Bad Luck Genie: An Urban Fantasy Folly Page 7

  “About a mile that way.”

  I stormed off. Leaving her behind was a bad idea, but I couldn’t deal with seeing her and knowing how upset she was. I was conflicted. And angry. A master. I made a wish. I was bound to an undocumented djinni. When the moon had been bloody last night, I should’ve just gone home.

  I’d nearly made it to the gas station when the djinni silk pulled me to a stop. It felt like my insides were being ripped back toward Lucy. If I continued, I’d magically wound not only myself, but her, too. I guessed this meant we were both idiots for the day. I turned around and headed back. I had my laptop, and there was a good chance someone had unsecured Wi-Fi in her old building. Solving one minor problem made it easier to deal with the sadness trickling through our bond. But it made me face the music. I needed to stop being a dick and let her catch up to the fact no one had told her she was a djinni.

  Chapter 9

  I watched Malware storm off toward the gas station, feeling utterly useless. I should’ve known Reese wouldn’t still be in our apartment, not as a paraplegic. It wasn’t handicap accessible. How the hell had he been able to get into it when he traded me off? Did his wish run out when he gave up mastery over the bottle, or was there something else going on that I wasn’t aware of?

  I snorted. There was a lot I wasn’t wise to. I hefted the purple metallic bottle in my hands. Gold brocade decorated the ridges of the curved bottom. Painted white arches overlapped each other, red filling in the space, and teal and purple gems accented the neck. They looked fake, and since the gold wasn’t burning my hands, that wasn’t real, either. I wondered if everyone’s bottle looked like a bad I Dream of Jeannie knock-off. But no, the ones at the auction were different. It was only me.

  This bottle was mine; I felt it to the core of my being. A chain wasn’t linking me to it, and I didn’t feel like I was floating in a pool of power anymore, but it was mine. I dropped my forehead into my palm. While chained to a pole, if given a chance, I had felt like I could change the earth’s rotation, move the stars, do no wrong. Now that I was free, I was back to being clumsy Lucy. I probably lost all my ability to cook, too. Ugh, I was worthless. The bottle could change that, but if having all that magic meant I wasn’t free, then forget it.

  My teeth gnashed together as I fought against the vertigo from my rapidly spinning thoughts. Why hadn’t Mom and Dad told me I was a djinni? Malware implied he knew of my parents, but that wasn’t surprising. Everyone loved them, especially Dad. He could walk into a room full of strangers, and by the time he left, they were lifetime friends. Mom had another allure about her which people gravitated to. At times when they were home, I’d felt like I was on the outside looking in on the popular clique.

  What was it about me that made them keep this secret?

  Turning the bottle in my hands, I frowned. The house I grew up in had nothing like this, and Grandma was firm in her stance that magic wasn’t real. Because she’d never witnessed magic happen? It was the only explanation, but I had doubts. The truth was, they didn’t want me to have magic. They didn’t trust me with it. Based on what Malware had said, the moment I had some magic, I became the most disgusting type of djinni.

  The length of djinni silk stretching from my stomach yanked like a grappling hook ready to tear out my spine at any second. I felt compelled to move and took a few steps forward, then hesitated. Maybe distance would break the link between us. My ears burned. At least Mom couldn’t see me now. I hadn’t meant to bind Malware to me. I was only being sarcastic when I’d said that. It was my way of dealing with a bad situation, something Grandma tried to steer me from, but I was clearly too stubborn.

  I reached out to the translucent djinni silk. My hand passed through it, but when I concentrated, I could touch it. So far no one even looked at it. I had a feeling it was invisible to everyone but Malware and me, but that didn’t make it any less bad. He assumed his rotten luck stemmed from his brief moment as a master, but I had a sinking suspicion it was coming from me. Was I really the source of everyone’s misfortune? Maybe this was why my parents kept their secret. Maybe they didn’t want me around in their magic djinni world.

