Bad Luck Genie: An Urban Fantasy Folly Read online

  Mom shook her head, the corners of her lips lifting. “At least you’re tied to a better man than Reese. I’m sure the bureau can do something about that after we fix your curse. Or I’ll trade favors with the Fae. Don’t worry about it.”

  I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, watching Mom conjure her purse and leave the room. I was certain Mal didn’t want the bureau to know he’d been a master or had a djinni silk bond with a bad luck djinni. The shower turned off, and a moment later, Mal opened the door and strode out barefoot on the nasty carpet wearing a gray tank top and sweatpants slung low on his hips. Holy shit. He was hotter than a wood-burning pizza oven, and my cheese was on fire.

  “The carpet isn’t sticky, Luce,” Mal said.

  Tiny sparks of thrills thrummed in my chest at the nickname. He’d said it before to calm me, but using it again made me smile. “Well, then there’s hope for this place yet.”

  “Not so much. The hot water gave out after ten minutes.”

  “You were in there longer than that.”

  “I wanted to give you and Penny privacy.” He raked a hand through his wet black hair, and the muscles shifting under his skin mesmerized me. “You’re not wrong—I don’t want the bureau to know about the djinni silk.”

  “It’s a little embarrassing being tied to me,” I murmured.

  He stepped closer, and the smell of sunbaked sand and sea breeze curled around my senses. I imagined smelling it while kissing him would be a doozy.

  His eyes trailed to my mouth. “I’m not embarrassed by you, but certainly the situation we’re in.”

  I nodded and grasped his hand, half checking to see if it was still like ice and half needing to touch him. The signs of frostbite had vanished and the lacerations on his wrists were gone. I traced my fingertips over his healed skin. “How did you do that?”

  “I hopped in my bottle to heal up and change clothes.”

  “You can heal in your bottle that fast?” Now I was getting why Mom kept nagging me about mine. “Why didn’t you just imagine a shower in your bottle?”

  “Small things like that heal fast, yes. And sure, I could’ve added a shower to my bottle, but that would’ve taken time and energy.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You were… terrified back there.”

  “Getting shot at is terrifying. I nearly got us killed.”

  He tilted his head, giving me a half-cocky smile. I memorized the lines of his lips, the cleft in his chin, and the way his collarbones created a hollow at the base of his throat. A bead of water rested there, and I wanted to wipe it away.

  “You knew you couldn’t help and did well by staying out of the way during the shoot-out.” Mal rested his arm against the wall above my head, leaving only a small space between our bodies. “But you came to my rescue.”

  “I couldn’t just stand by.” I smiled slightly, my stomach fluttering at how close he was.

  He quirked a brow, and humor danced in his upturned eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you promise to bake me pies.”

  I suddenly had too much spit in my mouth. I swallowed. “Pizza pies.”

  “I have a sweet tooth.” His hooded gaze gobbled me up.

  I wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure where to put my hands. I clutched my pendant instead. “I’ll bake you all the sweets you want. What’s your favorite pie?”

  “I don’t want you to hurt yourself making me dessert.”

  “I’m a magician in the kitchen when no one’s there to witness it.” I winked at him, feeling silly for it. “What’s your favorite?”

  He gently untangled my fingers from the charm, then placed my hand on his hip. He closed the distance between us by pressing his chest against mine. “Cherry.”

  My heart pounded, and the hair raised on my arms. He felt solid yet surreal against me. I wasn’t sure what to think or do. I slid my hand up along his ribs. “I’m sweeter than cherry pie.” My voice sounded so husky I almost cleared my throat but didn’t want to break the mood.

  His lips twitched up at the corners, and he cupped my cheek, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. “Oh, really?”

  His gruff voice sent shivers down my spine and curled my toes. I sucked my lower lip in my mouth and bit down, not trusting myself to respond. Not when he looked like he wanted to kiss me. I took a small, shaky breath and tilted my head back, meeting his gaze. He didn’t have to take my word for it; he could find out for himself.

  He chuckled softly and lowered his head. My breath quickened.

  The door rattled open. “Bought beer and cider. I wasn’t sure—” Mom froze, carrying two six-packs, and gaped at us.

