Midnight Web Page 2

  “That’s true,” I said, musing on the thought that I was actually turning forty-one. “I don’t know what I was so nervous about, you know? Right now, I’m having a lot of fun, I’m actually glad to see my thirties behind me, and the coming years are going to be so much more comfortable now that I’m away from Ellison.”

  “Okay, then let’s start…what’s your first wish? Hold up the object you found to represent it, then state it aloud while focusing on the energy.” She set down her shot glass and straightened.

  I followed suit. Immediately, the old energy that used to rise between us flared up. We had not only been best friends, but there had always been a magical spark between Ari and me. The magic we had crafted together always worked, and we had always achieved so much more together than separate. Ari was my attueind and we had known it since the first day we played together as children. Our mothers had recognized it, too.

  There was a theory among the witchblood families that every witch had an attueind—a magical partner—somewhere, kind of like the soulmates theory, except the attueind usually wasn’t a lover. But the attueind was someone with whom the magic worked better, faster, and stronger. Your attueind’s energy would mesh so well with your own that you formed a whole. This wasn’t to say that witches couldn’t be powerful on their own. Some of the most powerful witches in history had been solitary, but sometimes, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.

  I inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled as I lowered myself into a warm, fuzzy trance. The rum was definitely affecting me, but in that slightly drunken haze, it seemed to make things clearer. I could see the energy rising around the circle, like a pale purple mist. The color of my magic ran blue, and the color of Ari’s ran red. Together, our energies blended into a violet hue.

  I lifted up the book of ghost tales. “I want to tackle a case that truly keeps me on my toes. I want a challenge—I want to be put to the test.” As I set the book back down, I focused on my desire and whispered, “So mote it be.”

  “So mote it be,” Ari said, adding her own energy to the spell.

  The room seemed to darken a little as the energy thickened. I shook my head, feeling something rumble around me, like thunder, only without the sound. I picked up the matchbook.

  “I want everything Ellison touches to burn. I want him to know what it’s like to lose what he loves. I want him to feel the pain that he caused me. I want payback! So mote it be.” I cackled as I set the matchbook back on the table .

  Ari stared at me for a moment, then snorted. “So mote it be, hell yes!” She had been badgering me to cast a spell on him since I called her the day I found out he was cheating on me. But I had held off, wanting to gain some distance first. Now I had the distance and I felt I could afford to ask for a little karmic justice.

  I picked up the bottle, frowning as I tugged on the stopper. It had been stuck when I bought it, but for some reason I really wanted to open it now. I worked the stopper, trying to rock it back and forth.

  “And third, I want to know what’s like to be a sex goddess. I want to know what it feels like to walk down the street and turn heads—”

  “You already do,” Ari said. “You’re gorgeous! You just don’t feel that way so you don’t notice it. I swear, you pull a poor-me attitude and I’ll—”

  “Stop right there,” I said. “Ari, I know you think I’m pretty, and I know Killian tells me I’m pretty. But let’s face it—I’ve never known what it’s like to be the one people turn and look at…to be the bombshell that nobody forgets. For once, I just want to know what it feels like,” I added, shrugging. “So mote it be.”

  “So mote it be,” Ari said, then she held out her hand toward the bottle—which I was still struggling to open. I whispered, “Open, damn it.”

  A spark flew from her fingers to mine and boom, the stopper came loose so quickly I almost fell back. A heady floral scent rose from the bottle, rich and not the least bit stale like you would expect from a perfume bottle that had been closed up for years.

  Feeling relieved, I set the bottle down, smiling at it. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is. Do you know how old it is?”

