by Hero Bowen
Nadia decided to relieve Black Hat from the impromptu Johnny Mercer lecture and stepped out onto the open plot, ready to schmooze.
“Evenin’, Clover Eyes.” Black Hat tipped his hat to her as she approached. Using real names was thought to bring bad luck in the wishing world, but she still berated herself for choosing such a cliché code name way back when.
She mimicked a return tip of a nonexistent hat. “And to you.”
“Aren’t you hot in that?” He eyed her up and down. It seemed like a silly question, given that his companion, Sunglasses, was wearing a wool hoodie, but the innuendo didn’t escape her notice.
“Nope. I’m just right.” Nadia patted her satchel. “Number fifty.”
“Halfway there!” he replied, a little too cheerfully. “Well, plus ten more.”
She forced a tight smile. “You heard, then?”
Black Hat nodded, then shuffled closer and nudged her arm. “Can’t say it bothers me too much, to be honest. Means we get to spend a few more evenings like this.”
“My favorite dates in the calendar.” She hoped she didn’t sound too sarcastic. “Anyway, seeing how wish hunting is starting to slow down, we’ll probably be having these meetings until I’m dead.”
He grinned, seeming to take her words at face value. “I won’t let ’em forget you, Clover Eyes. I’ll probably be prowlin’ around here, tellin’ folks to watch out for your ghost.”
“If I’m going to haunt someone, you think it should be you?” Nadia said with a smirk.
“Why not? I’d be good company.”
“I wouldn’t want you selling tickets. You’d rip people off.” She tested the waters of how much she could tease him, since that was their usual schtick. He’d be wary if she acted too differently.
Black Hat’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “Me? I’m a Boy Scout, man!” He chuckled. “But fine, I admit it—I’d totally charge for them tourists to come watch me and the ghost of Clover Eyes. I’d tell ’em you was my jilted lover who died of a broken heart. Everyone goes wild for a ghost-slash-love story.”
“I’m more a revenge story kind of gal, really.” Nadia gave him a pleading look that said, Let’s get on with this.
“Hey, I didn’t tell you the good news, did I? I’m movin’ up. The Wishmaster’s got an important mission for me,” Black Hat bragged, leaning closer to her. “Can’t say much more, of course.”
“Wow, it’s a shame you can’t tell me what it is,” Nadia deadpanned. It was getting harder to keep up the schmoozing attempt.
His sarcasm radar seemed to be on the blink. “I mean, I’m not supposed to, but . . . you’re cool. I’ll be chasin’ down a target that recently got themselves a big wish. I’m talking top-shelf here.”
Contrary to what Nadia had expected, that little bit of information actually piqued her interest. A wish that potent could earn Kaleena a pretty penny, but she was known for hoarding top-shelf wishes rather than auctioning them off as Adrian had. Perhaps the Wishmaster had a particular endgame in mind.
“Everyone’s jealous,” Black Hat continued. “It’ll probably be super under the radar, dangerous business, but I’m up for it.”
“Who’s the target? Anyone worth mentioning?” Nadia pretended to pick fluff off her hoodie, praying that if she acted nonchalant, he might be nonchalant with his answer.
Black Hat faltered, seeming to choke on his words to stop them from coming out. “Uh, you know, it’s all top-secret intel, so I can’t really talk about it.”
“Too late,” Nadia shot back. “You already told me about it.”
Sunglasses burst out laughing, flashing pearly whites. “She got you good, man!”
“She did not,” Black Hat insisted, but his shifty eyes and beet-red cheeks suggested otherwise.
Where had she heard the stranger’s voice before? There was something about the way Sunglasses had said “she got you good” that sounded maddeningly familiar.
“Well, good luck, then.” Nadia opened the flap of her satchel. “I was just trying to be a Good Samaritan and offer some help, but I should’ve remembered that ‘the Black Hat’ stalks alone. Now, let’s get this over with, preferably before the tourists come around and think they’ve seen the ghost of a Victorian sideshow act.”
Black Hat gave her a wounded look. “You don’t like the hat?”
“Sure I do. Mary Poppins was my favorite movie as a kid.”
