Magic Gone Wild (20 page)

“They’ll behave if you bring them downstairs, Zane. They did for many years until your father put them up here.”

“My father knew about them?”

Vana shrugged. “I can’t say for certain since I was in my bottle during his lifetime, but I do remember the day he hauled all of the pieces up here. It was right after your grandfather’s funeral. That afternoon, actually. He told your mother to stall the guests until he’d gotten Fatima up. Eirik was easy enough, but he had to have a few of his friends help him with Henry. He waited until later that evening after everyone else had left. They’d been drinking. I guess he wanted an excuse if Henry did something out of the ordinary. But Henry didn’t. He behaved exactly like a real armoire.”

Zane almost asked how a real armoire behaved but kept it to himself. He’d probably break out in hysterical laughter before he got the whole question out. “So how can I see the dishes now if they’re supposed to be invisible?”

Vana nibbled her lip and looked away. “I don’t know. I must have done something to undo their Invisibility.”

Of course she had, and of course she didn’t know how she’d done it. Thank God his father had put Henry—the
armoire
—up here. But too bad he hadn’t just gotten rid of everything. “I have to do something with them, Vana. No one is going to want to buy a house with haunted furnishings.” Well, some might, but he didn’t need that kind of publicity either.

“Why not put them back to work? They’ve been bored up here.”

The fringed end of the rug raised her head and nodded.

Zane rubbed his eyes, trying to quash the headache that was starting. “I don’t know—”

“Please, Zane. I promise you they’ll behave. Right, everyone?”

The dishes clattered in the box, the rug waved her fringe, the armoire thumped its doors, the compact opened and closed like a clamshell, and the coat rack waved its arms.

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But Vana’s hopeful expression tugged at his heartstrings.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, hefting the rug once more onto his shoulder.

Vana popped up and clapped her hands. “Oh Zane, you won’t. I promise you won’t.”

Merlin, meanwhile, cackled. “I certainly hope you know what you’re doing, big guy.”

So did Zane.

20

Vana was so happy for Henry, Lucia, Fatima, and the children. Eirik, too, though, as a genie in The Service, he should have known better than to imbibe alcohol. It did bad things to the djinn, which was why it was forbidden. But she wasn’t exactly the poster child for proper djinn behavior, so she cut him some slack.

Henry and Eirik had walked down on their accord once she and Zane had cleared a path for them, and the children clacked against each other in their box, the closest thing to excited chatter they could manage in their current state. The poor things had been locked away after that last infamous episode to await the day she felt competent to free them.

They were all still waiting for that day. Maybe if she played on Zane’s sympathies he’d give in and kiss her again.

Vana shook her head and decided to consult the
Djinnoire
instead. It was the safer option.

“Hello? Zane?” someone called from the foyer. “Are you here?”

Another female voice. Singsong-y this time. Vana knew
exactly
what that meant.

With a quick “hush” to the dishes to stop their clanking, Vana set the box on the second-floor landing, then peered at the front door where Eirik snapped to attention like a sergeant-at-arms. He always did have delusions of grandeur.

So, too, apparently, did the woman at the front door. Cute red high heels tapped the porch planks on the other side of the screen door. Shiny red high heels. Shiny, fire-engine red high heels. With peekaboo toes. And shapely legs and a clingy black skirt just long enough not to be called a belt above them. Tiny waist and boobs that Vana would bet her last dirham had cost more than some of the treasure in The Cave of Great Unknown.

The face wasn’t anything to write home about, but with that body, that didn’t really matter.

“Oh, Za-a-ane! I know you’re in there!” The woman’s knuckles rapped on the wooden screen door.

Vana wouldn’t mind
her
knuckles rapping on the woman’s—

“Hello?” Zane strode into the foyer with a quick glance up the staircase, his expression saying all he didn’t have to.

Vana pulled back out of sight.

“Lynda?”

He knew her? Oh no, no, no. This was not good.

Vana peeked back around the stairwell, the view of Zane’s back nothing to complain about.
Lynda
, however, was.

“Oh you remember me!” One of the cute, red high heels cocked sideways. “I heard in town that you were back.”

Vana couldn’t see the top half of the woman on account of Zane’s broad shoulders, but she’d just bet the woman’s hip was cocked, too, and a fingernail was making it to the corner of her glossy, fire-engine red, lipsticked mouth to be nibbled
oh so delicately
between just a hint of teeth.

Yes, Vana was jealous. And with good reason—that Zane could never know about.

Sigh.

“Yes, I’m back,” said Zane, opening the door. “Word travels fast.”

“Always has in this town.” The shoe moved a little closer, bringing the body with it. “Mind if I come in?”

Vana minded. A lot. She took another step forward, forgetting that this part of the landing creaked until it did.

She hopped back, chastising herself. She’d always been so careful when Peter had been alive.

Zane glanced over his shoulder, a knowing arch to his right eyebrow. “I’ll come out there. The place is a bit of a mess.” He pulled the mahogany door closed behind him.

Vana gnawed her lip. She wanted to know what was going on.

The dishes started clattering again, and now she couldn’t even hear.

Well, she’d always been good at Invisibility.

Merlin showed up right after she’d shushed the kids and kissed the air to disappear. “You so did not just do that.”

“Mind your own business, Merlin,” she whispered harshly as she walked toward the stairs, going slowly over the creaky area so it wouldn’t make a noise.

“This
is
my business, Van.” Merlin landed on her shoulder. Phoenixes were one of the few beings able to see through Invisibility.

