Page 53 of Bewitched By the Djinn
“When a djinn dies, their body turns immediately to dust. There’s nothing left to bury.”
“Like Buffy.”
A divot appears between his brows. “What is a Buffy?”
“What isn’t a Buffy?”
At his continued confused expression, I sigh, shaking my head. “Never mind.” I guess Kevin hasn’t shown him any vampire shows from the prior century yet.
“When we pass, we become one again with the earth and sky. It seems odd to surround one’s body in such materials.”
I shrug. “I guess. I’ve never really thought about it.” But after experiencing that connection to the world around me earlier, it makes a lot more sense. I don’t know how I was able to do that without using my magic. I want to ask, but I also don’t want to delve too much into what happened during that encounter. But then the words just make a break for it. “Can I ask you about what happened?”
“What happened when?”
Heat fills my cheeks. “When you were helping Jackie in the kitchen and I was outside listening, I, uh, could feel you. And me. And us. Our bond. And Jackie and Kevin and Mimi too, and everything else. It was weird. I’ve never felt anything like it. How could I do that without accessing my magic?”
We turn down a narrower path, moving deeper into the cemetery, before he responds. “I don’t think magic is necessary to be aware of the world around you, and your link to it.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Even those with little to no magic in my realm have this ability to sense our connection to the world. It is in all of us. Even mere mortals.”
I glance around. No one is around now. I stop walking and face him. “And with Jackie, you think it worked?”
He shrugs. “It is too soon to tell. She’s been using her own resources for a long time. Her magic needs to replenish itself and her body needs to heal. It’s not going to be instant, even if I’m right. Since she is young, though, connecting to the world around was easier. She has not been around long enough to build up the defenses that lock us away from nature.”
“That makes sense.” It’s hard to be patient, but I don’t have a choice. Nothing to do but wait and see, and I have bigger fish to fry at the moment.
We have about twenty minutes until dusk, but who knows where the portal is, or how long it will take us to find it. Even though the cemetery only takes up one city block, there are more than eleven hundred family tombs and seven thousand graves.
We’ve already decided to use magic to locate the portal, and we’ll just have to be prepared for any blowback.
I take a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
He nods.
He takes my hand and I reach inside, focusing on our intention. My magic is there and ready. No longer blocked. Relief blows through me. Along with something else.
Heat, starting at my core and spreading out through my limbs. My skin tightens, sensitive to every brush of air and aware of Bennet’s every move.
The lure of the portal is subtle at first, a whisper of energy moving through the humid night air. But then it clicks into place with a snap, then a pull, like a thread tugging deep inside me, guiding me forward.
Bennet is stiff beside me.
I open my eyes, breathing through the arousal filling my veins. “Are you okay?”
He’s staring at me, pupils blown, breath coming out in quick pants through his tight jaw. “Fine.” The word is clipped. “Can we get moving?”
I press my lips together. I shouldn’t be deriving amusement from his... discomfort? But it’s affecting me too. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain, but it’s difficult not to find this whole situation a bit absurd.
We start walking, following the invisible call. The sensation is hard to describe—like a gentle pressure between my legs, surrounded by pounding lust. The deeper we go into the cemetery, the stronger it gets, a slow but undeniable pulse that leads us between towering white tombs and crumbling stone pathways.
Bennet paces beside me, hands clenched at his sides.
The wrought-iron fence surrounding the cemetery rattles in the wind, casting long, spindly shadows against the graves.
We round a corner, passing a particularly ornate mausoleum with ivy creeping up the sides and a weathered, cracked plaque at the entrance, when Bennet stops abruptly.
