Page 16 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Chapter

Twelve

The world slows.

Bennet leaps in front of me, blocking the strike with a whip of his arm.

The shadow moves with an eerie fluidity, its edges rippling like liquid smoke. It attacks Bennet, each blow echoing down the quiet street.

My mind stutters over the impossibility. How is there a shadow throwing lightning at us and landing hits?

But Bennet is fast. His movements are sharp and efficient, almost unnatural in their precision, as he parries and evades each strike with effortless grace.

He’s some kind of freaking ninja or something.

He can barely use a cell phone, has never driven a car, struggles with the dishwasher, but apparently, he can fight like he was born for it.

The shadow shudders, losing shape. Its edges dissolve, twisting and folding in on itself like a collapsing house of cards, and then it melts away entirely.

Silence crashes down in its absence.

I stand there, heartbeat hammering, breath trapped in my throat. The night around us is too vast, and yet the darkness is pressing in too tightly.

“Come.” His warm hand connects with my lower back, a comforting weight. “We must hurry, in case it returns.”

My legs finally unlock. “We’ll be safe at home. It’s warded.”

Then we’re running, footsteps uneven against the cracked sidewalk.

Bennet keeps pace beside me, smooth and steady, always half a step behind like he’s shielding my back.

My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out the city’s usual hum.

I can’t stop scanning the shadows, waiting for another one to rise, for another flash of lightning to lash out of the dark.

By the time we reach the alley leading home, my lungs are burning, my legs are lead, and I’m drenched in sweat. Bennet, on the other hand? Not even winded. Not a single strand of dark gold hair out of place.

So unfair.

I slam the door shut behind us, leaning against it, dragging in gulps of air.

Mimi rounds the corner from the kitchen, her sharp gaze locking on to us. “You’re bleeding.”

I glance down, pulse spiking, expecting I don’t even know what, a bolt of lightning sticking out of my chest?

But no. It’s not me.

A drop of crimson patters onto the floor. Then another.

Bennet’s hand drips with blood.

Mimi spins on her heel. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

I curse under my breath. He got hurt protecting me, and I was too caught up in my own panic to notice. “Come on. Let’s wash you up.”

The kitchen light is too bright after the street’s murky shadows. I guide him to the sink, turning the tap. Cold water. Great. Whatever, it’ll have to do.

“Jacket off.” I reach to help him shrug out of the leather coat. It’s heavier than I expected, still warm from his body. I fold it carefully, setting it aside, my gaze catching on the dark stains blooming at the cuffs.

I swallow hard. He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

“Hand.” I nudge him closer to the sink.

Bennet obeys, holding it under the stream. Water runs pink, swirling down the drain in delicate spirals. The cut on the base of his palm is deep, worryingly so. Might need stitches.

Mimi reappears, the bright red first aid kit clutched in her hands. “Here.”

I take it, flipping the latch and rifling through the supplies. Maybe liquid bandages would be best. He’ll rub regular Band-Aids off the second he touches anything.

Mimi clicks the stove on, setting the kettle to boil. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened, or do I need to guess?”

I find an alcohol wipe and tear it open. “We were attacked.”

Mimi blinks. “Attacked? By who?”

“Or by what.” I press the wipe to his skin. “This might sting.”

Bennet barely reacts, but his teeth are clenched.

Mimi frowns. “By what?”

I remove the wipe. The bleeding is already slowing. Another djinn ability? I open the liquid bandage bottle, dipping the brush inside. “A shadow. It came loose from the wall. And it had lightning.”

Mimi’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “A shadow. With lightning.”

“I know how it sounds.” I slide the brush over his wound carefully.

“It was an ifrit.” Bennet’s voice is quiet but firm.

My fingers still. “ That was an ifrit?”

The kettle whistles.

Mimi pulls it off the stove, shutting the burner off. “What the hell is an ifrit?”

His throat bobs as he swallows.

“You said they feed on magic. But that thing—” I gesture toward the door, toward the outside world. “That wasn’t feeding. That was attacking.”

Bennet shakes his head. “There is not enough magic here for them to fully manifest.” His hand flexes under mine.

“Even in Aetheria, they are mostly smoke and shadow. They feed on my people to take form, and even then they cannot sustain a physical shape for long. I don’t know how it came here at all.

I don’t think it was trying to kill, only injure. ”

A chill prickles at my spine. “You think it was trying to take you back?”

“I don’t understand why.” His brows are drawn, gaze troubled.

