If Wishes Were Curses

by Janeen Ippolito

  My life just currently involved being stuck inside lest the shifter community decide they wanted to kill me. Plus, there was that little magical tracking device.

  Because I was the killer. I was cursed. Not Gideon.

  “Coffee would be good.” Some ridiculously frothy and flavored and creamed concoction that would have Jack sniffing in disdain. I should go get a cup of coffee from Uncommon Grounds and tease her, or chat with Matthias, or just hang out—

  Nope. Couldn’t do that because of the stupid sentence on my head. Because my genie magic that had escaped one time made little old me a threat to others. Even though it had escaped to protect people. So what if I’d shown a little weird magic one night, and my brain went all chaotic? Neither of those things had happened since.

  I sighed. “I gotta get out of this place.”

  Even if it was just to get some fries or something. Surely I could get some fries without getting targeted by shifters or using my teleportation.

  Anything to get away from the gaps in my plan and in my mind.

  ***

  It took me three tries to leave my apartment.

  First time, I forgot my keys—fortunately, we had a spare magically disguised in the doorframe. Then I forgot my wallet and a purse for that wallet. And then, I thought it might get cold later in the evening, so a jacket would be good.

  Carrying things was so lame. After a lifetime of being able to travel light and teleport things in and out as I needed them, the purse strap on my shoulder might as well have been an anvil, the jacket another anvil. As I got on the bus headed for the park, one flip-flop folded under, and I tripped.

  Thankfully, I managed to catch myself on the nearest pole. My fingers twitched. I almost teleported in sneakers before I remembered the ban. The authorities would know instantly. Sneakers weren’t worth my freedom. Even if I just wanted to protect my feet because I’d been too out of sorts to dress for the occasion.

  What kind of life was this when I couldn’t interact meaningfully with anyone or have an impact on the world or do anything to solve my problems? Or even get my dang sneakers?

  This was a nightmare. I almost wished the shifters would come and get me. At least it would be something new.

  Might even make life easier for everyone else if they took me out. No more cursed half-genie to worry about.

  I slouched down on the seat, wishing for my earbuds and music player. Also in the apartment—no fulfilling my own wish. At least I could get some fresh air, which was one perk of Fae-infested Pittsburgh. They had influenced the city years ago, directly and indirectly, for cleaner air policies and even introduced new, experimental technology that used the three rivers and the magisphere.

  One thing the Fae were useful for.

  Once at Rivermont, I flashed my season pass and walked down the inclined pathway, past the old mini-golf course that had seen better days and the ice cream stand that featured Nutter-Butter as their flavor of the day. It was a Tuesday late afternoon in August, so there wasn’t much traffic except for other locals. I stalked past them and headed for one of the reasons I had a season pass at this park instead of the far larger and more popular Cannyvald or Wyldelake.

  The french fry shack.

  By some miracle, they still made them fresh. Other parks might sell fries, but these were the best. Fond memories of Mom taking Gideon and I here when we were kids might have made my metaphorical glasses pretty rosy. But it didn’t matter. The fries still tasted amazing.

  Maybe if shifters or other baddies found me, I could distract them with fries. Damn it, when did shifters become my enemies?

  I ordered a loaded platter. Stared at the pile of crispy goodness covered with sour cream, bacon, chives, hot sauce, and cheese.

  I felt nothing. My stomach growled, but the rest of me wanted to throw the whole thing in the trash. Or teleport it there. Anything to get the tiniest bit of magic out of my system. It couldn’t be healthy, keeping it bottled up for weeks.

  Was the court trying to set me up for failure?

  I gritted my teeth and walked over to the small river that surrounded Rivermont. As soon as I neared the edge, fish began to flop close to the surface, begging for the pellets that attendees could buy for a quarter and throw in. The fish were day-glo yellow and purple, and some definitely had extra appendages and tentacles. One of the Fae must’ve spiked the fish food.