  My throat tightened and I flung the bottle. It clanked on the pavement, spun on its curved bottom, and stilled. I searched the parking lot for my car, half-hoping it was still here, but it wasn’t. Probably towed when Tammy packed my stuff. Or maybe Reese sold it. I plopped onto the curb and winced. My tailbone still smarted from the fall on the stairs. I didn’t know what I would do, and my vision turned watery. No. If crying was all I had control over, then I wasn’t going to fucking cry.

  I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. A minute ticked by. The pounding in my head receded and my breathing returned to normal. I slapped my cheeks and took a bracing breath. Much better.

  The bottle tipped over on its own and rolled over to me, resting against my feet. I had a feeling I could do something about my phone with the bottle, but I didn’t understand how. It hadn’t worked when I snuck it inside the bottle. When the phone appeared in my hands in the gas station, I’d wished that I had it so I could call Mom. She’d kept this from me, and it hurt, but she was the only one who could help me, and I desperately wanted to hear her voice.

  Malware sat beside me. I hadn’t noticed him approach. I blinked at him. He compressed his lovely lips into a tight line, and the bunched muscle in his jaw only stressed how chiseled his features were. He was angry and hot and pissed at me.

  He opened his laptop. “I’ll fix this mess you dropped us in.” His long, fine fingers flew over the keyboard. “When the Curator first showed the bottle, I thought you were Penny Avalon. She’s been hiding for seven months. But if we can figure out how to tear the djinni silk, we can part ways, and I won’t report you’re an undocumented djinni to the bureau.”

  He’d said a couple of times Mom was missing, but I hadn’t wanted to believe him. “When I spoke to her a couple days ago, she said she was taking an assignment in Russia.”

  “You have what we call time fugue.” Malware met my eyes. “You’re only aware of time passing in a bottle when you’re around other people. Penny dropped off our radar late October. Do you remember the last time you spoke with her?”

  “Yeah. October fifth.”

  “That’s good to know.” He grunted. “The Internet here is shit. If I had my phone, I could open a hotspot.”

  I wanted out of this costume. My stomach rumbled. And food. I hadn’t had food in months, and I was getting cranky. The words he used to describe my mother as missing felt like she’d done it on purpose, and that only made my mood worse. “Look, I want to go home. There’s internet there. Can you order us a ride or something?”

  Malware tilted his head toward the bottle at my feet. “It’d be easier if you got back in your bottle and I shifted to smoke to take you there.”

  A cold wave of fear swept against me as I regarded my bottle. What if I was chained again? What if I couldn’t get back out?

  “The bottle won’t trap you like that again,” he said.

  I barely understood him through the ringing in my ears. Sitting in the open, it felt like my world was closing in around me. My heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Okay, okay.” Malware cupped my shoulder. “I’ll call a cab.”

  His touch grounded me, and I took what comfort I could. I nodded, tugged the jacket tight around me, and breathed in the scent of sunbaked sand lingering on the collar. I wanted to lean against him. Physical contact always helped me feel centered, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it.

  Malware closed his laptop, stood, and leaned against the building. “The cab’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “What’s this bureau you keep mentioning?”

  “It’s the Fae Bureau of Investigation,” he whispered.

  I chuckled a little. “The FBI?”

  “American humans steal everything.” He smirked, and a hint of a dimple creased his cheek. He kept getting sexier the longer I knew him. Grim
acing, he averted his face. “I’ll break it down for you quick and simple so you’ll stop asking questions. The Lantern separates the Faelands from the Iron Realm—this world. And we djinni are knights between the realms, protecting the good folk from iron and other nasty business humans get up to.”

  “The good folk…” I’d heard that before. Grandma had told me stories about them as a little girl. She’d stopped when I confessed I wanted to be like them, and insisted magic wasn’t real. “Aren’t they allergic to iron?”

  “That’s the best word for it, I guess. And as you know, gold hurts djinnis.”

  I rubbed my scarred wrists. Yeah, I knew that, all right. “What about humans?”

  Malware shrugged his broad shoulders and gazed into the distance. “They have a weakness with lead. I guess since they have short life spans and no magic, it all evens out.”

  Did that mean I really was immortal like Reese had claimed? A taxi pulled into the parking lot. I grabbed my bottle and stood.

  “No talking about this stuff in the car,” Malware whispered.

