by Hero Bowen
“Ah, this is what I wanted to show you.” Grace ushered Miles into the room, corralling around the base of Nadia’s bed to the other side. “This is a painting of my grandmother. It doesn’t do her any justice, and the eyes sort of follow you around the room, but Nadia likes it. Don’t you, honey?”
The portrait was indeed one of Nadia’s favorites. It depicted her great-grandmother in a rocking chair—the same one Basha now used—with a window behind her revealing the Polish countryside. And while it was true that her great-grandmother looked a bit stern, with dark, disapproving eyes and a dowdy black frock that made her look like something out of a horror novel, Nadia saw a lot of herself in that painted woman.
She folded her arms across her chest, as if to protect the wish. “I don’t think Miles is going to want one for his house.”
“I think this must be where my daughter gets her scowl from.” Grace gestured to the grim shape of her grandmother’s turned-down mouth. “Been doing it since she was a teen, so she’s had plenty of practice over the years.”
Nadia looked away from Miles, only to spot the candle on the floor. Her gaze flitted cautiously back to him, and she found him staring at the blackened wick of “Starlit Skies” as well. His eyes shifted toward her, and she met his steely glare, refusing to give any clue to his unspoken question.
While Grace prattled on, his eyes roamed the rest of the bedroom, then lighted on Nadia’s bedside table. He reached over to pick up the book on top—Assassin’s Apprentice, with its well-worn novelty bookmark of a peeking gnome sticking out from the middle.
“Don’t touch that!” Nadia snapped, taking a step toward him.
Miles dropped it back onto the bedside table as though it might bite him, and Grace stared at her in shock.
“Sorry,” Nadia muttered, shrinking into the churning sea of emotions in her chest. “Just . . . it’s personal.”
The book had been Nick’s. He’d been meaning to read it since he was a kid but had only just gotten around to it a few weeks before he died. Now, it would forever be left unfinished, his bookmark commemorating the last page his eyes had graced. Nadia had scanned those two pages often, trying to guess which sentence might’ve been the final one he’d read before he’d switched off the light.
Grace recovered quickly. “I think that’s the end of this portion of the tour.” She weaved her arm through Miles’s again and all but yanked him out of the bedroom. She crossed the hall to the room opposite, then knocked on the door.
“Mom,” Grace said. “Are you sleeping? Miles should probably get an idea of the room sizes in a house like this.”
Basha opened the door and peered out, leaning on her cane. “Ah, you still here.”
“Afraid so.” Miles flashed her a smile.
“Remind me, what sort of famous are you? Is movie star? Is politician?” Basha said. “It make big difference. The neighborhood is not so much a fan of politicians or movie stars. Nor are we. They make such mess when they film.”
Miles chuckled, his demeanor relaxing. “I’m a musician.”
“I do not listen to this modern music. Is noise.”
He gave a small shrug. “I agree, honestly. A lot of ‘bands’ nowadays just use samples and autotune. Their songs might sell, but there’s no heart there. No soul. And without soul, it’s not real music.”
Basha leaned forward with a serious look. “I have decided that I like you. You have good head on your shoulders.” She nodded approvingly, but her expression morphed into one of curiosity as she turned to Nadia. “What is wrong with you, dziecko? You are this same way when this man arrived—look of a long-tailed cat in room of rocking chairs.”
Nadia tried to flick the switch on her composed, marriage counselor mode. “I’ve just had a long day, is all. My tail is firmly tucked away, Babcia.”
Grace shifted, and her eyes narrowed at Nadia, but she didn’t say anything. No doubt the outburst in Nadia’s bedroom was fresh on her mind.
Basha took Nadia’s hand, patting it gently. “Is only to be expected. You must be shaken up. But I am glad you are all right. I worried so much I faint.”
Obviously, they had zero idea that Miles had been the buyer at that particular sideways deal—and that Nadia would probably be dead, or on her way to the ER, if he hadn’t stepped in to rescue her from a bullet to the heart. Instead, she had a ticking time bomb inside.
