One Wish Away: Djinn Empire Complete Series

by Ingrid Seymour

  My hand turned white as I gripped my purse, and my face went so stiff that I swear it could have stopped bullets. Under the surface, though, it was a whole different story.

  “Hey, there,” Kurt, Abby’s boyfriend, said. “Long time, no see.” He hadn’t been at the funeral and didn’t try to offer condolences, for which I was grateful.

  “I’ve been working,” I said, sitting next to Abby. I ignored Jeremy and Dana and gave our friends Claudia and Brett a small wave. I leaned into Abby and whispered, “What is he doing here?”

  Mortified, she lowered her heavily kohled, brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Elle,” she murmured back. “I invited Maven, but he couldn’t come,” she offered as if that would make things better.

  The sounds of chatter and spoons swirling inside coffee cups filled the air. A plate topped with beignets sprinkled with insane amounts of confectioner’s sugar sat on the table. I fidgeted. A headache threatened to erupt in my right temple.

  At the far end, Dana squirmed as Jeremy purred something in her ear. He played with her earlobe, cobalt eyes set on me, mouth curling up with pleasure. My stomach flipped as I remembered Jeremy doing the same thing to me. I pushed the beignets away. Their sugary smell was suddenly turning my stomach.

  Abby noticed my discomfort. “Um, why don’t we go for a walk?”

  “Great idea!” I stood without waiting for anyone else to agree.

  “We’re going for a little walk. We’ll be right back. Y’all stay and save the table,” Abby said the last part looking straight at Jeremy, then took Kurt’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “I guess I’m going, too,” Kurt said, stretching his free hand to snatch a beignet.

  In spite of the humidity outside, the air seemed ten thousand times purer. I took a cleansing breath. The mere sight of Jeremy made me feel like I needed another shower.

  The colors of dusk played above the white-and-green-striped awning of Café du Monde’s patio, a favorite among New Orleans residents and tourists. People walked by snapping pictures of Jackson Square, looking happy and relaxed. In contrast, tension rippled across my back.

  “I thought everything was fine between you and Jeremy,” Kurt teased in a low voice.

  “Next time don’t think, just check with me,” Abby put in. “Why did you have to mention we were coming here, you brainiac?” My petite friend was feisty and always came to my rescue. I loved her for it. Kurt shrugged and made innocent puppy eyes.

  “It’s okay, y’all. A little walk will do,” I said. That was until—from the corner of my eye—I noticed the rest of the gang hadn’t stayed behind. I winced, but quickly hid my frustration.

  “I like your hair, Abby,” I said, determined to ignore Jeremy. Her time at cosmetology school must have been ultra-busy, using herself as a guinea pig for all kinds of different products.

  “Cool, huh?” she said, patting one side of her short, blond-streaked hair. “Extensions,” she added, fingering one long lock that fell to her shoulder.

  Claudia caught up with us. “Guys, let’s find a club that’ll let us in.” She lifted both hands toward the sky and traced a wide circle with her hips.

  Just as Jeremy and Dana joined us, I turned to cross the street, trying to stay as far away as possible from them. “Let’s go, then.”

  I fought to keep my temper in check. It sucked. The fun outing had turned into a nightmare, all because of Jeremy. I cursed under my breath. My hands shook, and I fought to keep it from becoming noticeable, but the shaking only grew worse. God, I wanted to turn him into a toad. The idea was absolutely satisfying, but what a waste of a good wish.

  As I stepped down from the sidewalk onto Decatur Street, a strange, cool breeze caressed my legs. Panic blurred my vision. A van appeared out of nowhere, brakes squealing as it skidded in my direction. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I rushed forward and stopped in the middle of both lanes. Horns blared behind the van. The driver called out something nasty. Dana and Jeremy laughed behind me. Cringing, I waited for a horse-drawn carriage to pass, then slowly made my way to the other side of the street, feeling both like a nervous wreck and a complete idiot. I cursed Faris. He was probably still mad at me for yelling at him last night.

