Ari snapped her fingers. “It’s fuzzy, but I think you… I think you said you wanted to be a sex goddess, or something like that.”

  “Well, that answers the question of why Charles Crichton grabbed your butt and why somebody left you a desperate plea and seven dozen roses on your desk. You’re going to attract men in droves.” Teran was trying to cover a smirk, but I could see that behind that straight-faced demeanor, she was holding in the laughter.

  “Go ahead,” I said, feeling miserable. “Laugh at me, tell me what an idiot I am. I deserve it. What am I going to do? I can deal with the case, as hard as it’s shaping up to be, but the fire…” I hung my head. I knew in my heart that Ellison was responsible, that it could have easily happened regardless of my wish, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had shifted the timeline—maybe made the likelihood even more likely.

  Teran wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “It will be all right. But we need to talk to the djinn, to ask him what he did. You have to get that stopper out of the bottle again.”

  “I don’t remember how I did it in the first place,” I said, picking up the bottle. No wonder I had been attracted to it when I saw it in the thrift store. I must have been drawn to the magical energy.

  I poked around the stopper, rocking it this way and that. It seemed looser than it had a few days back. I hadn’t bothered trying to open it since the ritual. I worked at it, gently trying to pry it loose and then, just when I was ready to give up, the stopper broke free and I pulled it out of the bottle. I quickly sat the bottle down on the table and jumped back, not sure what to expect.

  A faint hiss sounded as wisps of smoke began to rise from the bottle, and then, the mist formed and there was a very tall, very gorgeous man standing there. The memories flooded back.

  “Rameer, right?” I asked, remembering bits and pieces of our conversation.

  “At your service again, Mistress January.” He gave me a low bow, then caught a glimpse of Teran and Ari. “Well-met to you.” Turning back to me he added, “I hope you realize that I cannot give you any more wishes. You’ve had your three.”

  I frowned. “Didn’t I set you free?”

  Rameer shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. “You did, but to be honest…I have no clue of where to go or what to do. I’ve been in servitude so long that I decided to think about it for a while. I didn’t expect you to be opening up the bottle again.”

  Ari cleared her throat. “Did you really make those wishes come true? And if so, will you honestly tell us if you twisted them?”

  He tilted his head, staring at her with an odd grin. “Well, that could have been the case, but honestly, I was so grateful to get out of that bottle again, and you two were already so drunk that I decided you’d probably screw them up enough yourself. So no, I didn’t. I just gave your wishes an oomph in energy.” He paused, then asked, “Why? Did something happen?”

  There was a hint of concern in his voice that I didn’t expect. Djinn were notorious for their trickster-like natures and they usually didn’t care much for most mortal types—be they shifter, human, or witch. But Rameer didn’t appear to be gloating.

  “Yeah, you were right. We were drunk and I didn’t think through the ramifications of what I wished for. One I can deal with though it’s going to be tricky, but I’m not sure what to do about the other two.”

  “Which two would that be?” he asked.

  “The wishes about my ex, and being a sex goddess. Is there any way you can…un-oomph them?” I wasn’t sure how that would work with Ellison and the fire, but if there was any way to mitigate the damage, I was interested. But Rameer shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, once the wishes are granted, there’s no way to take them back. Besides, my magic doesn’t guarantee they’ll happen, it just sets up circumstances for them to occur.” He cocked his head. “What happened, if I may ask?”

  I stared at him, wondering if I could trust him. After all, I had no clue what he was really like, though I liked him from what I saw. I glanced over at Teran, who was watching him closely. At that moment, Esmara came through loud and clear.

  He’s all right, as far as a djinn can be. And you’re learning a valuable lesson, which is why I didn’t warn you off from the wishcraft ritual. Think through what you want, because sometimes you get more than you bargained for.

  You mean you knew this would backfire and you still let me go through with it?

  I’m here to guide you, but sometimes the best guidance is to let the student burn her fingers. You should have thought things through. Next time, chances are you will.

