Three Wishes (25 page)

“Great.” The angel tossed the paper aside. “How is Carter today? Do you think he knows we were the thieves?”

He had to know. She’d expressed such interest in the bottle, had told him of the genie inside and the danger. Carter might not suspect Dar or Wyatt, but he surely knew she was somehow involved.

“It’s not easy sneaking around his booth. He knows me, and he probably suspects I’m somehow involved.” Wyatt glanced around furtively. “It seems like business as usual. He’s joking with clients and staff, handing out copies of Ouroboros. I get the feeling he’s nervous, like he’s watching for something to happen.”

Dar shrugged. “What’s he going to do? He’s a human. He doesn’t know where the bottle is, or have any proof as to who took it. He filed a police report; he could try to break into Wyatt’s or my hotel room. Other than that, he’s pretty close to checkmate.”

Asta glanced toward the booth, several rows away, and felt a pang of guilt for betraying the man who’d trusted her enough to tell her about his childhood. “I can’t imagine he’d be planning a little robbery of his own. I’m sure he’s upset over the loss of his grandmother’s antique.” And he probably hates me. The thought made her feel almost sick.

“He can rob my place all he wants,” Wyatt said. “All he’ll get is some dirty laundry and a six-pack of Budweiser.”

“Budweiser?” Dar punched Wyatt’s shoulder good-naturedly. “I thought you techie guys all drank some kind of emo craft beer.”

Asta ignored them. The mage should arrive soon, but she was feeling really uneasy about the whole thing, and horribly guilty about Carter. Wyatt could hardly get close to the man, and Carter and Dar weren’t likely to exchange much information without fists involved. That left her.

She snagged a tote bag from a nearby booth and wandered, adding various brochures before making her way to Genus Micro.

“Hey.” She smiled at Carter, trying to gauge his mood.

“Hey to you, too.” His return smile was stiff, anger and betrayal in his eyes.

He blamed her. This whole thing was a nightmare. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Remember when you were talking about the greater good? I’ll return it as soon as it’s safe. I just couldn’t risk that thing getting out.”

It was really awkward trying to have this conversation in a booth full of convention attendees who were listening. Carter must have realized too. He put a stack of brochures on a nearby table and looked down at her, his blue eyes flinty. “It’s a busy day, and there are tons of distractions. Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private.”

There wasn’t a suggestive hint in his comment, and the Carter she knew would never threaten violence, but Asta felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. He was angry, and he had every right to be, but there was a hardness about him that hadn’t been there before. “Where should we go?”

“The café next door? It should be quiet this time of day.”

A human would be no threat to her, but something about him today was making her skin crawl.

“Sure.”

He took her arm, and she winced at his firm grip. Maybe she had been wrong about him. She admitted to being naïve and having a trusting nature. There was a chance she’d only seen the best in Carter and had overlooked this angry man whose fingers were digging into her flesh as he led her through the convention center. Had Dar been right about this human? And if she was blind to Carter’s nature and motivations, perhaps she’d been blind to Dar’s too.

No. Not Dar. He might be as sly as any other rat, but he’d never hurt her. He cared about her.

Carter let go of her arm as they entered the empty café. After serving them chai lattes, the barista vanished to the far corner with a book. Phelps did seem different. His pleasantries lacked the warmth and energy they’d had previously.

“I know you’re the thief, no doubt assisted by your boyfriend.”

He’d cut right to the heart of the matter. Asta winced. Wait, boyfriend? Oh sheesh, he meant Dar.

“I’ll return it; I promise. We’ll have the genie out of the bottle by tonight, and I’ll bring it back to you.”

Phelps snorted. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I checked out this Dar character. He’s not who he says he is, and I’m willing to bet you’re not either. Rwandan voodoo-exorcist, my ass. Who are you really?”

I’m an angel
didn’t seem like a response that would go over particularly well. “I swear on my eternal salvation that I’ll give you the bottle back. This genie is dangerous, and I can’t take the risk that you’ll accidentally let it out. I’ve no idea what type of demon it is, but it’s old and powerful, and it’s going to be angry when it gets out. I didn’t want to do this to you, honestly, but thousands of lives, maybe even more, are at stake.”

