by Carol Riggs
“I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction,” I say, unsure how electricity fits into his mother’s reaction.
He darts into the kitchen, and I shadow him there. He wishes for me to fill a freezer with things called pork chops, crinkle-cut potatoes, and cans of orange juice. I also conjure a pair of Wefler bars at his request, and to my astonishment, he hands me one.
“Um, thank you.” This is unexpected. Without question, he’s a considerate master. I unwrap the bar and bite into sweet chocolate. My eyes close as I chew. I’ve never eaten anything like it before, except maybe blander concoctions of carob. This bar glides over my tongue and melts into a rich river. The nutmeats add an exquisite chewiness. “Delicious.”
“These are my absolute favorite.” Nathan’s voice is drenched with bliss and contentment. His teeth squeak against the pecans.
This could be a suitable time to ask him about searching for Karim, while he’s feeling pleased with my work. I swallow chocolate and open my mouth, but the words don’t come out. Maybe it’s too soon. After all, he’s been my master for less than a day. One prior master grew angry when I broached the subject early, and forbade me from talking about Karim ever again. I don’t want that to happen this time.
I take another bite of my bar and watch Nathan lick chocolate from his fingers. His aura is warm, helpful. It’s like the scent of cinnamon mixed with the aroma of fresh flatbread. A fondness I haven’t felt for centuries rises beneath my breastbone. It calms me. The feeling is similar to the affection I had for Jamaal, my favorite brother. Jamaal was as kind and generous as Nathan seems to be. At fifteen years old, my younger brother was everywhere. Assisting my father with stitching tents, aiding my sisters in feeding the camels, helping my mother and me scrub trousers and tunics and headscarves in the washtub, despite it being a woman’s work. He’d do anything for me. Anything I asked.
Ah, Jamaal. I miss him as much as I miss Karim, although it’s a different kind of missing. Toss it all. I’ll ask my master for help now. He gives the impression he’s compassionate enough not to become angry.
“Nathan.” The name is awkward in my mouth, especially after thinking of Jamaal. Pinpricks stab my innards. I ought to be calling him Master.
He grows more serious at my tone. “What, Adeelah?”
I fumble in my mind for words. Easing into the request might be better, an indirect approach. “Have you…ever been in love, or been fond of someone?”
He goes silent for a long stretch, his gaze fastened to mine. The corners of his mouth angle up. I startle as he laughs, the sound of it bubbling up like a mountain stream, hearty and natural.
“Along with being magical, you’re sharp.” He scrubs his hands across his face. “Man, I’ve been stressing about this for half a year now. Do I like her as a friend, or more than that? It’s tough. I don’t know what she thinks of me. Since we grew up together, I bet she sees me as her brother. I keep trying to find a good time to ask her. Can’t bring myself to do it. If she doesn’t feel the same way about me, I might ruin our friendship. Total burnt toast.”
His words are a flood, a torrent unleashed. What’s he’s talking about? I got lost somewhere among the ruination and burnt toast. “Er, who?”
“Cherie, of course. She’s smart, pretty, and funny. Beagley insists she likes me as more than a friend, but he knows I’d punch him if he said anything different. I love having her as a best buddy, but I also kind of want to see if there’s more than that.”
I try to keep my face a placid mask. So much for trying to bring up the subject of Karim. The next thing, he’ll want me to create a love potion. I swear, there’s nothing new under the sun in the human realm. “If you want to be sure it’s truly you she’s responding to, a love potion doesn’t last more than a few months and may not be a reflection of her true feelings. And I can’t directly change her mind or her personality.”
He snorts. “Shoot, I don’t want to use a love potion, or magically change her. I just want to know if she likes me in a more-than-friends way. Before we graduate and trot off to different faraway colleges or something.”
Then ask her, you fool, and find out.
But I know it’s not that easy. Even though Karim and I bonded in an instant, I wasn’t sure of the depths of his feelings for me at first. Luckily, my uncertainty lasted only a week. One long, torturous week.
