Page 31 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Kevin had a picture book he loved when he was younger, Jack and the Beanstalk.

I read it to him every night for months, the pages worn and creased by the time he outgrew it.

I had it memorized. I could recite it in my sleep.

The giants in the story were bumbling, slow-witted creatures who said fe-fi-fo-fum and ate Englishmen.

These marid are not bumbling. They are massive, easily twenty feet tall, their deep blue skin almost blending into the shadows, their eyes glowing like embers in the dim light and glinting with intelligence.

One carries a weapon—a spear as long as a tree trunk—while the other simply clenches its enormous fists.

I stumble over a root, barely managing to keep my footing as Helen grabs my arm, yanking me forward.

One of the giants roars again, a sound that shakes the foliage around us. I don’t need a translation to understand the rage in it.

He’s hungry and we’re dinner.

Ahead, the trees break into a clearing. But as we sprint toward it— oh, shit . There’s no ground beyond it. The forest ends at the edge of a steep, rocky drop, a sheer cliff plunging down into a rushing river far below.

I skid to a stop, my breath coming in sharp gasps. “Umm, okay, now what?” Bennet can’t use his magic, it’s too risky. I can’t run if I’m fighting the inevitable wave of magic-induced horniness.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in my throat. Keep it together, Cassie.

Helen turns, eyes flashing. “I have an idea. Buy me a few seconds.”

Bennet and I spin to face the oncoming giants. The nearest one raises its spear, aiming right for us. My chest clenches. There’s nowhere to run.

A thick mist erupts from the ground, swirling up like a living thing. Helen’s magic. The fog coils around the giants, obscuring their vision. They bellow in frustration, their steps faltering.

“Move!” Bennet shouts, pointing downstream, but before we can take off, one of the giants roars and swings a massive arm blindly through the mist. A gust of wind rushes past me as the sheer force of its movement cuts through the air.

I barely dodge in time, stumbling backward as my heart slams against my ribs.

A second giant, slightly farther away, growls. The thud of heavy feet shaking the ground approaches. Too close. Too fast . A shadow looms in the mist, a dark mass of muscle and rage.

Then, Bennet moves. Faster than I would have thought possible, he lunges forward.

With a flick of his wrist, a knife gleams in his grip.

He ducks low, slipping past the giant’s flailing arm, and slashes at the tendons behind its ankle.

The giant roars in pain, stumbling, its balance momentarily thrown.

Where did he get the knife? Wait. Is that a steak knife? What the hell kind of damage can that do? Did he steal it from Helen’s dad’s? Could he not have gone for the butcher knife?

“Cassie, go with Helen!” He twists just as the first giant attempts to swipe at him. Bennet vaults onto its arm, using the momentum to propel himself higher. He kicks off its elbow and lands on its back, gripping the thick leather straps that cross its chest.

I stumble after Helen, who’s moving downstream, adrenaline pushing me into motion. My feet slam against the forest floor, branches tearing at my arms as we run, but I keep glancing over my shoulder, unable to tear my eyes away from Bennet.

The giant twists, trying to shake him off, but Bennet moves like he was born for this. He climbs up its broad back, positioning himself near its thick neck. Then, with a sharp jerk, he wrenches something free from his belt. Another steak knife.

I would laugh if we weren’t about to die.

With a fierce shout, he drives it deep into the giant’s shoulder. The creature screams, the sound reverberating through the trees, and its knees buckle for just a second.

That’s all Bennet needs. He kicks off, flipping backward and landing in a crouch before sprinting toward us. Behind him, the mist thins, roiling with more giants headed our way.

“This way!” Helen leads us toward the cliff’s edge.

I panic. “Helen, what?—?”

Bennet secures the knife in his waistband and reaches for me. “Trust me.”

Before I can argue, he grabs my waist and jumps.

For a moment, there’s nothing but open air and the rush of wind in my ears. The swell of water below rises like a soft, waiting cushion. Instead of hitting the river with bone-breaking force, we sink into it gently, as if dropped into a deep, cool embrace.

I break the surface with a gasp, my heart hammering in my chest.

Helen floats beside me. “Told you I had an idea.” She grins, baring her teeth at me.

“You’re a psycho.”

She laughs.

Bennet pops up next to me, shaking the water from his hair. “Are you okay?” He paddles over, his hands roaming my body like he’s searching for wounds.

“I’m good,” I tell him. But he doesn’t stop checking me over.

“Are you okay?” I push my dripping hair from my face.

He nods and then grabs me, his mouth crushing mine. We slip down into the water for a second and then surge back up.

He tosses me a lopsided grin that does funny things to my heart, and then we paddle together toward the opposite shore.

The giants are somewhere on the cliff above us, their massive forms blurred by the mist, their angry voices rumbling through the trees. But they don’t jump. Small favors.

Helen exits the river onto a sandy bank where sun cuts through the trees. “It’s going to take forever to dry off in this humidity.” She shrugs out of her sopping jacket, wringing the fabric and squeezing water into the sand.

Bennet wades toward her and I follow him onto the bank.

“Let’s get as dry as we can and then keep moving,” he says.

We spend a few hurried minutes attempting to compress the water from our outer layers of clothes and dump the liquid from our packs. Thankfully the food is all still edible since most of it is in baggies and airtight containers.

Now is not the time to be checking out the muscles flexing in Bennet’s back as he tugs his wet shirt over his head and the sun glances off the dips and curves of his body.

Dammit, he’s way too hot for me.

Helen smirks at me. “Catching flies, Cassie?”

I snap my mouth shut and get to work squeezing water out of my outer layers.

Once we are somewhat dry, Bennet squints up at the sky and then points. “This way.”

Then there’s more endless walking.

I lose track of time. Once the adrenaline from the giants and our cliff diving wears off, I’m trudging forward on legs that have turned to lead, and muscles that are little more than mush.

“Let’s stop here for the night.” Bennet gestures to a small clearing tucked behind a thicket of brush.

Helen recites a quick incantation, fingers sketching protective runes into the dirt around our camp. The spell settles over us like a weighted blanket.

She sinks to the ground beside a semicircle of stones and conjures a fire with a flick of her fingers. The flames bloom to life, crackling and golden.

Convenient. No need to worry about wet matches.

Bennet pulls out two sleeping bags from his pack, rolling them out near the fire and zipping them together before tossing another to Helen. “You set up a ward?”

She nods. “We should all be able to get rest. If any giants come within fifty feet, we’ll hear them, and even if we don’t, the protection spell will keep us hidden.”

I drop my pack and collapse beside it, letting the warmth of the fire melt some of the tension in my shoulders.

We eat some fruit and bread we packed, passing around a canteen of water.

No one talks much. The silence isn’t uncomfortable.

It’s heavy, but shared, the same weight of exhaustion pushing down on us all.

Tomorrow, we go deeper. Tomorrow, things get even harder.

But tonight, we’re safe. Or as safe as we can be.

After we eat, I crawl onto the sleeping bag, thankful Bennet assumed we would sleep together. I don’t want to be apart from him. I make room for him.

He lies down beside me, his body radiating heat.

There’s a careful pause before he settles his arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.

And I’ll protect you from any creatures with wicked gleams in their eyes, even if they are smaller than the merest pebble. ”

I chuckle. “My hero.”

“Yes.” His thumb brushes slow circles at my hip, relaxing me.

Across the fire, Helen curls up on her side, one hand resting over her chest. The flames cast dancing shadows over her face.

She must really miss Delores.

And then sleep takes me, slow and deep, wrapped in warmth and exhaustion and the quiet understanding that this might be the last peaceful night we get together.