Page 5

Chapter

Five

Mandy pushed herself up from the oversized recliner, her joints creaking in protest. Her mind still whirled with the implications of Kieran's revelations, but her rumbling stomach demanded attention. Comfort food was in order.

She made her way to the kitchen and opened the pantry, scanning the shelves for the familiar red cans of tomatoes and tomato paste. Spaghetti sounded perfect - her to-go for all things stressful.

As she gathered the ingredients, Mandy's gaze kept drifting back toward the living room. That tea table he'd conjured up, with the lovely tea service, was still there - a tangible reminder that this had not all been some medication-induced dream. She paused, contemplating the glasses that had held their tea. They should probably be washed.

Mandy filled the sink with warm, soapy water and set to work, her fingers moving with practiced ease. The familiar motions of washing and rinsing the glasses helped steady her racing thoughts. Part of her still expected to wake up at any moment, her writer's imagination having run wild.

Yet the evidence surrounded her. Amazement may war with disbelief, but there was no denying that this was her new reality. Magic was real, and she had been entrusted with the gift of three wishes.

The weight of that gift settled heavily upon her. What if she chose wrong? What if her words were twisted, like the story of King Midas? Unsurprisingly, her brain immediately began spinning out worst-case scenarios, each one more horrifying than the last. She hated - really hated - that she did that, but she'd never been able to figure out how to stop her mind from going down these imaginary dark rabbit holes. Mandy's hands shook as she set the glasses on the drying rack, her appetite vanishing.

Finished washing up, Mandy leaned against the kitchen counter, her gaze fixed on the living room. The ornate tea table sat there, a silent witness to the life-changing events that had just unfolded. She couldn't help but wonder what Kieran was doing now. Was he hanging about somewhere nearby, waiting for her to summon him, to make her first wish? Or had he returned to the magical realm from whence he came?

She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to quiet the anxious chatter in her mind. "Okay, Mandy," she murmured to herself, "one step at a time. First, you need to eat something." Her stomach growled in agreement, reminding her of the spaghetti ingredients waiting on the counter.

Mandy pressed the defrost button on the microwave, watching the turntable begin its slow rotation with the package of ground beef. A soft thud behind her made her shoulders tense - that familiar sound of cat paws landing on the kitchen island.

"Mozart, get down from there." She turned, ready to shoo the orange troublemaker off the counter for the thousandth time. The Battle of the Kitchen Counter was an ongoing effort. "You know better than that."

But Mozart wasn't looking at her. His green eyes were fixed intently down the hallway, ears pricked forward and tail puffed to twice its normal size. Bach who had retreated to the cat tree when Mandy got up, lifted his head, his ears up and eyes alert. Both cats crouched low, their attention laser-focused on something in the hallway that Mandy couldn't see from her position by the sink. Even their whiskers pointed forward, quivering with intensity.

The air seemed to shimmer, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. A moment later, a head peered cautiously around the corner, long black hair spilling over one shoulder. Jacinth's chocolate brown eyes scanned the living room before meeting Mandy's gaze.

"Is he gone?" she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of mischief and caution that made Mandy think of a child checking if the coast was clear after some elaborate prank.

A giggle bubbled up from Mandy's chest, the absurdity of the situation hitting her all at once. "Yes, Kieran's gone."

Jacinth's entire demeanor changed instantly. She bounded into the kitchen with the grace of a dancer, sliding onto one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. Dressed in the same outfit she'd had on earlier, she managed to look completely at home in Mandy's modest kitchen.

Mozart abandoned his watchful position to investigate the visitor, while Bach went back to sleep on the cat tree, apparently deciding nothing was worth interrupting his nap for.

Jacinth leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling with interest as she examined the ingredients scattered across the counter. "What are we making for dinner?"

The casual way she included herself in Mandy's dinner plans should have felt presumptuous. Instead, it felt natural, as if having a centuries-old Djinn invite herself to dinner was perfectly normal. Mandy supposed her definition of "normal" would need some serious updating after today.

"Spaghetti," Mandy said, gesturing to the box of spaghetti to one side.

Jacinth nodded solemnly, her dark eyes reflecting understanding. "Comfort food," she said, as if the concept was as universal as breathing.

The Djinn's matter-of-fact acceptance of human needs surprised Mandy. She'd expected magical beings to be more... well, otherworldly. Less understanding of mundane human coping mechanisms like stress-eating pasta.

"Do you have garlic bread to go with it?" Jacinth asked, her eyes scanning the counter hopefully.

"Well, no." Mandy gestured vaguely at the living room where the table Kieran had conjured still reposed in front of her recliner. "I hadn't exactly had a chance to plan ahead, what with the whole ER visit, sleeping away the day, the night, and half the next day, and then the whole magical revelations thing."