She was about to grab the box when footsteps crunched on the dirt path behind her. Her blood ran cold, and she spun around. Three shadows slithered out of the dogwoods.
The figures were dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts, with black Falcons ballcaps obscuring their faces, so it was only when they got within spitting distance that she recognized them. Dominic, Tony, and Lemmy: three of Adrian’s pet thugs who hadn’t quite gotten the message that their old Wishmaster didn’t run things anymore.
“You owe us a better wish than what you gave Mike yesterday, so cough it up.” Dominic, the leader of this hulking trio, pointed a sausage finger at Black Hat.
Nadia’s heart pounded as she edged away from them. She didn’t want to be guilty by proximity and definitely didn’t want to get caught in a cross fire. Sunglasses ducked behind the stone cross that headed the Corbin family plot, clearly looking to create a barrier between him and any bullets that might fly by if the situation went south.
Black Hat shrugged, as if he wasn’t worried at all. “Ah, so that guy was one of yours, huh? Well, I wouldn’t have sold it to your friend if I’d known you were the one tryin’ to use it. The Wishmaster has you on the no-sell list.”
Dominic stepped closer, his expression stoic.
Black Hat put his hands up—not in surrender, but more as a warning. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid now. Besides, the one I sold your friend came from a guy who pulled three babies from a car crash. No way it wasn’t potent enough, unless . . . What’d you wish for?”
“None of your damn business,” Dominic snapped.
“Then I guess it was out of bounds for the Wishing Tree. But the wish was solid. Pure gold.”
Black Hat’s voice was steadier than it had the right to be. He seemed confident—maybe too confident—that the Wishmaster’s power and reputation would save him from the trio, but Nadia wasn’t so sure. This was exactly why she had refused to serve her debt by being an intermediary. When wishing customers made complaints, they tended to prefer bullets and blades to phone calls and emails.
Dominic’s piercing eyes settled on Nadia. “Who made the wish you’re selling?”
She hesitated a moment, weighing her options. If Dominic took the wish, Kaleena would blame him, not her. If she tried to deny Dominic, she had no idea what he might do.
“Heart surgeon,” she replied, “though when you weigh it up against a triple baby saver, I doubt it tips the scales.” She mimed holding two bowls in each hand, like Bonaventure’s own Bird Girl statue.
Dominic extended his palm. “Hand it over.”
Sunglasses suddenly seemed to find his voice again and stepped out from behind the stone cross. “Uh, I don’t think so, man. I paid a lot of money for that wish, and I’m not letting anybody swipe it out from under me.”
Nadia stared at him, wondering if he was a sandwich short of a picnic for being so brazen with Dominic. Did he want his trip to the cemetery to be a permanent one? Maybe he couldn’t see them properly because of those stupid shades.
“There are rules to the game, Dominic,” Black Hat barked. “And I know you know ’em, so back off.”
Dominic sneered. “Try me.”
“When the Wishmaster finds out you—”
Black Hat didn’t get to finish what was sure to be a rousing speech. Dominic lunged at him and landed a nasty left hook to his jaw. The crunch of teeth made Nadia flinch. Black Hat staggered backward and dropped to the ground, dazed—but not so out of it that he couldn’t find the gun in his belt. It was in his hand even as he struggled onto one knee, the silenced muzzle
coming up to meet Dominic between the eyes.
Black Hat fired.
The muffled pop of the small gun startled her, but Nadia wasn’t surprised to see the spark of the bullet as it ricocheted off Dominic and pinged away, embedding itself in the Corbin family’s cross.
Bulletproof. Not an uncommon wish, especially in the black market.
Nadia fumbled out her knife, ready to put her Krav Maga classes to good use if she had to. Her thumb searched for the little metal button that flicked out the blade.
“Get down!” Sunglasses roared in Nadia’s ear, slamming into her, pushing them both to the ground. He landed on top of her with a thud that knocked the breath out of her and sent the wishing box flying out of her satchel.
A second bullet ricocheted off Dominic and snapped over their heads—right where Nadia would’ve been.