She shooed him off and glided down the stairs. Well, not literally. She was still trying to manage Hovering. “I don’t see how. Now, hush. I want to hear what she’s saying.”

Merlin landed on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and spread his bright orange (for now) wings across the staircase, his talons scraping on the iron-ball post topper like nails on slate. Peter’s son, Jonas, had had all the spindles made from iron at some point. Probably to prevent any more collapses, but nothing stopped Vana’s misguided magic.

“I’ll tell you what she’s saying,” Merlin rasped back, sounding like a crow with a sore throat. “She’s probably inviting him to dinner with full hopes of getting him into bed and having her wicked way with him—what?”

Vana ducked her head, knowing her face was as red as Lynda’s shoes at the memories of the wicked things she and Zane had done. No way was Lynda going to get that same chance with Zane.

“Oh no. You didn’t. Vana, please tell me you didn’t.” Now Merlin sounded like a crow on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Her cheeks flamed hotter and she didn’t look up.

“Nirvana Aphrodite, tell me you did
not
sleep with him.” Merlin stuck a wing—now as black as newly forged iron—in her face and raised her chin. “Oh gods, you did.” His feathers fell in a slump, effectively blocking her from reaching the foyer floor.

Meanwhile, Lynda was saying whatever it was she was saying to Zane and he was talking with her out there on the porch where Vana couldn’t know what was being said. She wanted out there now.

She ducked under Merlin’s wing and tiptoed to the door, careful to step over the creaky third floorboard from the stairs. She didn’t know if anyone had fixed it when they’d replaced the spindles, but now wasn’t the time to find out.

“Hold on, Van.” Merlin landed on Eirik beside the front door.

The phoenix’s feathers were a soft apple-green color now, but Vana wasn’t buying the conciliatory measures. She’d seen Merlin at work when he’d wanted something. He was trying to play her.

And Lynda was out there doing the same thing to Zane.

“So when was this? Last night?”

Vana pressed her ear to the door and refused to answer when she was trying to eavesdrop.

“Of
course
it was last night,” Merlin answered himself. The bird always thought he knew all the answers. That he did this time didn’t mean Vana had to give him the satisfaction of confirming his high opinion of himself. “But I don’t see you two acting all lovey-dovey. Unless… Oh gods. It wasn’t bad, was it?” The bird whistled. “Man, that’s disappointing. A big guy like him and no mojo to back it up. Wow, Van, that’s got to suck.”

“Of
course
it wasn’t bad.” Vana covered her mouth.

“Aha! You
did
sleep with him! So…? How was it?” The bird clacked his beak and his feathers turned fuchsia, one of his favorite colors. “Well,
duh.
What am I thinking? It had to have been awesome if you’re keeping the news to yourself.” The bird raised his eyebrows, appraising her.

“Nice work, Van. But how come you two aren’t all over each other? I’d think if it was that good, there’d be some pretty spectacular PDA here all by your lonesomes. Or at least some longing glances, a few more blushes, and he sure as
scheisse
shouldn’t be on the front porch with Little Red Ride-Me Shoes when he’s got his own little slice of heaven right here…” Merlin’s voice trailed off and he stared at her. “Unless—”

“Hush, Merlin. I can’t hear what’s going on out there.” She flipped her head so her other ear was to the door, covering Merlin beneath a fall of her hair.

“Oh no.” Merlin’s voice dropped an octave.

“Oh no” was right. Lynda’s voice had gone all sultry, making the words difficult to understand, but not the intention behind them. Vana wanted to go out there.

And
do
what?

That was a problem.

“You
did
play with time again, didn’t you?” Merlin spit out her hair. “And he doesn’t remember any of it.”

Vana held up her hand, pretending she wanted to hear what Lynda and Zane were discussing. Well, she did, but she wanted Merlin to stop his train of thought before he arrived at the right station.

Of course he didn’t pay any attention to what she wanted. “Vana, you can’t do that to him,” Merlin whispered hoarsely. “Mortals hate to have big chunks of memory missing. I’m assuming it was quite
big
, right?”

She pressed her ear closer to the door and put her other hand over her other ear, wanting to ignore the fact that Merlin had figured it out. The bird was too smart for her own good. Vana’s heart dropped into her stomach. Bad enough that
she
knew what she’d done; it’d be so many more times worse for someone else to know, too.

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene on the other side of the door instead of the one from last night that she couldn’t seem to push out of her brain, thanks to Merlin. Well, and Zane, too. First sight of him over the breakfast table this morning had brought all the memories back. In living, breathing, panting, gasping, growling, vivid color.

“
That’s
why the clock was off, wasn’t it?” Merlin landed on her shoulder and wiggled the tip of his beak beneath her palm. “You are going to be in so much trouble. You do know that, right? You cannot keep playing with time, Van. The Fates aren’t going to like it.”

She turned around and leaned against the door, forcing Merlin to take off or risk crushing his cornrowed tail between her shoulder and the door. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Merlin.”

He hovered in front of her. Oh sure,
he
could hover.

“Like Hades I don’t, Van. Clotho doesn’t like people messing with her job. You might get away with it the first time, but twice in the same century, let alone the same day? And sleeping with him? Puh-leez. How clichéd can you get?”

“You’re just jealous because it wasn’t you.” Oh…
frankincense
. She shouldn’t have said that. She’d just given him all the ammunition he’d need to get her in a world of trouble—or never let her live it down for the rest of her immortal life.

Merlin opened his beak to say something, then snapped it shut. His wings turned peacock blue. “Van, you can’t just go around removing guys’ memories after you
boink
them. That breaks at least five of the Codes of Conduct for Masters.”