  Wasn’t putting up with Jeremy enough for today? Maybe Faris’s goal was to drive me crazy. I had to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

  We made our way down Saint Ann Street next to Jackson Square, an area reserved for pedestrians and the artists that took residence there to display and sell their artwork. I allowed their colorful paintings to capture my attention. The sound of hooves on the pavement and the smell of fried beignets from across the street immersed the rest of my senses in the vibrant city that was my hometown. I crossed the street ahead of everyone else, pretending Jeremy hadn’t come, trying to enjoy the liveliness of the resident caricaturists haggling with tourists for a fair price and the distant sound of jazz as we approached Bourbon Street.

  I’d almost gotten a glimpse of that elusive thing called fun when a sweaty hand gripped my arm. Then I realized today wasn’t a day for pleasure. No. It was a day to hurt and hate a little more.

  “It seems you were holding out on me,” Jeremy said, taking in my bare legs and low cut top. His six-two frame and large shoulders eclipsed my view of everyone else.

  “Take your hands off me,” I said between clenched teeth as I pulled my arm away. The heavy silver ring on his thumb scraped me, and its intertwined cobras seemed to hiss with delight.

  “You weren’t this . . . feisty last time we—”

  He never finished the sentence, because my hand went up, then cut through the air and slapped him, slashing across his cheek with violence.

  “You bitch!”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Kurt grabbed Jeremy and barely kept him in check.

  “Elle.” Abby pushed me back by the shoulders. I stared at my hand in shock. I had wanted to slap him so bad that all I’d needed was this tiny excuse.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Dana demanded, running to Jeremy’s side.

  “Cool it, kids,” said the caricaturist whose easel had escaped the commotion by a few inches. Passersby stared.

  “C’mon, he’s not worth it,” Abby said, sounding a little embarrassed.

  I saw reason in her words and backed away.

  “You were right, Jeremy.” Dana looked at me with contempt. “She’s trashy.”

  “Told ya,” he said, twisting out of Kurt’s hold and smoothing his shirt.

  Anger redoubled in my chest. Why had I ever gotten involved with this guy? Why had I been so naïve? I should have seen him for what he was before he got me into bed just to dump me the very next day. Some basic instinct should have cautioned me. But there had been nothing. I’d wanted so badly to feel loved, to trust someone again, but people couldn’t be trusted. They either left you or broke your heart. I was better off by myself.

  Everyone watched, judging me as if I’d lost my mind. Jeremy’s eyes twinkled with victory. I held his gaze, biting my tongue, holding back the words that crowded my throat. I wanted him to die. Right there. Right then.

  Instead, I said, “I should leave.”

  My legs started pumping even before I finished the sentence. Abby called out my name.

  “I’ll call you later,” I managed, as my steps got longer and took me down Royal Street, past the beautifully designed buildings with their wrought iron balconies and ever-present drunken occupants who wore colorful beads around their necks, even when it wasn’t Mardi Gras. As I looked up at them, their cheerful faces morphed into dark masks with huge, empty sockets for eyes. The city’s liveliness bled down my face in a hot stream of tears. I reached my car and drove in a fury, cursing at everything that stood in my way, especially the tourist-loaded streetcars that blocked my path.

  9

  The next morning, I woke up next to a plate smeared with leftover grape jelly and peanut butter, my lame attempt at a proper dinner. The alarm said it was time for my morning run. Outside
, I jogged in place, waiting for Maven to show up. I had a standing agreement to wait for him a little while if he wasn’t already there. Ten minutes later, I took off on my own and found myself out of steam and turning around after only one mile.

  As I neared my house, I noticed a man squatting by the stump of the beautiful oak Hurricane Katrina had destroyed, the tree that once saw me swing and smile up at the sun through its thick foliage. I had loved that tree, and like other beautiful things in my life, it was now gone.

  The man squatted, his back to me, his attention directed at something on the ground. I approached from across the street. When I realized it was Maven, relief washed over me.

  “Hey, Maven.”

  He looked up and shifted to one side, giving me a view of the black cat he was petting.

