I didn’t want to leave him alone despite how disgusting I felt. If Irving died because I was vain, I would never forgive myself.

He was out for three hours before I saw him stir, but it took him another hour to fully come to. His eyes fluttered, and he groaned as they opened and adjusted to the light I had on in my room.

“Hey, you,” I said, pushing myself up until I was kneeling beside him. Without even being conscious of it, I brushed his hair out of his face and cupped his cheek in my hand.

“Hey,” he croaked, his voice catching on what had to be raw vocal chords.

“Hold on.” I ran to the kitchen to fetch Irving a glass of water. Once back in my room, I helped him drink it even though it appeared he was recovering much better than I’d expected. The bleeding had stopped and the hole the arrow had made in his left shoulder was almost healed. There was definitely some freaky Djinn magic at work here.

“How are you feeling?” I asked anyway.

“Much better. Thank you.” I nodded and moved to set the glass on my nightstand, but Irving grabbed my arm to stop me. I turned back to meet his burning violet eyes. “I mean it, Glory. Thank you.”

I smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Though I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way I was getting my security deposit back from the apartment complex if I let you die in here.” He smiled at me and just nodded. I hoped that meant he understood that this was my awkward way of accepting his gratitude and relaying how afraid I’d been of losing him.