“I’ll help you investigate this matter,” I say, hating myself for offering. On the other hand, if I help him with this, he might be more inclined to help me later on.
“Great!” He begins rattling off ideas about how I can be of assistance. The words patter against my ears and don’t sink in.
Curses. That conversation didn’t go as planned.
Not at all.
For now, my opportunity is gone. I must try to broach the subject of finding Karim another time.
Chapter 7
Nathan talks about Cherie for the next fifteen minutes. I toss in occasional words of agreement, trying not to sound disappointed. Then we retrieve our jackets and go outside for the Bandon tour. I frown at his transportation, the dilapidated blue vehicle standing in the graveled part of the yard.
“You expect me to climb into that pathetic contraption?” I ask.
He throws a hand over one window as if to shield it from my words. “Hey, don’t insult my baby. She’s a 1975 Mustang. A classic.”
“Is it safe for you to ride in?”
“Sure.” He waves me to the opposite side and opens the door, gallant in persisting that I ride in his poor excuse for modern transportation. “In you go, come on.”
Oh, dear. If he becomes injured or dies in this thing, I’ll lose him as a master. Not wanting to cause offense, I comply. When he gets in and inserts a key into a metal slot, the vehicle chokes and coughs like an elderly man with consumption.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he urges it. “Don’t die on me now. Pretty please.”
A vague wish forms in his mind. I sense it accumulating. “Shall I conjure you a new vehicle?” I ask. “Something outstanding and sleek like Beagley’s?”
“No,” he says, drawing out the word with emphasis. “This car is the one thing I have from my dad, and I’m not driving anything else.”
I stay silent while he presses something on the flooring with his foot, and after more coaxing, the car erupts into a rough rumble.
“There she goes.” He drums his fingertips on the wheel. “You know, I love this classy ol’ lady, but I’m always wrestling with her engine and exhaust system. Could you…”
“Yes. As you wish.” What else can I say? Besides the fact that I’m obliged, it’s wise for his sake to make his “baby” more safe and reliable.
Splaying my fingers until my rings grow taut against the skin, I broaden my awareness and search for signs of wear. Of wrongness. My consciousness wades through grease and worn hoses and murky fluids. I adjust. I repair. I listen to how it used to be decades ago, how it wants to be. With new hoses, better connections and wires. The engine’s noise ramps down a notch, its bumpy rumble reduced to a loud but steady purr.
As a final touch, I polish up the silver symbol on the front grill, that of a miniature running horse.
“Your questionable transportation is renewed.” I flex my hands against a dull throbbing, which has also been renewed.
“She sounds fantastic,” Nathan says. “Thanks a billion, Adeelah.”
We ride in congenial silence until a tune bursts forth from his jacket, a jangly melody with a tiny booming beat. It ends after a few seconds. I squint. What on earth was that?
Nathan fishes his black device from one pocket and checks its face, which I can see has a block-print style of writing on it. He stops at a red street sign and examines the words on the device with more attention. His snort changes into a dry laugh.
“Give it up, Beagley,” he says, shaking his head.
“Beagley has summoned you on that magical device?”
“You could say that.” Nathan throws
me an amused glance. “He wants us all to go glow-in-the-dark bowling tonight, you especially included. He wants to see you again.”
“Me?” I blanch. “No, thank you. Whatever this nocturnal activity with bowls might be, I’m not interested.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, there’s too much chance he’d ‘accidentally’ bump into you. Too bad, because it’d be a great time for you to get Cherie by herself to chat.”
A new opportunity for myself and Karim rises up before my face, and I seize it. “Not only that, I’d hate to mislead Beagley if he’s professing an interest. I’m deeply in love with someone else. Please tell him I’m already spoken for.”
Nathan stares at me, longer than he should while driving. “I didn’t know genies fell in love.”
“It happened before I became—” I jab a finger toward an oncoming car. “Mind your path, Master!”
A horn blares as Nathan swerves. The other driver mouths impolite words behind the glass of her car.
