The Wish Factor

  THE WISH FACTOR

  -A Bewitching Bedlam Story-

  YASMINE GALENORN

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published by Yasmine Galenorn

  PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037

  THE WISH FACTOR

  A Bewitching Bedlam Story

  Copyright © 2018 by Yasmine Galenorn

  First Electronic Printing: 2018 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC

  Cover Art & Design: Earthly Charms

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to The Wish Factor

  The Wish Factor

  Biography

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my beloved husband, Samwise, who is more supportive than any husband out there. (Hey, I’m biased!) He believes in me, even at times when I’m having trouble believing in myself. Thank you to my wonderful assistants—Andria Holley and Jennifer Arnold. And to my friends—namely Carol, Jo, Vicki, Shawntelle, and Mandy. Also, to the whole UF Group gang I’m in. They’ve held my hand more than once this past year as I’ve made the jump from traditional to indie publishing. It’s been a scary, exciting, fast-track ride and I’m loving it.

  Love and scritches to my four furbles—Caly, Brighid (the cat, not the goddess), Morgana, and li’l boy Apple, who make every day a delight. And reverence, honor, and love to my spiritual guardians—Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and Brighid (the goddess, not the cat).

  And to you, readers, for taking Maddy and Aegis and Bubba into your heart. YOU are responsible for this story, in a way—so many of you love Bubba that I had to write his origin story!

  Be cautious when you rub a kitty’s belly—you never know when you might end up petting a cjinn! I hope you enjoy this book. If you want to know more about me and my work, check out my bibliography in the back of the book, be sure to sign up for my newsletter, and you can find me on the web at Galenorn.com.

  Welcome to The Wish Factor

  When the baby cjinn, Younger Son, attempts to find his name, he ends up in a world he did not expect, filled with dangers he never dreamed of (Bubba's origin story).

  Reading Order of Series (all books can be read out of order):

  0.0 The Wish Factor (Can be read at any time in the series)

  0.5 Blood Music (novella)

  1.0 Bewitching Bedlam

  1.5A Blood Vengeance (novella)

  1.5B Tiger Tails (novella)

  2.0 Maudlin’s Mayhem

  3.0 Siren’s Song

  4.0 Witches Wild

  5.0 Casting Curses

  The Wish Factor

  HE WASN’T VERY good at his wishing yet, although his mother kept telling him, “It will come, Younger Son. The power will come.” She spoke convincingly, with love in her voice, and every time she reassured him, he felt better. All he had to do was grow a little older, and keep practicing, and everything would be fine.

  He wasn’t sure if he believed her. Sometimes she didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he appreciated her trying. Meanwhile, his brother and sisters all had seemed to get the hang of wishing without a problem. They popped in and out, were summoning up mice and conjuring toys while Younger Son sat in the corner, focusing, desperate to make the hairball on the floor vanish. It hadn’t felt good coming up, and now it seemed to mock him, sitting there, a sodden pile of fluff and spit.

  “Listen to me. My brother didn’t get his first wish right until he was a year older than you. And even if it takes you longer, I have faith. I can sense the magic in you.” Mollikins, his mother, a beautiful calico cjinn, gave him a lick on the head. It didn’t do much for his cowlick, but he started to purr, secure in the knowledge that she loved him no matter what.

  It didn’t help any that he hadn’t heard his name yet, either, but Mollikins assured him that, too, would come. “You know that you’ll hear your name when you find your power. So quit fretting. Go play. It’s a beautiful day out, and the moths are swarming.”

  Still fretting, Younger Son bounded outside to chase the bugs and have a tumble with his siblings, trying not to envy them. But his sisters had been given their names already, and his brother—Older Son—seemed on the verge of receiving his. All cjinns discovered their real name when they perfected the Wish Factor, and Younger Son was feeling more and more of an outsider each day as his siblings grew and he didn’t. Besides being stunted magically, he was also the runt of the litter, born last and weighing a good pound less than the others.

  He was doing his best to be happy for them. After all, it wasn’t their fault they were developing normally.

  Katrina had been given her name when she was able to manifest her first bowl of food. She had announced it to the others proudly, with a glow that set her long, black fur to glistening.

  Second came Headley. Headley had heard her name during an orgiastic romp with some catnip. They had all been lolling around in a garden, enjoying the unexpected surprise of a catnip plant, when she had jumped up and raced over to her mother yelling, “I’m Headley! I’m Headley!”

  Then, Deirdre had fallen into a puddle. It was deep enough that it could drown a young cjinn, but she had managed to transport herself out with a wish. As the others watched, horrified, she quit struggling, vanished, and then appeared beside Mollikins, shaking the water off. And she had learned her name.

  And Older Son seemed closer than ever. He kept saying that he felt like it was on the tip of his tongue, although he could be lying—trying to save face. But truth was, his wishing was getting better and better, while Younger Son’s…was not.

