by Carol Riggs
I nod. There’s a bit more to the story than that, but fatigue and tension weigh upon my shoulders like a crumbling brick wall, and I’ve revealed enough for one day.
“You didn’t tell me the psycho was Karim’s father.”
“Believe me, it’s something I try to forget. Though I never met Karim’s mother, I’m certain he takes after her in personal qualities.”
Nathan gives a short laugh. He points to the ka’dadd on my dress. “I’ve never seen that flower before.”
“It’s an Arabian weed that grows treacherous spikes. This pod blossom is the beautiful part of it.”
“I’m guessing it’s a present from Karim.”
“Yes.” I finger the edges of it, and have a sudden yearning to kiss its petals.
“That’s great.” Nathan rubs the back of his neck. “Um, I’m going to chill out with some music and Doritos right now. Do you want to join me, or go back into the bottle to recharge your batteries?”
“Battery recharge, please,” I say.
“Rest well,” he says, though he looks disappointed.
I pause. He must want companionship after his ordeal. I understand. While it’s tempting to join him and share the comfort of another person, I need to regain my strength. And I need time to think.
Since he has already dismissed me, I writhe into smoke and enter my bottle. After I kick off my shoes, I curl up with a cup of sage tea. Soon its peppery flavor and damp heat loosen my tension, and my mind and emotions begin to unravel like a cloth with a loose thread.
Karim. I don’t know what to think of our reunion. How horrible that his father has forced him to go against his promise not to be involved with the djinn entrapment. Karim’s conscience must be gnawing at him something terrible. It troubles me that we can’t find a solution that will enable us to be together without compromising our integrity. I hate that giving in to Faruq’s demands seems to be our only option. Should I ignore what I feel about sealing this powerful potion? Being with Karim is of supreme importance. As he said, the choice should be an easy one.
But it’s not, because of the way the elixir is made.
Ages ago when I was fresh in my bonds with Faruq as my first master, I fulfilled his wishes for two miserable weeks, until the day Karim and I learned about the elixir. Faruq brought Karim into the leisure room, summoned me, and announced his plans for our lives. Karim would drink a miraculous potion and live forever with his father. I would use my new abilities to seal the elixir every hundred years.
Faruq presented the entire scheme as if he were the benefactor of a priceless fortune. We’d be immortal, he said, and we’d all live together. At that point, he threw a stony glance my way. I’m sure the only reason he included me in his plans was because of my djinn-like abilities—and to appease Karim.
I stood glaring at him after his pompous speech. I kept my rant to myself, however, for I’d learned the price of making rash outbursts: total seclusion in my bottle, with no contact whatsoever with his son. If I blurted my feelings, I would see no one except Faruq, and only during the times I granted his wishes.
Karim sat in sullen silence for a moment. He’d been incensed with his father for imprisoning me. It was a punishment for him as well, since we could no longer touch each other or enjoy our normal relationship. “How did you discover this amazing elixir recipe?” he asked Faruq, scorn lacing his words.
“The djinn who transformed Adeelah described it in full,” Faruq said. “Before he consented to combine my wishes.”
And that spell, affixed to a powerful potion I unwittingly drank, shackled me to servitude for the rest of my long, long life. I fought a snarl. How I wished I could leap on him and claw the smug look from his gaunt face.
“What’s involved with the recipe?” Karim asked. “How is it made?”
“That’s none of your concern,” his father said. “I’ll produce the elixir and allow you to drink it with me. Along with extending your life, you won’t age. No growing feeble or gray-haired. Your wounds and injuries will heal in an instant. No one will be able to kill you because of its protection features.”
Karim folded his arms and winced, the gash on his forearm still healing from when he rescued me from the marauders. I could tell those ideas tempted him. “I won’t drink anything until you tell me what’s in it. I’m not going to consume rat dung or camel spittle, even if it is just once a century.”
“The specific ingredients are not important, my son.”
“I insist you tell me.”
“And I insist you stop acting like a willful child, and trust my provisions for you.”