  I wanted to argue back, but she made a good point. If I had stopped to think about what I was wishing for, if I hadn’t gotten off-my-ass drunk during a magical ritual—which was one of the first things my mother warned me against—I wouldn’t be in this position.

  Let me ask you one thing, though. If I hadn’t cast that spell, and if Rameer hadn’t given it a boost of his energy—would the magazine still have burned down?

  There was a pause, then Esmara said, Most likely. No one can know for sure, but it wouldn’t have happened if the risk for fire hadn’t already been great. Don’t hold on to the guilt. You didn’t set the fire, you just gave the situation a little more energy. Ellison had a choice as to whether to throw that cigar into the garbage and he made a stupid decision. You didn’t toss it in for him, nor did you influence him to be careless.

  Feeling a little better, I turned back to Rameer, who was patiently waiting. “Please have a seat. As to what happened, well…that doesn’t matter, really. I just need to figure out how to deal with the fallout.”

  He sat on the sofa next to Ari, looking both a little conspicuous and a little uncomfortable, like the three hundred–pound gorilla in the room. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to talk about my issues in front of him, so instead I scrambled for something to say. I had been drunk last time we had met, so I decided just to start in with a few questions of my own.

  “So, how long have you been in that bottle? I vaguely remember you mentioning California, but not much else.”

  “All of the djinn own their own bottles. They serve as our homes when we aren’t in the realm of fire, but the trouble starts when a mortal finds and claims the bottle.” He shrugged. “I was first imprisoned in 744 CE. I made the mistake of visiting a beautiful oasis in a desert and a very enterprising young man realized what I was. He spied on me, and when I went into my bottle to rest, he claimed it. Thus, he was able to control me, and control who my bottle was passed to. But that bottle—the perfume bottle on the table—that’s not my original bottle. Someone stole that from me in California, which is why I live in that thing now.” He waggled his finger at the perfume bottle, frowning. “When you freed me the other night, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, but first, I need to find my own bottle. If I can find it, then I will truly be free. Until then, I run the risk of being summoned by someone who finds the original bottle and is able to use it to summon me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ari said. “Can’t you just ignore it, since January freed you already?”

  He shook his head. “No, because I have to reclaim my original bottle in order to be free, and also…the bottle is a doorway to my own realm—the realm of fire where I come from. Only the djinn can travel through the portal, but if I have my original bottle, I can return home to live in peace and freedom. I can’t do that with a substitute.” He looked so forlorn that all I wanted to do was find his bottle and hand it back to him.

  “Is there a way you can track it down? Do you know who stole it?” I asked.

  Rameer shrugged, then let out a sigh. “I do know who last had it, but I had no way of getting it back. The woman who trapped me in the perfume bottle stole my original. I don’t know why she chose to keep it away from me. Maybe she thought she’d figure out how to wheedle more wishes out of me. I guess she must have died before using her last wish. I don’t know how this bottle came to be in the store where you found it. Neither do I have a clue how to track her down. I can’t just pick up a phone book and start calling people.”

  I smiled. “You have no idea what’s going on in the world today. When were you in California?”

  “1950. Why?”

  “What was the name of the person who stole your original bottle?” I asked, pulling out my phone.

  “Hmm,” he said, stroking his chin. “I believe it was Brenda. Brenda…McAvoy.”

  I brought up a browser and began searching on her name. “How old was she?”

  “Around fifty. She was human, and one of the most demanding biddies I’ve ever had to grant a wish for.” He shuddered. “I can’t tell you how distasteful I found her.”

  “Do you remember what part of California?”

  Rameer thought for a moment. “I seem to remember the name San Diego.”

  “All right.” I sorted through the links and finally came to one that brought me to the Grave Look Up site. Sure enough, there was a picture under the notification. I turned the phone toward him. “Is this her?”

  He looked at it for a moment, a startled expression on his face. “Yes. How did you do that? What kind of magic is this?”

