Magic Gone Wild (42 page)

She did, too, because of the happiness they innately engendered, especially on dreary days like today. But rainbows were infrequent manifestations for her because, while Mr. Murphy couldn’t see in and most things couldn’t pass through the magical barrier of her bottle walls without her okay, rainbows required an inordinate amount of light and, therefore, could be seen. Light shining from a dusty, and supposedly empty, old bottle would definitely be noticed.

“Uh, babe?” The gentle
whoosh
of Obo’s fur thrummed softly along the ribbed lower portion of her bottle as he brushed his tail against the outside. “The rain might be murder on pedestrian traffic, but it’s upped the vehicular kind. And the traffic light is red. A couple of interested kids, and your beacon there is going to get some notice.”

Eden sighed, hating that he was right, but flicked her wrists anyway. The rainbow dissipated, leaving traces behind on the winged creatures. Humphrey sported a blue stripe down the ridge of his back and one of the iridescent Blue Morpho butterflies was going to have to change its name to Purple Morpho.

“Why are you here again, Obo? With the free run you have of this town, I’d think this has to be the most boring place you could be.”

Obo’s tail paused mid-flick and his ear twitched. “Ah, well, you know… I, uh, can’t talk to mortals without freaking them out, and none of the animals in this country have been on the planet as long as me. Who else can I share the good ol’ days with? You’re the closest I get to normal, babe.”

Which was sad because nothing in her life had been
normal
from the moment she’d gone to live with the High Master over two thousand years ago following her parents’ death.

Eden sighed and gathered her magic to summon a pomegranate smoothie on the teak inlay table next to the lime green sectional she’d ordered last month. The persimmon-colored pillows weren’t pulling the whole look together as she’d hoped. While she loved color, the backdrop of the saffron bottle made her art deco a little too avant-garde. Ah, well, she’d do some redecorating today to keep herself occupied. The satellite dish Faruq had given her for her birthday a few years ago came in handy.

Not that she’d ever admit it to Faruq. The High Master’s vizier, charged with monitoring Genie Compliance, already had too much control of—and too much interest in—her life.

She sipped the smoothie. The dish, and the high-def TV that had replaced the antiquated electronics she’d accumulated over the years, were gods-sends. Much easier to shop, teach herself new languages, keep abreast of changing societies and customs, and learn all about new technology and the selling power of J.D. Power and Associates. Not to mention, how to make smoothies.

And with her bottle’s magical ability to alter its interior without changing the dimensions on the outside, she could order up a swimming pool and Mr. Murphy would never know the difference.

Actually, maybe she’d do that. She’d like to hear Faruq’s comment when he found out he was going to have to magick up a couple thousand gallons of water. And as for getting it through the magic channels to her, well, that ought to give him a few fits.

She took another sip of her smoothie. Such were the pleasures of her life.

“Hey, that looks good.” Obo peered into her bottle, the tapered neck distorting his yellow irises until he looked like the Cyclops she’d seen off the coast of Crete that last summer she’d been on the outside. “Can you conjure one up for me?”

Eden set her treat down on the Egyptian brazier topped with a circular mosaic tile platter she called an end table. Nothing like combining Old World and New. “Sorry, Obo, but my magic won’t leave the bottle for the mortal world while the stopper’s in.” Otherwise she would have zapped herself somewhere warm and sandy years ago.

“Well, could you calm the butterflies down then? Their flapping wings are driving me nuts. And the dragon…” He shuddered and dropped his head onto his paws. “I don’t get
that
at all.”

Humphrey did a loop-the-loop above her head and Eden held out her hand for him to land on as a reward. Baby dragons were so lovable and eager to please. Until they hit that unmanageable milestone—then their fiery heritage took over. It was a treat to be able to enjoy them at this stage, one far too rare for her liking.

As for her other cohabitants, they were the only living things Faruq approved to be in her bottle. She’d tried to talk him into a kitten after a few hundred years of solitude, but he’d refused. Said kittens would grow up to be cats, and cats were sneaky. That any cat he gave her might be able to figure a way out of the bottle.

It didn’t speak well to the High Master’s magic if his own vizier thought a cat could undo it, but Eden didn’t buy Faruq’s argument for one minute. Just one more thing he wanted to control about her.

Read on for an excerpt from

Genie Knows Best

Now available from Sourcebooks Casablanca

Every wish comes with complications…

November 17, approximately 10:00 p.m.

Samantha Blaine held her breath and rubbed the copper lantern on the desk in her father’s office one more time. A little harder. A little longer.

But still… nothing.

No smoke, no genie, not even a dust bunny. She was being ridiculous; the thing was as much a genie lantern as Albert, her double-crossing, soon-to-be-fiancé—make that, her double-crossing, soon-to-be-
ex
-soon-to-be-fiancé—was Prince Charming.

