Midlife Wish (Blackwell Djinn Book 1) Read online

  “How are you?” Dae asked.

  “I’m fine.” The black mark on his arm said otherwise. It looked like it had doubled in size. It was the mark of a dying djinn. Just three wishes—one deal—left.

  For the last month, the brothers had been trying to find a way for Red to live beyond his last deal. Or at the very least, live in a way that wasn’t one step up from dead.

  It was tricky business using magic to cheat death. Death didn’t like her souls snatched from her grasp, especially when that soul had already lived several centuries on this earth.

  No djinn had ever beat her.

  But if the brothers found the right human to make the right wish and to use the right string of words to wish it, they might just do it.

  Unfortunately, most humans were stupid and selfish, and the likelihood of that happening was slim. Djinn couldn’t coax, threaten, or bargain with a human, either. That was against the Law of the Djinn and closely monitored by the Conclave—their governing power.

  “Can I get you anything?” Dae asked.

  Red scowled. “We pay people for that.”

  Dae sighed. “That may be so, but the offer still stands.”

  “No. Stop asking.” Red pulled himself upright and propped himself up against the headboard. Though he was ashen and coated in sweat, he still looked like he ran ten miles a day and benched his own weight. The reality was, Red was exhausted all of the time, and ever since he’d finished his second to last deal over a month ago, he’d been getting worse and worse.

  Of course, part of that might have owed to the person he’d made the deal with.

  Cassie, the girl’s name was. A psychic. Mad later told Dae that Red suspected Cassie was put in his path by the Fates. Tricky lot they were. The Fates didn’t always grant you your heart’s desire.

  But Dae still didn’t know if Cassie was a good or bad thing. Red wouldn’t speak of her and whatever her last wish had been, it had something to do with keeping them apart. Which only seemed to make Red that much more waspish.

  “I’m going out tonight,” Dae said. “I plan to be discerning with my deal. I just need to find the right human.”

  Red descended into a coughing fit that seemed to rattle his bones. Dae offered him a glass of water once he’d settled and Red sucked it down.

  It was painfully hard to see this man, someone Dae admired and respected, someone who had started and won hundreds of wars, a man whose likeness had been carved into marble and now stood in the Louvre, slowly withering away.

  A legend shouldn’t be able to die.

  Dae would do whatever he could to keep Red alive as long as possible. But he needed to be comfortable too. He needed to be whole.

  “Leave me,” Red said. “I’m too old for your pity.”

  Red was the oldest and the most stubborn.

  “Very well. I’ll check in with you later.”

  “Why?” Red said. “Nothing will change between now and then.”

  They didn’t have much time left. If they were going to save Red, they best do it quickly, before Red got so fed up with living this half-life that he gave in to the last deal he had left to his name.

  Chapter 3

  DAE

  When Dae returned to his brothers, they were in a heated argument about whether a werewolf or vampire would win in a duel. From the front of the house, the doorbell rang, but Dae was never in the business of opening doors. That work was for their house manager, Odette.

  “A werewolf is practically a berserker when in form,” Mad said. “You can’t stop them until they’ve tasted blood.”

  “Throw them a bone,” Poe said. “Problem solved.”

  Thorin poured himself a few fingers of scotch and slung it back. “Perhaps if they had a conversation,” he said, wincing against the burn of the alcohol, “they would come to an agreement without fighting.”

  Dae laughed. Thorin was always the dreamer, the believer. He did not like to think they’d come from a world of darkness and magic and power grabs. Djinn were cousins to the demon. If a person could cut open a djinn, they would likely find their immortal heart ensconced in shadows.

  “You’re all wrong,” Dae said. “The vampire would win. Vampires have their wits in a fight. A werewolf is too consumed by his hunger to think straight. You know a thing or two about that, don’t you Thor?”

  Thorin turned away, embarrassed. He was not a werewolf but he had the monstrous temper of one. It took a lot to get him riled up, but when he was he could decimate an entire army.

  Poe stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit the end with a lighter. The air immediately smelled of burning tobacco.

  “Lend me a light,” Dae said. Poe rolled his eyes and tossed him the lighter. “Lend me a cigarette as well?”

  Poe said nothing as he pulled out the pack, but the look he gave Dae could have burnt the skirt off a lady.

  Cigarette lit, Dae slung back in one of the Louis XVI chairs in front of the massive fireplace. It was mid-May so the fireplace was empty and dark. If a person wished to, they could walk inside it and stand upright.

  It had been Red who designed Blackwell House all those years ago. He’d been a respected architect in medieval Europe and he’d always had a taste for large-scale design. The bigger the better. Red was not conspicuous about anything in his life except for when it came to his surroundings.

  Dae blew out a breath of smoke and Thorin waved the air. “Is that necessary?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Thorin, the big idiot, believed that taking care of his immortal body would make him last longer.

  Well, he was wrong.

  It didn’t matter if djinn ate kale and wild salmon, or fucked everyone they met and ate cheeseburgers for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

  They all went out the same way. The way of the wish.

  Speaking of which…

  “You making a deal tonight?” Dae asked Thorin.

