Page 26 of Bewitched By the Djinn
I snap my eyes open. How do I get it back?
Bennet’s brow furrows. “We are connected, and my magic is not working either.” His fingers flex against the armrest. “Maybe once we find Helen and fix this, whatever this is, our magic will return.”
And yet he doesn’t appear convinced.
I set the lamp down. “Why do you have that face on your face?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t seem like you believe it.”
Bennet rubs his chin. “Perhaps Helen can break this curse. But...”
“But?”
“There is an old story, of twins who were born without magic. At least, that’s what everyone thought. Until one day, they were cornered by a giant. They would have died, but their combined fear for each other caused their magic to snap into place. They fought off the giant with their power, and it didn’t come from one or the other. It came from both.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Are you saying that teamwork can make the dream work?”
Bennet frowns. “It’s more than just working together. It’s intention shared at a deep level.A bond forged in trust. That’s how they awakened their gift, not by demanding it or commanding each other, but by moving as one.”
“And you think we could do this too? Move as one?” My face heats.Don’t think about sex, don’t think about sex.
“I think if we’re going to use our magic, we have to stop pulling in different directions.”
Except isn’t that what we’re already doing? He wants to find his sister as much as I do. I rake a hand through my hair. Whatever. We need to fix this. Quickly. “Maybe I can find someone else with magic to help track her.”
“That seems logical. Maybe we could start our search with the shop where you purchased the lamp. Perhaps the shopkeeper can apprise us of where she went?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Hey. That’s actually a really good idea.” Why didn’t I think of that?
The tense line of his shoulders drops an inch.
“It’ll all be okay,” I say, mostly to reassure him, and somewhat to reassure myself.
Ernie squints past me, his wrinkled brow furrowing as he watches Bennet across the store. Bennet is staring at a bright pink, 1980s-style flashlight, his mouth agape like he’s just discovered fire.
Ernie finally looks back at me. “What do you want to know exactly?”
I sigh. “Don’t get all weird on me, Ernie. I don’t care how much you gave her or anything—I’m not here to check if you’re stiffing me.” I jerk a thumb toward Bennet. “The seller was his sister.”
Ernie grunts, his gaze drifting back to Bennet, who has now picked up the flashlight and is inspecting it with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for bomb defusal.
“Anyway, we just want to find her, that’s all. There’s some pressing family business. Their grandma is really sick, and we need to let her know before it’s too late.” Who can resist a sick grandma story? Everyone loves old people.
Ernie scratches the side of his nose. “I didn’t get much from her, other than her name and the name of her friend.”
“Friend?” That’s news. Bennet never mentioned her having someone else with her. I put a pin in it. I will have to ask Bennet later.
His thumb hits the flashlight switch. The beam of light flicks on, and Bennet jerks back as if it just attacked him.
Ernie snorts. “Yeah. Delores something or other.”
“Did she put an address in the logbook when you made the exchange?”
Ernie always makes people sign the logbook—it’s how he ropes people into his email list.
“Lemme check,” he mutters, shuffling toward an old metal filing cabinet. He slides open the middle drawer, stares down into it for a second, then lifts his head. “Moira! Where’d you put the logbook?”
