Page 6 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

Chapter

Five

When the pain finally ebbs, rolling out of my body like a receding tide, I blink, trying to focus.

Four faces loom above me.

Jackie sits on the floor beside me, dark smudges under her eyes, her face drawn with the weight of long nights and exhaustion.

Lamp man stands nearby, his mouth pressed into a thin, tense line, his gaze too intense to hold for long.

Mimi’s gaping at the man, her mouth open. I can’t blame her. He’s not hard to look at. There’s something about the way he stands, his presence. It’s magnetic.

Kevin stands opposite him, his face wide-eyed and worried. “You almost died.”

I push myself up, slowly, my breath still unsteady. “I didn’t almost die.”

Kevin jerks a thumb toward the lamp man. “He almost died too.”

“What? Why?” The questions burst out of me before I can stop them, panic flaring in my chest.

Jackie’s hand cradles my arm, steadying me as I stand. “Every time he goes too far away, you both feel the pain. I told you. You’re connected.”

Mimi’s eyes widen. “Yes. This is what I was trying to tell you when we were upstairs. I’ve heard of something like this—it’s a curse. A binding curse. If someone is bound to an object, whoever frees them, they sort of take over the binding.”

“Take over the binding?” My voice is tight, the words not quite making sense.

Mimi nods. “It’s possible you’re bound to each other now, instead of him being bound to the lamp.”

“A lamp?” Kevin’s voice rises in disbelief. “He was bound to a lamp, like a genie?”

“Can you grant wishes?” Jackie’s eyes gleam as she looks up at the lamp man.

He frowns. “I do not know of this genie . I am djinn. I do not grant wishes.”

“Lame,” Jackie mutters.

Kevin glances at Mimi. “Is he lying?”

“He’s telling the truth.”

I raise my hand. “Wait. What the hell is a djinn? And can we circle back to this whole binding thing?” I turn my attention to Jackie. “And how do you know we’re connected?

Jackie sways on her feet, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. It’s just there, like this thing.”

“What thing?”

Her mouth opens like she’s going to answer but then she pales and her eyes flutter closed, her legs buckling beneath her.

“Jackie!” Before I can so much as take a step, lamp man reaches her first.

He catches her before she hits the floor and scoops her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest, face pale, lashes dark against her skin.

“I’m okay.” She lifts a hand.

“You are not okay.”

She shifts to meet my eyes. “I’ll be fine after I sleep.”

I bite my lip, torn between wanting to rip her out of lamp man’s arms and appreciating his lightning-quick speed.

This isn’t the first time she’s passed out, or nearly passed out. She’s right. She does need to sleep.

“I can take her upstairs,” lamp man says.

Before I can formulate a response, Mimi is herding Kevin, Jackie, and her savior toward the stairs. “That’s mighty kind of you. I’ll show you her room. Thank you.” She squints at me. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute. Make some tea.”

I clench my teeth and nod. “Fine.”

I head toward the kitchen, every footstep a drumbeat of guilt and frustration and worry and confusion. I fill the kettle with water and set it on the stove. My hands move automatically—mugs, tea bags, honey—but my thoughts are stuck upstairs.

Jackie’s pale face won’t leave my mind. She’s been running on empty for weeks, and now this.

And lamp man... he was just there. Steady. Fast. Careful.

The kettle begins to hiss. I lift it off the heat before it screams.

I line up three mugs and drop a chamomile tea bag into each one.

The old yellow one with the happy face and chipped handle for Mimi because she loves that dumb thing.

The one with a dancing banana for me. And the dainty one with moon and stars for our guest. I don’t know what kind of tea a djinn drinks, but he’s earned one tonight.

I reach for a spoon and he’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” The spoon goes flying, clattering to the ground. “Could you warn me before sneaking up like that?”

“I apologize.” He studies me with unnerving intensity, his sharp gaze flicking over my face like he’s searching for something.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What?”

“Are they your children?”

A startled laugh bursts from me. “Kevin and Jackie? They’re my siblings. I would’ve had to be pregnant at fourteen.” I scrunch my nose. “Which, I guess, is technically possible, but no. Why?”

His head tilts, considering me. “You all smell alike.”

“We smell alike?”

Great. Djinn apparently have an extra strong sense of smell. And here I am, unshowered, probably reeking of New Orleans: fried food, stale beer, and sewer. Lovely.

But if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. In fact, there’s something about the way he looks at me—like I’m a puzzle he wants to figure out. Like I intrigue him. And damn it, that’s distracting.

“What is wrong with her?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her.” The words snap out.