“We must talk more about your night. Nothing was damaged?” Basha asked pointedly, and it was all Nadia could do to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want to deal with telling Basha that they needed to get a new wish trap from the Wishmaster just yet.
“I’ll catch you up once Miles is gone, Babcia,” Nadia said.
“That my cue?” Miles laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Honestly, I should be hitting the road anyway. I’ve got to talk to someone about something that got stolen from me, and the longer I wait, the harder it’ll be to get it back.”
Nadia’s insides twisted.
Grace gasped at his comment. “Really? That’s terrible. Was it valuable?”
Miles sighed overdramatically. “Irreplaceable.”
Well, he had that part right. People only got three wishes in their entire lifetime, and absorbing them into your body counted as a used wish, even if it got snatched. His third and final wish was now in her chest, and he would never get another unless he took the same wish back. No matter what, one of them would lose a wishing slot in their lifetime total.
And she wouldn’t let it be her.
“I hope you get it back before it’s too late, Miles.” Grace put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, pushing her boobs against his bicep.
Miles cast Nadia a significant glance. “Me too. I hate to be a snitch, but ain’t nobody taking my stuff. I’ll take this as high up as I have to.”
Nadia tugged on the collar of her hoodie, feeling like it’d turned into a personal sauna of sweltering anxiety. He’d drawn between the lines with a big old warning: as soon as he left this house, he was going to Black Hat to tell him that she’d stolen his wish. Not Rebecca, not Clover Eyes, but Nadia Kaminski. And when you were “full named,” like her grandmother always said, you were in serious trouble.
“Let me see you out,” Grace insisted, dragging him away.
Basha waved. “Show that thief what you are made of!”
Nadia cringed and walked after Miles and her mother, trying to figure out what to do. As long as she was in the house, she was safe from Miles, invitation or no. But that safety came at a price. Within the house, she couldn’t make her wish until Grace and Basha were asleep; that way, she could huff and puff through as many rejections as her body could take without them hearing and trying to talk her out of her plan to get rid of the debt.
She pressed her hand to her chest, reveling in that giddy spark, despite everything. It was pure, liquid hope.
Heading down the stairwell after the duo, she mentally cataloged more ways she could phrase her wish. She had to spend the damn thing as soon as possible—the longer she waited, the more risk there was of the Wishmaster discovering it.
Her eyes bored into the back of Miles’s head as they reached the front door. No matter what, she couldn’t let Miles contact Black Hat tonight. She needed to delay him—she just didn’t know how yet.
“Can I walk you to your car?” Grace purred.
Miles took her hand and kissed it—the smooth devil. “There’s no need. I walked here from my friend’s a few blocks down. I’ll have him give me a ride back to my house.”
“I didn’t think you actually lived in Savannah.” Grace grinned, likely wondering if she could just “bump” into him. “I thought all you celebrities lived in LA.”
Miles laughed. “I’ve got a summer home here, for when the LA life gets a bit too much. I’d blame it on the traffic, but that’d be a little hypocritical. Hometown boy is in my blood, I guess. Savannah will always call no matter where my feet tread.”
Yeah, and you don�
��t do your own driving, so what would you have to bitch about LA traffic for? In the midst of her internal jab, a thought came to her. Thanks to the wishing bark infusion in the wine, Miles’s finding powers would be dulled, which gave her a slight advantage.
“I’ll drive you!” she said, a little too enthusiastically. She lowered and smoothed out her voice. “I mean, it’s the least I can do.”
If her mother was jealous she didn’t think of it first, she at least had the self-restraint not to bring it up this time.
“You sure?” Miles eyed Nadia suspiciously. She could almost see the cogs clanging in his head, as if he was coming up with a plan too.
“Of course. I’d hate for something to happen, you know.” She smiled sweetly and headed out the door. “Wouldn’t want you to get robbed again.”
Chapter Ten
The instant the Chevy’s passenger side door clunked shut, Miles went for the figurative jugular.
