Magic Gone Wild (9 page)

“They said he was delusional. A crazy old man.” Zane couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. Bitterness… and self-recrimination. Because he’d bought into those stories. He’d condemned Peter along with everyone else, when all along Peter’s genie had been the one wreaking the havoc.

And now she was his.

His
.

The word sounded hollow. Zane didn’t want anything from Peter. Not this legacy and definitely not a genie who could royally mess things up for him if the press ever got wind of her.

Zane winced. Like Merlin said—and he couldn’t believe he was actually agreeing with the feathered menace—Vana didn’t mean to be a mess; she just was. Zane couldn’t condemn her for it, but at the same time, he
could
want to keep her out of sight.

Jesus. All he’d wanted to do was come home, pack up a few things, sign some papers, and the family homestead would be no more. He’d never seen a genie coming—who could have?

Peter, that’s who. His great-grandfather had actually gone on a quest for one. And Zane supposed most people would be thrilled. After all, she could grant his every wish.

Hmmm, he’d forgotten that in the ensuing insanity. Maybe he should use it. See if she could do something to make him a starter again. She could put his body back in the shape it’d been in ten years ago, make him catch the ball every time and outrun every opponent. He could be MVP. A Pro Bowler again. Win a Super Bowl. Vana could do all of that for him.

Except he’d feel like shit about himself the whole time. Winning was nothing if you didn’t do it yourself. And yet, one bad play could change the entire game, both on the field and off.

Sighing, Zane picked up the cast-iron salt shaker in the shape of a little girl Vana had set on the table earlier. His grandmother’s. “I remember this.” He turned it around. The dent that had made him laugh as a boy was still in the girl’s backside. When his grandmother had finally figured out what he’d been laughing at, she’d shoved the shaker into the cabinet and had never pulled it out again.

“Peter got that in Germany,” said Vana. “It made the trip back with us. The motion of the ship would clink it against my bottle, kind of like a song to put me to sleep every night of the crossing.”

Zane looked at it. The piece had been a joke to him but a nice memory for her. “Here.” He held it out. “You should have it.”

“Really?” She licked her lips and took the shaker. “Thank you. This is one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever given me.”

“Be real, Van,” said Merlin. “It’s the
only
one anyone ever gave you. Most of your masters were single-minded in pursuit of their hearts’ desires. This one’s different.” Merlin arched his eyebrows. “Jury’s still out on whether that’s a good thing or not, Romeo.”

Vana clamped the bird’s beak shut. “Hush, you. It’s very thoughtful and I’ll treasure it always. Thank you, master. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You can start by calling me Zane. ‘Master’ is a little much.”

She bowed her head. “Zane, then. Thank you. And I hope you don’t find this condescending, but I think Peter would have been very proud of you for that kindness.”

That made him shudder. Sure, okay, he knew the truth now, but still… thirty-plus years of stigma didn’t go away in one afternoon.

He glanced at the Swiss cuckoo clock on the wall. It’d probably been a long time since anyone had reset the timing weights on Mom’s pride and joy. “I wish that still worked.”

Vana perked up and sat straighter in her chair. “Oh, I can do that, master. I mean, Zane.”

She aimed a kiss at him again, and suddenly the weights started swinging wildly and the little wooden bird shot out of the tiny door to chirp the hour—except that it was twenty-three minutes after five. And the bird didn’t stop at the end of its perch; the momentum flung it off the end.

Then the minute hand went haywire, followed shortly thereafter by the hour hand. And the chains started swinging not only faster, but out of sync so every couple of seconds there was a clash as the two weights smacked into each other.

“Holy smokes.”

He was seriously coming to hate that phrase.

“Can you fix it?” He had to shout over the din because Merlin had ducked his head beneath one wing and was making some weird, keening noise.

“Um… yes.” She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “If that’s what you wish, I can.”

He could have sworn she muttered, “I hope,” when he said, “I do,” but she puckered up and blew a kiss.

The bells and whistles stopped. The weights stopped. The clock hands stopped. And the little bird flew backward from the floor onto its perch, which then zipped back inside, and the door slammed shut.

“Ah, peace at last. Never a dull moment with you, is there, Van?” Merlin scratched his beak with a talon—that was painted teal blue.

“I wouldn’t mind a dull moment, actually.” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Vana. I’ve got a real estate agent coming out this week, and I can’t have wacko clocks or talking birds,” he glared at Merlin, “or flying carpets or… jitterbugging willow trees.”

“Now
that
would be something to see,” said Merlin. “They do look pretty when they waltz, though.”

Zane glared at him again. “You know what I mean. I need Vana to keep her magic under wraps.”

“Why do you have a real estate agent coming here?” She walked to the sink and started cleaning the dishes.

Zane carried his over, then propped his hip against the counter. “I need to find out what the house is worth so I can put it on the market.”

“Market?” A curtain of her hair shielded everything but her upturned nose.

“It’s a building with products for sale,” said Merlin. “But that’s not important right now.”

Vana flipped her hair back, her silver eyes sparking with surprise. Or maybe that was the glint of the late-afternoon sun through the bay window above the sink. “You mean you’re going to sell Peter’s house?”

“Not Peter’s house, Vana. Mine. And, yes, I am.”

“But why? This is your home.”

“My home?” Zane reached for the dish towel and handed it to her because she was dripping suds on the floor. “This isn’t my home. It wasn’t even when I lived here. I have a life somewhere else and it’s not practical to keep the house. It makes more sense to sell it.”

She twisted her hands in the towel with more force than mere drying merited. “Not to me it doesn’t.”

“Uh, Van?” Merlin leaned toward her and spoke out of the side of his beak. “I don’t think you get a say in the matter.”

She stopped mangling the dish towel. “But Peter wouldn’t want you to sell it.”

