by Judi Fennell
Kal grabbed her hand. “Whoa there, Bob Vila. You have to make wishes. I can’t grant off a list.”
“Oh, right. Okay. Here we go.” The I wishes flew out of her mouth, and the long, crumbling staircase at the far end of the street—à la Rome’s Spanish Steps—rebuilt itself, chunks of marble that had broken off onto the steps below flying back into place as if she were watching an earthquake video in reverse.
The dull, gray stone structure ringing the platform at the top became shimmering amethyst quartz that extended from the wall of sand behind it, down the stairs, to the new road. Made of malachite bricks, the new surface slid over the old like spilled milk on hardwood flooring. As the road turned to color, jets of water in the dry fountain that ran the length of the median erupted into gravity-defying patterns. Grass grew so green it was almost emerald, and mosaic tiles bloomed along the sidewalk. All of this slid beneath the frozen citizens in a reverse magician’s trick of yanking the tablecloth out from under the dishes.
The buildings Kal had shored up got a new look, too. Jewels popped into the pockmarks like popcorn, and the balconies lost their rust and gained a white coating. Trumpet vines and enormous honeysuckle grew in place of the dead leaves, and like the brigand of peris she’d seen earlier, hummingbirds darted from behind the buildings to claim the new flowers.
Overhead, sand sifted onto the glass ceiling, proving it really was there, and providing some much needed shade to parts of the city.
Kal brushed his hands to sweep up all the glitter when she stopped to take a breath. “We’re going to have to think about that monorail system, Sam. It’s a good idea, but maybe we should set the rest of the city to rights before we start any additions.”
“Good point. I think we’ve done enough for now. You want to set them all free?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Samantha. What do you wish?”
She wished he’d kiss her again—and even if that was inappropriate, it was understandable.
Samantha tucked her curls behind her ears, hiding her face that was probably as red as the rubies over the Nut Shop as she did so. “Um, yes, Kal. I wish you’d let everyone go back the way they were.”
Kal waved his hand and life returned to normal. Well, as normal as this place could be.
Sort of.
A collective sigh happened, but no one moved. They just stood there, blinking. Shock. Surprise. Maybe some awe? That might just be hero worship in Miraj’s eyes.
Kal squeezed her shoulder. “Good job, Samantha. You’ve made them speechless. Let’s hope appreciative, too. But in my experience, they’re about to get very greedy. I’d suggest we head somewhere else until the initial shock wears off.”
Samantha knew all about greedy. Knew all about people wanting things from her. But, here, in this place, she understood it. These people—er, beings—needed something to motivate them, and hopefully, what she and Kal had done would be that impetus. Though human nature—and troll and dwarf and fairy nature, too, presumably—would want to take the easy way out.
She knew all about that, too.
Unfortunately, the shock lasted only a few seconds. Then everyone and their brother began rushing toward Samantha, shouting out their wishes like dragons with fire bolts.
Samantha felt like a translator as she listened to someone’s wish, then parroted it to Kal in her own words. Clothing started to appear in the shops, nice cars along the side streets, even an Xbox in someone named Newton’s newly renovated king-sized bedroom. Self-serving ovens, self-sweeping brooms, forever-flowering fruit trees… the citizens of Izaaz had a better imagination than the crew at Disney.
“Rain, lass. Make it rain.”
“No, make it snow! We’ve never had snow in Izaaz!”
“Snow? Are you out of your cotton-pickin’ mind? We’re not prepared for snow!”
“So wish for a snowmobile.”
“Or a snow blower.”
“Or skis! Yeah, let’s go skiing!”
“Then we’re going to need a mountain. Can you wish us the perfect ski mountain?”
“With bunny slopes,” hollered Miraj.
“And a lodge with a big stone fireplace,” said the phoenix, bursting into flame again.
“And a Matterhorn cliff,” said Stavros, getting into the act.
A mountain? Cliffs? Ski lodge? Snow? Samantha shook her head. The wishes were getting out of control. And so was the mob. They had formed tight circles around her and Kal, and were pressing in.
She moved closer to him. “Um, Kal? About your idea to get out of here. I think now would be a good time to take you up on that offer. Where can we go?”
“Anywhere you’d like, Samantha. What appeals to you?”
If she were home, she’d head to Antoine’s Day Spa. “This place doesn’t have a spa, does it?”
“It has whatever you wish it to have, Samantha, but in this case, you’re lucky. The thermal pools here are the perfect reason for a spa. And since it is my job to see to your comfort, you don’t even have to wish to go there. I’ll take you. A gimme, if you will. A simple yes is all you need to say.”
Kal looked at her with those warm, chocolate eyes, and his arm brushed her breast. His breath was warm against her temple, and saying yes to him became anything but simple.
11
Albert slipped inside the domed building a few blocks from the scene of the street fight, managing to make it there without garnering any attention—but also, unfortunately, without capturing the genie.
He’d been so close that if he could have done something about it, he would have, but with the genie doling out magic left and right, Albert had erred on the side of caution.