“You stole from me, Asta. Stole. I trusted you. I let you into my hotel room, let you into my heart, and you stole something that’s precious to me. It’s one of the only things I have to remember my grandmother by.”

She felt nearly sick with guilt. Maybe they’d been mistaken. Maybe Carter hadn’t made any wishes, wasn’t completing the contract with the demon at all. What if they’d just stolen something sentimental from a man who’d gotten his act together the latter part of his senior year and put together a wildly successful company? Humans had done that so many times before.

And she would have believed him, except for that little nagging part of her mind that screamed otherwise. It was time to dig a little and find out who Carter Phelps
really
was.

“Carter, you know what’s in that bottle as well as I do. That first wish involved your schooling and grades, and the second wish involved the success of your company. You’re entitled to make your own ethical decision, and I have no problem with you profiting, but that leaves only one more wish. One little slip, one moment of desperation, and the genie is out of the bottle. I can’t allow that abomination to walk the earth, destroying countless lives.”

The tables were turned, and now it was Phelps’s turn to plead ignorance. “There is nothing in that bottle. My grandparents got it on an expedition in Turkey. Six hundred years ago it held cooking oil, but there’s nothing in it now.”

He was speaking the truth. Asta squirmed, realizing he believed the bottle was just a pretty artifact. Darn it all. His success was either honest, or he’d made the wishes accidently, unaware of the repercussions. She’d hurt him; she’d betrayed his trust and it ate at her soul

“It’s not oil, and it’s not empty. Maybe you weren’t aware of what you were doing when you made those wishes, or maybe you didn’t make any at all. Either way, I can’t take the chance you’ll release the genie.”

Phelps stared at her with disturbing intentness. “It’s mine, Asta. My Grandmother gave it to me. I promised you I wouldn’t make any wishes, but you stole it anyway.”

“I
had
to, Carter. Can’t you see that?” Asta pounded a fist on the table in frustration then lowered her voice as she saw the barista look up at her. “The original sorcerer who put him in there had the ability to banish him back to Hel. You don’t, and if that genie gets out, he’ll kill you first then move on to others. I know you want your memento back, but I have to make sure it’s safe first.”

“Then teach me how to banish the genie if he gets out. Return the bottle to me, and I’ll assure you the demon will be banished if he accidently gets out.”

“No. One misdrawn rune, one slip in your pronunciation and it’s all over. I can’t take that risk.”

“This isn’t your business,” Carter snarled. “Who do you think you are to go stealing my possessions, claiming to be saving the world from demons? You’re crazy, and you’re a thief. And if you had the slightest bit of kindness in you, if you were half the woman I thought you were, you’ll return the bottle.”

“I’m sorry.”

Phelps’ hands clutched the tablecloth. “Right. Let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen, because I’m onto your little game. This expert you’ve called in somehow won’t be able to get the genie out, so you’ll need to confiscate it for all of eternity—which will be as long as it takes you to sell it on the black market. You’re a thief, a lying thief, and I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”

The man got up and stormed out of the café. Asta pushed the latte away, buried her head in her hands, and fought back her tears. How could she have screwed this up so badly? The only thing to do now was soldier on and do everything in her power to make this right. Carter may never forgive her, but she’d make darned sure he and all the other humans in her city were safe.

***

“Holy Goddess on high, how did someone do this?”

Kirby’s exclamation wasn’t causing them to have any degree of confidence in his ability to perform this task. Dar had his doubts when the mage had first arrived and spent nearly thirty minutes gawking at Asta. True, Kirby had probably never seen an angel before, but his open awe didn’t do much to solidify his reputation.

Dar felt a bit guilty—that he’d brought the mage over on this fool’s errand, and that he’d failed Asta. So much for impressing her with his connections in Hel. If only Gareth, an actual sorcerer-level magic user, could have been convinced to make the journey. Although, there was no guarantee he’d know what to do with this bottle either.

“There’s really a demon in there?” The mage held a long crystal near the bottle, squinting as it glowed. “How does he fit? Is he in the form of an insect, or a single-cell life form, or something?”