  Not even that made me smile as I settled on a bench near the river. I scowled at my fries, popping a few in my mouth just to placate my stomach while my brain picked at my problems like the world’s worst hangnail.

  Why were there gaps in my mind map? Why didn’t the bear shifter show up as being a vampire? Why didn’t anyone believe me? Why did this person who was supposed to help me never show up? Why on earth was I eating fries when I didn’t want to?

  I groaned and set the greasy paper plate aside on the bench.

  “Why?” Thankfully, no one was around. “I signed on to destiny. I trusted, like my mother and Gideon, that there was someone up there who could use me. That I could be something more if I didn’t take sides in this whole Fae-human-Unspoken-whatever thing. Because there was nothing else but you, whoever you are!” I sagged against the bench, pulling my knees up to my chin. “And this is what I get? Nothing?” I swiped away the wetness on my cheeks. “What the hell, dude?”

  Probably not the way to talk to the controller of destiny. Then again, I was never sure how to. Humans had their churches—I’d been to enough Russian Orthodox services as a kid to know about that—and Fae had their own uncertain future, tied to the earth and the created order like plants and trees. But me? I was stuck in the middle somewhere, throwing myself at the feet of something I didn’t understand because there was nothing else out there for me.

  I leaned forward and rested my head on my knees. “I wish…” I paused, then shrugged. What could it hurt? Wishing on destiny was more of a prayer than anything else. Well, polite wishing was. The curses the Fae used for law enforcement and general harming were varying amounts of messing with destiny. Although, I suppose even walking out the door and doing your own thing was making your own destiny.

  I rubbed my forehead on my jeans. No way was I getting into the destiny versus free will spiral. Not now. “I wish...if you’re not busy charting the lives of everyone for ultimate good—because I have to believe someone is—that there is something good to stop the evil inside and outside. Could you just fix this? Somehow? Anything. I’m really up for anything. I mean it.” I paused. “Please?”

  A sob caught in my throat. “Are you even there?”

  And then I just sat on the bench for a while, emptiness filling me, shoulders shaking with more sobs. At least the words were out there. Whatever happened, happened. Maybe nothing would happen. But that was still something happening, right?

  I sniffled. Gross. Crying was annoying. All of this was annoying. I just wanted things to make sense and to work, for once.

  Even if I didn’t deserve it.

  Didn’t the fries come with napkins on the side? I reached for one—and someone placed it in my hand. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you all right? Can I help you?”

  A polished male voice with a caring undertone and the barest edge of an accent. I jumped, sprawling out on my corner of the bench, grabbing the edges. Not that it would help. What was I going to do, pick up the freaking park bench and haul it at the intruder?

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  My voice was croaky, but I didn’t care. There was a black-clad, pale-faced guy sitting on the other side of the bench, and I hadn’t even noticed him. Normally, I could deal, but I wasn’t in a great place right now. The last thing I needed was a stranger—a Fae from the magic radiating from him—butting into my business. Especially one who was offering help.

  Help meant a gift.

  Which meant help from a Fae was never free. Not even from nice Fae.

  Chapter 8

  The man ch
uckled and held up his hands. “I come in peace. I just wanted to know if you needed any assistance.”

  “What, you just … help random people? No strings attached?”

  “Yes, when I can, and when they’re in clear trouble.”

  He gestured to my face, which was still warm and wet with tears. I scrubbed at them and gave the stranger another lookover. Fitted black pants, black boots with way too many buckles, the kind that looked cool but made no practical sense. Black duster, black hair so dark it had an almost violet sheen, tied back from his angular face. To top it off, two silvery slivers pierced the edge of each eyebrow. A nose ring that looked like a lip ring, and another piercing just below his lip. The overall effect really worked. I would have immediately tried to get him on my matchmaking client roster, if he wasn’t already snatched up. Which the hot guys often were.

  But it was the Muppets t-shirt that made the outfit.

