A Mystery Lake Novel: Book 2 Excerpt
A proverb from yesterday’s fortune cookie—don’t believe everything you hear or see—pricked Alfie Blackmore’s subconscious as she blinked at the double vision on the mantel. Ignoring the twin urns, she pulled a book, Arabian Nights, toward her. Her exotic neighbor tantalized Alfie’s daughter with tales of magic carpets and the Djinn. Jasmine D’Ark was from the deserts of Arabia so naturally was convinced that Djinn were real.
“Baloney!” Alfie hiccupped. “Fairy tales and the Djinn are make-believe.”
Pushing the volume back onto the mantel, she picked up the cellophane package she’d brought home last night. It rustled loud in the silence until she held up the strip of paper from inside and read: “A mysterious stranger will enter your life.”
“A mysterious stranger, eh? I could use a diversion.” She was getting mighty lonely for adult company since she’d been widowed a year earlier. Alfie glanced once more at the double vision and picked up one urn. The other stayed there. With a shrug she addressed the container. “Wilbert, you weren’t much, but I do miss having a grown-up to talk to.” Theirs hadn’t been a marriage based on love. Alfie shook the funeral urn less than gently. She pried the stopper off and peered into the dark confines to demand, “You hear me, Wilbert?”
Wooosh! Thick smoke surged out of the urn.
Alfie staggered back with a gasp as a man-like aberration materialized before her.
“Finally! Thank the gods for mercy and for seeing me freed from that … that scented boudoir!” The vision spoke in a rich, thoroughly irritated baritone. Vivid blue sparks flew off him from top to bottom. “Just wait until I get my hands on—”
“—my mysterious stranger! Wow, what a hunk! If I’d seen a hallucination like you before, I’d have gotten ineb . . . inebri . . . tipsy sooner.”
Alfie’s eyes drank in every detail: semi-transparent, silky trousers that failed to hide hard, muscular legs, shirt riding off wide shoulders, and a sash that held a sizeable dagger.
Uneasy over the last observation, she flicked her gaze up to meet his eyes. They glinted in a dangerous manner. She dropped her sights back to his smooth chest, hoping the solidness of it might steady her.
With a loud indrawn breath the vision continued his cut-off spiel in a deeper, impersonal voice. “I am the Djinni Prince, Assad Rashid Omar, and as you have released me, I must grant thee three wishes.”
After a long moment to process his words, Alfie drew herself up and fixed him with a no-nonsense glare. “Name’zzz Alfreda Blackmore. That’s Alfie, and I’ll have you know I don’t believe you’re a Djinni, even though my friend, Jasmine, says they … you exist. You are just a dream, a fortune from my Chinese cookie, not real at all.”
He didn’t look imaginary, but then, how would she know?
“Look, Mister Prince, Jasmine says I should defer the three wishes and ask for unlimited serv … servitude.”
Leave A Comment