Jacinth's lips curved into a knowing smile. With a graceful wave of her hand, reminiscent of Kieran's gestures, a perfectly formed loaf of garlic bread materialized on the counter, wrapped in crisp paper and emanating the mouthwatering aroma of butter and herbs.

"There," Jacinth said, looking pleased with herself. "It just needs to be toasted in the oven."

Mandy stared at the bread, struggling to process how casually Jacinth had just defied the laws of physics. She shook her head. Still, she loved garlic bread, and she wasn't going to look a gift loaf in the mouth. A snicker escaped her at her own butchering of the old saying.

Retrieving the now-defrosted ground beef from the microwave, Mandy dropped it into the waiting skillet. The meat sizzled as it hit the hot surface. Grabbing an onion from the basket on her counter, she perched on her wooden kitchen stool and began chopping it with practiced efficiency. A few cloves of garlic followed, their pungent aroma mixing with the browning beef.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Jacinth scratching Mozart behind his ears, the cat purring loud enough to be heard over the sizzling pan. He'd made himself right at home on the kitchen counter - exactly where he wasn't supposed to be.

Mandy rolled her eyes. "That's Mozart you're petting. The lazy one sprawled out on the cat tree is Bach."

Jacinth glanced between the two orange cats, her brow furrowing slightly. "How do you tell them apart? They look identical."

"Not quite." Mandy stirred the meat mixture, breaking up the larger chunks with her spatula. "Bach has four white mittened paws - when he's up and about, you can see them. But Mozart has that fluffy white chest ruff." She gestured toward the cat still soaking up Jacinth's attention. "Plus, Mozart's the troublemaker. Bach's too lazy to get into much mischief."

Mandy placed a lid on the skillet of sauce, and adjusted the heat to low, watching the sauce settle into a gentle simmer through the glass of the lid.

"It needs at least an hour to really let all the flavors blend together properly," she explained, washing her hands and wiping them on a dish towel.

Jacinth's dark eyes sparkled with approval. "I'm glad to see you take the preparation of proper spaghetti sauce seriously. Too many people rush it."

A giggle escaped Mandy's lips at the Djinn's solemn pronouncement about pasta sauce. She turned toward her recliner, but pain shot through her lower back and knees. The time spent standing at the stove had taken its toll, and she couldn't quite suppress her limp as she made her way across the room.

Jacinth frowned, swiveling on the kitchen stool to face her. "I thought the shot they gave you at the hospital took care of your back pain?"

"It's from making the sauce." Mandy eased herself into her recliner, trying not to grimace. "I just need to sit for a while. I'll be fine by the time I need to make the salad."

"Let me make the salad," Jacinth offered, sliding off the stool. "You've already done the spaghetti."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Mandy settled deeper into her chair, grateful for the offer of help, which she wasn't about to turn down.

Mandy watched as Jacinth moved through her kitchen with fluid grace, opening drawers and cabinets as if she'd lived there for years. The Djinn pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber from the vegetable drawer, laying them on the counter with precise movements.

"Not that I'm not happy to have company," Mandy said, adjusting her position in the recliner to ease her back, "but I can't help wondering to what I owe the pleasure?"

Jacinth's hands paused in their task of washing the lettuce. "Do I need a reason to visit?" Her chocolate-brown eyes held a hint of mischief. "Maybe I simply enjoy your company."

"After knowing me for all of fifteen minutes in the ER?"

Mozart jumped onto the kitchen counter again, batting playfully at the water droplets spraying from the faucet as Jacinth rinsed the vegetables. The Djinn didn't shoo him away, instead scratching behind his ears with her free hand. Mandy sighed, realizing Mozart would be forever spoiled if the Djinn continued to be a regular visitor.

"Fifteen minutes can be plenty of time to recognize a kindred spirit," Jacinth said, her voice carrying that same melodic warmth Mandy remembered from their first meeting in the ER. "Besides, I've been watching you for longer than that."

Mandy straightened in her chair, her back protesting the sudden movement. "You've been watching me?"

"Mmmhmm." Jacinth began slicing tomatoes with expert precision. "How else would I know you were the right person to receive Kieran's vessel?"

She frowned at the Djinn. "I thought you told me it was yours to give?"

"Well..." Jacinth's lips curved into an impish smile as she continued preparing the salad. "That might have been stretching the truth just a tiny bit."

Mandy couldn't help but snicker. "Yes, but why?"

Jacinth paused in her methodical vegetable chopping, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching upward. "Why was I watching you, or why did I give you Kieran's Wish vessel?"

"Both," Mandy said, wondering what was it with the Djinn and the eyebrow arching thing. "Why were you watching me, and why did you give me the pendant? I mean, there must be thousands of people more deserving than an old, disabled lady who spends most of her time on the computer or my recliner, and talking to her cats."

