“First I wish to be a millionaire.” The gin laughed; the kind of laugh she’d only ever seen in movies. He threw back his head and shrieked glee into the smoky air. “You’re confusing me with my brethren again, who take the fanciful whims mortals think to be wishes and twist them to their advantage. I can’t feed off a whim, young lady. I need a proper wish – one with a sticky piece of soul still attached.”
Book:The Dream Maker