  I shook my head. “I think it’s mercury glass, but I’m not sure. But it feels old. Anyway, so those are my three wishes. Excitement on the job and a test of my talents, Ellison to suffer as much as I did, and I want to be a hot, sexy, mama.” I laughed, realizing that none of my wishes had been in any way generous. “I almost feel selfish for not wishing for world peace, or something like that.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We all want world peace but one little wishcraft ceremony won’t ever bring that about, and it’s okay to focus on yourself. Especially when it’s your birthday.” She poured us another round of shots and handed me my glass. “Here’s to you, January, and here’s to the best year you’ve ever had. Hell, I’ll be asking you to throw me a wishcraft ritual for my birthday in May.” Ari was five months younger than I was—she would turn forty-one on May 7.

  We tossed back the rum and I reached for another cupcake. As my fingers closed around the paisley cupcake liner, there was a sudden noise—like the hissing of wind—as a plume of smoke began to rise out of the bottle. I stared at it, a little too tipsy to comprehend just what was happening, but then the smoke began to form into a figure over the bottle, a figure that was very large and very muscled and…

  “Oh good gods,” I whispered, staring up at the man who was grinning at me. “I didn’t wish for a genie.”

  “You may not have wished for one, but that’s what you have,” he said, winking at me. “Your wishes are granted, January Jaxson.” And then he began to laugh.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh crap, a djinn!” I dropped the cupcake and scrambled off the floor, onto the sofa so I wasn’t within his immediate reach. While I knew that djinns existed, they were rare—almost faerie-tale material—and I never in my life expected to run across one. I also knew that djinns often did their best to twist words and their intent around, and in general, they could be all sorts of mean and nasty.

  Ari let out a strangled cough as she crab walked away from the table to where she could roll over, coming to her feet. “Who are you?” she blurted out.

  I had to admit, the djinn was a tall man—a very tall man—with a long dark ponytail against his otherwise bald head and he was gorgeous. He was built like a bodybuilder, with warm brown skin and a well-trimmed beard and mustache to go with the hair. His gaze was piercing, his eyes a light hazel color that might be green or pale blue, depending on the lighting.

  “My name is Rameer. Don’t bother introducing yourselves, I know who you are.” He folded his arms across his chest and floated completely out of the bottle, his feet forming out of the smoke. He landed on the floor and took a step back, giving me a slow bow. “I heard your wishes and they are complete.”

  I froze. In the first place, I had never encountered a djinn before, and I wasn’t sure what to do or how dangerous he was. Second, we had been in the middle of a ritual—drunk or not—and I had no clue how our magic combined with the djinn’s magic might work—or how it might backfire. I sat there speechless, trying to piece together my thoughts, when Ari piped up.

  “So, what the hell? You were really trapped in that bottle? I thought that was all just a myth to sell urns and lamps.”

  Rameer turned to her, his smile slipping off his face. “It is no myth. Oh, there are certainly mythos built up around my people, but we can be trapped in magical receptacles—though not always a bottle—and we can be forced to serve others. Those of us who make the mistake of letting ourselves get trapped owe the owner of the vessel three wishes. After they make their wishes, they can either choose to set us free, or give us to another person. Usually, we end up being passed around like prize pigs among friends. I’m not sure what happened this last time—I belonged to a woman who hoarded her last wish, and she never did ask for it.”

  I cringed. The words “I belonged” made me queasy.

  “She probably died, because I found your bottle in a thrift store. I thought it was a pretty perfume bottle. I had no idea that you were in it,” I said, feeling oddly coherent. “I did feel pulled toward the bottle, but…”

  Rameer unfolded his arms. “May I sit down? I’ve been in that bottle for so long. It feels good to be out.”

  “Of course. Please, sit. Do you want a cupcake?” The entire evening suddenly felt surreal. I was drunk off my ass, offering a djinn a cupcake.

  Ari was gawking at him. “Did you really just fulfill January’s wishes?”

  “She’s the owner of the bottle, and she let me out. So, yes, I did. That’s my curse—to be the bearer of good fortune to others while always remaining enslaved.” He stared at the floor. “May I ask where I am? Last time, I was in a place called California, in the year 1950.”

  “Skip ahead about seventy years and two states up—you’re in Washington state. In a town called Moonshadow Bay,” I said. “Ari and I are witches and we were performing a ritual. Do you think your magic and ours might clash?”