Chapter Six
Heart tap-dancing against her rib cage, Nadia stayed flat on the grass, panting through the weight of the man-shaped lump on top of her. Time had taken on a mind of its own, slowing as if everyone were wading through molasses, while her thoughts felt like they were running on fast-forward.
She assessed the situation. Dominic’s lackeys—Lemmy and Tony—had Black Hat’s head smashed into the dirt. It seemed a little counterproductive if they were trying to get him to talk, but maybe that wasn’t the point anymore.
Her heart dropped when she saw the wishing box several feet away. It had taken a fatal hit. A jagged crack splintered down the middle of the rust-toned heartwood, where it had collided with the edge of a nearby headstone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed the damage.
“Get up!” Dominic shouted, seizing her by the arm and dragging her out from underneath Sunglasses.
Nadia shook off his grasp and dusted the dirt from the front of her jeans. She winced at the headache that was just beginning. She must’ve been pushed down harder than she’d thought.
Beside her, Sunglasses got back on his feet, then patted frantically at his hoodie pouch. She caught a glimpse of something round and wooden in his hand before he turned and hid it from view.
Nadia didn’t have time to worry about his problems, though. She stumbled over to the splintered remains of her wishing box and gingerly reached into its depths. No telltale thrum vibrated back. No warmth radiated up to tempt her fingertips.
“You cost me the Wishmaster’s payment,” she snarled at Dominic.
He snorted. “Like I’m going to just take your word for it that it’s gone.”
“Go ahead, then.” She held out the broken box.
Dominic snatched it from her. He swirled his hand inside the wood, then pressed his palm to his heart. A grunt of annoyance followed. Obviously, he hadn’t felt the mystical spark that ignited in people when they absorbed a wish. Just as she’d said, the wish was gone. It had slipped through the literal cracks and disappeared into the ether. No one could ever use it now.
Dominic shoved the box back into her hands with a scowl and muttered a long string of profanity. He stood over Black Hat’s moaning form.
“The Wishmaster will hear about this,” Black Hat rasped through bloody lips.
“Good,” Dominic replied. He nodded to his companions.
Lemmy gave Black Hat one last kick in the face for good measure, and the downed man whimpered. Tony delivered the final insult by stomping on the intermediary’s titular accessory, leaving both man and hat crushed on the ground.
Once the trio of thugs had stalked off through the shrubs, it took Nadia a minute to fully grasp the intensity of what had just happened. The flying bullets. Her broken wish trap. Adrian’s men sniffing around for a potent wish. And her too-close-for-comfort brush with death. Her arms felt heavy as she stared down at the splintered remains of the heartwood in her hands. Grace and Basha would murder her in a thousand creative and abstract ways when they found out she’d lost the wish she was supposed to sell. She could only hope that the Wishmaster would blame Dominic for the incident and that this wouldn’t somehow earn her another feather.
When she looked up again, Sunglasses had rushed over to help Black Hat to his feet.
“You okay?” Sunglasses asked the other man.
Black Hat pinched his nose and slurred through cracked teeth. “I look okay to you?”
“Yeah, guess not.” The buyer folded his arms across his chest. “You said this’d be a simple, smooth transaction. I’m not game for all this mafia-style shit.”
Nadia clutched the cracked wishing box under her arm and ducked down to retrieve her satchel. Walking over to the two men, she buried a hand in her bag and fished around for a packet of tissues. It was the least she could do, since Black Hat had gotten his ass beaten because of her lost wish.
She handed Black Hat the tissues. “Here. These will help. You probably want to get yourself to the ER.”
Black Hat’s face was already bruising purple. “My nose is broke,” he said. “Is it true girls like a guy with a broken nose? Means I’m tough, right?”
Nadia couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Losing a wish was irritating, sure, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Breaking the wishing box, however . . . She would find herself bleeding when she told her grandmother what had happened, only her blood would be coming out of her ears. Given the rarity of wish traps, the only way to get another would be to borrow one from Kaleena, and that loan would cost them another batch of wishes.
“I want a full refund from the Wishmaster for this, you hear? Plus the wish I came here for,” Sunglasses said, even as he handed Black Hat the crushed remains of the stovepipe hat. “If I wanted to get shot at, I’d play ‘Welcome to Atlanta’ at the Superdome.”
