by Carol Riggs
“What?” Nathan’s voice croaks. “You’re planning to give power to that kind of elixir?”
“I’ll be forced to, yes.”
“That’s crazy. I’m not letting you do it.”
“We don’t have a choice unless I can plot something that will free me before I’m forced to do the sealing. Your life is in danger, as well as your mother’s and brother’s.” My words are firm as I can make them. He has to see the logic in this.
Nathan curses, paces for a minute, and falls into the chair across from me. “This sucks. If you get together with your true love, you’ll end up being an indirect accomplice to murder. If you choose not to do the elixir and lose your true love, my family and I will be killed. Either way, there’s death.”
I twist my rings. “Exactly. It should be an easy choice not to be involved with the elixir, but I can’t let anything happen to you or your family. While I hate choosing who lives and who dies, someone will die, no matter what I do. Unless I can come up with a plan to prevent it.” I’m not sure how probable that is, despite how much I’ve been wracking my brains lately.
We sit for a few silent minutes.
“I know what to do!” he says, straightening in his chair. “I could wish you back into being a human. Then you wouldn’t have to make the elixir and Karim wouldn’t have to drink it. You could both live normal lives together.”
“I doubt that would work. I’m sure I’m included in the limitations about changing people.”
He frowns. “I don’t see how you can be sure. Has anyone ever tried it?”
“Well, no.” Ridiculous. No one would voluntarily give up their wishes and their genie.
“Then I officially wish for you to transform yourself back into a human.”
“I don’t think—” His words compel me to gather my energy. I gasp as power flashes through me, coursing up my arms and through my chest. It blasts into my skull. Pressure. A quivering force. I shriek and clap my hands over my ears.
The pressure vanishes with a loud pop, leaving me dizzy. I wait. My anticipation is so strong it’s palpable.
Did that accomplish anything?
I have the same rings and bracelets. I’m still seeing Nathan’s mood as a dim color, expectant and frayed around the edges. I can think in both his language and in my own native language. A fluttering brushes the edge of my consciousness as I sense a small furry animal crossing the yard outside. A cat, I expect.
No, unfortunately, I don’t think the wish did anything. I’m not a human again.
I sigh. “It’s no use. It took three combined djinn wishes to transform me into a genie. One simple human wish can’t undo that. I’m not powerful enough, and I doubt it’s allowed in the first place.”
“Prove you’re still magical. Rustle me up a Wefler bar.”
With ease, I fashion a shiny-wrapped chocolate rectangle into the palm of my hand, and set it on the sofa beside me.
Nathan swears and gives the coffee table a kick.
We sit listening to the splashing of the rain against the windows. The pressure of unshed tears accumulates behind my eyes. Nathan stares out across the room, picking at one of his fingernails.
Human. Ah, to be human again.
I wonder if I could’ve prevented my fate all those centuries ago by leaving Karim’s estate sooner. Maybe I could’ve found lodging elsewhere, not stayed in his guest room for weeks while he healed from his marauder wound. As it was, we couldn’t bear to be apart. We spent every possible waking moment together, and every evening we met for secret kisses in the garden.
As it’s pouring now in Bandon, it was raining in Arabia the day Faruq invited me to his library. It was one of those rare lightning storms that thrashed the palms and stripped the jasmine blossoms off the shrubs in the garden. I was still a human, and a naïve one at that. Faruq found me in the leisure room playing a game of Mancala with Karim. To my surprise, the tone of his voice was polite as he requested to speak with me.
Alone.
Karim and I exchanged a hopeful glance. This might be my opportunity to cultivate a friendship with his father. To forge a proper bond and prove I was more than just a tentmaker’s daughter, someone worthy of Karim’s affection. We’d gotten off to a turbulent start when I’d brought his son home, slashed by a scimitar and near death.
Or…maybe Faruq had had enough of my presence in his home. My pleasure faltered.
Perhaps I was heading toward a more ominous conversation.
I arose and followed Faruq down the hall, my insides writhing. He could’ve discovered I’d been meeting Karim the past few weeks by the well at midnight, or perhaps one of the servants had informed him. Maybe he was angry and I would be sent away this same hour.