  He shrugged. “I just got out of one. Didn’t go well. I’m thinking of taking a break.”

  Poe leaned against the doorway, a shot of bourbon in his hand. “I’m going to Club Drav tonight.”

  Club Drav was one of Dae’s places. Poe had a thing for the bartender that he was not ready to admit to yet. She was human and psychic. He liked to pretend that was beneath him when what he really wanted was her beneath him. Dae once had a thought to set them up, but then he decided the girl deserved so much better than Poe.

  “Dae?” Oddie called from the doorway. “There’s a visitor here and she’s asking for you.”

  Odette Beaumont was human and part of the sacra familia, the order of sacred families that had dedicated themselves to serving djinn. In exchange, djinn families provided a vast amount of security and wealth.

  The Beaumonts had been with the Blackwells for over a millennium, but Oddie had only been with them for the last few years having replaced Margaret upon her death.

  Margaret had governed the house like a warden governed a prison. She took no shit from the Blackwells and the Blackwells were endlessly amused by her vigor.

  Oddie was similar in that she was not easily cowed. Though she was only in her thirties, she was already Dae’s favorite house manager. Mostly because he could taunt her and she would just roll her eyes at him. Familial servants were immune to djinn charm, and Odette was, in particular, immune to him.

  Dae waved his hand vaguely. “Show them in, Oddie, but be nice.”

  Oddie grumbled and sauntered off.

  “It’s been a long while since we’ve had a visitor,” Poe said. “If it’s a wish she’s looking for, I call her.” He pushed off the doorway and set his glass behind an oriental vase.

  “I thought you were going to Drav?” Mad said.

  “Why, when a mark stumbles through our door? You know what they say about shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “Yeah,” Mad said. “’Don’t.’”

  Poe straightened his suit jacket and swiped back the roguish wave of his blond hair. He’d hit al
l the high notes. The expensive, designer suit. The diamond cufflinks. The Berluti leather shoes.

  Poe had always been the djinn who was trying too damn hard.

  And Poe liked to say that Dae was the djinn who didn’t try at all.

  Dae was going to let his brother have the mark—Dae was up for a challenge tonight, not someone who already knew the score.

  But when the mark appeared in the parlor’s doorway, he immediately changed his mind.

  The girl looked hollowed and desperate. Like a bunny caught outside of its hole.

  Her hair was dark and hung in messy waves around her pale face. It reminded Dae of the way his mother used to look in the morning after she unbraided her long hair, back when a woman’s station was judged through her hair. If it was long and silky, she was a woman of rank.

  The girl swiped the hair behind one ear and raked her teeth over her red bottom lip. A smattering of freckles covered her nose. She was a slight thing, but curvy in the hips. Dae could imagine what she’d look like naked.

  He pulled in a breath. Djinn, invoked or not, had higher senses than a mortal.

  The girl was wounded. Not physically, but mentally. Spiritually. A broken human always smelled like stardust and overturned earth. Dae could feel it too, on his skin, on the hair at the back of his neck, a thrill that he couldn’t shake. In a way, djinn were predators and their marks, their prey.

  Dae was suddenly ravenous.

  “Umm...” She clasped her hands in front of her. Her short nails were painted cornflower blue. “Hi?”

  “Is that a question, love?” Poe said.

  “I’m sorry...I...”

  Dae shot to his feet and shoved Poe aside. “I think the lady specifically requested me, dear brother.” Without asking, Dae grabbed the girl by the arm and tugged her in the direction of the library.

  He did not want to share this meal. Or the work of devouring her.

  When they entered the library, he shut the pocket doors behind them and rounded on his mark.

  The girl turned a circle in the center of the room. Dae knew the library was impressive. Red had designed it, after all. It spanned two stories, the upper half accessible only by a winding iron staircase. At the west end of the room, a circular window twice as tall as he, allowed the sunlight to spill in uninhibited.

  Dae had spent the better half of the last two centuries in Blackwell House and in particular in the library, Red by his side. Red had such a vast knowledge of history that he had authored nearly half the books in the Blackwell library alone.

  There was a time when Dae had wanted to know everything he could about all of the people who had inhabited the world. He’d been particularly fond of the men who had ruined their countries, lost their crowns, and fought over things as trivial as wives.

  He also found it extremely fascinating that if he flipped through any history book, he’d likely come across an entry or two about himself. But that was neither here nor there.

  Now, though...now he didn’t care about much of anything or anyone at all other than the family he had left. It was just Red and his brothers and that was all he needed.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked and the girl blinked at him.

  “Um...well...” She squeezed her eyes shut, long lashes fanning across freckled cheeks. She sucked in a breath, then pinned her gaze squarely on him. If hard pressed to describe the color of her eyes, he wasn’t sure what color he’d land on. The color seemed to shift with the light. Once gray, then blue, then a slate green. “Someone once told me you have the power to make anything happen and I’m in desperate need of a miracle.”

  “Miracle? Don’t people also say I’m a demon?”

  She bit harder on her lip. “Well, I guess I’ve heard that one too.”

  “And which do you believe?”

