The bottle sat on my desk for a week. I only picked it up again when I got back from Heathrow after waving dad off. I grabbed it and lay back on my bed, holding it up to the light. The glass was shaded slightly yellow, an ochre shade I couldn’t be sure was in the glass itself, or due to leftover contents. When I turned it the facets on the stopper cast a rainbow into the room, the yellow of the body glowing brighter. The contents glinted, turning amber, with a slick of gold where the light caught the surface of whatever was inside. The colour was definitely from the bottle’s contents, not the bottle itself. It was too thick for perfume, although I couldn’t think what else might be in it.
The round-faceted stopper was stiff. I had to twist and pull to tug it free. It came out with a tiny sound, almost a sigh, of air being released. I lifted the bottle to my nose and sniffed – dust, not perfume, was inside, along with the scent of heat, like a hot midday in summer. Coughing, I turned my head away from the bottle – and froze. Someone was in my room. Slowly I turned, hoping I was mistaken. I wasn’t. My brain drenched with fear, taking in every detail in a moment. A male, not much older than me, tall and slender, black hair shaggy and down past his ears. His skin was brown and yet pale, his eyes clear blue, like ice compressed in a glacier. He watched me with an expression of amazement that probably found a match on my face.
I blinked. And he was gone. “Hello?” No reply; no-one was there. I shook myself – of course no-one was there. Mind playing tricks, that was all.
“Mistress.”
The voice came from exactly where the figure had been. My fingers tightened around the bottle. He was there again. And yet, he wasn’t. I blinked to force my eyes to decide what they were really seeing. He was there, but insubstantial. Now I was really freaked out. If I was silly and irrational I might think it was a ghost, but I wasn’t going down that road. There was no such thing as ghosts.
So what, exactly, was happening?
There had to be a rational explanation for the fact that my brain was conjuring images from nothing.
“You have command of me. What is your wish?” The … he had a pleasant voice, low and warm. I remembered the scent like sunshine. I glanced down at the bottle. It was clear now, as though the amber contents had turned into the figure standing in my room.
Was this what it felt like to have a breakdown? Like mother, like daughter… “Okay.” I cleared my throat and addressed the insubstantial figure. If my brain was trying to tell me something, I’d talk it through and sort myself out. “Okay, so I am having some kind of emotional incident. I’m a bit fragile at the moment with dad heading off, and I suppose my brain has conjured a, um, a ghost, for reasons that are unclear to my conscious mind. I’m guessing you’re supposed to offer comfort, not freak me out entirely.” I could feel the desire to panic nibbling at the edges of my mind and held tighter to here and now, my fingers whitening around the bottle, which was the most tangible thing I had right now.
“Mistress,” the ghostly figure bowed as though it was a servant in a BBC costume drama. A quiet, competent butler or something. “I am not conjured from your mind. I am a jinn, and I am yours to command.”
“You’re a what?” My hand was nearly numb and I tried to relax. It was just words. I was talking to myself, not a real person. My over-strained subconscious had created this image, and I was supposed to have a conversation with it so my conscious mind could understand the problems I had clearly been hiding from myself. Once everything was out in the open he’d go away and I could get some help for whatever it was that turned out to be wrong with me, then I’d be fine. And no-one need know I’d had a moment or two of being unhinged. Especially not dad.
“I am a jinn.” He bowed again.
Any moment, this would make sense.
He read my confusion and tried again. “A djinn? A jinni?”
Oh my. I couldn’t be overstressed enough for actual madness. Not just because dad was in Dubai for six months. I sucked in a deep breath and let it slowly out. He stood and waited, reminding me of Jeeves. “Let me get this straight – you’re telling me you’re a genie?”
*
The jinn opened eyes that had been sightless for centuries, and looked at the one who had awakened him. His new master. A female. He wondered how long he had slept; a woman had never been powerful enough to possess him before.
He bowed, because he must. The weight of obligation settled over him like a suffocating shroud as he offered his power to her, “Mistress, you have command of me. What is your wish?”
Plump, pink lips parted, showing gleaming white teeth, but she didn’t reply. A frown creased the skin between her eyebrows as she regarded him. He was aware that he would seem insubstantial to her. She was the opposite to him; so bright and vivid and sharp at the edges that she hurt his eyes.
Her hair was bare; a glossy cascade of browns that ceased abruptly beneath her ears, cut off like a boy’s. Her skin was pale. Paler than any he’d seen before. Her eyes were blue, like a fathom’s-deep pool, with the green of moss and the yellow of sand caught within them.
The crease on her brow deepened and she muttered something, half to herself. He heard her describe him as a ghost and shuddered at the idea. His masters before this had been prepared. Was it possible that this one had gained possession of him by chance? That she didn’t understand what she had found, not simply that she found it hard to accept that the magic had worked. She was young, too. Could this be an accident? But that didn’t matter. He had been awakened; he had a duty.
He bowed again. “Mistress, I am not conjured from your mind. I am a jinn, and I am yours to command.”
