I Conjure Thee Read Free

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    “I meant that it is possible to get my help. But unlike the Djinns my kind aren’t as inclined to help humans.” He paused for a moment as if considering his next words.
    “What do you have to offer me, witch?”
    His eyes wandered back to her exposed cleavage
    “It’s Clarissa.” She corrected curtly. She was tempted to pull the robe tighter around herself, but knew that would only serve to amuse him.
    He merely shrugged before heading back to 'his' chair. “Make an offer, don’t make an offer, makes no difference to me.” He leaned forward on the edge of his chair once more, a savage, cold look crossing over his face again. “How long do you suppose a human can go without food or water?”
    She felt her face pale and she didn't answer; her mouth becoming suddenly dry. She then became very aware of her grave situation. The whole plan had backfired on her. This Djinn, or demon or whatever it was, had full run of her house while she was trapped!
    Trapped in a circle roughly six feet in diameter, with no food, no water and she was starting to realize that it wouldn’t be long before the use of a washroom would be an urgent priority.
    “Oh-my-god!” It was said softly, more or less to herself, but of course he heard.
    “No, He’s not going to be here to help you today, or tomorrow, or the next day for that matter. Just you and me, witch.”
    She lost her determination to appear strong. He was right. She was at his mercy. Tears threatened to escape. She needed out! What was she going to do? What was he? There were so many questions racing through her head, it began to throb. She finally asked,
    “What are you?”
    He laughed again. “Well Clarissa it’s about time you asked that. Personally, I would have wanted to know who my captor was straight away, but I suppose you humans tend to take a little longer to process situations than my kind would.”

    “Bastard!” He was infuriatingly cocky; this thing . Her fear was once again overtaken by her anger. Anger at him. Anger at the situation. Anger at herself for thinking she could have pulled this off.
    She glanced over at the photograph of the little boy on the swing ‘Tony’ had been looking at earlier. Jeffrey. Her Jeffrey, currently lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. Desperate times; desperate measures.
    He followed her gaze to the picture. A look of realization came over his face. Damn, he knows why I need him. It wasn’t money, fame or power all of which people can do without. What she needed was a miracle, ‘Tony’ was supposed to be her miracle, but it wasn’t looking like he was interested in granting miracles today, or anytime soon for that matter.
    For a brief moment she could have sworn she saw a slight shadow of sadness, perhaps pity, cross over his handsome features, but that disappeared quickly and was replaced with... nothingness. She couldn’t read his features one way or another, now.
    He was silent for a few moments settling into the armchair. His attitude became gravely serious. “You were very stupid to try and summon me. To summon one of us.”
    “I didn’t have any other options.” She settled herself back down cross-legged on the hardwood floor.
    “By all means come over and sit with me.” The devilish grin that she was beginning to really hate crossed his face again, as he patted his knee.
    She tossed him an unimpressed smirk. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here if you don’t mind.”
    “Suit Yourself.” With a shrug he continued, “The grimoire you have there,” he nodded to the book beside her, “was originally written centuries ago. When it was first written, it was accurate enough and if the procedure was followed correctly then you should have been able to summon and possibly been able to bind a Djinn to the stone. Like I presume you intended.”
    He stood up then and began pacing in front of her, carefully choosing his words as he spoke. “Like every book ever written by humans, the