Nathan throws out a few impolite words of his own. It takes him another half-minute before his swirling energy calms down. “Man. I gotta pay more attention. Anyway, if you’re close to this other guy, Beagley’s gotta stay out of the picture.”
I twist my fingers together. I hope this slight to his friend won’t affect his willingness to help me. “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve loved this other boy for a very long time.”
“No worries. Did you meet him in Hawaii?”
“Not at all. I met him in Arabia.”
I met Karim in Arabia.
Arabia.
I need to continue talking, yet my blood pounds under my skin with such force, I don’t know if I can. Visions of my human past roar across my mind. Hot desert sands underfoot. My family and our laden camels, plodding by craggy rock outcroppings, an oasis village up ahead in the distance. Sudden bloodcurdling yells. Thundering hooves and men on snorting horses. The heartless glint of scimitars. Marauders! A blur of screams—sharp, blinding terror—
Blood, so much blood. Sand scatters as I fall from my camel. A dark hooded man comes for me, death in his eyes. He raises his scimitar. An enraged shout from my left halts his downswing as a figure appears from nowhere, leaping in like a muscular angel.
Karim.
My angel slashes, thrusting and blocking. The dark man falls with a mangled cry. Karim seizes my hand and runs with me across the sand. Behind us, the marauders roar as they loot my family’s goods and confiscate our camels.
I was the sole person Karim was able to save. My family. Oh, my family.
“Where’s this guy you love, now?” Nathan’s voice wrenches me back to the present.
The vision of the massacre recedes into a painful haze. I struggle to focus on my master’s question. “I’ve lost him,” I whisper. “Long ago. I don’t know where he is.”
Nathan doesn’t say a word, but he drives his Mustang onto a patch of dirt and shuts off the engine. The air goes quiet. The nearby trees stand motionless, as if holding pine-scented breaths. Nathan’s blue-gray eyes are gentle when he looks at me.
“Your hands are shaking.” He starts to reach out but catches himself with a grumble. “You must miss him a lot.”
A tear drips onto my arm. “I do. Truly, I do.”
I should tell him the rest. That Karim wrote to me. How he was searching for me, as I search for him. That it’s possible he might be alive today, three centuries later. I hesitate while my mind fills with the memory of Karim turning toward me after he saved me, as we reached his horse. I see his blood as it flowed from a long curved gash on his forearm. Our gazes met for the first time, and at that moment, our hearts locked and fused together.
His face was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
My valiant Karim.
“Can I help you find him?” Nathan asks.
Such a question! I draw in a fresh breath. Hope careens through me like wild horses. To have a kind and unselfish master is a definite treasure. “I don’t know that it’s possible. Can you summon him on that magical device of yours?”
Nathan laughs, a low comforting sound. “A phone with Internet access is kind of magical, I guess. If I knew his number I could call him. Since I’m betting you don’t have that, we can do an online search and see what we pull up. I’ll need his full name.”
“Karim al-Halabi.” I say it as a chant, the words coming out extraordinary and strange, since I haven’t spoken them to another living soul in centuries. Nathan retrieves his black device and does some tapping and swiping on it. Images slide, vanish, and spring into new ones.
“There are too many guys with that name,” Nathan says. “I’m getting way over ten-thousand hits. How old is he?”
I don’t know whether to say nineteen or nine-hundred-plus. If he’s alive, the latter is more correct. However, his appearance would be youthful, the age he was when he began taking the elixir. “Er…nineteen.”
“Maybe an image search would be easier.” Nathan taps some more and holds his phone out. “Flick your finger to scroll through and see if you find him.”
The small window shows a myriad of male faces. With my heart beating like a hummingbird’s rapid wings, I push the images by. Some are old men, some are young. Some are not people at all, but buildings and crowds and armies in streets filled with rubble. Long minutes stretch and pass. My hope wavers, crashes, and goes up in bleak smoke.
“I don’t see him,” I say.
Nathan leans closer. The heat of his arm radiates, inches from mine. His breath has the faint aroma of chocolate pecan. “Yeah, he’s your needle in a haystack, all right. Why don’t I just make a wish for you to find him?”