  “Shoo, shoo!” I stomped my foot on the walkway like a lunatic. The cat ran away.

  Maven straightened to his full five-eight and looked at me eye to eye. “Wow, what’d the poor kitty do to you?”

  “Nothing, he just . . . uh. . . poops all over the yard,” I lied.

  We exchanged awkward glances. After a moment, he looked at his watch. “You’re back early.”

  “I lost steam.” I walked toward the house, while a low warning prickled in my subconscious, but my attention was on Maven and in making up after our spat about his twin brother.

  In the kitchen, I poured a glass of water and gulped it down while Maven ate cereal straight out of the box.

  After chitchatting for a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “Look, about Samuel . . . I didn’t tell you about him because he doesn’t want us to talk about it. He’s the reason why we sold our house and moved here. He . . . hated when the neighbors or classmates came by to ask how he was doing. I think he just wants to disappear. Poof!” He expanded his hands outward to indicate a detonation. “He never finished his senior year. Mom keeps hounding him about getting an online diploma, but it’s like he’s given up on life.”

  “When did he . . . ?” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the question. “Never mind, you don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  “No, it’s okay. I wanted to tell you about it and now that you know. . .” He shrugged. “We were in a car accident a year ago. I . . . was the one driving.” At the words, he went pale, yet his blue eyes darkened. “He was the star. We’re identical, but everyone always loved him better . . . teachers, girls, even Mom. He played baseball. He was really good at it. Scouts were all over him. He wanted to play for LSU. He could’ve gotten a full ride.” Sadness shaped his face.

  I wished I’d never asked. I willed him to stop. I couldn’t handle this.

  “You don’t have to. . .” I started. His eyes seemed desperate as if he needed to confide in me. But I sucked at this sort of intimacy.

  “It should’ve been me,” he croaked.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Everyone thinks it.”

  “They can’t possibly . . .” I fidgeted and rubbed my temple.

  “But you know what the worst part is?” he continued.

  I really didn’t need to know.

  “Even though it was my fault . . . if I had the chance, I couldn’t take his place. I wouldn’t take his place.”

  His willingness to bare his soul made me feel as shallow as a cheap paper plate. It had to be hard for him to admit he wasn’t selfless enough to trade places with his brother. It even seemed the confession was a way to punish himself for it. But really, he didn’t have to feel that way. Who in their right mind would willingly trade places with a paraplegic? Brother or not.

  “Maven,” I forced the words out, “no one would be that noble.” The meaning of my own words suddenly struck me. I lowered my head, ashamed. What a monumentally selfish person I was to think this way.

  “I should be. I did that to him.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling despicable. Here he was, berating himself for not being a saint when I’d been thinking of no one but myself, even when I had nothing to lose but a stupid wish. Suddenly, I felt angry at Maven for showing me this ugly side of me.

  “Then you’re a fool,” I snapped.

  He looked up, startled by my comment.

  “I’m sorry,” I added, wincing. Why couldn’t I relate like a sensible and civilized human being?

  To my surprise, Maven appeared somehow mollified by my words. A faint smile crossed his lips. The moment quickly became unbearably awkward.

  “Anyhow,” he said. “I didn’t mean to unload on you at a time like this. You’ve got your own problems. It’s just . . . I’ve never told anyone, and I think I needed that.”

  “No worries. I wish I was better at this. I don’t . . .”

  “I know, which is why it means a lot to me.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, crap. I’ll be late for work. I gotta go. See you tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure.”

  With his hand on the door knob, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Marielle?”

  “Yes?”

  “Was that guy . . . your boyfriend?”

  “Who? Faris?!” I felt hot and cold all over. “No. He’s just, uh, a friend of the family. That’s all.”

  After the lame explanation, he left, looking doubtful. I stayed behind, emotionally drained. For a moment, I wished I’d told him that Faris was my boyfriend, but that would have been all kinds of wrong, even if it might have stopped Maven’s mounting interest in me. Since releasing Faris, life had grown too complicated to add another variable to the mix.

