Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (reading books for 4 year olds TXT) 📕

free yourself. And keep that putrid glob of excrement from rising again. You need help? You’ve got it, pal.”

Finch stared at Kadar. “But—”

“Butts are delicious masses of muscle and fat that are so tender they sizzle when they cook. I don’t want to hear about yours, unless you’re offering up a slice to feed my appetite.” Kadar bristled with energy, giving me a secondhand buzz. “Earlier tonight, I was set against rebellion. Now, I’ve been forced to see the value of freedom over servitude, and I’ve seen that come to fruition. Yes, we got lucky, but we were prepared to fight—we went in thinking we’d have to battle it out for liberation. Be as the djinn. Fight him until there’s nothing left of you, if that’s what it takes. Will you wait for him to end you, or do something about it?”

Nicely done. I had to give credit where it was due. Kadar had made a more rousing speech than Santana or I could have.

“Now, how about we get on with this curse-lifting before I decide to despair of the entire human race and leave you djinn-less? Nash won’t wait around forever, and he’ll think you are doing something utterly abhorrent to this toilet.” Kadar’s smoke billowed into the bathroom. “Haven’t you always claimed to be the king of compartmentalization? Take your own advice, you sorry sack of flesh, while you’ve still got air in your lungs.”

Finch opened and closed his mouth, speechless.

I rose back to the surface. “You have my word that we’ll keep up the lie. Nash will get his life back, and after we get rid of Davin, hopefully he gets to live a good one. And so will you. The result of this lie justifies it. So, we’re ready when you are.”

“What he said,” Santana added.

Finch continued to sit for a moment. Without warning, he stood and crossed to the bathroom door. He turned, a flicker of the old, determined Finch on his face. “Then let’s go, before Nash thinks I’ve taken a Howitzer to the can.”

All three of us headed for what turned out to be a very homey kitchen. A few ghosts drifted around, but they were almost like part of the furniture, always present. They didn’t scare me. I’d seen enough weird and wonderful things to know that ghosts were nothing to be afraid of. Not this kind, anyway. A poltergeist, sure, but this house had placated its spirits. They were like house guests, simply going about their business.

“I thought you’d drowned in there.” A stranger in plaid looked up from a bottle of cider. Nash, I guessed. He sat at the kitchen table with Ryann, whom I certainly hadn’t expected to see. Luke and Melody sat on a couch across the room. I didn’t know them well, but I knew their faces and reputations.

Ryann offered a curious frown. “When did you two get here?”

“Finch came to get us,” Santana replied smoothly. “There are so many spells on this house, we’d never have gotten in without him. We were just wandering around aimlessly on the street outside, so we ended up calling Finch.”

“You’re the one with the djinn problem?” Nash eyed me.

“Yup.” I nodded.

Djinn problem? I’ll give him a djinn problem, Kadar muttered inside my head.

Cool it, Kadar. This is part of the charade, remember? I warned.

Fine, but if he says anything like that again, I’ll—

You won’t, I cut him off. No devouring, no nibbling, no tearing, no flesh-consumption of any kind.

He laughed. Spoilsport.

Nash pushed his cider bottle away. “How do you want to do this, then?”

“I guess you just sit there and let Kadar work on the curse,” I replied. Honestly, I had no idea how this worked, but Kadar seemed to. He felt agitated, eager to get on with it.

You do know how to undo curses, don’t you? I said internally.

It is one of my specialties. Well, I say that, but it is simply something the djinn innately know how to do. It is in our blood. I am looking forward to this.

Have you ever thought about unraveling our curse? I had to know.

He snorted. Our curse was placed upon us by a very old and, presumably, very dead djinn. Other djinn in our ancestry have tried to break it and failed. Because it cannot be broken, in case that needed hammering into your head again.

Would Nash’s blood really not help?

Nash’s blood may as well be syrup to us. It is useless for our curse. Its value relies on its application as a substitute for a spell ingredient—nothing more, nothing less. Our curse is too ingrained for such simplistic things. There is no spell to undo ours; therefore, his blood cannot be used as an ingredient. Does your small mind comprehend? I sensed Kadar grinning.

Yes, I comprehend. And if my mind is small, so is yours, I retorted. I only wanted to clarify.

Well, now you have. And it’s time for me to work my expertise. He took over a second later, leaving me as the backseat driver as he approached Nash.

“You ain’t going to gouge my eyes out with spoons, are you?” Nash laughed nervously.

Kadar smirked. “That depends on how you behave.”

An enormous husky stood from behind Nash’s chair and stalked between Kadar and its owner. Nash immediately ran a hand through the dog’s fur, his voice soft and reassuring.

“It’s okay, Huntress. Stand down.”

The husky did, with a snarky growl, though she stayed at Nash’s side.

With the obstacle removed, Kadar stepped right up to his victim. Nash braced his palms against the kitchen table. Taking that as a sign of permission, Kadar lunged forward and clasped Nash’s skull between his hands. The husky went berserk, but Kadar paid no attention. In the end, Ryann sat on the floor beside the dog and attempted to hold it steady, in case it tried to attack Kadar mid-unraveling.

Through Kadar’s ruby-glazed eyes, I had a front-row seat to the ensuing madness. Kadar hummed. His black smoke responded to the noise, flowing away from him and