“You’re a what?” Her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She grew even paler than before. She wasn’t simply surprised by his presence, rather distressed by it. He wanted to reach out and stroke the crease of puzzlement from her smooth skin and he wondered what had happened to him while he slept. He had never wanted to touch a master before; he had craved only their absence.
Since he couldn’t touch, he spoke again, “I am a jinn.” She shook her head and pushed at the crease with her own fingers, but it remained. She clearly had no idea what the word meant. He remembered some of the terms other masters had used. “A djinn? A jinni?”
The expression of horror was clear, her blue eyes shining bright from bone-pale skin. “Let me get this quite clear. You’re telling me you’re a genie?”
“Yes, mistress.”
Her eyes widened, then she looked away from him as though the sight pained her. “Oh, no.” She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. She was wearing leggings like a boy, too. Things had changed while he slept. When she sat up and faced him, those beautiful eyes were awash with water. “What am I supposed to do now?” she asked.
“You should make a wish, mistress. I can grant you anything your heart desires.”
Her face returned to her hands. He could just make out the response mumbled through her fingers. “I want my sanity back.”
“I am not born of your imaginings. I am real.” Again came the desire to touch her, to comfort. He had never felt such a response before. She seemed – distressed by his presence.
She faced him, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. Dad will…” Again her fingers found and massaged the crease on her forehead. Her breath shuddered as she sucked it into her lungs. “I can’t go mad. You don’t understand, I just can’t.”
“You aren’t mad. I am really here. My purpose is to do your bidding. What do you wish for?” He was used to a few moments of uncertainty, but this denial was unexpected and new.
Her head shook again, the glossy hair shifting around her head. She lowered her head to her hands once more. The jinn waited. He was well-practiced at that. He viewed his surroundings for the first time. They were in a square room with solid walls. The woman’s boudoir, he guessed since she was sitting on what was unmistakeably a bed. Belongings were strewn on furniture around the room: bottles of lotions for beauty; a King’s fortune of books on shelve
s to one side; other things he couldn’t begin to know the purpose of.
There was wealth here, in the room as well as the glossy, well-cared-for girl herself. Perhaps she was an Emperor’s daughter, or a sorceror’s. Perhaps she had released him in error. That would explain her fear. She was afraid of her father’s anger when he discovered what she had done.
There was no need for fear; not while she was his mistress. “Mistress, you have the bidding of me. You need have no fear. I can grant you whatever you most wish, including safety from those who might harm you.”
There was some muffled noise that he didn’t quite hear. Another long moment passed.
“All right.” Her voice was different when she sat back and folded her arms, harder and more cynical. Disappointment wreathed through him when he saw the sparkle in her eyes which looked now more like cold, hard jewels than living things. She was just the same, after all. First came disbelief and the desire to test him. Next would come jubilation, which would rapidly change to sharp-eyed avarice. Her words were as sharp as knives. “If you’re a genie and you can grant me absolutely anything I want, then I wish – ”
“Please!”
It was not his place to protest. He was going beyond the bounds of his duty to tell his master what they should or shouldn’t wish for, but he recognised the reckless glitter behind her eyes. He had been in this place before. Startled, she watched him warily. He bowed his head, to show he meant no disrespect. “Forgive me, my mistress. Please think carefully before you make your wish, for once the words are spoken, I must obey.”
The cynical glitter sparkled. “So what are the limitations? What mustn’t I ask for?” she demanded, her voice hard.
“Mistress, whatever you wish I shall provide, but if you ask for a blue elephant, or a live unicorn, I will only then have to also dispose of the creature. I humbly request that you ask for something that will truly enhance your existence.”
A soft laugh silvered the air between them. She looked at him and he was relieved to see her gaze soften to acquiescence. “Okay, I get that. All right, then. That’s sensible.” Her gaze darted around the room, and after a moment she stood and moved to a table in the corner which was covered with papers and several oblongs of a material he didn’t recognise. Her thumb twitched the corners of the papers, then she glanced at him and spoke as though reading directly from the sheet beneath her fingers. “What would be really useful is an A* essay replying to the question, ‘Outline and discuss the symptoms and effects of iron deficiency in plants.’” She folded her arms, glaring at him as though her words were a challenge.
Several of the words were unfamiliar, but a moment of his magic and he knew what was requested of him. He centred himself, drawing his magic into the core of him. The familiar, loathed shudders ran through him as he forced the world to change, and then the moment was past. “It is done.”
His mistress’ eyes scanned the room. He saw her hands start to lift and turn in a questioning gesture. He pointed. “It’s in the box.”
“The computer?”
He inclined his head in agreement and watched as she turned, bringing a screen to life at the front of the box. There was silence while she did what she needed to find proof. They always demanded proof.
“This is freaking amazing.” She turned from the box. “This is a trick, right? You got this off the internet.”
“It is what you requested.” He couldn’t help his tone. It was a miracle, but they either disbelieved or took it for granted. Many lurched from one attitude to the other.
She stared at him. As he watched, blood flushed her cheeks, turning her skin the colour of a delicate flower. “I’m sorry. I meant ‘thanks’.”
He inclined his head, not wanting to soften in his feelings towards her. It never helped.