“Ifrits would benefit from my family’s disappearance.

Keeping Helen and me stuck here, away from Aetheria, should be in their best interest. Their land is all parched desert and scorched volcanic mountains.

They have coveted the magic and lush life of my kingdom for centuries, trying to take over, attacking my people at every opportunity.

It’s why Helen’s wedding was so important, uniting us against a common enemy, adding to our armies. ”

“Maybe they want you for ransom.” I finish with the glue and put the top back on the bottle. “Or to torture? Are they the types to shake people down for... whatever?”

Bennet’s expression is blank, but foreign emotions brush at the edge of my senses—an echo of confusion, faint but real. I reach for the shield, but when I check, it’s perfectly intact. No stray emotions leaking through.

Strange. I’ll have to ask him later if there is something he’s not saying.

Mimi pours steaming liquid from the kettle into three cups waiting with tea bags. “Well. That’s just wonderful. Assassins made of shadow.”

I blow on Bennet’s hand and then motion him toward the table. “Don’t touch anything until the glue dries.”

Bennet slides into a chair, resting his arms on the table, keeping his injury up.

Mimi sits opposite, fingers laced around her mug.

I grab the remaining two cups from the counter, setting them down in front of us and taking the chair next to Bennet. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

He reaches for the mug with his good hand. “I trained. Learned with the guards in the castle. After what happened to my parents, I wanted to be able to protect my sister.”

A trickle of admiration seeps through me. He did it for his sister.

“Thank you.” I reach over and rest my hand lightly on his wrist. “For protecting me.”

His skin is warm beneath my fingers. A quiet moment lingers between us.

Then Mimi clears her throat, and I yank my hand back, heat creeping up my neck.

One corner of his mouth tilts up. “You’re welcome.”

I latch on to the next thought that pops into my head, before Mimi can make a comment about me needing to get laid again.

“There’s more. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but yesterday, when I was walking home with the lamp, I felt like something was following me.

” I hesitate. “I didn’t see anything, though, so maybe it was nothing. ”

Mimi blows on her tea and takes a slow sip. “You mentioned that. It was after you bought the lamp.”

“Yes.”

What does it mean? Maybe nothing. Maybe something. I rub my temple, the pressure doing little to ease the nagging itch in my chest.

I change the subject. “How was Jackie today?”

Mimi sighs. “It was a hard day.”

“What happened?”

“She was okay in the morning, but as the day went on, she kind of faded.” Her fingers clench into a fist against the table. “By bedtime, I had to practically carry her up the stairs.”

A flicker of unease crawls through me. “Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself getting her up the stairs, did you?”

She waves a hand. “I’m fine. My arthritis was acting up this morning, but moving around got the juices flowing. I’m barely feeling it now. Tell me what happened with the vamp, before the ifrit attack.”

I go through everything—our encounter with Eddie, the deal we struck, unblocking our magic—minus the accompanying wild emotions—and what we learned about the swamp witches.

As I talk, Mimi listens intently, her fingers curled around her tea mug, her expression unreadable.

“The swamp witches. Yes. I’ve heard of them. ”

“You have?”

Mimi taps her fingers against her mug. “A friend of mine went to them once. Years ago. Her and her husband were having trouble conceiving, and she was desperate.”

“And they helped?”

“She had a baby a year later.” Mimi shrugs. “Who knows if it was them or pure luck? But she believed it.”

“Do you remember how she got there? Where it was in the cemetery?”

Mimi frowns, rubbing her chin. “Not exactly. But I do remember her saying the spot is warded. The witches don’t want just anyone finding them. Only people with magic can see through the spells keeping the place hidden.”

“That makes sense,” I murmur. “Do you remember anything else?”

Mimi nods. “She said the portal only activates at certain times, dusk and dawn, when the veil is thinnest.”

“That’s good to know.” Relief washes through me. At least now we know Edward wasn’t bamming us. “I want to be here in the morning before Kevin goes to school, and just in case Jackie has a bad night. So we’ll have to get there tomorrow afternoon, early enough to find it in time for dusk.”

Mimi’s lips press into a thin line. “I wish I could do more.”

“You do so much as it is. I couldn’t function without you, and neither could the kids.”

“Not enough. Not like I used to.” She flexes her fingers, rubbing at her wrist. “Twenty years ago, I could have run around this city twice. Now? I can barely get up and down the stairs without feeling it the next day because of my damn arthritis.”