Jack and Djinn Read online

  “She stayed with these guys no matter how badly they treated her, and no one could talk her out of it, even after Uncle Danny left. I think she just didn’t understand that there was any other kind of guy, that she had any other options. It’s what she’d grown up with, you know? All she knew. And if that’s all you know, you stick with it. If your dad didn’t love you, if he didn’t treat you right, then you keep trying to fill that hole where his love should’ve been. You fill it with men who are like him, and that will never work. I don’t know about your dad, if he was like that or not.”

  Jack touched her chin with a finger, tipping her head up to look at him, but she wrenched her face away and withdrew her hands, staring down at the table. She couldn’t look at him, not with the welter of emotions boiling inside her. She scraped the tabletop with a fingernail, and where her nail dragged across the surface, a hissing noise and a thin trickle of smoke followed. A line of scorched black was incised in the table. Jack noticed it, lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  There was silence between them, and an unusual tension. “It’s not like that, Jack,” Miriam said, trying not to sound sullen and angry. She knew her anger was surfacing because he was right.

  “Well, there is a reason you make the choices you do, Miriam. You know there is—you just won’t admit it. I’m telling you the truth as I see it, and I’m not gonna apologize for it, although I will say I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  Miriam didn’t know how to respond, so she simply nodded. Jack brushed her hair aside, lowering his face so that he could meet her gaze. He looked so worried that she had to laugh. Damn him and his puppy-dog eyes. “It really wasn’t like that, exactly,” she said eventually. “My dad did love me, just not…not for long enough. I don’t want to talk about that right now, though. I want to have fun.”

  “Fair enough.” Jack poured the last of the pitcher into their glasses, letting the subject go. He really did seem to respect her privacy, and that was hard to resist in itself. She wished he didn’t seem to understand her so well. It made her feel vulnerable, and that made her walls come up. She didn’t want walls between her and Jack, but they were there, ingrained from habit, maintained out of the need to protect herself at all costs. Yet…he always seemed to find a way of getting around them.

  * * *

  Miriam enjoyed the baseball game, even though she hadn’t expected to. She had only agreed to go because it meant being able to get out of the house and spending time with Jack, not so much caring about the game itself. The fans were energetic and excited, and their ebullience was infectious. She didn’t really know the finer details of the game, but it didn’t matter; that wasn’t as important as the experience itself: swilling overpriced beer from clear plastic cups, eating buttery popcorn, standing to cheer whenever the fans got to their feet.

  There was camaraderie in the atmosphere, a kinship shared by everyone in the stadium, and that was a new feeling for Miriam. She clutched Jack’s arm, watching him get excited as the game progressed. He held her hand, sat with his arm around her shoulders, showed her affection, for which she was starved. She felt something burgeoning inside her, a sense of contentment, strong and warm and all-enveloping, threatening to overwhelm her, filling her heart to bursting.

  Her instinct, when faced with such strong, positive feelings, was to shut down, to run away: Such things never lasted. Jack would turn on her. There would be a moment of frustration, and he would scream at her, or raise his hand, maybe not actually hitting her, but the threat would be there. She fought the urge to create a situation where it would happen, just to get it out of the way. Once he turned, she could go back to her life as it was—painful and difficult, but familiar. She knew what to expect and how to deal with it. But Jack never responded the way she expected, never treated her in a way she understood. It scared her. The unfamiliar was scary to her, not knowing where things stood or where they were going. That was terrifying.

  Jack must have sensed her introspective mood, for he sat down despite the standing, cheering crowd around him. “What’s up, buttercup?” His tone was light, but his eyes conveyed a serious concern.

  “Nothing.”

  He smirked and rolled his eyes. She should have known better than to think he’d buy that.

  He leaned close, his arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then say so. If you want to go, we can go. But don’t feed me the ‘it’s nothing’ B.S. when I can clearly see it’s not nothing.”

  She searched his face for signs of frustration or irritation. The crowd around them was going crazy, but Jack seemed to have forgotten the game entirely. “You’ll laugh. You’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You probably are being ridiculous, but that’s no reason to discount how you’re feeling.” He finished his beer, tugging her hand to lead her up the steps and out to the concourse. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but distant. Groups of people came and went through the concourse, buying snacks and beer, balancing cups and bags, laughing and talking, all of them oblivious to Miriam and Jack. She watched the people come and go, trying to sort out what she was feeling and how to communicate it.

  “I’m not used to having a good time, I guess. I mean, I’ve had fun. It’s not like I live every day moping around and hating my life. And it’s not like Ben is always horrible all the time, either. He can be charming—it’s just getting less and less frequent these days. He’s changing. The good times used to outweigh the bad, which is why I’ve stayed with him for so long. But recently he’s been drinking more, and that always leads to things getting bad.” She looked down. “Listen to me, dragging on about Ben. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to hear about. I’m sorry.”

  Jack shook his head, squeezed her hand. “No, please, keep going. This is important to you. It’s part of you. Do I like hearing about Ben? No, of course not. I wish I could just…snap my fingers and make him go away, so I can have you all to myself. But listen, you have to make your own decisions for yourself. I’m not just assuming you’ll dump Ben and be with me. Obviously, I’m hoping you will, but even that is complicated. I want you to leave him for you, not just because I want to be with you.”

