"Ok, let me get my sword and we can go."

I wasn't about to go meet a genie without some kind of protection. I decide to leave the plasma pistol at home. I seriously doubt it would make a dent in Faust even if he tried something.

Mason phases us to a condo in New York City where Faust lives with his patron, Heath Knowles. As soon as we arrive, I'm met with white: white walls, white furniture, white kitchen, white-washed hardwood floors. The only things that bring any sort of color into the living s.p.a.ce are the black and white pictures hanging on the walls and the wall of windows letting the colorful view from outside peek in like an urban mosaic.

A man walks around the corner from the kitchen area. He's tall and rather debonair looking in a cla.s.sic Fred Astaire/Gene Kelly kind of way. His brown hair is slicked back and he's wearing, of course, a white shirt, pants and flip-flops.

"Ahh, Ms. Riley, I presume?" He asks, coming to stand in front of us.

"Faust, I presume?" I answer back.

"Where are my manners," Faust says, holding out his hand to me.

I look at Mason, not quite sure if I should shake hands with the jinn. Mason nods once, letting me know it's safe.

I shake Faust's hand and marvel at how smooth and delicate it feels. I instantly know Faust hasn't done much with his life except feed off the wishes of others.

"Mason said you wanted me to do you a favor before you'll give us Balaam's staff. I'm not sure what I can do for you. You're not going to ask for my first born child are you?"

Faust laughs. "No nothing as dramatic as that. Aren't you Chandler Cain's girlfriend?"

No one's asked me that point blank before. I side step answering it.

"What does your favor have to do with Chandler?"

"I need you to get something for me."

"Does Chandler have it?"

"No but his agent does."

"Are you serious?" Mason says unexpectedly, making me jump slightly with the strident way he asked his question. "I thought the two of you buried that hatchet years ago, Faust."

"I would like to bury a hatchet in that nit wits skull," Faust says fuming.

"He'll never give it to Jess."

I hold up my hands to make them both stop because I'm completely lost in the conversation they're having with one another.

"What the h.e.l.l are you guys talking about?" I ask. "What does this have to do with Chandler's agent?"

"Do you want to tell her," Faust asks Mason, "or shall I?"

Mason faces me. "Chandler's agent is a jinn."

"And you didn't think that was something important to tell me before now?" I ask in exasperation.

"Horace seemed harmless enough and I didn't want you to think badly of Chandler for using a jinn to get where he is in the music business. Plus, Horace seemed keen to stay out of the way whenever you and I were around. I didn't see him as a threat to you."

"So Chandler cheated to get where he is?" I ask. "He made a wish with this Horace?"

"It looks that way."

"No."

"No?"

"No. Chandler wouldn't do that," I say with complete confidence. "Chandler may have led a charmed life but I don't think he would cheat to get what he wants."

"Well, I don't care about the boy," Faust says dismissively. "I want you to get me Horace's ring."

"Why do you want his ring?" I ask.

"Because if I have his ring, he can't make any more deals with people," Faust tells me, a cruel smile stretching his lips.

"Ok," I say still not quite understanding, "and why is that important to you?"

"Because he's a sniveling little b.a.s.t.a.r.d who doesn't deserve to be a jinn! He gives us a bad name. If that b.i.t.c.h hadn't used King Solomon's ring on me to take it back, Horace would be where he belongs, in that nasty little p.a.w.n shop of his downtown."

"I take it by 'b.i.t.c.h' you're referring to Lilly?" I ask, feeling my temper make my palm itch to slap the c.r.a.p out of Faust.

"Who else?"

I give in to the itch. I slap Faust so hard across his left cheek he staggers back from the hit. He holds a hand to his cheek and stares at me in surprise.

"Don't ever call her a b.i.t.c.h again to my face or anyone else's. Do we understand each other?" I ask him, not even attempting to temper my anger.

I see Faust's eyes leave my face and travel to the sword on my back. I get the feeling he knows what it is without me having to take it out and demonstrate its power.

"Fine." He says, rubbing his cheek and lowering his hand. "Just get me Horace's ring and you can have the staff."

"How do we even know you actually have the staff we need?" I ask.

Faust snaps his fingers and a long wooden staff that doesn't really look like more than some piece of driftwood to me is clutched firmly in his hands.

"Is that it?" I ask Mason, since I have no way of knowing for sure.

"Yes. That's it."

"Ok then. I guess we need to go talk to Horace."

Chapter 17.

Mason phases us to a hallway in a nice looking hotel but it isn't the one I'm used to phasing to when visiting Chandler.

"Did he move?" I ask.

"We're in Los Angeles," Mason tells me. "He's here to attend the Grammy's this coming Sunday. I thought he would have mentioned it to you."

