Page 4 of Luck Be a Genie

“I do too, but the Sheriff and I will be busy tracking down any leads we can find on clearing you of this chaos magic.” He paused, and then in a lower voice continued. “He told me you’re willing to go vampire if we can’t find anything else.” He paused again. Looking torn he finally said, “I can’t say, lass, that I would want that for you. But, if it’s our last resort, I’m proud of you for being willing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a vampire,” I argued lightly, checking where I was supposed to meet King Draven’s pilot. The text message gave me a gate number—there were only three at this airport—and I started heading in that direction. “Perfectly lovely people can be vampires.”

His smile was sad. “Yes, lass, they can. But you would be locked into the night for quite a while, and my granddaughter is a being who shines too brightly to be a creature of the night.”

“I would get to go out in the sun eventually,” I said quietly, avoiding his compassionate and too-knowing eyes. But it was a good point. It took a few hundred years for a vampire to be able to enjoy full sun again without pain.

Did I really want that?

I bit my lip. No. But if it was my only option... I’d do it. It was exhausting being me. After thirty-four years, I was due some peace.

My grandfather and I said our goodbyes shortly after. I hustled through security—and made every machine beep so loudly they sounded like sirens. When that was finally cleared up, and they’d gotten entirely too close and personal with me, I boarded the tiny plane, glaring at the rickety steps that creaked underneath me as I stepped inside the cool cabin.

There wasn’t a steward or stewardess—just me and the pilot with hazard pay—so I hurried to a seat by one of the windows that could open in an emergency. I chose the aisle seat though, and pulled the window shade down so I couldn’t see out. Then I did that for every seat near me and on the opposite side of the aisle, just in case.

I was terrified of heights—and flying. My fear of heights was so bad that if I even saw a camera pan up high on a movie my palms got sweaty. And my fear of flying? Well, let’s just say my dreams the last few days had all been awful. They had either been about me falling from a great height and waking up before I hit the ground, or else I was getting sucked out of an airplane, screaming like a banshee, while the airplane turned into a flaming ball of fire and exploded right before I woke up.

The Captain’s soothing voice came over the comm relaying the need for me to fasten my seatbelt, and to turn my phone to airplane mode. I did that with shaking hands, then clicked my seatbelt in, jerking up on the buckle to make sure it was secure.

I went to put away my phone, but saw that I’d gotten a text from Dice a few minutes ago.

Probably when security had been assaulting me.

The courage you used to rescue a unicorn from a bunch of idiot smugglers with guns, and to knock out two home invaders with a skillet? Find that. And have fun. Doctor’s orders.

I snorted as I shoved my phone into my purse.

Little did she know I’d been terrified the entire time during both of those instances.

Because I didn’t want to white-knuckle the armrests the entire time, I took a dose of Tizanidine I’d brought with me. One, if I was going to die today, I’d rather die in my sleep, thank you very much. And two, it was either the pills, or one very long, debilitating panic attack.

I chose to sleep instead.

We switched to a bigger jet in Portland, and I did the same ritual as before, closing all the blackout shades, and making sure I sat by a seat where there was an exit in case of an emergency.

I was still groggy from the Tizanidine earlier. The pilot had been forced to wake me up and get me hustling through the gates and toward the plane we were switching to.

Jerking up on my seatbelt, I made sure it was secure before I dug out my bottle of medicine again. I looked at the directions, then groaned. Our short hop from the central Oregon coast to Portland had only taken about an hour, and I couldn’t take another dose for another three hours!

Shakily, I put the pill bottle back inside my purse, and clutched the straps of my seatbelt to make sure it was secure again. Then, when I started hyperventilating, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing. When that didn’t work, I unfastened my seatbelt, making a light above me ding angrily, and tore through my carry on in the compartment above my seat for my weighted stuffed dinosaur. Finding him, I hurried to sit and fastened my seatbelt again, then grabbed a throw blanket and my dinosaur and tried not to pass out.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Carra. Our nonstop flight to Maui will take a little over six hours. Sit back, and try to get some sleep if you can. We’ll be there in no time.”

I wondered if there was a cabin camera pointed directly at me because my pilot was speaking to me in a low, calming voice as though he knew I was mid-panic attack and was trying to soothe me.

It wasn’t soothing.

I was pretty sure if the airplane didn’t kill me, a six-hour panic attack would.

I was trying to take a few deep breaths in through lungs roughly the size of a kiddie straw when the seat beside me suddenly went from empty to occupied.

Nick.

I glared at him just on principle for crashing my trip, but immediately felt bad because his mocha skin had instantly gone pale when he heard my pitiful too-fast wheezes and gasping breaths.

Still trying unsuccessfully to drag sweet oxygen into my lungs, I tried to distract myself with what Nick was wearing—a Hawaiian tee shirt, board shorts, and flip flops. Because of course he was. And his gargantuan frame filled his seat to capacity, spilling over into mine.

I didn’t mind, though, because I was suddenly so glad Nick had decided to pop in that I could have kissed him. If I had any air in my lungs, I would have. As it was, my lack of oxygen was making dark spots flash behind my eyes.