  I jerked my head aside. Mal created some space between us, but didn’t lower his arm above my head. Cheeks burning, I pushed against his chest until he swiveled his hips away from me and I slid out from behind him.

  I took the cider six-pack from her. “Oh, this is my favorite.”

  Mom mumbled something about a strange man sexually empowering her baby. I gave her the hairy eyeball as I used the bottom of my shirt to twist the cap off.

  Mal snatched a beer and twisted it open. “I know how important it is to break Lucy’s curse, but Sigvald is the bigger problem right now.”

  “Does he really suck djinni’s powers up like he said?” Against my better judgement, I sat on the corner of the bed.

  He nodded. “We’ve connected broken djinni bottles to him.”

  I gasped. “But you said my bottle couldn’t break.”

  “It’s not the bottle that’s breaking, Luce. It’s the djinni.”

  I swallowed heavily. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “I’ve been thinking about his wish.” Mom blew out a huge sigh and opened a beer. “If he gets to the bone before us, within three nights, he’ll be unstoppable.”

  “So all the wind and ice and stuff weren’t his only powers?” I asked.

  “No.” Mal sat beside me, opened his laptop, and set it on the bed opposite of us. He tapped a few keys and a picture of Sigvald appeared. “He’s registered as an herbalist djinni—a green thumb.”

  “That explains all the rotten veggie smells when he was using his powers, then?”

  Mom tilted her head at me, then at Mal. “I didn’t smell anything.”

  “Is that weird?” Please let that be normal.

  Mal shook his head. “Nah. Some djinni can, others can’t. I caught a whiff, too. Another thing I noticed is how long it took for him to use his powers.”

  “What do you mean?” I took a swallow of cider.

  “I just have to think about what I want, and it happens,” Mom said.

  “Have you noticed that as soon as you say something sarcastic, you shiver?” Mal shifted beside me and met my eyes.

  “Yeah, but I figured I was in shock.”

  “You’ve sure gotten great at rationalizing the supernatural, haven’t you?” Mom snorted, and sat on the other side of me, pressing me against Mal’s arm.

  “The time it takes for him to cast is a flaw we can exploit.” He made room for me, and I missed the heat of his body. Mal tapped a few more keys, and a list appeared over Sigvald’s picture. “I’ve suspected he buys djinnis at illegal auctions like the one you were in.”

  I leaned close to him, reading over the list. “He has a lot of powers that don’t match rotting veggies, but I’m not sure what they should smell like.” Mal’s scent reminded me of a sunny beach, and Mom wore perfume.

  “You’ve got good instincts,” Mal murmured. “I’ve wondered about his powers. He froze me. That should’ve been enough to kill me. Maybe the powers he’s drained from other djinnis aren’t strong.”

  “The wind he conjured still messed with my aim,” Mom said.

  He smirked. “Or you’re not that great of a shot.”

  She scowled but didn’t argue.

  “So Sigvald’s stolen powers are weak, and that’s why he wants Rasputin’s bones,” I said.

  Mal rubbed his chin. “If he doesn’t find the bon
e in time, he’ll become bottled. Then he might cooperate about the illegal djinni auctions if we don’t cast him into the world to be found by a human.”

  “Why would that be so bad?” I still identified as human; it was strange to refer to them as another species apart from myself.

  “Humans blow through wishes fast, and they usually pass the bottle to another human. Someone like Sigvald would hate catering to a species he considers beneath him.” He sipped his beer. “The CADD might offer him a deal to stay outside the Iron Realm if he cooperates.”

  “Sure, that’s plausible, but we don’t know where he went,” Mom said. “He took the only clue to the next resting place for one of Rasputin’s bones.”

  I took another swallow of cider, contemplating the problem.

  “He has three nights before he becomes bottled, so we don’t have a lot of time left.” Mal pulled up information on Rasputin. “If the bureau has leads to any locations, then I don’t have clearance for it.”

  “We can’t really ask them about this, can we?” Mom pulled from her beer.

  “Maybe we should. This is bigger than all of our problems. My career… Luce’s curse.”