  A short laugh escaped me. “Nice shirt. You got a thing for felt puppets?”

  “Actually, they’re quite a bit more complex in structure than mere puppets.” He returned my smile, clearly checking me out as well, which was hilarious, considering my seriously wrinkled shirt and marker-stained, ripped jeans. “You should try watching sometime.”

  “I have.” And the fact that we shared this interest only increased his attractiveness. I picked at the plate of fries, gone cold now. Gross. “Some of their movies and shows were way, way better than others.”

  “Oh really?” He leaned forward. “Which ones?”

  “Well, the first movie sucked.”

  “The first movie is a classic! How can you hate the first movie when it set the stage for all the others?”

  All right, now he was hot despite his poor taste.

  “Well, I do hate it, so clearly it’s possible.” I rolled my eyes. “My brother listened to ‘Rainbow Connection’ on repeat when he was a kid. That alone makes the whole movie intolerable.”

  He nodded. “A fair point, but you can’t condemn an entire movie based on one song.”

  “Watch me.” A slew of arguments filled my head, and a strange excitement filled me, as if I’d missed this kind of argument. Then cold skepticism washed over the warmth. “You didn’t sit down here just to lose an argument about puppets with me.”

  “No, that’s a side benefit. And I’m not losing.” He grinned. “I sat down because you were curled up and crying in a corner of a bench. And you were alone.”

  “Maybe I wanted to be alone.”

  He studied me, his eyes narrowing. “Somehow, I doubt that. Otherwise you would have remained inside, where no one could see you.”

  “So you assumed I was a damsel in distress? Great.” I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I was in distress, but that was beside the point. If he was going to read me, I’d return the favor and check if his motives really were altruistic.

  I lowered my shields and tapped into his mind.

  A brick wall. Great, he was one of those who’d built up his mental blocks. I nudged harder. One sharp tap, like driving a nail in with a hammer.

  A wisp of genuine desire to help me escape consumed almost everything else. Along with another desire to protect me—not from anything specifically.

  Just me. As if I were someone special.

  I gave him a third once-over. He did seem to have the build to actually defend someone. But why he was so keen on helping me was another question entirely. Couldn’t trust that. I did a final read.

  Hmmm, a small part of him was intensely interested in the plate of cold french fries. I narrowed my eyes. Well, the food didn’t fit the rest of the whole vampiric attitude.

  “Okay, what are you?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep hacking at my mind and figuring it out for yourself?”

  Busted. My face heated a bit, but I met his gaze with a tilt of my chin. “This way is easier.”

  “So, what are your assumptions?”

  “From the outfit, you look like a wannabe vampire vigilante with a fat bank account and a solid exercise regimen. And a weird interest in my french fries.”

  He nodded. “In turn, you look like a college dropout with a fondness for markers and a lack of conversational boundaries. Who is wasting a plate of french fries.”

  “Well excuse me,” I dragged out the ‘u’ like I was coating a caramel apple. “You’re the one who sat on my bench without asking. And the fries are cold and icky now.”

  He raised his brows. “I wasn’t aware you owned the bench. And the fries are just fine.”

  “No, but I could own the bench. It’s possible. Anything’s possible.” Well, not anything, as my present death sentence predicament showed. I sighed and flicked him a wave with a cold french fry. “I’m Allis Evanenko. I’m nobody.”

  “Cendric Antalek. And I don’t believe that for a second.” His tone was certain. Focused, as if expecting me to do something drastic. “In fact, I think you could be one of the most important people in the world. There is a reason for your existence, and you have a future.”

  His words were accompanied by a thread of fear from his mind. Fear that I would hurt myself.

  As if. I’d already considered that multiple times as a teenager. Tried once or twice. Too much work. My magic made me durable enough to make suicide a big hassle. That, and suicide was a bad idea. Gideon would miss me. I think. Yeah, he totally would.