  He seemed to startle at that. “I have no idea. I would never consciously interfere with another’s magic, but I’m under a geas to grant wishes.”

  “Why?” I asked, the rum suddenly hitting again. I glanced at the bottle and realized that Ari and I had gone through about two-thirds of it. “Ugh, my head.”

  “My entire race was cursed by a god. He doomed us to serve others while never having autonomy.” He ducked his head, shrugging as though the world weighed a million pounds, and all of it was resting on his shoulders.

  “That’s just wrong.” I frowned. “So, you had to grant my wishes. You can’t take back your energy, can you? Like, cancel them?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. What’s done is done, and if there’s some clash between our magic, there’s not much I can do about it. I’m sorry.” He genuinely looked contrite.

  I shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens.” I stared at the rum, thinking that the bottle looked too empty—but not empty enough. “Want a drink? It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

  Ari laughed. “Of course. Why not? Let’s drink with the djinn. It seems like the perfect ending to this evening.” She stumbled over to the liquor cabinet and found another shot glass. As she poured the shots, I thought over what the hell to do with Rameer. I wasn’t about to just hand him off to somebody else like a gift.

  “Here’s to you, January. May your wishes come true in only the most wonderful of ways,” he said, lifting his glass.

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said. And promptly did.

  We went through three more rounds, finishing off the bottle, and Ari and I were thoroughly soused. Rameer didn’t seem affected at all. As I stared at him through blurry eyes, I decided that I had to do the only thing that felt right.

  “You have your freedom,” I said, my words slurring just enough to make me wince. I hated being sloppy drunk, but apparently tonight, it had been in the cards. “May you never be trapped again, Rameer.” I held up the perfume bottle. “But can I keep the bottle? It’s so pretty.”

  He gazed down at me and for a moment, even through the blur of the rum, I saw a depth in his eyes that moved me. He looked like he had just been handed his life.

  “Are you sure, mistress? For you are my owner until you either pass me on or free me.”

  That he would even ask, and not just run off, touched my heart. “I’m sure. Go. Be free. Live your life for you, not for others.”

  Ari let out a snore. She was asleep on the floor, head propped against the recliner.

  “Then keep the bottle, and may only the best of luck come your way.” Rameer paused. I was struggling to keep my eyes open as he leaned down and whispered something to me. I couldn’t quite make it out, but then everything became a warm blur and I felt myself being lifted up. I felt safe, though, and didn’t protest. And then the blur turned into darkness as I fell into a deep sleep.

  “Ugh.” I pried my eyes open, wondering what the hell was going on. My head hurt, and my stomach lurched, but as the room came into focus, the cloud began to fall away, along with my headache. I slowly pushed myself up, realizing I had fallen asleep on the sofa. Ari was snoring in the recliner, and we both were covered with throws. At least we’d had the foresight to keep ourselves warm.

  “How much did we drink?” I muttered, rubbing my eyes as I looked around the room. There, in the center of the room, was the coffee table. A book, matches, and my thrift-store perfume bottle sat on it. I stared at the bottle for a moment—there was something odd about it—but then I shook off the thought and yawned. Maybe someday I’d manage to pry the stopper out, but until then, it was just a pretty knickknack.

  The rum bottle was sitting on the edge of the table, empty, along with two shot glasses. “Ugh, apparently we drank the whole bottle.”

  But as I tentatively stood up, I realized that I wasn’t feeling as terrible as I expected. In fact, my stomach began to calm down, and the headache was at low ebb—only a soft pounding in the back of my brain. Maybe I’d lucked out. I looked down, realizing I was in my good nightgown.

  That’s right—the wishcraft ritual.

  Thanking my lucky stars that nothing had gone wrong during the whole drunken debacle, I gathered the shot glasses, the empty cupcake platter, and the empty rum bottle, and carried them into the kitchen. Then I went back to check on Ari, who was still asleep. She was a lot smaller and thinner than I was and booze hit her harder.