  “The magic of technology. All right, it says that Brenda died three years ago, but it gives the name and location of her daughter. We can call her and ask if she found the bottle in her mother’s effects.” I searched on her daughter’s name and brought up a phone number. Finally, something seemed to be going right. And right now, that felt golden. I punched in the daughter’s number and waited for a moment, till a woman came on the line.

  “Hello?”

  I hadn’t thought out what to say, but the words tumbled out anyway. “Hi, I’m looking for Kara McAvoy—Brenda McAvoy’s daughter? Brenda used to live in San Diego.”

  “Speaking,” came the puzzled response. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry about your mother’s passing, but I have a question for you. Brenda had something that belongs to a friend of mine, and I was wondering if you came across it when you sorted out her estate. I know this may not be the easiest thing to discuss, but—”

  “No, that’s all right. My mother and I didn’t get along all that well,” Kara said. “What are you looking for? I packed up all of her things and put them in storage and I haven’t really gone through them since then.”

  “A bottle.” I realized that I should have gotten a description from Rameer. “It’s a family heirloom of his, and he would love to get it back. Let me put you on speaker so he can describe what he’s looking for.” I muted the phone and motioned to Rameer. “Just describe the bottle and for the sake of the gods, don’t tell her you’re a djinn,” I said.

  He nodded, still looking puzzled. “All right.”

  “Here he is now.” I unmuted and held the phone out so he could be heard.

  “Hello,” he said, his gaze fastened on mine. “The bottle is black crystal, with gold etchings on the side. It’s shaped like a cognac decanter with a wide flat bottom and a narrow neck. The stopper is large and fits snuggly.”

  There was a pause and then Kara said, “I know what you’re talking about! That’s the one thing I liked out of her collection of things. In fact, it’s sitting on my desk right now. But I had no clue it belonged to someone else. I’d be happy to mail it to you. I live in Oregon, so if you’re on the West Coast, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to get there.”

  The look on Rameer’s face was worth the awkwardness of the situation.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You can send it to me. My name and mailing address is: January Jaxson, PO Box 703, Moonshadow Bay WA.”

  “I’ll put this in the mail tomorrow,” Kara said. “I hate to ask, but did my mother steal it from…whoever it is that owns it?”

  “Yes, in a way she did, I’m sorry to say,” I answered.

  “That figures. My mother was a selfish woman. Just so you don’t feel too awkward, this is not the first time someone’s called, asking if I had something that my mother managed to steal. She had a bad habit of picking up things from her friends’ homes. While she was alive, I couldn’t do anything about it, even though I knew that she stole. When she died, I just shoved everything I wasn’t sure about into storage and kept it in case people found out she was dead and wanted their trinkets back.”

  Puzzled, I asked, “May I ask why they didn’t go to the police?”

  “My mother was a social butterfly and queen of her social circle. She was a generous benefactor to a lot of causes, and her word could open the gates to employment, to social contacts, all sorts of things. People didn’t want to rock the boat. They saw her pilfering as an eccentricity. Most of the things she stole weren’t all that expensive, and she never seemed to notice when my father discreetly returned the more expensive items.”

  I shook my head, wondering again at how willing people were to overlook major flaws because of the person’s social standing. The rich, especially, could get away with all sorts of damning acts. “Thank you for being so gracious. We’ll keep an eye out for the package.”

  After I got off the phone, I turned to Rameer. “You should have your bottle back in a few days.” A thought occurred to me. “Did Brenda gain her fortune thanks to you?”

  He blushed, staring at the floor. “No, but she gained her influence because of me. It wasn’t just her money that protected her. I granted her, as one of her wishes, immunity from being challenged. It wasn’t one of my finer moments, I grant you, but she had me over a barrel—or bottle—should I say? She had by then tricked me into the perfume bottle, and then stole mine and hid it. I couldn’t hurt her as long as she still had my bottle. I think she died quickly, because knowing her, Brenda would have used her final wish to try to extend her life. You can always tell the ones who are going to ask for immortality.” He leaned back. “I can’t believe I’ll have my bottle back. I can’t thank you enough.”