Black Hat nodded effusively. “Of course. Absolutely. The Wishmaster will make it right. I promise.”
“Glad to hear it.” Sunglasses pulled his hood farther down his forehead.
“Of course, I don’t make the schedule, so I can’t guarantee when you’ll get your wish. And I don’t suppose, after all this, you’d still want to sell your wishin’ jar we talked about, would you?” Black Hat asked hesitantly.
Sunglasses sniffed. “First, I want my money back—and my wish. Then we’ll talk about the wishing jar.”
So that was what she’d seen him take out of his pouch. Looking closer at his hoodie, she could make out the slight rounding of the jar’s outline.
Black Hat held his flattened hat to his chest, like he was standing graveside at a funeral, and gave a defeated sigh. “I really do apologize for all this, sir.”
Nadia’s eyebrows shot up. Sir? Black Hat was laying it on thick. He was probably trying to keep the wheels greased for their coming negotiations.
“It was my fault for bringin’ you,” Black Hat continued. “I should’ve arranged a pickup instead, but I couldn’t help myself. I mean, it’s you. How could I resist?” He turned to Nadia. “Sorry to you too, Clover Eyes, but you know how these things can go sometimes. I’ll catch you later, no doubt.”
“ER. Go. Now,” Nadia urged, her curiosity about the buyer’s identity returning. For Black Hat to turn on what passed for charm, Sunglasses had to be a big deal.
Black Hat nodded, pushed himself up with a groan, and limped off to the bluff opposite the entrance.
Left alone with Sunglasses, Nadia turned to him with a bashful smile. “Hey, uh . . . thanks for saving my life back there.”
His eyes widened, and Nadia inhaled sharply, realization hitting them both at the same time.
“I saved your life,” Sunglasses parroted, a grin spreading across his face. “I saved your life! This is better than winning a Grammy!” He flung himself into a victory dance, his arms flailing and his hips gyrating as he jigged around the Corbin family plot. Any onlookers might’ve thought some kind of ritual was going down, while Nadia just stared in disbelief.
“I can feel the tickle!” He whooped, pausing in his dance to punch the air. “Ooh, that feels good! That’s like standing next to a subwoofer and g
etting some nice, heavy bass in your lungs.”
Instead of that syrupy, cotton candy, fizzy jacuzzi, bass-thumping goodness that everyone else got, irritation bristled through Nadia’s chest. This clown—whoever he was and whatever his story—had knocked her flat and sent her wishing box flying, and yet he’d been rewarded with a wish, while she had her shrieking grandmother to look forward to. She immediately wanted to rescind her thanks.
“This is serendipity right here!” he said. “I mean, I almost died for it, but it was worth it in the end.”
Her gloating savior took off his sunglasses and rubbed happy tears from a set of umber-toned eyes. Recognition hit Nadia, flaring up visions of abstract finger paintings and tight leather pants.
Miles Hunter, local guitarist and singer turned internationally famous rock star.
No wonder this drop-off had been set up in a public area, rather than one of the Wishmaster’s private safehouses, where Dominic and his goons wouldn’t have stood a chance of getting so close. Miles was a major celebrity, and Kaleena had probably decided not to risk revealing said safehouses to the tabloids, in case the general public caught wind of the wish-making world’s existence. Secrets held power, after all.
“This is perfect. It couldn’t have worked out better if I’d planned it.” Miles cast those brown eyes in her direction, evidently expecting further appreciation for his heroic moment. Being a megastar and all, he was probably used to a standing ovation, fanatical screams, and thunderous applause. He wasn’t about to get any of that from her.
She started to walk away, tossing a comment back over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t have a wish if you’d planned it.”
“Huh?” He caught up to her in a few long strides, slipping his shades back onto the bridge of his nose and peering at her over the rims.
“Wishing rules,” she replied, sounding a little too much like her grandmother.
He shrugged. “I don’t get what you mean. I’m not ‘into’ this thing.” He made air quotes as he said into. “It’s like prog-rock to me; I just dip my toe in every now and again, then remember why I stayed away.”