  Oh, it wasn’t that he didn’t try. He kept practicing his wishes, wishing for a mouse, wishing for butterflies to chase, wishing for anything to happen. But so far, not much had manifested. His wishes were rapidly approaching a hope and a prayer than any real magic.

  Disgruntled, he wandered over to a patch of tall grass and watched his sisters from a safe distance, where he snuggled down behind a patch of bramblelions, thinking.

  As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, the truth was, he could manage to wish up things. But the results had scared him. Like the time he had wished for a mouse, and found himself stuck inside a mouse hole. Luckily, Mollikins had been keeping a close eye on him, and she realized what had happened before any damage was done. She had managed to wish him back to her side, but if she hadn’t been there, he might have suffocated.

  And so Younger Son spent his days playing, trying to resign himself to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he really was a runt. Maybe he never would develop his powers in a way where they worked consistently.

  And that would mean life spent as a cat rather than a cjinn. Younger Son knew all too well what happened to cjinns like him. Most often they ended up being stripped of their powers, for their own safety and the safety of others. After that, they usually wandered off, leaving the realm of fire for a place where they could find a home with others and be taken care of.

  Younger Son understood the reasoning. A cjinn without his powers would be like…well…a day with
out a sunbeam. It just didn’t make sense. Even though he was young, he understood the beginnings of feeling humiliated, of feeling like a disappointment. And too many cjinns delighted in making it rough on those who couldn’t pass muster.

  He had already contemplated running away. If he couldn’t manage his wish-craft, then it would be his mother who would have to strip his powers, and he didn’t want to put her in that position. So far, she still encouraged and believed in him. He couldn’t bear to lose that love.

  As far as his father, Tarjan, went, though, he wasn’t quite so patient. But Tarjan was away for the moment, and it gave Younger Son breathing room. The massive forest cat had gone in search of a new place for them to settle. The realm of fire was home turf, of course, but Tarjan came from a family of wanderers. His line had always been nomads, never settling for long in one place.

  “We’re explorers,” Tarjan had said. “We don’t settle for one land. I’m going ahead, looking for a new place for us to claim. A place where the cjinns are rare, where we can stand out and make a difference.”

  Mollikins had sadly acquiesced. “I’d be more than content to stay here,” she said. “But I’ll go with you, and so will our children. I guess it can’t hurt to have a look elsewhere.”

  And so they were waiting on their father to return, and Younger Son could only hope that by the time Tarjan returned, he would know his name, and not be left behind.

  “YOU CAN DO it! You can do it!” Headley’s encouragement was annoying, but right now Younger Son decided he could use all the cheerleading he could get.

  “I’ll get it this time,” he said. He closed his eyes, focusing on the space in front of him. He wanted a mouse. A mouse would taste so good right now, and be so much fun to play with. He squeezed his eyes tight, focusing, directing all his will toward the grassy spot in front of him. Then, with the single-minded intention, he wished.

  I wish for a mouse. Right here. In front of me.

  There was a sparkle in the air, a sudden rush through his head, as though the wind had blown into one ear and out the other.

  And then, slowly, a mouse began to appear! First its feet, then the body, then tail and ears and head. And then it was really there.

  The mouse took one look at him, squeaked and turned to run, but he caught it, landing his paw on its back. Rather than play with it, because he was too afraid it would vanish, Younger Son administered the killing bite that his mother had taught him. He held it by the neck, shaking his head as he proudly carried it over to her and dropped it by her feet.

  They all waited.

  Younger Son listened, closing his eyes, hoping that the Great Cjinn would whisper his name to him. But…nothing. No sound. No name.

  Letting out a sigh of dejection, he hung his head, but his sisters bounced around him, congratulating him on manifesting the mouse as though he had done some great, heroic deed. Feeling mollified, he raised his head and beamed at his mother. Headley and Katrina and Deidre were right. For once, his wishing had turned out all right.

  Mollikins nuzzled his head. She looked down at the mouse, turning it over with her paw. “Very good. You did a good job. I’m very proud of you, Younger Son.”

  “I didn’t hear my name,” he admitted, once again lowering his gaze toward the ground.

  “That’s all right. It will come. You will hear your name and take your place in the Lineage Book. It just takes some cjinns a little longer. But the fact that you actually manifested your mouse, and you caught it and killed it, shows that you’re on the right track.”

  She let out a purr, and then began grooming his head.

  He rolled over with a purr of contentment so she could reach his belly with her tongue. Grateful for his mother’s love, and for her belief in him, he decided that he would try even harder. Surely, at some point, he would learn his name.

  BY THE TIME Tarjan returned, Younger Son had actually managed to get most of his wishing down pat. But still, he was given no name. In some ways, it was more worrisome than before. The fact that he had managed to learn how to wish correctly, without too many backfires, was a good thing. It showed that he had actually inherited the powers of his bloodline, but by now, he should have heard his name. Even Mollikins was starting to show signs of worry. She didn’t say so outright, but each time he managed to pass a test or learn a lesson, she would ask, “Have you heard your name yet?”