  Well, there was transparency for you. Miriam pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the hooks of affection and desire dig deeper into her heart. “I don’t know what to do, Jack. I honestly don’t. You’re so…I don’t know…so much more than I know how to deal with. I never know what to expect with you. You never act like any guy I’ve ever known, and it’s confusing.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, then. But I’m not trying to confuse you, I promise.”

  “I know. And it is a compliment. I’ve been thinking about it this week, and I realize I can’t just break up with Ben right now. It’s very complex. He won’t let it go. I’m honestly afraid of what he’ll do when I tell him. I’ve said all this before. I want to be with you, please know that. But I can’t just wave a magic wand and make it all easy and simple.” Miriam watched Jack process this, thinking about it before responding.

  “Okay, listen. Lemme put it this way. I’m here for you. No matter what. I want you to be happy. If you decide to stay with Ben”—this was hard for him to say, clear in the way he spat the words out as if they tasted bitter—“then I’ll respect that. But if you need time to figure things out, I’ll wait. I want as much time with you as I can get, in any way I can get it. And if you decide to leave him, I promise I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

  This worked the hooks even deeper, pulling her to him, into his arms. “You’ll protect me?” His hands went around her waist, resting with familiar affection on the swell of her hips.

  “Yes, Miriam, I will protect you. You don’t have to be afraid of him.” This brought a hard knot of emotion into her throat and set her eyes to burning. Tears welled up, stinging salt running down her cheeks, all brought on by a simple statement, said as if it were obvious, like she should have known he would protect her. Like it
was the most obvious thing in the world, and not a foreign concept.

  Jack pulled her close to him, standing with his legs spread wide and his arms wrapped tight around her, her body pressed against him. She wanted to believe him. She really did. It would be so wonderful to just pretend that Jack could protect her from Ben if she were to do the unthinkable and break up with him. She laid her head against Jack’s chest, imagining the scene: telling Ben, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Please leave me alone. Oh, god, just the thought of it was frightening. He would be confused at first, then disbelieving, thinking she was joking. Then when he realized she was serious, he’d get angry. So angry. So violent. And Jack wouldn’t be there, would he? He couldn’t stand next to her as she broke up with Ben. How could he protect her then? But something told her he would find a way.

  She looked up at Jack, her chin on his chest, her arms on the back of his shoulders. He smiled at her, a reassuring, tender smile that broke down her walls, one brick at a time. She was supposed to be slowing things down between them, but she couldn’t quite figure out how to do that. And she found she didn’t want to.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, a hesitant, questioning touch, asking permission. The feather-light tingle of his lips against hers sent butterflies trembling down her spine to flutter in her stomach, fanning the flames buried within her, bringing them to life.

  She lifted up on her toes to deepen the kiss, putting her hands in his hair at the back of his head. This seemed to impassion him, turn him wild with desire. He slid his hand down to cup her backside and lifted her up, easily and effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his hips, felt a rush of magic torch through her, trickling along her skin and setting the fine hairs to stand on end, filling her with a pressure needing release; the blaze of power expanded and burned hotter with every second that he kissed her, holding her aloft against him. She clutched him with her thighs, feeling eyes on them but not caring.

  She was on the verge of detonation, the welling pool of energy demanding to be vented; she pulled her lips from him and breathed out, letting the power slip from her with an exhaled breath. Through half-open eyes she saw a stream of glowing golden particles flow from her mouth and spread out into a cloud, roiling and billowing in the air around them, floating, expanding, gathering force . People walked straight through it, not sensing anything. The cloud hovered in place for a moment, then burst apart and scattered throughout the stadium, darting here and there as if sentient.

  Where the fragments of magic touched down, odd things happened: Cups of beer split apart to spill over their owners, cigarettes illicitly smoked flared into sudden torches, pop machines sent floods of soda pouring out of nozzles, beer taps opened and frothy beer scudded and splashed, light bulbs burst with a machine-gun poppoppop, and the stadium floodlights exploded with a shower of sparks and flying glass. People screamed and scattered as the stadium went dark.

  “Did you do that?” Jack whispered.

  Miriam nodded her head. “I think I did.” She heard herself giggle, actually giggle.

  “No shit.” Jack frowned, glanced around at the panicked, milling crowd. “Well, maybe we should get out of here?”

  Miriam nodded again. “Sorry about the game,” she said as they exited the stadium just ahead of the crowd.

  She felt guilty, knowing she had probably just caused several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of damage with that little display of…whatever it was. Jack drove her home, giving her his jacket to wear against the chill of the night wind, his hand on her knee. She left it there, toying with the zipper of his jacket, wondering what other chaos she would cause with the magic that seemed to be waiting all the time now just beneath the surface.

  Jack kissed her goodbye, a brief brush of lips, too quick. She wanted to let the kiss ignite again, but he pulled away first, brushing her cheek with a thumb. “I’ll see you soon?”

  Miriam nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Call me, text me. Something. Just…I need to know you’re okay. If you see Ben, call me. I’ll come get you. Okay?”