  Desperate to get to work, I headed for the bathroom. A knock at the door stopped me. I walked back and drew a deep breath.

  “What is it, Maven?” I’d already opened the door halfway when I realized the visitor wasn’t Maven.

  It was Jeremy.

  10

  As soon as I recognized Jeremy, I tried to close the door. Reacting quickly, he stuck his foot inside, pushed hard, and threw me off balance. He slipped in and shut the door behind him, a crooked grin plastered on his face

  A surge of panic drove my stomach into my chest. I tried not to let it show when I spoke. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my house.”

  “Where are your manners, Marielle?” He blocked the door and looked around the room. “Hmm, place looks the same.”

  “You’re not welcome here, so leave!” I shouted.

  He ignored me. “So what was Dear Maven doing here?”

  I ignored the question and eyed the door. Jeremy expanded his chest as if to block it better. My heart began pounding in my ears. I took two steps back and glanced over my shoulder, looking for my phone, then remembered it was upstairs. “You need to leave!”

  “What’s the matter, babe? I just wanna talk.” His tone went husky.

  I shuddered and almost gagged as bile clogged my throat. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  He took a few short, firm steps toward me. “Ah, but you know we do. I never told you how much I enjoyed our time together, and how much I’d like a repeat.”

  “Keep away from me, you sick bastard. I swear I’ll kill you.” My heart thumped and I felt strangely warm and tingly all over. I edged to one side, angling toward the door.

  Before I had time to think, he grabbed me and pushed me down onto the sofa. I screamed, but his sweaty hand muffled my cry, driving my lips against my teeth. His thumb ring pressed against my cheekbone, biting into the skin as if the cobras carved on its surface were sinking their fangs into me. I pushed on his chest, but I had no leverage. He was heavy, his bulky, six-two frame oppressive and imposing. My stifled screams were just faint, weak noises as I kicked and wriggled unsuccessfully.

  “That was a hot outfit you had on yesterday,” he said. “You have the best legs. Now you’ve left me craving you, and I’m used to getting what I want when I want.” He kissed my neck, softly at first, then with bruising force when I writhed in disgust. “Struggle some more. I think I like it.”

  Nausea rippled inside me.
I always thought I’d be able to get away from a situation like this, always thought I could outsmart anyone. Now I realized brains didn’t matter, only muscles. And in the latter, he outweighed me three to one.

  I pushed and fought, my strength dwindling. I looked at the crucifix on the wall. It had belonged to Grandma, the devout Catholic, the religious glue in the family. I wished I could remember how to pray, wished I believed someone was listening. No one did. I had only myself to count on. I had to fight!

  With my free arm against Jeremy’s chest, I pushed as hard as I could. To my surprise, he flew across the room and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Wide-eyed, I jumped off the sofa and looked at my hands. Jeremy scrambled to his feet, as bewildered as me.

  “What the . . . ?” Anger flared in his cobalt eyes and his face reddened. In one quick motion, he squared his shoulders and charged. I bared my teeth, crouched and jabbed a fist forward. My knuckles connected with his jaw. He staggered backward and crashed against the door. As if in slow motion, he slid to the floor and collapsed to one side in a heavy heap.

  I stared at my fist, open-mouthed, as did Jeremy after several slow blinks. He stood, back pressed to the door, fury burning in his eyes and kept in check only by shock. With a good idea of what was going on, I taunted him with a fake lunge. He recoiled, pressing closer to the door.

  “Get out of here, you coward. Before I knock you blind.”

  With a look of disbelief and confusion, he inched his hand toward the doorknob. He hesitated, probably questioning his sanity and weighing his options. I held his gaze, then actually growled at him. The coward scuttled out the door, slipping twice, as he ran to his truck. I laughed, loud enough for him to hear the mockery.

  As he drove away, I closed the door and locked it. I whirled as the presence I’d started to sense finally became visible. Faris stood there, arms crossed over a taut chest, a controlled expression on his face.

  “Who was that?” he asked, his eyes a dark whirlpool.