  Mom wrapped an arm around my waist. “But they’ll seclude her and prod her. It’ll be worse because we kept her a secret.”

  His brows furrowed, and he averted his face. Unfortunately, I understood how none of this was his problem. That rested on my mother’s shoulders. After today’s fiasco in the Rushmore Cave, I was a liability, but I didn’t want to be held against my will if this bureau thought I was a danger. I felt a little guilty about all the effort someone had put in to carve a mural of the Philippines into a stone wall, and I set the place on fire.

  “Hold on,” I said. “Why was there a mural of the Philippines on a cave wall in South Dakota?”

  A smile lit up Mom’s face, and she squeezed me. “You think it’s a clue?”

  “You took a picture of it, didn’t you?” Mal asked. “Give me your phone, and we’ll look at it on my computer.”

  I dug my phone from my pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to him.

  He thumbed through my pictures and whistled. “Did you make all this food?”

  “Yeah. I told you I’m a goddess in the kitchen when I’m alone.”

  “You took a picture of my butt.”

  I angled for my phone. “No, you just happened to be standing next to that stalactite.”

  Mom chuckled. “You centered the photo on his butt, honeybee.”

  “Mama!” My face was on fire. I wished my bottle would suck me up and hide me.

  “Now I think I’ll insist you bake me all the desserts I want.” He slid me a smile that made my chest flutter, then cast the picture of the cave to his laptop. “Okay, those are the Philippine islands.”

  “The big island is Luzon,” I said. “I’m assuming the pearl is centered on Manila. I don’t recognize the building though.”

  Mom squinted at the picture on the screen. “It kind of looks like a church, doesn’t it?”

  “There are tons of churches in Manila,” he sighed. “That doesn’t really help.”

  “Mom, you and Dad were in the Philippines about ten years ago, right?” I glanced at her.

  She nodded. “We investigated Juan Luna’s crypt on a rumor his paintbrush was a lucky charm.”

  Juan Luna was a famous artist of the Spoliarium, and I suspected I did, in fact, have his paintbrush in my curio cabinet. I squirmed a little as I wracked my brain on the article she’d written on Luna and Manila. “He’s entombed in San Agustin Church, right?”

  “That’s right. I’m impressed with how much you remember about our trips.”

  “I’ve read those articles more times than I can remember.” They had been a way for me to feel close to my parents when they were gone. I sighed heavily.

  “Wait a second.” She leaned across me. “Pull up the church, Tanaka.”

  Mal pulled up a picture of San Agustin Church, and Mom laughed. “That’s it, that’s the building in the mural.”

  He put both pictures side by side. “Yeah, I’d say there’s a resemblance.”

  “San Agustin is the oldest church in the country.” I took a long swallow of cider. “Do you think that’s where one of Rasputin’s bones is hidden?”

  “I really do.” Mom grinned at me. “Wow, Lucy. You’re just like your dad, piecing clues together. It’ll be like this more often than gunfights.”

  A queasy feeling in my stomach soured the comparison to Dad. Was that all she wanted, a new partner with good luck? I set my cider aside. “Solving puzzles and stuff?”

  She nodded. “It’ll be so fun going on assignments with you.”

  Mal cleared his throat, tapping on the keyboard. “Sigvald is headed to the Philippines. It’s about a twenty-hour flight with a layover in Tokyo.”

  “I’m not getting on a plane,” I said.

  “Your bad luck wouldn’t be a problem if you stayed in your bottle,” Mom said. “I’d keep you as a personal item for carryon.”

  I grimaced, peeking at my bottle. I wasn’t as apprehensive about going in there after seeing some of the benefits, but what if they were partly wrong? I’d only been inside that thing as a slave; maybe that was the only way I could use it?

  Mal squeezed my knee. “Sigvald wouldn’t take a plane. He only has three nights to wish on Rasputin’s bone before he’s bottled. I bet he took Thrill Street to an amusement park in Manila.”

  “Thrill Street?” I tilted my head at him.

  “Yeah. It’s like Gamblers’ Road in the Lantern, only it connects all the amusement parks.”

  “Won’t the Curator or the Pit Boss be searching for both of you if we go to the Lantern?” Mom asked.