He’d thought he’d been found out when he, and the entire scenario, had been frozen in place. Luckily, he’d been behind one of those walking carpets because the genie had been right there, so close that Albert could have reached out and grabbed him—if he could have reached out. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on that genie and the badass car he’d driven in on. That’d be one of the first things Albert would wish for when he caught him.
But what had Samantha wished for? Albert couldn’t believe it—or maybe he could. After all, with her charmed life, what did it matter to a woman used to having everything handed to her on a silver platter to use genie wishes for urban renewal? She’d never appreciated what she had. What her father had had. But Albert would. Oh, how he would.
He’d wanted to run into that street, pick her up, and shake some sense into her. God, what it must have been like to grow up as she had, every wish granted with one little smile at her father. The man had been a pushover for Samantha, and it had sickened Albert to no end to have to play along while the guy had been alive. But Albert would do anything to get his hands on the kind of money Blaine had, so he’d sucked it up.
But to have to stand there and watch Samantha and her do-good magical lackey spruce up the town… The woman really was clueless.
Albert had thought for sure that the adrenaline and anger boiling up inside him would spill over and free him from being a human statue when, all of a sudden, he’d been able to move and that car had taken off—upwards. It’d hovered above them like some damn flying saucer, rotating silently before blasting off for parts unknown. And he’d lost them again.
He shoved off from the heavily carved wooden door inside the dark building. An arched entranceway led to a large chamber where an enclosed stone staircase circled upward in the middle, the room supported by stone pillars whose tops and arched supports were painted in red bands. Daylight filtered through thin slits high on the walls, but the shadows were growing longer by the minute as he tried to figure out what he should do next. He was running out of time, and now, with Samantha and her genie flying off to God-knew-where, he was running out of chances.
Feeling for the coin yet again, Albert replayed his wish to find them for the thousandth time. He didn’t know why the coin wasn’t working, and he was seriously worried that he was going to be st
uck here.
How many different ways could he say that he needed that genie?
God, he was tired. He’d been up for hours, and it’d been nighttime when he’d found the safe open. The mass exodus of adrenaline from finding the safe and following them here was leaving him exhausted. He needed some place to rest. To recharge and refocus. To come up with a plan.
Albert climbed the circular steps in the narrow tower, trying for perspective on both where he was and what he was facing.
He reached the small platform at the top and realized he didn’t have a clue as to what he was facing. The building and he—the entire town—were underground.
Long rays of the sun stretched out across the city and hit a wall at the far end. A wall that encircled the entire place. A wall of sand. Albert leaned out from under the roof that covered the platform and looked up. The sky was covered in sand, too. How the hell was that possible?
Claustrophobia set in. Forget cement shoes or getting whacked; Henley wasn’t going to have to set his goons after him if Albert didn’t deliver the money because Samantha and her damn genie were going to bury him alive.
Then he saw something black and bug-shaped off in the sky. The car! Samantha and her genie were still here! He still had a chance!
Albert raced down the stairs and out into the street, pulling back against the wall when a two-legged, unusually large-sized rodent turned the corner at the end of the street.
He couldn’t be seen now; he had a genie to catch.
12
If Kal thought this was seeing to her comfort, then he definitely didn’t have a girlfriend.
The Mercedes landed in front of a tall, dilapidated, gray wood fence covered in white roses. Dead white roses.
With the dull blah of the sand walls in the distance behind it and the withered vines covering the structure beside it, the place looked about as inviting as Macy’s after a Black Friday sale.
“Um, Kal?” Samantha climbed out of the car and crossed her arms, wincing when the lantern dinged her funny bone.
Kal walked around the back of the car. “A little bit of magic, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
When he put his hands on her shoulders, she had to wonder what kind of magic he was talking about. But then he swept a hand in front of her, and the scene seemed to unfold from the upper left in a shower of glitter like wallpaper being peeled from a wall, except that color filled in the drabness, as if it were an enormous paint-by-numbers picture.
All but the roses. Those remained white, but they did spring to life like a nature movie on fast-forward. Atop a deep plum fence, their petals turned as pristine and sparkly as the unicorns, but sprinkled with more of Kal’s magical glitter. Soft harp music wafted with the scent of anise and patchouli from the courtyard behind it, where the vines regrew backward on a Mediterranean-style tiled roof atop a yellow adobe building. Broken panes in the arched windows rebuilt themselves in beautiful stained glass patterns, with the shutters matching the color of the fence.
Kal walked past her and pushed open the gate to where a yellow brick path led inside. He cocked his head. “Shall we?”
Shall we what?
Samantha kept her mouth closed, her eyes forward, and her concentration on the beautiful courtyard ahead of her. Until his fingers brushed her waist as she passed him.
Then she couldn’t focus on anything but what his touch did to her, how good he smelled, and how tall and broad he was. How feminine she felt next to him. How much she wanted to be held by him. Wanted to hold him.
Obviously, she was over Albert. Hell, with what Kal could do to her with just one look, she’d obviously never been into Albert.
Funny that what should be one of the worst nights of her life was turning out to be one of the best. Was that why Dad had told his attorney to give her the letter at the memorial? To give her something to focus on besides losing him? Had he wanted to ensure she’d have someone in her life who’d see to her safety and comfort as he had? She wished she could ask him.