  “Does it matter? I need help. Demon or angel. I don’t care.”

  Desperation was exactly what he wanted right now. He didn’t need her thinking straight. He needed her to believe in the myth of his might if he was to later manipulate her into giving him a wish.

  Dae smiled. “Well, then love, I guess you’ve come to the right place.”

  Chapter 4

  ASHLEY

  What was she doing here? This was insane. Absolutely insane.

  Now that she was standing in the massive library in the Blackwell mansion, with a Blackwell brother staring at her, she kinda wished she’d stayed in her safe little bubble. She should have gone home and ordered a pizza and put on some sweatpants and drowned her sorrows while watching rom coms that were all goddamn lies.

  True love did not exist. And neither did magic.

  Right?

  “What kind of miracle are you seeking?” Dae asked. “Fame? Fortune? Success in some other form? Love, maybe?”

  “Well...love, I guess. I mean, sorta love. It’s my husband. I…uh…want to win him back.”

  Oh God, she sounded so desperate.

  She half expected Dae to give her that look. The kind of look everyone always gave a woman who wouldn’t let go. The you-poor-oblivious-girl frown. She did not, however, expect Dae to sit in the wingback chair and give her a knowing look like a doctor who had heard of this problem before and knew just the medicine for it.

  “Tell me everything,” he said, his hands curling around the scrolled end of the chair’s arm.

  “Everything?” she practically squeaked.

  “Yes. Details matter, love.”

  So she did. The whole sordid tale. Halfway through, the heat of the moment got to her and stole away her sensible side. Soon she was pacing, flailing, fists clenched, teeth gritted. “I want him to hurt like I’m hurting right now,” she said. “But I also want him back. Because he really is my best friend. And I’m not just saying that.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “I mean, I thought I was a good wife. I thought I was supportive and understanding. I barely nagged him about anything. Like how he always left a dribble of coffee in his mug each morning so it dried and left a stain.”

  “The nerve.”

  “Or how he had this perpetual habit of leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.”

  “Habits do tend to be perpetual. Nasty little things, habits are.”

  “But when you look at Isla and then look at me, you really can see why he might choose her. She’s gorgeous and perfect and she probably doesn’t have to wax her mustache every other week and I’m just…well, plain and old.”

  He came to his feet in one fluid movement. “Do not let someone else’s lie become your truth,” he said, suddenly serious. “You are not plain, love and—” he laughed “—if you think what you are is old, then you are gravely mistaken.”

  Her face flamed. It’d been forever since a stranger had paid her any kind of compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “But you don’t have to say that.”

  “I know I don’t.” He came around the sofa, stopping just a foot away from her. Ashley had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. His eyes were the color of early spring, a breath of new life, vibrant and glittering.

  In the thirty minutes Ashley had been here she hadn’t taken the time to look at him. Really look at him. Up close and so damn personal.

  All of the Blackwell brothers were handsome. They had the kind of disarming good looks that could inspire a revolution. Or be blown up to the size of a billboard and still not show a single imperfection.

  But it wasn’t just his face.

  His body…good God. Ashley was not usually one to lust after a shirtless man, but right now all she could do was picture him over there at the circular window, shirtless, giving her come here eyes and the cut of his biceps, the ridges and dimples of muscle in his shoulders, the giant skull tattoo…

  Her mind was lust rambling.

  Some of the media in Blackwater liked to portray Dae as the privileged, pretty boy whose business deals were only possible because of his money and family name, but Ashley didn’t think that was true at all, not no
w that she stood in front of him. There was a quiet, cool cleverness in his eyes and a surety in the way he carried himself. Ashley suspected he was the kind of man to build a dam, tell you it was for your own good, and then make you pay for the water he’d stolen.

  She could hear James’s voice in the back of her mind.

  Did you really think Dae Blackwell could what, grant you a wish? Make your problems go away? This is the real world, Ashley! You always live in daydreams!

  Dae was probably silently laughing at her right now.

  That stupid temp never should have told her about the wish. He was probably lying too.

  “Tell me,” Dae said now as he stood just inches from her, “what do you think would cripple this husband of yours? Besides a bat.”

  Ashley made a startled sound. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  Dae laughed. “Might as well keep your options open.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “If you insist.” He let the laughter fade from his voice, but not the amusement from his eyes. “So what then?”

  Ashley turned and leaned against the back of the sofa. She folded her arms over her middle and thought. While her churning stomach said she should go, her heart didn’t seem capable of propelling her to the door. She wanted to believe. But she also didn’t want to walk away from Dae. She couldn’t describe it, exactly. She didn’t know him. She was no one special. But she felt like her story mattered to him. She felt noticed and heard.

  She didn’t want to let that feeling go.

  “Maybe losing his job?” she said.

  “Are you asking me?” Dae leaned into her conspiringly, their arms touching. An electric zing ran up her back. He smelled like cloves and cinnamon. Like fall mornings. Just occupying the same space as him made her feel overwhelmed and weightless.

  Along with the perimenopause, she’d also lost a lot of her sex drive. Or so she’d thought. But right now with Dae, all her bells were ringing.