Jacinth set down her knife, those dark eyes fixed on Mandy with an intensity that made her squirm in her recliner. "A couple of weeks ago, I was having dinner at Joe's Diner on Fourth Street."

"Oh." Mandy's stomach did a little flip, and she bit her lower lip. She knew exactly which night Jacinth was talking about.

"There was a homeless woman sitting in the booth by the entrance," Jacinth continued, her voice soft. "All of her belongings were piled in a wheeled cart next to her table. She'd ordered the cheapest thing on the menu - a grilled cheese sandwich with fries, and coffee."

Heat crept up Mandy's neck as the memory surfaced. She'd noticed the woman too, trying not to stare while eating her own dinner. The woman had been thin, her clothes worn but clean, and she'd kept her head down as she ate, as if trying to make herself invisible.

"When you went up to pay your bill," Jacinth said, her chocolate-brown eyes twinkling, "you ordered a dessert for her, and had the waiter add her ticket to yours. Then you left without saying a word to her, without letting her know who had paid for her meal."

Mandy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I didn't want her to feel obligated or embarrassed," she mumbled, heat flooding her cheeks. "It wasn't like she had much - just a sandwich and drink."

"But it was everything to her at that moment," Jacinth said. "And you did it without wanting recognition or thanks. You didn't even know anyone was watching."

The warmth in Jacinth's voice made Mandy's embarrassment deepen. She hadn't done it for attention or praise. It had just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. The woman had looked so tired, so defeated, and Mandy had thought maybe, just maybe, an anonymous act of kindness might help brighten her day a little.

"That's why I started watching you," Jacinth said simply. "And why, ultimately, I gave you the pendant, which," she added with a mischievous twinkle, "I'd purloined from Kieran ages ago."

"Yes," Mandy said, raising the footrest on her recliner to ease the pressure on her lower back some. "Kieran seemed more than a little upset at having been called..." She paused, remembering his exact phrasing. "Although he called it 'summoned.'"

Jacinth's musical laughter filled the kitchen as she arranged cucumber slices in a perfect circle around the edge of the salad bowl. "Of course." Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. "But this is for his own good."

"His own good?" Mandy stared at the Djinn in surprise. "How is having his pendant stolen and given to a random human for his own good?"

"First of all, you're not random." Jacinth pointed the salad tongs at her for emphasis. "I told you why I chose you. And second... well…"

Jacinth's lips tightened, her cheerful expression fading into something more somber. The transformation startled Mandy - she hadn't realized how much Jacinth's perpetual good humor had brightened the kitchen until it vanished.

"Kieran has been withdrawing from us for a long time," Jacinth said, setting down the salad tongs. "Decades now. Retreating from the Djinn, from his friends, from everyone."

She moved to sit on the kitchen stool, her shoulders slumping slightly. "He's become so... formal. Distant. Even with those of us who've known him for centuries."

The worry in Jacinth's voice made Mandy's chest tighten. She'd only known these magical beings for a few hours, but something in Jacinth's tone spoke to deeper concerns than mere social withdrawal.

"I've been worried about him," Jacinth continued, her dark eyes distant. "He is so old, even by Djinn standards. And while we are immortal..." She paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Sometimes, the oldest ones can simply... sort of fade."

Mandy frowned, trying to understand. "Fade? Like... dying?"

"No, not dying. More like..." Jacinth's brow furrowed. "Like hibernating, I suppose. Though that's not quite right either." She sighed, running a hand through her long black hair. "It's hard to explain. Especially in human terms."

"I honestly don't know what you think I can do," Mandy told her. "I mean… I'm just... me. Just a cat lady with books."

"That's exactly why you're perfect." Jacinth's hands moved with practiced grace as she drizzled vinaigrette over the salad. "You're going to help Kieran remember something he's forgotten over the centuries."

Mandy blinked at the Djinn in bewilderment. "What could I possibly help him remember?"

"That magic isn't just about rules and responsibilities." Jacinth leaned forward, her voice soft but intense. "It's about joy and wonder too. The delight of possibility, the thrill of making dreams come true." She gestured at Mandy's overflowing bookshelves. "You understand that instinctively, even though you've only just discovered magic exists. I've seen it, watching you reading, working on your laptop with such intensity, going about your daily routine, and yes, even how you interact with your cats. I see it now - that spark of wonder, that ability to imagine 'what if' that is so rare nowadays."

Mandy glanced down as Bach jumped down from his perch on the cat tree and leapt, purring, onto her lap. Automatically petting the soft fur, she considered Jacinth's words. The Djinn wasn't wrong. She couldn't deny the bubble of excitement that kept rising in her chest every time she thought about magic being real. It was like every fantasy novel she'd ever read had suddenly become possible.

Jacinth's knife paused mid-slice through a perfectly ripe tomato. She set it down carefully on the cutting board, her dark eyes finding Mandy's with an intensity that made Mandy's breath catch.