I spoke up, keeping my voice as polite as possible. “Not that I have a choice in my role, Master, but I’m curious as to how it’s made, too.” Although if Karim refused to take this miracle potion, he’d die in a matter of decades and I’d be alone with Faruq forever. That would be far worse than any torture or death I could imagine.
“You will keep your mouth shut,” Faruq said to me. “Consider it a wish.”
I fell silent, my tongue constrained by the law of the bottle.
Karim persisted in wanting to know the recipe methods and ingredients. Faruq continued to refuse. But no matter how hard Faruq tried to weasel out of the disclosure, Karim remained adamant to know. He held out, more stubborn than his father.
Finally, Faruq clunked my bottle onto a nearby tabletop and snapped, “Fair enough, then. I’ll tell you the recipe as well as the procedure.” With a severe manner, he revealed to us what we wanted to know.
And when we heard the answer—how it involved draining people’s blood from their bodies in order to utilize their life forces as they died—Karim and I wished we hadn’t asked.
Chapter 12
By what I gauge is the next day, I’m beyond eager to see if Nathan will let me meet with Karim again. I’ll transfer solo this time. Other masters have allowed me to do it before, although the trips were on most occasions devised for their selfish purposes, errands such as eavesdropping on a fellow villager, pilfering priceless items, or verifying the infidelity of a husband.
I rummage through my compartments and fiddle with my game cube. Nothing keeps my interest for long. I’m sure Nathan will summon me soon. It’s Thursday so he babysits David during the day, but maybe he’ll release me in the evening.
For once I’m eager to be out of my bottle and living in the human realm.
Not wanting to be caught unawares when I’m summoned, I dress in jeans paired with the violet sweater, and sit on my cushions. My mirrors reflect a somewhat anxious though spirited face, more animated than I’ve seen it in centuries. Ah, Karim, Karim. I’d love to see him this evening. Our ancient meetings in his estate gardens were always at midnight. The breezes swirled fragrant jasmine around us, and the moon peered down from the sky like a radiant being. Karim caressed my skin with his strong hands, and pulled me against him. When he kissed me I never wanted to stop…
No. It’s pointless as well as agonizing to dwell on those details. Even if we manage to become reunited permanently, we’ll never be able to caress or kiss again.
What a harsh fate Faruq has dealt us.
A long time passes without Nathan summoning me. The white blossom of the ka’dadd shrivels a little. I stroke it with care, and leave it on my low center table so I can see it from my cushions while I struggle with the game cube. After a while, I curl up on my side. My eyelids droop. The pains from my recent trip have diminished, yet aren’t altogether gone. Transferring is hard work. Harder than it used to be for some reason. I feel all-over worn, like fabric left out in the sun too long.
I sink into a lethargic lull. Sleep claims me.
My gong awakens me with a disorienting reverberation. I stagger into a groggy column of smoke and rise to the top of my bottle, half-afraid it won’t be Nathan waiting for me Outside.
But he’s there, standing in his mother’s antique shop with its fascinating and musty clutter. The sun squints through the front windows. For
some reason, though, Nathan’s smile is not as easy or carefree.
“Good morning.” He points at the game cube still clutched in my hand. “I see you’ve got two sides done on that Rubik.”
I set it on a nearby shelf. I’m not about to tell him I fell asleep with it. “I thought it was called a Magic Cube.”
“Maybe when it first came out in the seventies, but not now. Are your batteries all recharged?”
“Pretty much.” I hope his plans for the day will allow for a short tropical visit. “I’m surprised you’ve summoned me before you’re finished here at the shop.”
He stuffs my bottle into his backpack. “Yeah. I decided to drive to the YMCA this morning to fetch you before I opened instead of afterward.”
“Is there a pressing desire you’d like me to grant?”
“Not unless you can whisk this pack to the YMCA. It’d save me a trip.”
“I’m afraid that along with not being able to handle my bottle, I can’t transfer it anywhere by itself. You could wish it to a different place only if you held it and I transferred you somewhere.”