  Mal’s eyes met mine, and his lips pressed into a grim line. “Sigvald gaining limitless power is a larger threat than the Pit Boss.”

  “But I don’t even know how to shift into smoke.” A drip of dread slid down the back of my throat and curdled in my stomach. “What if they catch me?”

  “I’ll carry you in smoke,” Mal murmured. “I did it before, and I can do it again. You’ll be safe.”

  Mom grabbed my hand. “We’ll both protect you.”

  I squeezed her fingers and glanced out the window. The moon shone high in the sky, and the first night was half-over. We were running out of time. “Then I should learn how to shift to smoke.”

  “Finish your drink and have another.” Mal closed his laptop and took a drink of beer.

  “Huh?”

  “Lowering your inhibitions might help you become more agreeable to change into smoke.”

  Mom brightened and handed me another cider. “You don’t want these to get warm.”

  “You guys aren’t worried about a hangover?” I asked.

  Mal lifted a brow. “What? From a couple beers?”

  “I’ll just sleep in my bottle tonight.” Mom smirked. “No hangover for me.”

  “Hmph.” I stood, gulped the rest of my cider, and opened the other. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. How do you shift to smoke, Mal?” I wouldn’t ask Mom. Apparently, she merely willed it.

  Mal sighed. “I lived in the Faelands for the first ten years of my life. Magic is easy to use there.” He bit his lip and cast me an apologetic smile. “I just willed it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Traitor.

  He smirked.

  “You were born in the Faelands?” Mom asked.

  Mal nodded.

  “Wait a minute!” I faced him. “Does that mean one of your parents is human?”

  Mom paused with the beer halfway to her mouth, blinking at me. “How did you figure that out, honeybee?”

  “Mal gave me the sex talk.”

  “You talked about the birds and the bees with my baby?” Mama Bear growled.

  The tips of his ears turned red. I snickered into my cider.

  “It was necessary.” He created space between himself and my mother. “I had to convince her she’s from a family
of djinnis.”

  I tapped my chin. “So… your surname is Japanese. Did you take your mother’s?”

  “I took my father’s.”

  I blinked. That was unexpected. I’d only started this conversation to stall—I didn’t want to hurt anyone by using magic, and I was afraid that’d happen. But learning these things about Mal fascinated me.

  “Your mother is fae.” Mom’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “That’s interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” I asked.

  Mal raised his brows. “Have you heard the phrase ‘spirited away’ before?”

  “The movie?”

  He grimaced. “All folklore steals a little from the Faelands, but something like that. Usually, it’s male fae who trap human women, feed them faerie food, and keep them until they grow bored.”

  “That’s awful.” I gulped some cider.

  Mom nodded. “Once a human eats faerie food, they can’t eat human food again, and they’re stuck.”

  “Did that happen to your dad?” I asked.

  Mal shook his head. “I’m not sure what Robinsonania meant to do with the faerie trap. She swears it wasn’t hers and she was only trying to rescue Pops. But she fell in love with him, foraged human food for him…” He rolled his hand in the air. “Afterwards, Pops begged her to let him go, and she eventually did.”

  “Huh.” Mom’s brows furrowed. “What Court is she?”

  “Spring.”

  Mom nodded as if that made sense.

  “Why does that matter?” I asked.

  “To simplify this…” She picked at the bottle label. “The Fall Court circles around natural decay, death, and destruction. The Winter Court are about hibernation and the recovery period between death and rebirth. While Spring focuses on renewal and creation, Summer concentrates on maintaining life—unless something is suffering.”

  Mal closed his laptop. “If a Spring and Summer fae both come across a rabbit with an injured leg, the Spring fae would do everything they could to heal it. The Summer fae would probably cut their losses and end the rabbit’s suffering. Robinsonania wanted to focus on me.”

  I tilted my head. “So you were already in the picture when she let your Pops go?”

  “She didn’t tell him she was pregnant.” He shrugged. “When I was ten, she had a djinni deliver me to his doorstep with a note saying it was best I lived in the human world with him. It nearly broke his marriage apart, but eventually, my step-mother accepted me.”