  And he would have to admit, “No, not yet.”

  And then, his father returned.

  As Tarjan came into view, padding along the road from around the curve in the nearby wyrewood grove, all the kits raced over toward him, and Mollikins followed at a trot.

  Tarjan was majestic—a huge orange tabby, with long fur that rippled in the wind. He had glowing green eyes, and was the most stunning cjinn for miles around. He weighed at least twenty-five pounds, and most of it was muscle.

  After a brief nuzzle with Mollikins, he turned to the kits. “Well, have we all learned our names in the time I’ve been gone?”

  “I’m Headley!” Headley bounced toward him.

  Deidre wiggled her butt, then pounced on him. “Deirdre!”

  “My name is Katrina,” Katrina said proudly. She seemed to have inherited her mother’s decorum.

  “Drakken here,” his brother said. Drakken had learned his name a few weeks beforehand, after a particularly grueling session where he summoned a fire snake and managed to subdue it. That had cost him some singed fur, but he came out all right, and with the rattle off the snake to prove it.

  Tarjan turned to Younger Son, looking at him expectantly.

  The little cjinn, feeling embarrassed, shook his head. “Not yet. I can make wishes now, though,” he offered, hoping that would be enough to please his father.

  Tarjan scrunched up his face for a moment, staring at him. Then he turned to Mollikins, with a look that said he was either extremely disappointed or extremely puzzled. “Is this true? Has Younger Son not been given his name yet?”

  Mollikins gave him a long look, warning him to watch how he phrased things.

  “Yes, but it’s also true that he has perfected his wishing. He was a little slow to begin with, but he can manifest a mouse, or butterflies to chase, and he even managed to do a little bit of teleportation. That’s rare, you know.”

  Tarjan let out a little huff, but took her warning and cleared his throat. He turned back to Younger Son and frowned, then nuzzled him with enough force to send the little cjinn rolling over onto his back.

  “Well, son, I suppose you’re just taking your time. We won’t worry about it, especially if your wishing is on track. It will happen when it happens. Now, gather ’round, because I have news. I’ve found a new home for us. It’s in the humans’ realm—in their world. There aren’t many cjinns there, so we can have a large territory. And the world is sparsely populated, so we shouldn’t be bothered much. I doubt if the humans will ever amount to much. We’ll have space to spread out. I believe Winifred is taking her family over there too. So we’ll have friends.”

  Younger Son shivered. He didn’t like the idea of leaving home. This was the only home the kits had ever known, this forested patch in the realm of fire. But Tarjan was adamant, and Mollikins determined to stick by her mate, and so without further ado, they gathered the kits together and transported over to a new world.

  MOLLIKINS LOOKED AROUND her, wondering what the hell Tarjan had been thinking. This world wasn’t the paradise he had painted it to be. Oh, it was pretty, there were trees and flowers everywhere, and grass, and she could feel the shift of the wind on her fur, and the scent of bubbling water nearby, but she could also sense danger everywhere she looked. There were creatures here that would hunt them, and while she was sure of her powers, her instinctive nature to protect her kits took over. She would have to be watchful.

  “What were you thinking?” She turned to Tarjan, trying not to let the kits hear her feelings and thoughts.

  “But…
it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tarjan seemed genuinely confused. He nervously lifted one paw, licking it.

  “Beautiful, yes. But you idiot. Can’t you feel the danger? It’s all around us. I won’t be able to get a moment’s sleep. I’ll have to constantly keep an eye on the little ones.”

  “I’ll be here to help. And really, when you think about it, there’s danger back home. You get a rogue fire elemental who’s running amok, and everybody’s a target.”

  Tarjan was sounding suspiciously defensive. Mollikins suspected he knew that he had made a mistake.

  “I just want to go home. I want to take the kits and go home.”

  “You haven’t even been here a full day. Won’t you give it a chance? Just a day and a night? That’s all I ask. Give it at least one full sunrise, and then make up your mind. If you still want to leave, then we’ll leave.”

  Exasperated, but not wanting to argue, Mollikins agreed. “One sunrise. But if I still feel the same tomorrow, we all go home, and you give up this idea. Deal?”

  Grumpily, Tarjan shifted his eyes away from her. She knew she had won.

  “Fine. I agree. You have a deal.”

  Mollikins spent the day keeping the kits from running off. She had no trouble with Younger Son, who tended to stick by her as a matter of course. But watching Headley and the others was more of a problem. The older four were more adventurous, and tended to take after their father. They wanted to go exploring, begging her to let them go just a little bit farther, just a few more steps. Every time she turned around, she found herself yelling for someone to get their tail back to her side.

  With Tarjan in the lead, and Mollikins in the rear, they began to explore the region. She had to admit, Tarjan was right—this was a pretty area.