Page 39 of Bewitched By the Djinn
My breath catches.What is happening?
Then, as suddenly as it came, it vanishes. The emotions bleed out, leaving me lightheaded. But clearheaded enough to slam my shields back into place.
But they’re still in place. Locked down tight.
What the fuck?
Was he getting all that? Or is it just me? Or... both?
I steal a glance at him. The weight of his stare is more than I can handle. His cheeks are flushed. Okay, apparently he had the same experience.
I’m sure it will all be fine.
I turn to Edward.
His mouth is slack, gaze unfocused. “Wow,” he breathes. Then his fingers tighten on my wrist. His eyes darken, hungry. “More.”
I smack him over the head.
He blinks, the hunger in his gaze dulling to hazy and unfocused.
“Pull yourself together. You’ve got your payment. Now spill.”
Edward slumps back into his seat, sighing, then picks up his fork and shovels food into his mouth with obscene satisfaction. “This tastes amazing.”
“Edward.” Goddammit. He’s high as fuck.
Bennet moves faster than I can track, snatching Edward’s plate away before he can stab another bite of chicken.
Edward frowns. “Hey.”
“Answer the lady, please.” Bennet’s voice is smooth, but edged with steel.
Wow. I didn’t know he had it in him.
Edward huffs, but finally mutters, “She went to the bayou.”
Not exactly helpful. Louisiana has over twenty-five hundred square miles of swamp and wetlands.
“Where in the bayou?”
“To the witches who see beyond the veil.”
Okaaay.
I try again. “How do we get to these witches?”
His eyelids droop. “There’s a portal.”
I groan. “I should have made him talk before we paid.” I flick his ear. Useless. Like a well-fed cat who overdid it on the catnip. “Who do we go see, Eddie?”
He swipes lazily at my hand and misses by a mile. “Lafayette Cemetery One,” he yawns. “Find the mausoleum marked with magic. Be there at dusk or dawn for it to work.”
“And you’re sure Helen is still there? With the swamp witches?”
He shrugs, eyes glassy. “She could be. I don’t sense her anymore. She went there and then—” He snaps his fingers. “Poof.” Then he giggles and slumps forward. A snore rumbles out of him.
“Great.” I shove back from the table. “We’re not getting anything else out of him. Let’s start walking back.”