"No, we haven't had a lot of time to talk about what he's been up to when he's not with me and the others."

Mason knocks on the black lacquered door we're standing in front of.

Deon answers it and smiles when she sees me.

"Just the girl I wanted to talk to," she says, grabbing my left hand and dragging me inside the room. "Come on in here so I can get your input."

I have no idea what Deon would want my input on.

I see her look down at the hand she's holding and notice the ring but she doesn't comment on it.

Deon's helpers are buried in racks of clothes in the middle of the living room. Chandler is in the midst of them looking at outfits. When Chandler sees me, his face lights up with unabashed happiness. Deon lets go of my hand and Chandler comes up to me to give me a hug.

"Remember," he whispers to me, "we're boyfriend and girlfriend to these people."

I nod understanding the ruse we're still involved in.

Chandler takes one of my hands into his and drags me over to the racks of clothing. Mason stands off to the side letting me take the lead and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"Now," Deon says, "we're trying to decide if we want to go retro cool or current rock star cool."

Deon pulls out some outfits Chandler is supposed to choose from to wear to the Grammy's. I've always been a sucker for simple and cla.s.sic. So I tell them I think he should wear the white suit and black shirt combo that's presented. Chandler agrees.

"Ok, those colors will work with whatever Jess is going to wear," Deon says.

"What do you mean it'll go with what I'm wearing?" I ask, looking from Deon to Chandler.

Chandler laughs nervously. "You remember," he says like I should know what he's talking about. "You're coming to the ceremony with me. We talked about this the other day. JoJo Armand is designing your outfit."

I suddenly feel like strangling Chandler. I love him like a brother but at the moment I want to kill him.

"Oh, yeah," I say having no choice but to play along, "I forgot."

"Ok, I guess we'll get out of your hair for a little while," Deon tells us, waving to her entourage to get ready to leave. "We'll just leave these clothes here for now and pick them up later. I'm sure you two could use some alone time together."

Chandler drapes one of his arms across my shoulders.

"Thanks, Deon. You know I don't get to spend much time with my sweetie."

I instantly wonder if anyone would notice me slamming my fist in Chandler's smiling face. I could make it quick. Very little blood would be spilt...

Once Deon and crew are gone, Chandler drops his arm back to his side.

"Don't hit me," he says, holding up his hands in front of him to ward off my attack.

"The Grammy's?" I almost yell, but don't because I'm not sure how thick the walls are in the penthouse suite Chandler is in. "You didn't think it was important to ask me if I wanted to go before you told everyone I would be there with you."

"It slipped my mind," he confesses. "With everything else that's been going on, I just forgot until my agent had us on a plane to fly here yesterday. Deon asked me if you were coming with me and I just blurted out that you were without even thinking about it."

I sigh, letting my anger fade. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. Everyone thinks I'm going. Is JoJo really making me a dress to wear?"

"She will be right after I call her," Chandler says sheepishly. "I just figured you would rather have her make you something than have Deon arrange something for you to wear."

I couldn't fault that logic.

"Why are you guys here anyway?" Chandler asks looking from me to Mason.

"We came to see Horace," Mason says. "Where is he?"

"Probably down in his room." Chandler looks confused. "Why on earth would you want to see my agent?"

"We know what he is," Mason says.

"My...agent?" Chandler asks, clearly still confused.

And it's then I know I was right about what I said before.

"Do you know what a jinn is?" I ask Chandler.

"I'm not even sure what you just said," Chandler admits, his face a complete blank.

I look to Mason and I know my expression says, 'I told you so.'

"How long have you known Horace?" Mason asks.

"Horace has been in my life forever," Chandler tells us. "He was good friends with my dad. When I was younger I used to call him Uncle Horace. Then when I made it in the music business, he offered to manage me because he knew people who could help me out."

"Horace is like a genie," I tell Chandler. "He can make peoples wishes come true but apparently those people have to take care of their jinn for the rest of their lives."

"Usually such a bargain requires that the patron lose the love of their family and friends though," Mason says. "You still have family you keep in contact with?"

"Yes," Chandler says. "I didn't lose anyone but I don't remember ever making a wish either."

"Could you call Horace and ask him to come up here?" Mason says. "Don't tell him we're here. I have a feeling he's been avoiding us for a reason."

Chandler gets on the phone and Horace is at his front door within minutes.

"What's up CC?" Horace asks as he walks through the door.

Horace is about my height, slightly overweight with balding light brown hair. He has a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. He's wearing stylish black framed gla.s.ses and a tailor made blue suit.

When Horace sees us standing in the room, he comes to a complete stop. He does an about face but Mason quickly phases to him, grabs the back of his blue blazer and yanks him back into the room.