“I bet you thought you played me real good, huh?” he snapped at Nadia. “Did you spend the wish already? How did you steal it? You think I don’t know shit, but I figure it had a hell of a lot to do with my damn jar! You stole my wish at the restaurant, right? Did someone put you up to it? Are you working for that thug guy, or did you and Black Hat come up with this?”
Nadia drove off at a sedate pace, only to put her foot down as soon as she was away from the house and her mother’s line of sight. He could rant at her until he blew a lung, so long as it kept him busy. Meanwhile, she needed to get to a store ASAP.
“Don’t you go giving me the silent treatment, man!” Miles raged on. “I don’t do silence. So, you’d better start answering my questions. I can find whatever I’m looking for, remember, and that doesn’t stop at the physical. I can find the answers. That’s why I didn’t call you out in front of your folks. Figured you’d gang up with your mom and grandma. And if your family kicked me out, I’d be watching through the window as you blew a candle out at me.” He trailed his fingertips across the dash, creating a line in the fine layer of dust. “But maybe I’ll go have another glass of wine with your mom, or sit down and talk traditional Polish music with your grandma, and take my chances on what happens when they find out.”
Nadia swerved in alarm, her nerves still a tangled mess. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the one sentence guaranteed to grab her attention. After all, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do with Miles. She’d offered this ride, but really, could she let him out, knowing what he knew? He wasn’t just going to let it slide, nor would he let her waltz into a store to grab the items she needed to make her wish.
“You planning to crash into something and hope I go through the windshield?” Miles hissed. “Stole my damn wish, my jar, and left me with the check. And after I saved your life!” He slammed back against his seat as Nadia took a corner a little too tightly.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly. “I just . . . want you to go away.”
“Just go away, huh? Yeah, I bet you wish that—you and a lot of other people!” He gave a wry, bitter grin. “Get ready for some disappointment, Nadia.”
“If I said this wish was for something big, would you leave me alone?” She peered at the road and took a right, heading for the nearest grocery store. That gave her three minutes to bargain with him.
He snorted. “You obviously didn’t care if my wish was for something big, so why should I care if yours is? You don’t know what I wanted to use it for.” He stared out the window. “And I ain’t going through that rigmarole again. I have plenty of money, but my time is way more valuable, and I can’t spare the hours to find a better wish seller, drop a load of cash, and hope I don’t get shot at.”
As Nadia reached the end of the road and made to turn left, dual reds and blues flashed in her face, and a cop waved at her. Police barriers blocked her path, and the crunched, smoking warriors of a two-car battle lay wounded beyond.
She could hardly believe it. It was like the universe itself was conspiring against her. Backing up, she returned the way she’d come.
“If you don’t know the basics of wishing, you shouldn’t be doing it,” Nadia said, taking her frustrations out on him.
He side-eyed her. “Why? What don’t I know?”
She should just tell him to buy another wish and have him find out the hard way that he’d been conned twice, but something stopped the lie from coming out. Maybe it was his tone when he’d mentioned wanting to make a big wish, maybe the guilt was finally getting to her, or maybe it was the fact that the universe seemed to be telling her this was a bad idea. Nadia stole wishes discreetly—without the target knowing—for a reason. This improvised thievery didn’t suit her, and it didn’t make her feel too good. She wasn’t a brute-force thug like Dominic.
“You don’t get another try,” Nadia said. She sighed, knuckles whitening against the steering wheel.
He looked ready to strangle her. “What do you mean? Am I on a list of banned buyers now or something?”
Part of her regretted that she wasn’t corrupt enough to send him on his way to another wishmonger, where he’d discover the truth for himself.
“Keep talking. You’re the expert here, so educate me,” he snapped.
“You’ve had your third wish. You don’t get another,” she said through gritted teeth. “I took it. If a wish gets stolen, then—poof—you just kissed it goodbye. Unless you can get the same one back before it gets spent by the person who snatched it.” Of course, he still didn’t understand how to actually steal a wish, and she wasn’t going to fill him in.