  I scowled at him. What kind of moron did he think I was?

  “You’ve been really chatty, that’s all. I know you’re anxious and curious about all of this.” He gestured at the djinni silk linking us. “But this guy’s most likely human.”

  I opened the back door and the driver looked back at me. “Tanaka?”

  “That’s us.” Malware nudged me inside.

  I didn’t know who Tanaka was, and I didn’t care at this point. Probably a fake name Malware used undercover. I leaned forward and gave the cabbie the address to my childhood home in Papillion, Nebraska.

  It was a long twenty-minute drive from the apartment to the suburbs of Omaha. I was tired, the events of the day had finally caught up with me, and I half-dozed, dreaming about hot showers, sweats, and pizza. Malware bumped my leg as he paid the driver, and I hopped out. My car sat in the driveway. Reese hadn’t sold it after all. Probably couldn’t figure out how to forge my signature. Idiot. No one checked that crap.

  I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. I really hoped Grandma—Mags, as I’d taken to calling her—was home. I didn’t believe she stashed spare keys around the yard like I did car keys.

  The door opened. Mags’s bright happy smile dropped from her face and her blue eyes rounded in shock. Maybe because it’d been a while since I last saw her, but wow. I hadn’t realized how much Dad had taken after her. Same red hair, same eyes and nose. My chest burned. I missed him so much.

  “Lucy!” She grabbed my arm and tugged me inside. “Where have you been?”

  Malware stepped in behind me and shut the door. Mags frowned at my outfit. She didn’t spare my bottle a second look.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  As usual, she started with demanding answers, which sometimes felt like accusations, then moved on to being nice. For a small moment, I’d thought she’d missed me. I shrugged. “I didn’t do anything, Mags.”

  I felt twelve all over again. Grandma’s name was Magdalena. I’d begun calling her Mags instead of Grandma to distance myself emotionally because it helped lessen the sting whenever she reprimanded me for the way I spoke, and from her cold behavior. She hadn’t cared when I’d stopped calling her Grandma. I admit I was a clumsy child, but she acted like I did it on purpose.

  She opened my jacket and clucked her tongue. “What in the world made you dress like this?”

  “It was Reese’s idea…” I set the bottle on the hall table and tugged the jacket closed.

  Malware cleared his throat.

  Mags blinked at him. “I didn’t see you there.” Her auburn brows lifted slightly, and she tilted her head at him. “Who’s this?”

  He held his hand out. “Malware Tanaka. I located Lucy this morning and brought her here.”

  Yikes, he even introduced himself with that name to humans. He should consider shortening it to something else or change it altogether. Malware scowled at me as if he read my mind.

  Mags jerked slightly, pulled free from his handshake, and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, Lucy! We were so worried about you. I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “I’m hungry, Mags.”

  She laughed, patted my back, and ushered me into the living area. It was different, but I couldn’t place my finger on what had changed.

  “I’ve got some leftover stew I can heat up for you,” Mags said. “Your things are in your bedroom. Why don’t you freshen up, put your dad’s necklace back on, and join me in the kitchen?”

  Stew wasn’t pizza, but my mouth watered anyway. Mags was one of the best cooks I knew. I’d eat whatever she placed in front of me. It didn’t matter that the look of disappointment on her face when she’d answered the door had hurt. With a little bit of normalcy surrounding me, I already felt better.

  Chapter 10

  I hovered awkwardly in the entryway as Lucy climbed the stairs, the ethereal djinni silk darkening with each step she took from me. I wasn’t too worried about it. We had a good length of it, at least.

  I faced her grandmother. I didn’t know what to do. Lucy hadn’t given me the information for the Internet because she was feeling relieved to be someplace safe, and too focused on believing her grandmother was human. I knew otherwise, but I wasn’t sure what type of djinni Magdalena was.

  Magdalena pulled her phone out, but paused and frowned at the djinni silk, then followed it to me. She lifted her brows. “You may as well go after her.” She turned toward the kitchen, mumbling under her breath.