  She nodded again. “I will.”

  Had she glimpsed a hint of fear in his eyes? She couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t want it to be there. But he would be prudent to be afraid of her. She was beginning to be afraid of herself.

  * * *

  Miriam had managed to avoid Ben for a while. When he did call, she ignored his messages. She switched shifts, and called in sick a couple of times. Larry knew the score and understood what Miriam wanted without her having to spell it out, for which she was grateful. She knew she’d have to face Ben eventually, but the longer she could put it off, the better.

  He finally showed up at her apartment a few hours after Jack dropped her off. He pounded on her door so hard she thought he was going to break it down. She went out to him rather than letting him inside. She wouldn’t bother Jack, though. She didn’t want him to get hurt on her account, and this was her problem to solve anyway.

  “Where the fuck have you been, Miriam?” |Ben demanded. “You ignore my calls, avoid me at work? What the hell?” He was sober, but livid, a particularly bad combination. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to his car, shoved her in the passenger side, nearly bashing her head on the side in the process.

  “I needed space, Ben. I still do.” She moved to get out, but he locked the door and gunned the engine so she couldn’t get out without hurting herself.

  “Space? What the fuck do you need space for? You’re the freak, remember?”

  “Wow, Ben. Awesome. How loving and supportive of you. I’m a freak now?”

  He had the grace to look chagrined at least. “I’m sorry, okay? That was uncalled for. It doesn’t excuse you avoiding me, though. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, Ben. If I knew, I wouldn’t need space, would I? And you being like this isn’t helping.” She found herself not caring what he did or said. She had decided, in that moment, to break it off with him, no matter what, and that freed her tongue. But she did expect to get hit at least once.

  “Whoa! Where’s this coming from?” He genuinely seemed surprised at her outburst. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never talked back like that. Miriam was enjoying the sense of freedom she got from letting him know how she felt.

  “It’s the truth, Ben,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, okay? It’s scary for me, and it would be nice if you could act concerned for once, and support me. Instead, all you seem to care about is yourself. You drive around in this stupid goddamn car like you earned it or something.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense, Miri.” He never called her Miri unless he was trying to be all lovey-dovey.

  “I’m talking about your new phone and this stupid car. Where the hell do you think they came from? Stuff like this doesn’t just magically appear, Ben. Except it did, didn’t it? Who do you think made that happen?” She knew she shouldn’t make the connection for him, but her mouth was going faster than her good sense.

  Ben jammed the brakes, skidding to a stop in the middle of the street, cars honking and lights flashing as they swerved around him. “You think YOU are responsible for this stuff?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But it’s the only thing that makes sense, and you know it.”

  “So you’re a fucking…wizard now or some shit? Wow, Miriam. You’ve finally lost your actual damn mind.”

  “You know what, Ben? Fuck you. Let me out. I’m done. We’re done.”

  Crack. She didn’t even see his fist move. She felt it, though, like a ton of bricks. Her head snapped back and slammed into the car window. She felt a sticky warmth gushing from her nose and trickling down the side of her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose and peered at Ben through throbbing eyes, but he was driving again, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He jerked the car around corners, driving like a maniac.

  He pulled the car into a deserted parking lot, threw open his door
, and circled around to the passenger side. Miriam knew what was coming and tried to lock the door, but it was too late. He had her door open and yanked her out, and this time she saw his left fist flying at her so fast she had no time to duck. The impact connected with her cheekbone, toppling her backward. Madness burned in his eyes, an unseeing haze of hatred and violence seething within him. His fist bunched in her shirtfront and he held her up, the other fist crashing and bashing into her face and chest and stomach, over and over and over, an ocean of pain rolling over her, subsuming her, drowning her, burying her beneath its suffocating weight.

  She retreated into herself, locked the core of her soul away and allowed the pain to scorch away what remained. One last blow struck her mouth, splitting open her lips and loosening a couple of teeth. At that moment the fires within her burst open and set her alight.

  She was flame, she was burning, a living torch kneeling on the gravel of the parking lot. Ben was stumbling away, cursing and shielding his face with his arms. Miriam looked up through the flames erupting from her skin and saw Ben, his arms and hair singed and smoking, frantically patting the fire on his shirt. Miriam held up a hand in front of her, marveling at what she saw: There was no skin, no bones, no blood, only fire, her hand carved out of flame. She sobbed, and she was extinguished. It was only a moment, and in an instant the flame was gone as quickly as it had come, so fast that she wasn’t sure it was real.

  Ben stared at her, shaking his head as if in denial. Whether he was denying what he’d done, or what he’d just seen, she wasn’t sure. Both, maybe. She stood up and lurched toward him, glimpsing herself in the window of his car. She was unrecognizable, her face pummeled into a bloody pulp.

  Ben threw himself into his car and tore out of the parking lot, sideswiping several other cars in the process. Miriam took another step forward toward the street, watching his taillights weaving through traffic. The sea of pain, momentarily pushed away by the ignition of flames, washed back through her, and she collapsed. She saw headlights sweep over her, heard voices speaking far away. Feet crunched in the gravel, and hands lifted her. The motion sent a lance of agony through her, and darkness devoured her.