"There's more to the story," Jacinth said. "Where I live now, in the Hudson Valley, there's this couple - Angus and Renee. No one quite knows what they are, precisely, but they're steeped in magic." Her lips curved in a fond smile. "They have this way of... knowing things. Important things."

"I confided in them about Kieran," Jacinth continued. "I told them how worried I was about him withdrawing from everyone, about the changes I'd noticed in him over the last centuries." She picked up a wedge of tomato and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "They listened, as they always do, and then they told me I needed to come here."

"Here?" Mandy glanced around her modest apartment.

"To Tucson." Jacinth clarified. "So I came. And my first night here, I stopped at this all-night diner, and that's when I saw you." Her dark eyes sparkled. "And I just knew."

The simple certainty in Jacinth's voice settled the insecurity that nagged at her. She remembered that night at the diner, how ordinary it had seemed. Just another evening out, trying to escape her own demons for a while. She'd had no idea a magical being had been watching her, seeing something special in a simple act of kindness.

"But I don't understand what you expect me to do," she said, her voice soft with uncertainty. "I'm just... well, look at me." She gestured at herself with a self-deprecating wave. "I'm an older lady who spends most of her time writing stories, and talking to her cats. My biggest adventure is going to the grocery store." Her lips curved in a wry smile. "And even that's a challenge some days, with my back and knees."

"My life is tiny compared to most people's. I don't travel, I don't socialize. I was an introvert long before I became disabled." Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her fingers had twisted themselves together. "And Kieran... he's a Djinn. A magical being. Immortal. He's ancient. Powerful. What could someone like me possibly offer someone like him?"

The idea seemed absurd - that she, Amanda Dupont, retired technical writer turned romance novelist, could somehow help an immortal magical being remember the joy in life. She who measured her own days by pain levels and word counts on her manuscript. Her greatest achievements lately involved managing to do her own grocery shopping… and even then she had to use the store's motorized cart.

Jacinth sighed, returning to her slicing. "Kieran has forgotten how to find joy in the magic. But you..." She pointed at Mandy with the tip of her knife. "You light up like a child at Christmas just thinking about the possibilities of magic. That's what he has to rediscover. All you have to do, Mandy, is be yourself."

Mandy remembered Kieran's unexpected laugh earlier, how it had transformed his stern features into something altogether more approachable.

"Well," she said, chuckling as she stroked Bach's soft fur, "from what little I've seen of Kieran, I'm pretty sure he doesn't appreciate having this all sprung on him."

Jacinth waved away Mandy's concern with an airy gesture. "Of course he doesn't appreciate it. Would you, if it was you? I mean, if you were in his shoes?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," Mandy admitted.

The Djinn dried her hands on a dish towel, and put the salad bowl into the refrigerator before gliding into the living room with that otherworldly grace Mandy was starting to recognize as characteristic of their kind. She settled onto the sofa, somehow managing to make Mandy's sturdy furniture look like an elegant chaise lounge.

"But here's the thing," Jacinth said, her dark eyes twinkling. "He's bound by the Wish vessel magic now. Once a vessel is given - even if it was borrowed without permission first - the Djinn must honor the bond until all three wishes are granted."

Mozart abandoned the forbidden kitchen counter to jump onto Jacinth's lap, nudging her hand hopefully. The Djinn obliged him, her fingers finding that perfect spot behind his ears that always made him purr like a motorboat.

"So he has no choice?" Mandy asked, guilt creeping into her chest at the thought of forcing anyone - even an immortal magical being - into something against their will.

"No, he doesn't have a choice," Jacinth said, her tone completely unapologetic as she continued petting Mozart. "But it's for his own good. You saw how he was when he first appeared - all thunder and lightning and 'how dare you summon me' attitude."

Mandy nodded, remembering Kieran's initial fury. The disembodied voice, followed by the way he'd materialized in her living room, his presence filling the space with crackling energy, those silvery-blue eyes blazing with otherworldly power.

But then something had shifted. She'd watched his anger fade to annoyance, then resignation, and finally acceptance as Jacinth explained what she'd done. Okay, well, not explained exactly. In fact, she'd sort of dodged the whole issue. But, by the end of their conversation, Kieran had even laughed - that rich, unexpected sound that had transformed his entire being.

"He did seem to mellow out considerably," Mandy admitted

"Exactly!" Jacinth beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "Once he understood what was happening, he accepted it. That's just how Kieran is - he might bluster and storm about change at first, but give him time to process it logically, and he'll come around. Especially when he knows there's nothing he can do about it anyway."

The casual way Jacinth dismissed manipulating an ancient, powerful being should have bothered Mandy more than it did. But there was something about the Djinn woman's absolute certainty, her unwavering conviction that she was doing the right thing, that made it hard to argue with her logic.