“But I only had the damn thing for less than an hour!” Miles spluttered.
“Think of it this way,” Nadia replied calmly, although her annoyance was about to boil over. “You have three blank slots for wishes. As soon as a wish fills that slot, the slot molds to fit that wish. After that point, only that key will fit into that keyhole.”
“Pull over. Now!” he shouted, venom in his voice.
She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“So, what’s the plan, then? Kill me so I don’t tell anybody? You just driving around, deciding which river to dump my body in? The Wilmington’s closer than the Savannah from here,” he said sarcastically. “Is that why you offered to drive? Or—” His eyes widened. “Do you think I’m going to take pity on you and just let you have it? You stole my last wish! No way I’m getting out of this car now.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe she’d thought her honesty might soften him up, but perhaps Dr. Fitzpatrick had been right: honesty was never the best policy.
Nadia gave him an irritated look. “I told you, I don’t want to hurt you. But you can’t tell anyone about this, or I’ll be the one getting dropped in a river.”
“That’s your problem, the way I see it,” Miles shot back. “I think I’ll call my publicist and tell him I’ve been kidnapped—the news would love to hear that Miles Hunter, local favorite and international headliner, is being held hostage by some rabid fangirl. Maybe that’d work in your favor. Who’d be able to get at you when you’re locked up in a cell? But you’re gonna give me back my wish first, so help me God.”
She veered around a parked van, sending Miles crashing into the passenger door. “There are a lot of people out there who’d do anything to get a wish. I’m in the business of supplying them. You’re not the only one who has someone on speed dial.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m trying to give you an opportunity to play nice here. Your wish is gone. You’ve had two. Don’t be greedy about it, and just agree to let this go.”
Miles went silent for a moment, and Nadia contemplated her next strategy for when he inevitably tried to argue with her. It might make things simpler if she owned up to her reasons for wanting to keep the wish, but she wasn’t going to bawl her eyes out to Miles about her endless debt and dead husband. It was just too personal. Besides, what if it didn’t work? Better to have Miles believe she was ruthless and playing hardbal
l.
“Look, everyone has a price. What’s yours?” he said at last, surprising her with his softer approach. “You give me that wish back, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He could’ve offered her a Gulfstream jet and a diamond the size of a bird’s egg, and she wouldn’t have taken it. She was just buying time until she could figure out how to incapacitate him for long enough—willingly or unwillingly—so she could make her wish.
“Give it up,” she said. “The only way you’ll get it back is to steal it from me, and that’s not gonna happen. But go ahead. Try, if you want. Show me you’ve got the skill to steal this wish out from under someone who’s spent her entire life in this world, stealing wish after wish and getting nothing of her own.”
Miles’s gaze flitted down to the driver’s side footwell. Who needed seat warmers when she had the wooden wishing jar burning a guilty hole beneath her seat? Both of them knew it, not that it was a real concern. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if she thought he could actually do it. Since he was clueless about how to steal wishes, him having his jar was tantamount to giving him a nice ornament to stare at. But it might distract him for a while.
“Go ahead,” she taunted. “Reach under the seat and get it, since I can tell that you can’t stop thinking about it.”
Leaning right over, with his face pretty much taking a crotch dive, he fumbled around beneath the threadbare, gray velour seat. Nadia sat stiffly, not knowing what to do with herself. Should she move her legs to the side so he wasn’t using her thigh as a chin rest? Should she just pretend everything was cool and that there wasn’t a man huffing and puffing so close to her nethers? It wasn’t even a cheap thrill; it was just the most awkward thing to happen in a driver’s seat, behind singing at the top of your lungs at a stoplight, not realizing the windows were down. Her mother, on the other hand, would’ve . . . That wasn’t something she wanted to think about.
“Got it.” He reeled back into his seat, turning the object over in his hands. “Now, how do I really use it? I know the blood thing you told me was an out-and-out lie.”