When we reached the library, he held the door open for me with a small, mysterious smile on his face. Inside, the sharp scents of leather and ink met my nose, along with the earthy tang of black tea. Two silver goblets of dark liquid sat upon his desk. Nothing else. His desk was cleared of books and parchment.
I’d been in this room one other time. By accident. I had stumbled in while trying to locate Karim, and found Faruq surrounded by dusty tomes. The book he’d been reading had featured the disturbing title of Ancient Black Magick. He’d glowered at me and I’d retreated in haste, stammering a faint apology.
This time, I was glad to see no sign of that awful book. Faruq escorted me to a chair and settled into a similar chair across from me. He handed me one of the fancy goblets of black tea. I thought it a bit strange to serve tea in anything other than a mug, but kept quiet.
“I’m afraid we’ve gotten off to a poor start, you and I,” he said. “I’d like to make amends. My son has taken an obvious liking to you, and I need to be more accommodating.”
I gulped some of my tea, which was thicker than his servants’ usual blend, and found myself at a loss for words to respond. His statements were surprising and refreshing. Karim and I had both had enough of his father’s surly silences, brisk grunts, and abrupt conversation whenever I joined his company. I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, so similar to his son’s. He seemed earnest enough.
A slow grin spread across my face. “That sounds very agreeable, sir.”
He flicked a puff of wool from his chair arm. “I know you don’t have a father anymore. Perhaps one day you could come to view me as a substitute.”
I forced myself to nod. I wasn’t sure I wanted this man as a replacement for my father. Although Abbi had been distant at times, Faruq was nothing like him, and I couldn’t imagine him ever taking Abbi’s place. But no matter. I suspected he didn’t mean for us to foster that deep of a bond. Any kind of congenial relationship would be an improvement over what we had at the moment.
“What’s important to my son is important to me,” he said in a firm tone. “So I’ve devised a plan. I’m going to include you in my provisions for my family. I’m assuming Karim has told you my wife fell ill and passed away two years ago. Now it’s just Karim and myself. I love my son with all my heart…as I loved Zahira.” He opened his mouth to speak further, but clamped it shut.
The utter depth of sorrow in his eyes sent an unexpected pang through my chest. It was as if the shutters on the window of his soul had been opened, and I was glimpsing his humanity. This was a facet of him I’d never witnessed before. His grief, his deep love for his wife. Like I grieved for and loved my family. We shared that in common. I wagered he was a man who hid his daily sorrow behind a harsh exterior.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I murmured.
Faruq heaved a deep breath, staring unfocused across the room. The storm rattled and moaned against the outer walls, as though trying to enter the house. “I’d do anything for my son. If that includes you in our lives, then so be it. I’d like to declare a truce.”
I had to clear my throat of the emotion that clogged it. Karim would be ecstatic to hear this news. “I’d like that very much, sir.”
“To a new and more promising future,”
he said. We lifted our cups in sober ceremony, then drank in unison. He leaned back in his chair and regarded me with an unsettling intensity.
Attempting to muster a smile, I concentrated on drinking my tea. It burned an energizing trail down my gullet, almost like it had a stronger spice mixed in. I wasn’t sure what that spice could be. It had a pleasant enough flavor, but it didn’t taste like cool mint or pungent cardamom.
With a distant manner, Faruq stroked the curved side of his goblet. “No one should have to die like Zahira. Least of all me or my son. Death shouldn’t ever have that control over any of us, and now it won’t. We’ll have access to a brilliant new freedom. In a somewhat different way, I’m extending that privilege to you.”
His words didn’t make sense. I squinted at him. The curls of his hair blurred, his gaunt face grew distorted like a pond rippled by a pebble. Alarm surged through my ribs and down my arms. I clutched my nearly empty goblet. What was happening—had he slipped poison into my tea?
But no, he wouldn’t do that, not after he’d spoken of reconciliation and forging new bonds. Not after he’d included me in his odd statement of evading death.