“He’s without corporeal form. The bottle is magically charged to hold him in that state until he performs the service he was summoned to do. Then he’s free to assume a physical form.”

For fuck sake, he shouldn’t have to explain this to Kirby. His sister had told her this man was good, that he could deliver. Dar was beginning to doubt her judgment—at least when it came to magic users.

“I thought you guys died when you didn’t have a physical form. That’s what the elves always taught us.”

Dar gritted his teeth in exasperation. “Not always. Can you break the spell? We need to release him from the bottle and send him back to Hel.”

Kirby shrugged. “I can try. This isn’t a spell I’ve ever seen before. Trust me; if the elves knew how to strip a demon of his physical form and stuff him into a container, they would have done it. I’ll do my best, but we’ll need to set up serious protection. I can tell by the energy signature on the bottle that this guy is bad news, although the bottle is sealed.”

“What do you mean sealed?” Asta ran a finger along the side of the bottle. “Carter—the owner—said he’d opened it.”

“Not sealed like that. It’s like a prison wall—I can’t reach him, can’t communicate with him. All I can do is try to smash through and give him an opening to get out. And given he’s been trapped for hundreds of years, I’d really want him to come out into a warded banishing circle, if you know what I mean.”

Dar did. He’d be pissed as all fuck if he’d been stuck in there for that long, waiting for someone with enough balls to complete the contract. Didn’t matter whether this guy was an ancient or a Low, he was going to come out fighting. “So what do you need?”

Wyatt had remained at the convention to keep an eye of Phelps, but Dar could run out and gather supplies while Asta stood guard.

“Got it all here.” Kirby dumped a huge bag on the floor with a thump. Inside was a huge book, various bottles, several pieces of chalk, a box of salt, and a wand.

“Can we help?” Asta picked up one of the pieces of chalk.

“Probably not. I’ll need to charge the runes and the circle as I draw them, in order to ensure optimal containment. Best to do that myself. There is one thing you can do for me, though.”

“Name it,” Asta replied. She’d been tense and sad since this morning, and Dar wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. Last night had been amazing, and this morning he’d felt the connection with her, like electricity every time she was near. Now... now she was distant and brittle.

“Deep-dish pizza. Lou Malnati’s on South State Street, with sausage and mushrooms.”

“Oh, I’ve been dying to try that. Deep dish, it is.” Asta gave a forced smile and headed out.

Dar watched while the mage drew intricate patterns around the bottle. It was a long and boring ordeal. Even after Asta had returned with pizza and beer, Kirby continued his task. Finally satisfied, he sat and consumed three room-temperature slices and two bottles of beer before placing his hands, palms down, on the table. “We ready to do this?”

“We?” Dar raised his eyebrows, wondering what part he and Asta could possibly play in this.

Kirby’s face turned serious. “We. This thing gets out of the circle, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I got a reading on the energy signature, and I’m gonna say that I’m nervous. I want to identify the demon before I release him if we have time. It’s your call.”

Dar turned to Asta, his eyes drawn to her mouth as she gnawed her lower lip. “Identify him. Or her. I want to know what I’m up against if I need to go all ninja on one of my brethren.”

“Him. At least he was in a male form when he got stuck in the bottle.” Kirby chugged down the rest of his beer then went for his book. “I’m going to do a quick spell to reveal his names then see if I have any records on him.”

The next half hour was as exciting as watching the Hallmark channel. Dar paced, then stared with glazed eyes before he gave up and retreated to the newly stocked mini bar. The angel seemed to have more endurance, watching the mage intently and flipping through his spell book with interest.

“Did you know they could control time within certain parameters? They haven’t quite realized it yet, but it’s right here. How precocious of them!”

Dar handed her a mini of gin and watched her sip it. “Juniper. Very nice. Look at this fertility ritual. Can you imagine the garden? True, it only works on Rosa genus, Rosaceae family, but what an amazing spell.”

“I’m more of a nightshade guy myself.”

Kirby was frantically writing pages of sigils. Dar’s heart sank. Young demons only had a handful of names—usually less than ten. Ancients could have hundreds of names and titles. The longer the mage wrote, the more shit they were in.