“I figured as much. Not worth it.” He begins to work a feather duster between a questionable gathering of porcelain cherubs and silver wolves.
I put one hand on my hip. “Nathan, I could clean this place in less than a minute.”
“Yeah? That’d be great.” He gives the duster a toss over the counter, where it clatters to the floor. “I’m not in the mood for this today. Although I dunno what else I want to do.”
Frowning, I eye his slumped shoulders. He’s not his usual cheerful self. His hostage experience must’ve dampened him more than I thought. Twinges of guilt prick me. I move through the shop, eliminating dust and dissolving grime. I sweep with my mental broom until everything sparkles and gleams. By the time I finish, Nathan’s leaning against the counter and staring out the windows, a glassy look in his eyes. I wonder if he even realizes I’m done.
I snatch up the Hugmee bear and sink into the rocking chair. The toy exudes a lovely, pliable affection as I hug it to my chest. I study Nathan through the space between its furry ears.
“Is this a good time for a Wefler bar?” I ask.
He straightens and gives a faint smile. “Sure. Make that two, if you want one.”
“Thank you.” I conjure two bars. After I present his bar to him, he drags a stool next to my chair. His general air is distracted, restless. We chew in caramel-chocolate companionship until I can take his edgy mood no longer.
“I’m sorry our trip to The Bahamas has left you so agitated,” I say.
He grunts. “Nah. I’m not thinking about that.”
“Then what, if I may ask?”
“Last night I had a sort-of date with Cherie. We went to see that documentary.”
“And afterward you professed your love, but she didn’t return the sentiment?”
He gives a strangled laugh. “What? I didn’t say anything to her about love. I’m only trying to find out if she likes me in a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way. But we just hung out as friends like we always do. Except it was way more uncomfortable because I was weirded out and wondering what she was thinking. I must be doing something wrong.”
“Maybe she needs more time to see you’re serious. Deep affection isn’t always instant. If she’s worth waiting for, then keep trying.”
“I know, I know. Mostly, I wish I knew what’s going on in her brain, and what’s going to happen this summer with us. I hate stuff being up in the air.”
“I’m afraid I’m unable to tell the future. Djinns make intelligent guesses at it, however, and often succeed.”
Laughing in a more relaxed way, Nathan reaches over my arm and pokes the Hugmee bear in the stomach. “That wasn’t a real wish, you goof. I was just talking.”
Oh. It’s difficult to tell sometimes. I do like it that he’s bantering with me, though. Jamaal used to needle me in a good-natured way like this. Although my brother was less alluring and disconcertingly handsome while he teased. “You could always be more direct with Cherie. Tell her your feelings and eliminate the waiting.”
He springs up from the stool and paces around. “I’m too chicken to do that. It might mess up our friendship or make her feel embarrassed. Man, did you and Karim have this much trouble getting close?”
“No.” I hesitate. He’s being so forthcoming, I’d like to match his honesty. “He…saved my life, and then I saved his. That caused an immediate bond between us.”
“Cool. How’d you guys do that?”
“Well, he became wounded while saving me from a band of marauders. He had a deep scimitar gash on his forearm. I bound his arm with my headscarf and rode with him on his horse to his estate. He nearly lost consciousness on the way. I stayed beside him as a healer stitched his wound, and for the next week I tended to him while he was feverish.”
“Wow. That’s a serious introduction.”
I squeeze the stuffed bear harder. It was then I had the misfortune to meet Faruq. After losing his wife two years earlier and still grieving, Faruq flew into a stormy rage to discover Karim with such a grave injury. He shouted at his son. You risked your life for this worthless girl, this desert trash! How could you do such a thing? But he didn’t dare send me away. Karim insisted I stay with him to clasp his hands and lay cool cloths upon his brow. He allowed no one else near him—not even his father.
Thus, my instant love with Karim spurred an intense hatred between Faruq and me.
“If it’s safe for you, do you want to see Karim this afternoon?” Nathan asks.
“More than anything!” My exuberance sounds unkind in light of his unsuccessful outing with Cherie, so I add, “After I grant whatever you wish for, of course.”