Wait. Could she ask him?
“Um, Kal.” Samantha turned around in front of another gate, this one white wrought-iron, the adjoining fence covered in purple roses. “You’re going to have to explain the rules to this genie/master thing. Everything’s happened so fast that we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it. What can I do? What can you do? Can we bring my father back?”
Kal took a step closer than he needed to—not that Samantha was complaining. “For mortals, Samantha, there aren’t many rules. You already know you have to be specific and wish for something before I can grant it. But, I’m sorry.” He ran the backs of his fingertips down her cheek. “I can’t bring your father, or anyone, back from the dead. I can’t cure illnesses or injuries, though I can conjure the medication that will help them if it exists. And because Karma plays a part in the checks and balances of The Djinn Code to keep us on task and honest, since I can’t bring anyone back from the dead, I also can’t kill anyone.”
She’d figured that was the case, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She’d so hoped to be able to have her father again. But she had to admit that the word honest took away the disappointment. Aside from her father and Wanda, Samantha couldn’t name one other honest person in her inner circle.
But now there was Kal. And that honesty made him more attractive to her than his looks or his kiss or what he could do for her combined, because, after all, he was a genie; there was nothing she could possibly do for him or give to him that he couldn’t do or give to himself. He had no reason not to be honest with her, and luckily this Code of his demanded it.
And that, more than his fingers on her cheek, put a little hitch in her breath. A little swirl to her tummy. A little zing beneath her skin.
Sure, the chemistry was there between them, but the look in his eyes—warm and gentle and, dare she say, compassionate?—was what turned her knees to mush and made her yearn to lean on him. To wrap her arms around him. To share this moment in time with him.
She was about to take that infinitesimally small step into his embrace when a door slammed open nearby, shattering both a window and the moment. Though she knew she should be happy for the interruption, given the upheaval going on in her life and the fragile state of her emotions at the moment, Samantha wasn’t so sure she was.
“Välkommen.” Blue eyed and tan, with blond hair to his shoulders and looking like the mountain he had to have been carved from, the “interruption” walked toward them in a white wraparound robe with a blue sash, Japanese wooden flip-flops, and carrying an armload of white towels. “I am Sven. You vish for massage, ja?”
Did it have to be from him? Most women might find Sven the stuff dreams were made of, but Samantha had had better luck with wishes than dreams lately, and Kal was the main reason.
She glanced at him. He was dark to Sven’s lightness, and she couldn’t stop the excited flip in her belly when their gazes met. So much for fragile emotions and significant moments; that chemistry was alive and well between them and on its way to full-on combustion.
“Sam? Would you like a massage?” Kal asked.
She would actually, but only if Kal was the one doing the massaging. Given her recent thoughts, now probably wasn’t the best time to answer that question. Especially with Sven as an audience.
She shook her head and walked toward a stone basin that was filled from a waterfall flowing over a rock wall beneath a flowering mimosa tree. The tree’s feathery, pink flowers swayed in the steam rising from the water. Beside it, on an alabaster pedestal, a self-strumming ebony harp’s harmony mingled with the melody of the gurgling water. On the other side stood Sven’s massage table beneath a bamboo pergola covered in purple morning glory.
She fluttered her fingers in the water. Too bad it was warm. She’d been hoping for ice cold, but then, the water would have to have come from a glacier not a thermal pool, and with the way Kal was looking at her, she wasn’t so sure even a glacier would do the trick of cooli
ng her down.
“I think I’ll park myself here.” She sat in one of the white rattan lounge chairs in front of the hot tub, set the lantern on the table beside her, and fluffed a cushion behind her head. “I could use a nap since I’m still on California time. It’s pretty late for me.” And she could give her brain and her hormones a time-out.
Kal conjured up a daiquiri on the table next to her then nodded toward the basin. “What about a soak in the thermal pool?”
Yes, that’s what she needed: to get drunk and naked in hot, frothing water around him. She brushed the glitter off the tabletop. “No thanks. The nap will do.”
“There’s food in the next room. Whatever you want.”
“Seriously, Kal, I’m fine. I ate a lot earlier tonight. Today. Whatever.”
“You’re sure? All you have to do is make a wish.”
She knew that. That was half the problem. “Actually, Kal, I do wish for something. I wish you’d get the massage.” Hmm, semantics did have their uses. That ought to put an end to his questions.
Only… it raised more when Kal walked out of a dressing room—or rather, the undressing room—a few minutes later clad in only a towel: namely, Albert who? and What had happened to her tongue?
Samantha took a sip of her drink, trying to cool down while his hard, cut muscles flexed and contracted as he climbed onto the table to lay on his stomach, and the hot tub behind her bubbled its invitation to get naked—which Kal already was, and only by a few judicious towel adjustments did he remain decent while her thoughts were anything but.
“You doing okay, Sam?” Seeing him with his arms crossed beneath him, his shoulders bulked up more than they already were, and his smile just this side of come-hither, Samantha was definitely okay and moving right along to rapturous.
She nodded and took a big gulp of the daiquiri. Ouch. Cold headache. But at least it got rid of the fire burning through her.
