Page 14 of Bewitched By the Djinn
“There’s nothing wrong with her.” The words snap out.
He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t mean—I know there is nothingwrongwith her. But she is sick. She was as light as a feather.” He pauses, studying me with those too-sharp eyes. “What is it?”
I give him my back and pour the water into the mugs. “We don’t know.”
It’s a horrible thing, the not knowing. Test after test with no definitive conclusion. Watching someone you love suffer while doctors poke and prod and shrug their shoulders. At least if you know what the monster is, you can figure out how to fight it. The not knowing is pure hell.
Jackie’s pain comes in waves, sometimes so deep it settles into her bones, leaving her barely able to move. Other times, herstomach rejects anything she eats. Then there’s the exhaustion, the weakness, the migraines?—
“Come on.” I pick up two mugs and head to the dining table, the wood smooth and familiar beneath my fingers. He lowers himself into the chair across from me, his movements fluid but careful, like someone used to measuring a room before letting his guard down.
“So.” I slide a mug over to him and rest my elbows on the table. “How did you get bound to the lamp, exactly?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifts around, taking in every detail of the chaos of our daily lives: the cluttered countertops, the colorful tile backsplash Mom picked out before she was gone, the stack of Kevin’s comic books shoved into the fruit bowl.
My cheeks heat slightly. It’s clean, sure, but there’s an undeniable messiness to a house with kids. And now some ancient genie-man is judging my kitchen.
Then his attention snags on something across the room. His brows dip, lips pressing into a faint frown.
I follow his gaze. He’s staring at the microwave.
I blink. Look back at him. He’s still staring.
“Hey, weirdo.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Why are you glaring at my microwave?”
“Micro-wave?” he echoes, pronouncing it like a foreign word.
I resist the urge to laugh. “Oh. Right. You probably don’t have those in your magical lamp world.”
His frown deepens, but before he can answer, Mimi strides into the room. “What did I miss?”
“Our friend here was just about to explain things.”
Mimi arches a brow. “Without so much as an introduction? You were raised better.”
I lift a hand in his direction. “Mimi, he’s an intruder!”
She grabs her mug from the counter and joins us at the table, sitting beside me. “Uh-huh. An intruder you conjured with your secretive bagged item.” She nudges me with her elbow, voice teasing. “And a handsome one at that.”
I press my lips together. I will not comment. She can’t be serious.
She points at me. “This stubborn child is my dear niece Cassie Broussard. And you can call me Aunt Mimi.”
Bennet inclines his head slightly. “Bennet Ashford. A pleasure, madam.”
Mimi grins. “So formal.”
“Now that we’ve been properly introduced.” I clear my throat. “The lamp. How were you bound to it? Where are you from? Why are you here?”
He meets my gaze, and for a second, there’s heat there, sharp enough to make me inhale a fraction deeper. “I’m from a place called Aetheria.”
Mimi’s brows knit together. “Is that in California?”
His expression is blank. “I do not know of this California.”
Mimi leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So where is Aetheria?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Beyond the veil. Another realm.”