He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t mean—I know there is nothing wrong with her. But she is sick. She was as light as a feather.” He pauses, studying me with those too-sharp eyes. “What is it?”

I give him my back and pour the water into the mugs. “We don’t know.”

It’s a horrible thing, the not knowing. Test after test with no definitive conclusion. Watching someone you love suffer while doctors poke and prod and shrug their shoulders. At least if you know what the monster is, you can figure out how to fight it. The not knowing is pure hell.

Jackie’s pain comes in waves, sometimes so deep it settles into her bones, leaving her barely able to move. Other times, her stomach rejects anything she eats. Then there’s the exhaustion, the weakness, the migraines?—

“Come on.” I pick up two mugs and head to the dining table, the wood smooth and familiar beneath my fingers. He lowers himself into the chair across from me, his movements fluid but careful, like someone used to measuring a room before letting his guard down.

“So.” I slide a mug over to him and rest my elbows on the table. “How did you get bound to the lamp, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifts around, taking in every detail of the chaos of our daily lives: the cluttered countertops, the colorful tile backsplash Mom picked out before she was gone, the stack of Kevin’s comic books shoved into the fruit bowl.

My cheeks heat slightly. It’s clean, sure, but there’s an undeniable messiness to a house with kids. And now some ancient genie-man is judging my kitchen.

Then his attention snags on something across the room. His brows dip, lips pressing into a faint frown.

I follow his gaze. He’s staring at the microwave.

I blink. Look back at him. He’s still staring.

“Hey, weirdo.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Why are you glaring at my microwave?”

“Micro-wave?” he echoes, pronouncing it like a foreign word.

I resist the urge to laugh. “Oh. Right. You probably don’t have those in your magical lamp world.”

His frown deepens, but before he can answer, Mimi strides into the room. “What did I miss?”

“Our friend here was just about to explain things.”

Mimi arches a brow. “Without so much as an introduction? You were raised better.”

I lift a hand in his direction. “Mimi, he’s an intruder!”

She grabs her mug from the counter and joins us at the table, sitting beside me. “Uh-huh. An intruder you conjured with your secretive bagged item.” She nudges me with her elbow, voice teasing. “And a handsome one at that.”

I press my lips together. I will not comment. She can’t be serious.

She points at me. “This stubborn child is my dear niece Cassie Broussard. And you can call me Aunt Mimi.”

Bennet inclines his head slightly. “Bennet Ashford. A pleasure, madam.”

Mimi grins. “So formal.”

“Now that we’ve been properly introduced.” I clear my throat. “The lamp. How were you bound to it? Where are you from? Why are you here?”

He meets my gaze, and for a second, there’s heat there, sharp enough to make me inhale a fraction deeper. “I’m from a place called Aetheria.”

Mimi’s brows knit together. “Is that in California?”

His expression is blank. “I do not know of this California.”

Mimi leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So where is Aetheria?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Beyond the veil. Another realm.”

I stare at him.

He has got to be shitting me.

Mimi turns to me, picking up her mug and blowing on her tea. “Well, he’s not lying, but he might be crazy. He believes it.”

Bennet’s eyes narrow slightly. “Are you a truthsayer?”

Mimi shrugs. “I can tell when someone lies. I haven’t heard that term used before. It’s just my magic.”

His gaze sharpens. “And the boy, Kevin. He is a spirit speaker.”

I straighten. “How do you know that?”

“I heard him and Jackie speaking while I was outside.” He picks up his mug and sniffs the contents.

They were inside. He was outside. Add supernatural hearing to the list of his abilities.

He fidgets with one of the bright red placemats. “And what about Jackie?”

Mimi shakes her head. “She doesn’t have magic.”

Bennet hums, thoughtful. Then, suddenly, his gaze zooms back to me. “And you. Your magic expelled me from the lamp.”

“I can find things, sense them, that sort of thing.” He doesn’t need to know more than that.

He nods, as if filing the information away.

“And you?” I tilt my head. “You obviously have some magic too.”

“All djinn have magic. I have more than most.”

Not good. If he has so much power, what could he do to us? Fear licks up my spine, but it almost immediately dissipates. I should be afraid. But I’m not. Why? No time to ponder it. Back to the topic at hand. “How did you get bound to the lamp?”

“My sister.”

I blink. “Your sister?”

His sharp gaze meets mine. “Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought maybe you crossed realms for,” I wave a hand, “world domination? Organ harvesting? To fuse with your shadow self?”

Bennet’s frown deepens. “Shadow self?”