“Peter’s not here.” Zane took the dish towel from her and spread it out over the back of the ladder-back chair.

“But I can’t leave here, Zane.”

That didn’t exactly strengthen her argument. He could lose the house, the legacy, and the cause of it in one shot.

“Vana, while I get that you cared about him, I can’t keep the house.”

“But the ch—the chores. I could help you with them. I could even fix the house up for you. You’d love it. I can make it look just like it did when Peter lived here. It was the most beautiful home in town. And the parties… ah, the parties. Everyone wanted to be invited, and there was music and dancing and food…”

“And uninvited bears,” said Merlin. “You know they only wanted to come to see what Crazy Pete would do next, Van, right?”

Vana’s exuberance deflated like a balloon.

Zane glared at the bird and mouthed one word. “Barbecue.”

Merlin gulped.

Zane didn’t know why he cared, but he did. She looked so forlorn. He guessed that was understandable, though, given that this place had been more of a home to her than it’d ever been to him. “What was the house like back then, Vana?”

“It was lovely. All the rooms were decorated just so, and the gardens… Peter had such lovely gardens, and I didn’t even have to use my magic on them. Nature has her own magic, you know. How else could there be such perfection in rose petals? Such symmetry in daffodils? Such perfume in jasmine—”

“Such poison in oleanders,” said Merlin out of the other side of his beak. He then looked up at the clock, whistling an off-key tune.

She pulled her hands free and clapped them together. “Oh, Zane, please let me turn it back into what it once was. I promise you won’t want to sell it. You’ll want to stay.”

No he wouldn’t. But he’d kicked enough kittens for one day, and she looked so darn hopeful, he couldn’t kick another. Besides, he’d been planning to do some work around here, and the better the condition the house was in, the more he could get for it.

“Vana, I am going to sell, but if it means that much to you, sure, you can help me fix it up.”

Silver flashed in her eyes just before she jumped up to plant a kiss on his cheek—but one small turn of his head and that kiss was everything it’d been before: hot, delicious, sexy—and over entirely too soon.

“Sheesh, you two,” whistled Merlin. “Get a room.”

There were a dozen and a half of them in this place, and Zane wouldn’t mind christening every one.

Which could pose big problems in the days to come.

9

“So what’s the plan again?” asked Merlin. “You lost me.”

Zane would like to lose him. The damn bird hadn’t shut up since they’d stepped off the porch, bitching the entire walk around the property. Zane had offered him the opportunity to leave, but the bird felt some crazy compulsion to stick to Vana like glue, as if he expected Zane to try something.

Yeah, he might be thinking along those lines after that teaser of a kiss in the kitchen, not to mention the one in the attic when he’d thought she was a figment of his imagination. But she was a genie, for crying out loud. One didn’t lust after a genie.

Then she walked a few steps ahead of him, her see-through outfit leaving nothing to the imagination, and yeah, maybe one
did
.

“Isn’t this where the lawn-bowling court used to be?” Merlin clacked his beak, and midflight, his wings turned purple and gold.

“Yes. By the fence beneath that mimosa tree,” Vana answered.

“I’d rather
have
a mimosa than go lawn bowling near one.” Merlin landed on Zane’s shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you, buddy? My wings were getting tired. Just flew in from Baghdad, you know.” The bird cracked only himself up with the joke. “Geez, talk about boring. What is it with you mortals? Can’t take a joke.”

“I have you on my shoulder, don’t I?”

“Hey, good one!” Merlin nipped his ear.

“Do that again, bird, and we’ll go for the deep fryer this time.”

“Sheesh. There you go, back to the no-humor thing.”

“As I was saying…” Vana reached up to Zane’s shoulder and shifted Merlin onto her fist. “The court was here, and over there was one of Peter’s rose gardens. You can still see the brambles. I bet the bushes will spring back once I clear it out.”

“You gonna do it now?” Merlin asked.

She stopped. “I could. If it’s okay with you, mast—I mean, Zane?”

Zane checked their immediate vicinity. The closest neighbor was half a mile beyond the driveway. A dozen acres surrounded this manicured—as it were—portion of the property, and the Vlad the Impaler iron fence, complete with gargoyles, wasn’t letting anyone in. They were all alone.

“Sure, go ahead.” He wouldn’t think about being all alone with her.

And then Vana puckered up and blew a kiss.

If the brush hadn’t burst into flames, he might have.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Vana wrung her hands as Merlin flew onto a mimosa branch. “I said ‘tame,’ not ‘flame’!” She made some more kissing noises.

The flames shot up higher.

Shit. He didn’t have to worry about someone strolling the property to get an eyeful. The bonfire was big enough to alert the entire town.

“Vana, we have to put it out!” He looked around for… what? A fire hose? Extinguisher? Waterfall?

Not a damn thing in sight, which shouldn’t be surprising, given the rest of the nightmare he’d encountered since arriving here.

“I’m trying to!” She made another kissing noise, and two giant flames—one red, one blue—shot up the middle. “No! Not red-blue!
Res
-cue! Res-
cue
!”

It was no use. The more flustered she got, the more her magic went haywire.

Zane ducked. They did
not
need a bunch of hay appearing out of nowhere—Jesus. Now she had him thinking crazy things, too.

And then she started fiddling with her fingers again. Puckering her lips.

Yeah, that hadn’t worked out so well. So Zane did the first thing he could think of. He tugged her to him and kissed her.

Those flames licking at the brambles were child’s play compared to the ones between him and Vana. One touch of his lips and Vana practically went boneless against him, melting into the kiss so that he had to catch her, which only made the heat between them that much hotter. With every one of her pliant curves fused against him, this kiss packed more of a punch than the attic and kitchen ones combined.