  I shrugged. “Can you excuse us for a while? I have some things I need to discuss with my friend and my aunt.”

  He nodded. Standing, he turned to the perfume bottle and then, a bright flash surrounded us, blinding me for the moment, and when I looked again, a wisp of smoke hung in the room, and the stopper was on the perfume bottle again.

  “Well, I wish my problems were as easy to solve as Rameer’s proved to be. I suppose I’m just going to have to live with the knowledge about the magazine. It helps to know that there was a good chance the fire would have happened anyway.”

  “Oh?” Ari said.

  I told her what Esmara had told me. “So, even though my wish may have spurred it along, eventually, Ellison would have done something to spark it.”

  “He did, remember?”

  “Right, but I mean if it hadn’t been the cigar this time, it would have been a candle or something equally as stupid. But the sex goddess thing, I’m not sure what to do about that. Any ideas?”

  “Live with that as well,” Aunt Teran said. “Other women have to when they’re not magically enhanced. And remember, most attraction comes from attitude, not simply looks. I think you’re just carrying yourself more confidently than you were.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What she means, dingbat, is that you’re more self-assured. It’s like the wishcraft ritual just enhanced what you naturally have—” Ari paused as my phone rang.

  I pulled it out and frowned, not recognizing the number. Caller ID didn’t pull up the name. “Hello?”

  “I hope you liked the roses.” The voice was smooth, slithering like a snake to coil around me. My stomach fluttered. I knew the voice but couldn’t quite place it.

  “Who is this?”

  “You don’t remember me? I’m crushed,” he said, the sarcasm dripping like honey…or blood. Oh crap, now I remembered the voice and why it made me feel the way it did.

  “Val Slater? You sent me those roses?” I shuddered. The last thing I needed was for a vampire to be mooning after me.

  “Yes, is there a problem? Didn’t you like them?”

  “You broke into the office and defaced our property? All to leave me a bunch of roses? You’re out of line, dude.” I motioned to Ari, frantically pointing to the phone. If I put him on speaker, he’d hear me doing so, but I wanted someone else listening to this. Ari quickly crossed to my side and I held the phone away from my ear so she could hear.

  “I thought I was being quite the romantic.”

  “Well, you weren’t. Hey, was Tad there when you arrived?” I had a sudden suspicion and really hoped I was wrong.

  “Well, yes, but he wouldn’t let me in so I had to mesmerize him. Then I decided to send him home, but not before I made him forget I had been there, given he seemed so uncomfortable in my presence.”

  I groaned. And poor Tad was thinking he had been at fault. “You asshole. You let him believe that he left the door open? And then you actually did leave the door open and risked that all our equipment could have been stolen or destroyed? Not cool! I’m not interested.”

  “You could be a little more gracious. Roses aren’t cheap,” Val said, with an undertone of warning.

  I hesitated, remembering that I was talking to a vampire. The last thing I needed was for him to take offense and try to get revenge. Vamps had a habit of going after what would hurt you the most—usually your loved ones.

  “All right, listen up. I’m going to come clean. You’ve been caught in a magical trap. I inadvertently cast a glamour spell on myself. What you’re feeling has nothing to do with reality. Just accept the attraction’s false and let it go.”

  Val sighed. “Give yourself more credit than that. But since you’re obviously in no mood to chat, I’ll say good-bye. We’ll meet again soon, and maybe I can persuade you to realize that my attraction to you isn’t just due to some spell.” And with that, he hung up.

  I fell back in my chair. “Hell, hell, hell. Can you believe that?”

  Ari shook her head, her eyes wide. “Playing footsie with a vampire’s so not a good idea, but neither is making one of them angry. I suggest you give him time to cool down and then send a polite note where you apologize about the spell and wish him the best.”