  Tucking the throw snuggly around her, I padded over to the stairs and headed up to my bedroom. I needed to shower, and the cats needed to be let out of the guest room. They bounded out, meowing for dear life, and followed me into the bedroom. It was breakfast time, and they weren’t about to let me out of their sight until they were fed.

  I gently pulled off my nightgown, grateful I hadn’t spilled anything on it, and stepped into my shower, lathering up as the water revived me. It was seven on a Saturday morning, but apparently I’d developed an internal alarm clock thanks to my job.

  When I was clean, I styled my hair and decided to dress up. I shuffled through the clothes in my closet, coming up with a gorgeous retro rockabilly dress. I usually wore jeans and a sweater, but my tastes had been changing over the past few weeks, and I found myself taking more time with my looks. I needed to shop, I thought. Most of my clothes bored me now—especially the ones I had worn to all the artsy get-togethers in Seattle.

  Whenever I had been around Ellison, he gaslighted me into feeling like I was ugly and fat. But now, I could feel myself blossoming as my confidence returned. Being open about the fact that I was a witch helped. Ellison had gone from tolerating the fact that I was Otherkin to wanting me to hide it. He had played Darrin to my Samantha. Not only was he a bigot, but he feared women with power, and witches definitely had power. If I had known when we first met…well…there was no going back in time to change things. What was important was that I’d never allow anyone to do that to me again.

  I styled my hair and put on my makeup. My hair was down to my midback, and it was mahogany, but I felt ready for a change. Ari was a hairdresser—and a damned good one—and I decided that I’d give myself a birthday gift by having her dye my hair. What color, I didn’t know, but I was determined to have something flirty and fun.

  The dress had a green polka dot pattern with a fitted bodice and a flaring skirt, and I slid it over my head, adjusting my boobs so they were sitting right. Underwire helped, but wearing a G-cup meant that some styles fit and some didn’t. The rockabilly dresses were built for women like me—I had a high waist, big boobs, and curvy hips, and my size 14 meant that a lot of modern styles didn’t work well for me. But rockabilly and pinup fit me perfectly. As I eyed the slim selection of clothes I owned that I liked, I decided it was definitely time to shop. Operation Renovation, so to speak.

  After catching my hair back with a bright green headband, I put on a pair of knee-high leather boots with two-inch platform heels, slipped on a cropped cardigan, and stood back, staring in the mirror. Yep, I cleaned up damned spiffy.

  I was headed to the kitchen to feed Xi and Klaus when a text message came through. I pulled my phone out of my bra, where I kept it tucked away—with a circle of shungite on the back to ensure that the electromagnetic field didn’t wreak havoc in my system—and glanced at the screen.

  happy birthday to the most beautiful woman in the world. open the door.

  The text was from Killian.

  I changed direction and answered the door. There, on the doorstep, sat a huge vase of roses. I leaned over and picked it up, carrying it into the kitchen. There were two dozen flowers in the crystal vase, mixed red, pink, and white. He texted me again: for the woman who has won my heart. happy birthday. i’ll give you the rest of your gifts tonight. xoxo —k .

  Leaning over the flowers, I inhaled, the scent of roses filling my lungs, flowing deep into my senses. They were fragrant and rich, and I smiled as I tucked the card away in my purse. I pulled out my phone and texted back: thank you—they’re beautiful. can’t wait to see you tonight. have a good day at work. xoxo, ~j.

  I was opening cans of cat food when Ari poked her head around the corner.

  “Ugh, we really tied one on last night. My eyes feel scratchy. How are you doing?” She shook her head as she stared at the flowers. “From Killian?”

  “Yeah, he’s so sweet.” I set the food down for the cats and Xi suddenly projected a huge purr into my head. She was my familiar and she’d be able to connect with me more as she grew, but for now, I mostly got rushes of emotion from her.