“Most of the things I really want, you can’t give me.”
Sadness wells up under my ribs. I’m failing him as a genie. “I can’t believe that’s true. You can’t use more money? A more magical phone or elegant clothing or a tidy bedroom? A storehouse of Wefler bars?”
He chuckles. “Now you’re talking, with that storehouse.”
“Excellent. Inform me where you’d like it built. In the yard behind your house might be an ideal place.”
“I’m joking, Adeelah. I’d never be able to eat that much chocolate before it melts or goes stale.”
“The bars are delicious. I’d be delighted to help you eat them.”
He grins, almost with a full-fledged Nathan intensity again. “You wouldn’t have to worry about calories, nutrition, or cholesterol, either.”
“Pardon me?” I’m not sure he’s speaking English anymore.
“Never mind. You know, I’d also love to see a Shirabalta concert. They have a wicked guitarist who can play like anything.”
I assume this evil guitar player is part of a musical orchestra or ensemble. “I’d be glad to take you to a concert. Except I’m afraid I’d have to watch from a distance so no one would touch me, and stay on guard, ready to transfer you away at the first sign of danger.”
He looks amused. “It shouldn’t be dangerous. But it wouldn’t be as much fun sitting by myself. Too bad Cherie or Beagley can’t go with us.”
There is always some obstacle with anything he’s enthusiastic about wanting. I’d like to give him something special. “Perhaps I could transfer you to a less-crowded place. To faraway countries or cities. Mountains and islands, beaches and meadows.” I can’t fathom why I’m offering him these things. Transferring saps my strength in an extreme way. Maybe I’m trying to absolve my guilt for his encounter with Faruq. Although it’d also be nice if I could boost his mood after his dismal outing with Cherie.
“Those places would be awesome.” Nathan’s aura grows warmer, brighter. “Maybe we could go to a mountaintop tonight where there’s a ton of stars. Bandon has too many clouds for decent stargazing. It drives me nuts.”
“As you wish.” It’s good to see him acting lively again.
“Hey.” He jumps up and trots to the count
er. Behind it, on a device I can’t see, he clicks and adjusts something until strains of music filter into the room. It’s calm at first, and then builds to an energetic, playful melody. A complex one. Played by guitars, voices, and other mystifying instruments. It has a vague Mediterranean beat and emerges from two meshed boxes hanging on the walls. He begins to dance as the beat snags him into its rhythm, as if he’s under an alluring spell.
“Shirabalta,” he announces with an impish expression, beckoning to me. “Come on, dance with me. You know you want to.”
I shake my head, though the sound pulses through me. “And you know I can’t touch anyone.”
“These days, you don’t have to touch when you’re dancing.” He grabs his phone, pokes at it a few times, and strides over to show me a small moving image. It’s of a dance floor where a crowd of young men and women are dancing. Their bodies mimic a distant frenetic beat, and for the most part, there’s ample space between each person.
“That’s reassuring, though strange,” I say. Much different from a volta or minuet. It’s been ages since I’ve danced in anyone’s company, but I stand, leaving the Hugmee bear in the rocking chair. Nathan’s request is near the power level of a wish.
I step around the spinning wheel and find the rhythm with my feet. My torso follows, then my arms. A sense of well-being thrums through me. My hands dart like minnows. Jamaal and my other siblings danced with me long ago, around evening fires after we set up camp in the desert. Sometimes Abbi and Omaa would even join us. I haven’t thought of such a scene in ages. The memory flows over me, bittersweet.
As I dance, Nathan sticks a thumb into the air, signifying some unknown meaning. It must be a positive one because his grin is wide. It’s so wide, in fact, that the corners of my mouth move to match it. A collection of stiff and unused muscles protest.
“Adeelah,” Nathan says, dancing closer. “You’re smiling!”
I touch my face. Impossible. He’s not Karim, and yet he’s the one who made me smile after all these centuries. “So I am.”
He comes closer yet to stand in front of me. “I’ve never seen you smile before.”