  The last place I wanted to be was alone with Lucy in her bedroom. She wasn’t hiding her attraction, and I didn’t want to invite anything more between us. But… well, I needed the Wi-Fi password. I began climbing the stairs and weirdly caught my breath. No, Lucy was calming herself down. It was strange how the djinni silk gave me a bird's-eye view of her emotions. I knew exactly what she was feeling. I wasn’t sure if the bond compelled me to comfort her or if it was because I understood how she felt. Regardless, I followed the djinni silk to her room. The familiar surroundings had relaxed her, and for the first time since she’d bound us together, I wasn’t overwhelmed by her emotions.

  The door was open, and she stood in front of a dresser and mirror, clasping a necklace on. I stared at her. Her long black hair was pulled aside, exposing her neck and the soft slope of her shoulder as she righted a pendant on the silver chain. Her ex was a smoking idiot.

  Before my thoughts could divert any further, I checked out her room. I’d expected posters of rock bands and models, pink walls, and stuffed animals. The floor-to-ceiling wall of shoes stopped me in my tracks. Not the boots and heels most chicks her age would have, but a rainbow of Converse shoes. Pictures of her parents in different countries spanned the two-tone green walls, and she had two curio cabinets filled with knick-knacks.

  Lucy glanced my way, noticing me before I could alert her to my presence. Again. She gestured to the only chair, then her eyes tracked around the room. “I expected everything to be in boxes, but Mags put it away just how I had it last.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “She even hung my pictures.”

  “I’m not sure she’s as upset as you think she is. Maybe she can help.”

  “She’s human and doesn’t believe in magic,” she mumbled.

  I snorted. “She can see djinni silk. She’s one of us.”

  Disappointment leaked from her. “Seriously?”

  I sighed. I needed to give her the birds and the bees talk. “Look, it’s really simple to follow. Fae and fae make fae. Fae and humans make djinnis. Djinnis and djinnis make more djinnis.”

  She shook her head. “Then she doesn’t have any excuses for keeping me in the dark, either.”

  Her grandmother’s actions had left her confused. I was, too. She hadn’t been entirely pleased Lucy had rung her bell, but she’d taken the time to restore Lucy’s bedroom while she was missing. Family was complicated and never straightforward. I shrugged, set my laptop on the chair,
and wandered to one of the curio cabinets. “What’s all this?”

  Her mood brightened like a warm spring breeze. “My dad used to bring me good luck charms from every place he visited.”

  “No shit?” I leaned forward, reaching for the latch, but stopped myself. “Can I open it?”

  “Sure.”

  I opened the glass cabinet and whistled. “These are excellent replicas.”

  Lucy’s soft chuckle mixed oddly with the sadness stirring inside her. She reached past me and pulled one out, handing it to me. “The Sphinx’s Eye.”

  I hefted the sandstone marble in my hand, the etching of the eye mostly worn, but I could make out the design. This was odd. Only the fancy replicas were infused with a tiny amount of magic to give the impression they were charged with luck, and these would be on display in any home—not tucked away in their daughter’s bedroom. Hardly a trace of good luck still remained in the eye. This had been used. I examined the cabinet further. “Ganesh’s Tusk!”

  Pride burbled across our bond. “You’re good.”

  I shrugged and returned the Sphinx’s Eye to its spot. “I’ve seen some of these in museums.”

  Yet something about these replicas left a sour taste in my mouth. Good luck charms had quickly become scarce in the last twenty-five years or so. Fae and even djinnis had reported some of them stolen. Like the golden egg Jack stole from the beanstalk giant. I saw that in her cabinet. Or Gary Gygax’s twenty-sided die—that was there too. A Chinese fan, a komodo dragon’s tooth. Lafaran’s back spike… All these replicas had a hint of expelled magic. These were all the evidence the bureau needed to convict the Avalons on charges for grand larceny and fae trickery.

  “Are you sure these are replicas?” I closed the cabinet and stepped back, half-hoping she’d confirm it, half-wishing she’d deny it.

  “Some of the things my dad said they’re from don’t even exist, so…” She snorted.

  A curl of magic tickled my senses, and I followed it to Lucy. The magic wasn’t the same flowery fragrance I’d caught when she’d bound us. It came from her necklace.