I open my mouth, and snap it closed. What an imbecile I am. Near the beginning of my servitude I asked a few masters to make that wish, but since none of them agreed, I stopped asking. I shouldn’t have abandoned that tactic. Then again, not many masters were benevolent enough for me to ask for a day off, let alone expect them to share their wishes.
“I’ve never had anyone offer to do that,” I say, trying not to let my hopes soar too high.
“Then I officially wish for you to find out where Karim is, the guy you love.”
“Thank you, Nathan.” My master’s name continues to war against my tongue, even though my gratitude is sincere.
I press an eager fingertip to the phone, trusting its magic will aid me. The many squares of wrong faces flicker before they vanish. Shadowed bumps of mountains come into view, interspersed with the clear blue of ocean. The scenery tilts and races as though I’m a bird flying with breathtaking speed through a vast airspace. As I observe, transfixed, Nathan’s presence tints my periphery. His keen fascination is a vibrant spice in my mind, boosting my anticipation.
When the rushing colors on the phone slow and congeal, a green-brown area juts out like a fat finger from a larger land mass. The finger points to a string of islands. On one of the islands, a red pointer indicates a bigger building in a line of others. Silvery white vehicles, much bigger than cars and with wide arms, line up across a flat expanse. The island contains a city called Nassau. Words printed in Nathan’s language label the place.
It’s in The Bahamas.
I snap back as though struck by a cobra. Heavens above! Rehema said she wanted to live in The Bahamas all her life, and if her friends or family in Kenya knew that fact, Faruq could’ve discovered the information. With Karim on the island, Faruq could be there too. He could be helping Karim hunt for me, for his own twisted purposes.
“Cool, we’ve found him,” Nathan says. “He’s at the airport in The Bahamas. Maybe he’s on vacation and just got off one of those planes.”
“I doubt he’s there simply for leisure,” I say, torn between euphoria and fright, bliss and torment. “He’s most likely searching for me.”
Puzzlement twists Nathan’s face. “Why is he looking for you in The Bahamas?”
“He must’ve learned my last master had a yearning to live there.”
“Oh, but she went to Hawaii instead. Is that why you’re not excited?”
“No, it’s because the situation is more complex than you know.” I hesitate. It’s unbelievable, a wondrous thing to be this close to reaching Karim after so long. My hands tremble with the thought. My heart leaps in a giddy dance under my ribcage. Yet if he’s with Faruq today, whether forced into a partnership or by his own choice, the revelation comes with a barbed hook. Even if I don’t pursue this lead, at some point Faruq might learn Rehema went to Hawaii instead of these islands, and track me here to this little Oregon town.
I’m not sure he’d believe Nathan sold my bottle. He might assume Nathan kept it. This is a dangerous situation and I should warn Nathan.
“Wait a sec,” he says with a frown, before I can speak. “You said you’ve been searching for your guy a long time, and then you said he’s nineteen. Is that just how he looks? Or is he an ancient genie like you?”
“No.” I let out a lengthy sigh. “That’s part of how complex everything is. Karim is human, but he has access to a life-extending elixir. He’s been alive as long as I have.”
“Um, which is exactly how long?”
“Almost ten centuries.”
Nathan lets out a low whistle. “That’s some potent elixir.”
“Well, the effects last one hundred years, and then a new batch must be made, using a horrible recipe. An equally horrible man named Faruq prepares the elixir, using a djinn to give it final power.”
“A djinn…interesting. Is that different from you?”
I shiver as I recall the black form that seethed nearby as the chains of my bottle claimed me for the first time. Fiery eyes that glowed like coals. Talons for fingernails. A dark energy that vibrated the air. “Djinns are powerful, evil beings who grant a maximum of three wishes. They’re very difficult to entrap. Faruq would rather use me instead to finalize his elixir, so he’s been hunting for my bottle.”
“And your Karim is getting the elixir from this Faruq guy.”