Useless
. Albert thought she, like this lantern, was useless.

“Trust me, Henley,” he’d said during the phone conversation she’d inadvertently overheard not ten minutes earlier. “Daddy’s little girl is clueless. Useless. On all fronts. Run the company? Her old man must have had another stroke back when he had that will drawn up. She’s incapable. Inept. Hell, she doesn’t even have a clue what I’m up to. She doesn’t have a clue about
any
thing, so as soon as this memorial thing is over, I’ll get my ring on her finger and my hands on the contents of that safe. Then you’ll get your money.”

Samantha flicked the edge of the letter with the combination to the safe. Dad’s attorney had given it to her earlier. He’d said Dad had wanted her to have it tonight during the funeral—no, during Dad’s
life
celebration
. That was her father, always looking for the good in everything, but what good had there been in opening it now, in the middle of this party, just to retrieve a souvenir from her parents’ honeymoon? She didn’t really want a reminder of the happily ever after she apparently wasn’t going to have with Albert. Without him. Whatever.

She traced the lantern’s curved spout, thoroughly appreciating the irony that Albert had been tearing the house apart for weeks trying to find the combination to the safe, yet
she’d
been the one to open it.

Useless, was she? Who was the inept one now?

She tapped the flame-shaped finial on the lid. Finding this wasn’t a victory though, because while Albert might not have been Prince Charming material, she’d
thought
he’d had some redeeming qualities, namely claiming to love her for her. Not because of who her father was or how much she’d be worth someday, or what great merger-acquisition material she’d be like other corporate types she’d dated, but
her
. Not Samantha Blaine, heiress, but Samantha, the woman who had hopes and dreams of a long, loving relationship like her parents’ and the big family she’d never had. She wanted so much to believe, so she’d let herself hope that, this time, it was for real.

The troll had helped the illusion along not only by offering to sign a prenup, but also by stepping in and taking over the burden of running her father’s custom-car manufacturing company while she’d been at Dad’s hospital bedside these past six months. She’d been so grateful.

And now this. And tonight of all nights. The jerk.

She blinked back the tears, determined not to let him get to her. But, God, she’d been so trusting. So hopeful. Again.

And again she’d been disappointed.

Samantha tucked some curls behind her ears, plopped her chin in her palm, and ignored Wanda the housekeeper, who was calling her name from the foyer. Samantha wasn’t up for seeing anyone right now.

Oh, not because Albert had just broken her heart. Sadly, deep down, she’d known he wasn’t the guy for her. She’d known that. But he’d been the first—she’d
thought
—guy in her life who’d sincerely been interested in her. When Dad had had the stroke, Albert had been there. He’d helped out with the company and hadn’t made any demands on her other than to sign paperwork.

That was when he’d started mentioning marriage, and Samantha had let herself go along with the idea because, more than Albert being her One True Love, she hadn’t wanted to deal with the fact that when Dad was gone, she’d be alone in the world. Mom had died when she’d been a toddler, so it’d just been the two of them all these years. She’d never felt the lack of family more than she had when Dad died.

Albert had offered her a way out, so she’d given in to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he was the real deal. Stalwart, supportive, there when she’d needed something… That was what she’d always wished for, so she’d let him in. Trusted him. Believed in the fairy-tale ending.

And now he’d betrayed her.

She shook the long sleeve of the
djellaba
she wore over her street clothes up her arm and picked up the lantern, her reflection not distorted enough to hide the pain in her eyes at being betrayed.

Again.

Why
was everyone always looking for handouts from her? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t have someone want her just for who she was instead of what she had in her bank account or what she could do for them? It was sad really, how, with all the things money could and had bought for her, love wasn’t one of them.

She ran her fingertips over the lantern’s rounded side. Wouldn’t it be perfect if this actually
were
a genie lantern? She could use a little magic in her life right now.

For her first wish, she’d turn Albert into a belly-crawling lizard. Then she’d bring Dad back, and then…

“And then I’d wish for the genie to take me away from all this, to some place where all my troubles would just disappear.”

And, in a billowing cloud of orange smoke, that’s exactly what happened.

Or
… was it?

The Vampire Next Door

by Ashlyn Chase

Room for rent: Normal need not apply

This old Boston brownstone is not known for quiet living…first the shapeshifter meets his nurse, then the werewolf falls for his sassy lawyer, but now the vampire is looking for love with a witch who’s afraid of the dark…and you thought your neighbors had issues!

Undead Sly is content playing vigilante vampire, keeping the neighborhood safe from human criminals, until Morgaine moves in upstairs. Suddenly he finds himself weak with desire, which isn’t a good place for a vampire to be. And Morgaine isn’t exactly without her own issues—will the two of them be able to get past their deepest fears before their changes at “normal” slips away…