  I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. “What, are you going to hand me an encouraging pamphlet next? Or say you’re a royal from some foreign government here to bring me back to my true purpose? Or maybe you’re an angel?”

  At that, he shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m none of those things, although perhaps I should record that for a voiceover. I’m concluding, since you didn’t find that immediately compelling or heart-warming—”

  “I’m in no danger of trying to drown myself in one of the three rivers, Cid.” Death by water dragon would be a terrible way to go. And don’t ask me where the nickname came from. Likely it came from the same unknown place as my ease with him. I’d heard that with some people, you felt like you’d met them before or known them for years, but this took it to a whole ‘nother level. “If I die in the next few days, it will be entirely someone else’s fault.”

  Cendric studied me again, his gaze sharp. “Whose? Is someone trying to harm you?”

  What did it hurt to tell him? It might even scare him off enough to leave me alone. I shoved down the twinge in my gut at the thought of him leaving and let the words spill out. “Let’s see: the shifters. The Fae court in control of everything. Possibly vampires. Although maybe I just deserve it.” I rolled up my sleeves and showed off the curse-marks twining over my forearms. “I’ve been curse-marked since birth, blocking most of my magic. Then I accidentally killed a grizzly shifter. On purpose. But he started it! I could have sworn he was a vampire.” I sucked in a breath, forcing down my anger. “After I got arrested, I called someone to help with … something. I don’t even remember what I said, but it got me out of the precinct. And…” I pressed my lips together. “I dunno.”

  Saying the words to Cendric was comforting for some reason. As though I was sure he would help. As if everything would suddenly be better when he knew.

  Like that made any sense.

  He frowned and edged closer to me on the bench. I didn’t mind one bit. The concern flowing from him was mirrored in his eyes. “Were you looking for an intermediary? A blood binder?”

  “I mean, sure? Maybe not.” I groaned. “I told you, I don’t remember. And it doesn’t matter, because there’s no help anyway—”

  “I’m the blood binder for Pittsburgh. The Blood Lord.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The independent advocate and investigator for the Fae court, specifically with interracial and relational affairs. I’ve stepped in and assisted on many cases pro bono when the cause was just, but I don’t remember speaking with you or receiving any
notes from the assistants at my firm.”

  I picked up the plate of fries and started to summon magic to teleport them to the nearest trash can, then caught myself and just held the plate there, like an idiot. “Your firm?”

  “Antalek and Associates, Attorneys at Law.”

  “A lawyer?” Shock filled me. “Why?”

  He smirked. “Because I enjoy helping others and being the butt of truly terrible jokes.”

  “Obviously, but why help me? That’s not typical for a Fae. Even my friends…” My voice trailed off and my throat tightened. Theiya and Jack had both acted like they were doing me great favors by cutting me off. I still had no idea how. Although I understood that they had to look after their own. There had been fear beneath their expressions, fear of me.

  I focused on Cendric. “Okay, what are you? You say you are a blood binder, which sounds like a vampire, but it’s still daylight. And you’re way too interested in my french fries for a vampire.”

  “Blood binder is a job, not a race.” Cendric smiled again, showing off his incisors. Just sharp enough to indicate he was able to bite if his teeth extended. “I am a vampire, after a fashion.”

  Curiosity squashed any fears I had about getting bitten. “How so?”

  “I’m another type of half-breed.” He turned his head to the left, revealing an ashen blemish on the side of his neck that looked like a vampire bite mark. “A more unusual kind. I was a raven shifter. Then I was turned.”

  Well, that explained the near-violet glint to his black hair. But… “Wait a second. Shifters can’t be turned.”

  “So I thought.” His words were clipped, and old grief glinted in his eyes. “Evidently this is not the case.”

  I edged toward him, my fear forgotten as I sought answers. “Your bite marks should be reddish scars. But they’re gray. Why?”

  He tensed but remained where he was. I felt his sudden desire to back away, to defend himself because I was invading his space.