A Risky Proposition, Book 1 of The Third Wish Duology. Dawn Addonizio
and I have a connection,” I pressed. “You said it yourself at the hotel that night—I’m two thirds his already. I want to hear what he has to say. I need this Sparrow. I can’t just sit by and wait for your investigation or Lorien’s research. Meanwhile, if I screw up and say the wrong thing, I lose my soul forever. You saw how easy it is to say that word by accident.”
“I still don’t see the point.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back until the plastic chair groaned. “What exactly do you think you’re going to get out of Balthus that trained investigators and magic haven’t already?”
“Who knows? He won’t be threatened by me, so maybe he’ll slip up and say something he wouldn’t say in front of you. Or maybe I can appeal to his sense of fair play and get him to admit that I didn’t really make a ‘death wish’. Maybe he’ll cancel my contract as a gesture of good faith since he’s in such a legal tight spot with the unaligned soul you found.”
A range of emotions played across Sparrow’s handsome face as he stared at me. “Balthus doesn’t have your sense of fair play, Sydney. He’ll try to trick you, and he’s exceedingly good at what he does. If you slip up and make a wish in front of him, I won’t be able to help you.”
“Please, Sparrow,” I pleaded, sensing that I almost had him convinced. “I have to do this. I’m well aware of the stakes, and I promise I’ll be careful.”
He closed his eyes and his jaw tightened. Then he let out a long breath and said briskly, “Fine. It’ll probably be about a week before I can get you approved for a visit.”
I smiled in relief. “Thank you, Sparrow. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
He gave a resigned chuckle and said, “How did we end up with you trying to reassure me? And it’s Patrick, by the way. But you can call me Pat.”
“Syd! There you are—I’ve been looking all over for you! Oh…” Sunny skidded to a halt as she realized that I wasn’t alone. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had company. Who is your company?” she eyed Sparrow with interest.
“Sunny, this is Agent Patrick Sparrow. He’s the one who arrested Balthus last weekend. Sparrow, this is my best friend since high school, Sunny.”
Sparrow snorted. “Great. Just how many people have you told about our world?” he asked with futile amusement.
“Only Sunny,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “Was I really supposed to keep the most unbelievable thing that’s ever happened to me a secret from everyone I love?”
“No. Of course not,” he sighed. “Nice to meet you, Sunny.” He extended his hand.
Sunny accepted it, shooting me a sideways look that clearly accused me of not mentioning how hot he was.
“So, what are you doing about this Balthus guy?” she asked.
Her voice was friendly, but Sparrow didn’t mistake it for anything other than a demand. He stiffened and switched back into policeman mode as he answered her. It made me miss the more relaxed Sparrow from moments before.
“Sydney and I have just been discussing that at some length. I am currently conducting an investigation into certain allegations against Balthus. I have agreed to give Sydney the opportunity to interview him, as she feels that his incarceration may allow her some leverage over the status of her soul contract. I’m sure she’ll be glad to tell you all about it,” he said, rising.
“However, right now I’m afraid I’m pressed for time and must return to the office.”
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Patrick. And we’ll be counting on you.” She grinned, clearly unfazed by his official demeanor. “Cool tattoos, by the way.”
“Much appreciated.” He nodded at Sunny and then winked at me. “Sydney, I’ll be in touch.”
“Bye, Sparrow. And thanks.”
His lips twitched with humor. “I said you could call me Pat.”
I cocked my head and smiled up at him. “I think I’ll stick with Sparrow. It feels better, somehow.”
“Stubborn little witch,” he whispered. Then he turned away and was gone.
“That man is no sparrow,” Sunny muttered. “A falcon or a hawk, maybe, but definitely no sparrow.”
I nodded, nibbling my lip with a wistful sigh.
Chapter 7 – Monday Blues
The haranguing buzz of my alarm jerked me from sleep and I groaned, nearly sobbing in frustration. Not only was 8 am an ungodly hour to be awake, but a quickly fading dream—involving Sparrow, and me running my fingers over his magically glowing tattoos—left me wanting to smash the evil, unrelenting piece of machinery to bits.
Even in the best of circumstances, I’d never been a morning person.
I forced myself into a sitting position before sliding the alarm switch to ‘Off’, knowing that I ran the risk of drifting back to sleep if I lay down again. The thick aroma of coffee wafted through the closed door of my bedroom, along with the sounds of Sunny puttering around in the kitchen. I angrily swiped at an unexpected tear, realizing those simple morning rituals reminded me of Jeremy.
I told myself I’d feel better after a quick wash in the sink and my usual double-decker mug of hot tea with honey.
As I passed through the kitchen, Sunny grunted and gave me a weak semblance of a smile in response to my weary, “Morning.” She then returned to watching the coffee pot’s progress, one hip resting against a cabinet. She folded her arms across her chest and her black silk robe drifted open to reveal a crisp cotton tank top and shorts in a pretty shade of melon beneath.
I dropped a tea bag into my favorite mug and filled it from the hot water dispenser to steep. I glanced down with a grimace at what passed for my own customary sleeping ensemble: a ratty old Grateful Dead t-shirt and boxers whose material had been washed into perfect softness, but whose elastic had disintegrated. The swell of my hips was the only thing that prevented them from falling down around my knees.
I shuffled forward into my dining room/office to turn on my computer and blinked numbly at the screen as it booted up. Sunny and I knew each other well enough to appreciate that attempts at conversation were futile before caffeine.
An hour later we were both more coherent as we sat in companionable silence, working on our laptops, with Salsa music pounding through the flat-screen’s speakers. Sunny was writing a syllabus for the medieval history class she would be teaching next semester at Boston College, and I was plugging away at my usual data entry after having gone my morning rounds with Cindy.
Jasper was curled up on a chair by the sliding glass door, basking in a patch of late morning sunlight. Nothing supernatural here—just your ordinary every day Monday. Thank Goddess for small favors.
I could get used to this, I thought with a twinge of regret. I was going to be lonely after Sunny left.
The phone rang and I saw on the caller ID that it was Angelica. It had only been a week and I could barely contemplate the thought of returning to a life without maid service. I was really becoming spoiled.
“Good morning, Angelica,” I said brightly.
“Good morning, Sydney! Shall I come by now or later?”
“Now’s good.”
“Who was that?” asked Sunny as I hung up.
“That was Angelica, from the hotel’s cleaning staff. She’s on her way up now. And just to prepare you, she’s about six feet tall, looks like a supermodel, and wears one of those French maid outfits. She’s really sweet, and she’s amazing at cleaning. Oh—and she likes to talk about sex.”
I snickered at Sunny’s bewildered expression as I got up