He replaced his own goblet on the desk and sauntered to a shelf. Beside a line of books stood a slender bottle with a stopper, made of thick glass. I remembered seeing it before on an ivory table in the leisure room. How puzzling that he’d brought it here.
“Do you like this bottle?” he asked, rotating it in his hands to show me.
“It has a pleasing shape.” Beyond that, it was plain and unremarkable. I swallowed with effort. My mouth was dry…so dry. Strange, since I’d just taken a sip of tea.
“It’s been in our family for generations.” Faruq’s voice sounded smug. Far away. “I’m glad you approve of its appearance since from now on you’ll be bound to it forever.”
His words reached my ears but wouldn’t sink in. I couldn’t fathom the meaning of his statement. Was the man going mad? I pushed the hair from my forehead, my body sweaty and clammy. “I—I beg your pardon?”
He sat on the edge of his desk, continuing to scrutinize me, his smile growing wider and more frightening. “I see you’ve drunk most of your tea. Excellent.”
I blinked. His face swam before my eyes. I wobbled in my chair. Slow and dreamlike, my drink tipped from my fingers. The remnant of my tea sloshed out as my goblet hit the floor with a clang. A powerful charge blasted through me, roaring in a mighty geyser like the sea breaking loose from its harbor. I arched backward and screamed.
A boom of thunder from the storm shook the room.
Breathing hard, I was compelled to rise to my feet. I teetered there. The force inside me churned. Whirled. Faruq continued to lean forward, his attention fastened onto me like a viper eyeing a desert rat. The coarse, plain fabric of my tunic transformed into rich lavender and blue. Exquisite gold bracelets appeared on my wrists, rings formed on my fingers, and gold earrings bobbed at my jawline. The power surging inside me compressed. Focused. My horizons flung wide and expanded—oh, boundless stars! I heard servants bustling around in distant quarters. Other footsteps raced toward the library, someone coming to investigate my scream. I sensed a small scorpion lurking in a dry corner near the cellar. Faruq’s energy became visible as a brownish overlay shot through with a murky orange…like a pile of dirty rags I would avoid touching.
His aura. I could see it.
Despite those astounding changes, I detected distinct walls. Boundaries and chains binding me to the bottle and its laws. A relentless tugging, directed toward Faruq.
My arms snapped outward and I bowed. “I live to serve you, Master. Your every wish is mine to fulfill.” I hardly recognized my voice. The words spewed out with a twisted life of their own. How loathsome it was, bowing and declaring loyalty to him as if I were his slave, a commodity to be used.
Faruq barked out a laugh. “Perfect! I now have astounding power at my fingertips.”
A foul darkness materialized in the corner beyond Faruq’s desk. It coiled there, hulking and raw, sinister as a hooded cobra. Its coal-fire eyes throbbed above rows of serrated teeth. Muscular arms tipped by yellowed talons slashed an impatient gesture toward Faruq. Its presence shuddered the air.
“My services are fulfilled, Master,” the evil figure said. Its hollow voice sent chills prickling across my skin. “You have what you wished for.”
“I’m most grateful for the potion,” Faruq replied. “You are free to leave, loyal djinn.” He added a chant in a foreign language that I somehow understood perfectly, a spell to release the beast.
The dark creature began to dissolve with a terrible hissing, its fiery eyes burning into mine as it held my gaze. It looked almost…sympathetic.
Karim burst into the library. As he caught sight of the shadowy form of the disintegrating djinn, he staggered back, his shoulder slamming into the opened door. He took in my altered clothing, the spilled tea, the bottle held in his father’s hand. “Father, what have you done?”
“I have secured our future,” Faruq said with a crafty smile, and for the first time in my new servitude, he commanded me into my bottle.
Chapter 15
I dislodge myself from my dark memories and contemplate Nathan sitting across from me. The past is a haunting black specter. I can’t change it, as much as I yearn to. We must move forward.
“Today and tomorrow are your last chances for wishes,” I say, my voice heavy yet cobweb-thin. “I could conjure you a small safe in your closet and fill it with money. Or make you a large supply of Wefler bars.”