*
“Thank you for my essay.” It was two days later, after school, when I unstoppered the bottle again. It occurred to me that I’d been a bit ungracious the last time I’d spoken to the genie. I didn’t want him to think I’d got no manners. “I got an A*.”
The genie inclined his head. “It was your wish.”
“Yes, so you said. But making wishes and having them come true ... that’s impossible.” I looked up into the calm face through which I could see one of the pictures hanging on my wall. It was a good job my essay had been good; I hadn’t been able to concentrate at all in class, too busy thinking about the genie, trying to make it all, somehow, make sense. “I don’t understand how all this works. What are you?”
“I am a jinn, mistress.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything to me. A genie is a creature from children’s fairytales, a thing of imagination, not a real being. Tell me how you’re even possible. You shouldn’t be possible, but I know I’m not imagining you. I need something real.”
The smell of heat swelled around her. She thought she saw him smile, but his voice was still and sober when he replied, “Does a bird know what he is?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Without moving the chair, the genie appeared to sit beside her. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t know how the magic works. You conjured me.”
“I took the top off a bottle, that’s all.”
There was a pause. He looked straight at her and she thought he was evaluating her honestly. “One of my masters said that I was a human soul, given birth by magic rather than by a woman.”
“A human soul. I can make sense of that.”
We fell silent. I was processing what the genie had just said. It turned out he was waiting for a command, because the next thing he said was, “What is your wish?”
“I don’t want anything,” I said, then added an honest, “Yet.” The idea of wishes coming true was too big to be comprehensible, but I was aware that might change and asking to win the lottery or become prime minister would cease to be ridiculous and become perfectly acceptable. I pulled a face; I didn’t think I wanted either. My mood tugged down. What I really wanted wasn’t a material thing.
My lungs didn’t work properly for a moment. I could do it: I could say the words and Dad would be back from Dubai. I could make that happen. Except that I spent a lot of time on my own, reading. I knew what happened when you made wishes: they always smacked you in the face somehow. If I wanted to bring Dad back I was going to have to word my wish very carefully so it couldn’t go wrong.
I looked at the genie. “I guess I could use some company. Will you stick around for a while?”
“As you wish.”
“What’s your name?”
“Name?” His face seemed to be growing more solid, or perhaps it was just that I was growing more used to him.
“Yes, you must have a name. What do people call you?”
“I am jinn.”
“No, that’s what you are, not who you are. Haven’t you ever had a name?”
“No master ever bestowed one on me. It wasn’t important.”
“Of course it’s important. If you didn’t come with a name, you can pick one.”
“I cannot give myself a name.”
“Of course you can. Choose something you like.” I smiled. “Most people don’t get to pick their own names; you’re at an advantage.”
He watched me for a long moment, ice blue eyes gentle. I wondered what he saw, whether I seemed as insubstantial to him as he did to me. “What is your name?” he asked at length.
“Astrid.”
“And what blessing does that bestow on you?”
It took a moment to understand his meaning. “Oh, we don’t pick names for that sort of reason. Not any more.” I shrugged. “It means ‘Star’, but I’m called it because my parents liked the name.”
“Astrid. Woman of stars.” The genie was standing in the doorway, gaze scouring the room. Abruptly, his gaze moved to me. “Why are you alone?”
“I – ah.” Heat rose. I summarised. “My father’s working in Dubai, my mother had a breakdown over being a mother and moved to An
tigua when I was three, and I move school too often to make friends.” I plucked my phone from my pocket and waggled it at him. “All my friends are virtual.”
He watched my face. “That is all the family you have? All the kin?”
“Yep.”
“You must be lonely.”
The genie set his finger firmly on that sore spot. I turned away, but I caught his expression as I turned. “So must you,” I said. “The only one of your kind. Are you lonely?”
“I am not lonely. I am a jinn.”
And I still didn’t understand that. “What does that mean? You don’t have any feelings? That’s not possible.”
“I exist only to serve my masters.”
I folded my arms. “Well, that’s rubbish.”
“It is as it is.”
“It’s still rubbish.”
He inclined his head. Perhaps he wasn’t allowed to agree, maybe the magic wouldn’t let him. “If you aren’t allowed feelings, do you have memories? What’s your earliest memory?”
“The pain of coming into being. It was heat and it hurt, because I fought against it. I knew in a moment what it was to be a jinn, and I fought my slavery.”
I looked at the translucent figure and knew what I had to wish for, ashamed I hadn’t thought of it earlier. “Genie, I know what I want for my next wish. “ I swallowed – I had to word this carefully, too. “I wish for you – ”
“No!”
I stopped, mouth open. Another correction? “I want you to be free,” I explained.
“And it does you honour, but please do not condemn me to such a life.”
“Condemn you? Don’t you want to be free?”
The pale, glacier-blue eyes were shuttered for a moment. “As much as the caged bird. But it cannot be.”
“Why not?”
“You described me as a ghost when first you saw me. If you were to set me free, that is what I would become.”
A human soul, born through magic. And a soul without a body wasn’t human, it was just a soul. “You’re stuck? As you are?”
“This is my existence.”
“Isn’t there something I could do?”
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 14
