Page 65 of Bewitched By the Djinn
I make an attempt to contain my sleep-mussed hair, sliding my palms over the tangle around my head. “I think that was our wake-up call. We have to get back to the portal by dawn, before it shuts and we’re stuck here another night.”
Although part of me wishes we could stay here, sequestered together, away from the real world and real responsibilities.
What would it be like spend the night with Bennet and not have to rush out of bed the next day?
He squints outside into the slowly brightening gloom. “Looks like we’d better hurry.”
Quickly, we take turns using the restroom and getting our shoes on.
We exit the cabin, jog down the rickety porch steps, and head back in the direction we came from the night before, circling around the giant cypress. The bark is whole, unblemished, no cavernous hole at the bottom.
Okey dokey then.
We keep moving down the path.
Mist curls over the swamp’s surface, thick and ghostly in the early morning light. The lanterns that led us through the night are gone, leaving only the gnarled trees and dark water stretching endlessly in every direction. My shoes sink into the damp earth. We approach the area where we entered the swamp through the portal. At least I think we’re close? It’s all the same.
I glance behind us. The cabin is out of sight. Were we supposed to go in a different direction?
The splash of water against wood catches my attention.
A shadow emerges from the mist to our left.
A voice calls out, smooth, smug, and entirely too familiar. “Well, well. Look what the gators dragged in.”
I suppress a groan. “Richard?”
The figure comes into focus, standing at the bow of a rickety flatboat like some kind of swamp-bound river god. One hand on his hip, the other lazily resting on a pole, Richard is dressed like he’s ready for a high-society brunch, despite the mud-slicked hellscape around us. His suit is lime green, bright enough to be blinding, with lace along the sleeves rolled up just so, rings glinting on his fingers, and a golden scarf tied dramatically around his throat.
Richard’s gaze flicks between us, then he grins. “I’m so glad you survived. I was worried there for a minute, with the lightning cloud and whatnot. That creature was absolutely teeming with magic. A bit dark for my tastes, but I could have made an exception.”
I prop a hand on my waist. “How did you know we would be here? Why are you here?”
“I’m your ride, of course. I knew as soon as I saw you and your handsome man here that I would be needed. This one’s on the house, sweetie.”
He knew we would be here? “Why didn’t you tell us about the swamp witches?” We could have bypassed the whole vamp experience.
Richard presses a hand to his chest. “I didn’t know you were looking for the swamp witches. You said you were looking for the vamp.”
“But you knew where that would lead, and that we would be here today.”
“Well, yeah. I had an inkling you would be my favorite damsel in distress.” His attention drifts over to Bennet. “And I see you’re still distressing yourself with tall, gold, and broody.”
Bennet stiffens beside me. “Did you know where my sister was?”
“Yes.”
I lift my hands. “Richard! This whole time?”
His eyes widen, the picture of innocence. “You never asked me about his sister.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Well, are you two needing a ride back to town or are you going to stand there being cranky and performing histrionics? Come, come. Hop aboard before something with too many teeth decides you’re breakfast.” He waves a hand at us.
I want to punch him, but I step onto the boat, gripping the wooden railing as it rocks under my weight. Bennet hesitates for a second before stepping in behind me. Tension radiates off of him, but Richard just smirks and pushes a button on the pole in his hand. The boat rumbles beneath us and then pushes through the mist, away from the shore.
The silence of the swamp presses in around us, broken only by the soft splash of the oar cutting through the water and the low hum of the magical motor. Mist clings to the surface, curling and shifting like it’s alive.