Misery never looked so dismal as on Nathan’s face. “I guess those would be good. I’d like to do some stargazing tonight, too.”
“As you wish.” I take a fortifying breath and construct a solid metal safe upstairs with a combination plucked from Nathan’s thoughts. I fill the safe with stacks of bills, in denominations of twenties as he specifies in his mind. The caramel-pecan chocolate bars come next. I wrap them with extra care and stack them in a large box beside his bed.
“I’m finished, Nathan.” I rub my wrists and marvel that his name now comes from my mouth with ease. Is it because my bottle knows his time as my master is coming to an end? How distressing, if that’s the reason.
“Thanks,” Nathan says. “You know, let’s go somewhere warm and dry today, far from Oregon. Maybe a meadow or a forest in the Rocky Mountains. Then we can watch the stars there when it gets dark. I’ll leave a note for Mom to tell her I won’t be back until late. We can leave the Mustang at Ted’s so it’ll look like we’re really gone.”
I nod, trying not to think about how much energy all that wish-fulfilling will take. No matter. I must try to be a capable genie and fulfill my master’s final desires. Nathan heads for the kitchen. He’s planning to write his note, I presume.
After he does that, we drive to Ted’s and ask his permission to leave the car there for the day. We tell him we’re going hiking on some nearby beach trails. He peers up at the weeping sky, gives us a perplexed look, and shrugs. When we’re sure he’s not watching out his window, we slip back in the car. With the rain pouring down and our breath fogging the windows, I face Nathan. “Ready?”
He whips off his dripping jacket. “Now I am.”
I lift my arms. Our transfer particles eddy and whirl, drawing into a vortex. I align our destination with the scene at the forefront of Nathan’s mind, and we set off for the inner space that leads to a sunny meadow.
We drag through the transfer region. I haul us toward the mountainside, heaving with all my might. We continue to ooze in slow-motion. The chasm resists me, pushes at me. I focus hard, straining at our destination despite a pressure that forms under my skull. Tall grasses and stark white blooms burst into view at last. The air clears with a rush as we solidify in a grassy expanse next to an evergreen forest. Warmth and woodsy smells burst across my senses. I stumble as I gain my footing, and find myself gasping to refill my lungs.
“That felt different from before.” Nathan s
hakes his head as if something is loose inside.
“I’m more tired than usual,” I say. “That could’ve slowed the transfer. Granting those things for Ted required a considerable amount of energy.”
Nathan presses his mouth into a hard line. “I didn’t realize how much it sapped you. We’ll take it easier for the rest of today, I promise. Maybe we should’ve just changed Bandon’s weather by tweaking a few clouds instead of transporting.”
“Perhaps, but speaking for myself, being in a different location is a nice change.”
Nathan spreads his arms above the wildflower-scented meadow. “You’re right. I totally need a break. This is my first vacation all summer.”
I trail my fingers over the feathery tops of the grasses. “Then let’s enjoy it.”
We head off to explore, and discover a side path down a hill to a burbling creek. The sun beams a welcome heat across my skin. It toasts the top of my head. Nathan and I kick off our shoes, roll up the hems of our jeans, and wade in the creek. Small fish zigzag around our toes. After a while my hair becomes too heavy around my face, so I twine it into a thick braid. Nathan wishes a stretchy yellow band for me, and I secure my braid with it.
It’s delightful to be warm and a little sweaty after the damp chill of Oregon. No wonder Cherie yearns to visit other places. Cherie. Oh, heavens. I’m sure she’ll be relieved when I’m gone and Nathan is all hers. Their lives will continue on better without me. I blink my eyes, which have gone infuriatingly watery all of a sudden.
Nathan discovers some plump blackberries on a tangle of thorny bushes. He picks a handful and offers me some.
I take a few from his outstretched hand, careful not to touch his palm. “Are you hungry yet for a more substantial meal?”
“Sure, let’s have a picnic,” he says. “Um, if it won’t drain your batteries too much.”
I’m not even going to think about my aches and lack of energy. “A small luncheon shouldn’t be too difficult.”
