Copyright 2012 Judi Fennell
Published by Mergenie Books
Cover and interior design by www.formatting4U.com
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For more information on the author and her works, please see www.JudiFennell.com
This is a short story of what came before Genie Knows Best; why Kal removed his gold cuffs to get out of The Service, and how he came to be in The Service with Samantha. This is not Samantha and Kal’s romance, but I hope you’ll be curious enough to find out what happens with them to read Genie Knows Best. And check out the rest of the Bottled Magic series. Excerpts are at the end of this story.
May all your wishes come true!
~Judi
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Kal’s Story
Excerpts
I Dream of Genies
Genie Knows Best
Magic Gone Wild
Beauty and The Best
Beefcake & Cupcakes
Beefcake & Mistakes
About the Author
Other Books by Judi Fennell
Before The Beginning
Tartessos, Iberian Peninsula 3 BCE
Kal ducked into the first building he came to, the cool stone shadows doing nothing to dry the sweat from his body. He’d thought once he got the dammed shackles off, he’d be free.
Showed what he knew.
Of course, if he could outrun the vizier after him, he’d be a lot freer.
Then he got a good luck at his hiding spot and almost groaned. Iman’s home.
Once, not that long ago, he and the widow been more than friends and she’d been more than happy to help him in oh-so-many ways. Now? He’d hoped she’d forgiven him for that kiss-and-run on what became their last night together when he’d been called, once more, to The Service. The Service he was bound and determined to be free of.
“I’ll find your sorry ass, donkey.” The shadow of Faruq’s angular profile flitted across the far wall through the window above Kal’s head.
Kal worked to slow his breathing, wanting nothing to give him away. Faruq was known for his tenacity, and Kal had known this wouldn’t be easy. Faruq wasn’t about to give up any of his djinn any more than Kal was about to give up his hard-earned freedom. It made them at odds more than they’d been throughout the years.
“Khaled, you cannot hope to escape me. Give yourself up. We’ll come to a compromise. It will be worse for you if I have to bring you to the High Master.”
Kal could imagine Faruq stroking his beard and flicking his tongue over his lips like the lizard he was. Compromise? Faruq didn’t know the meaning of the word. Not that Kal wanted one. He wanted one thing and one thing only; the one thing he’d gambled his life for ever since Faruq had stolen what was supposed to have been his life.
Freedom.
The shadow above the window moved. Kal held his breath and began planning his next move. He didn’t have many options.
“Tell me, Kal,” Faruq whispered. “Tell me how you did it. How you got the cuffs off.”
Ah. He had something on Faruq. Something Faruq didn’t know. Something Faruq wanted.
Well, the vizier could rot in the bowels of a fiery pit before Kal would ever share that knowledge with him.
Faruq cursed, a term as foul as he was. The vizier had never liked him, even during those years of hedonism that came from their youth and the magic they controlled. Back when they’d developed their powers and learned the ways of the world that existed beyond the shadow of the minaret where they’d been raised. Back before they’d been assigned to their individual prisons and masters. Back before Faruq had stolen the one thing Kal had wanted above everything.
Faruq had played the game like a pro and earned his way through the ranks as a sycophant of the High Master, ultimately stealing his way to eternal servitude to the highest official of their world on the back of Kal’s hard work and years of study.
Bastard. He might have stolen Kal’s career, but he was not going to steal the rest of his life.
Kal slid his lantern from the folds of his kaftan. As long as he was in possession of this he was in control of his destiny. But should Faruq get it—
Kal didn’t want to consider the ramifications.
A tiny gasp at the far side of the room drew his attention. Kal stared at the doorway to the bedroom and saw her. Iman. He put a finger to his lips and used the other to point to the window.
Iman was more than just pretty and willing; she was smart. And she was also, unfortunately, mortal. The moment she saw Faruq’s well-known profile, she would know the stakes if the vizier should find either one of them.
“Come, Khaled,” said the slimy vizier. “You can’t hide from me forever. That’s a long time and I have more resources at my disposal than you do now that I’m vizier, including the ability to trace your magic. I’ll find you, Khaled, and you’ll pay. For every day you hide from me, I’ll make you pay.”
Iman’s eyes grew wide and guilt crawl like a scorpion over Kal’s skin. All he wanted was his freedom; not hers taken from her. And Faruq would do it.
He motioned for her to leave. Go back the way she came and hide. Save herself.
Iman didn’t even bother to shake her head. Instead she hunched low, hiked up her dress, and slunk across the floor to flatten herself against his side. “Give me your lantern,” she mouthed. “I’ll keep it safe.”
Faruq’s profile disappeared from the window… headed in the direction of her door. The only door in her home.
Kal didn’t have a lot of time. He couldn’t transport himself anywhere or the spectral Glimmer magic left behind would lead Faruq right to him. And if he stayed here, he’d lead Faruq right to Iman.
“Kal,” Iman breathed against his ear. “I’ll hide your lantern for you. Trust me.” She pressed a small vial into his hand. “Use this if you’re captured. It will make you seem as if you’re dead, and then you can escape to return for the lantern. It’s your only hope.”
Kal knew that, but it was so hard to place his freedom into anyone else’s hands.
And then Faruq’s silhouette moved into the doorway, hands on his hips, his scimitar gleaming from the caress of the setting sun, his eunuch guards blocking out what was left of the light. Kal shoved Iman behind one of the baskets where she stored her food and trusted her with the lantern.
Faruq took a step over the threshold and his eunuch guards filed in, forming a half-circle behind him, their knives in battle-ready position. “Did you really think you could get away from me, Khaled?”
Kal had hoped. He’d really hoped.
But now his only hope was Iman’s word and her vial of death- mimicking liquid.
The Beginning
City of Paradise,
Sahara Desert
213 AD
The sun slanted through the slit of an opening his jailers called a window and Kal took another look around his cell. It was a far cry from the luxury and comfort of his lamp. But then, his lamp was a far cry from him. But it was safe. That’s all that mattered.
Well, that and the vial Iman had given him. He hoped to all that was good in the universe that she’d truly been on his side. That she’d really wanted to help.
Kal shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had no reason not to trust her, but if he was wrong, he’d never know. Poison or the High Master; he’d be dead either way.
He flexed his fingers then grimaced. He couldn’t flex them—not with the notched board they’d tied each one to so he couldn’t wave his fingers, his method of conjuring magic. They’d even bound his arms to wooden braces to prevent him from trying to undo the restraints.
He’d lost his gamble.
Voices sounded outside at the end of the corridor. Was this the day? The last one he’d ever see? Or would his jailers torture him yet again?
Kal took a deep breath, gearing up for what was to come. He’d finally given up the information Faruq had wanted that diamonds removed the cuffs.
They’d come for him in the middle of the night before he’d had the chance to remove the vial from its hiding place. He’d known the pain would escalate, and there was only so much a man—mortal or djinni—could take. It’d been bad luck that both had happened that night.
Footsteps sounded now. More guards than the last twelve dozen times they’d come for him. He knew because he’d counted. They only needed two men to torture him—well, two and the fired poker they liked to prod him with. More men didn’t bode well.
He slipped the vial from the hollow in his cheek where he’d been storing it ever since that night to beneath his tongue. Didn’t need Faruq’s men accidentally breaking it before he was ready to use it. But he would use it because he no longer had anything to lose.
The footsteps came closer, the flap of sandals against the worn dirt as loud as a swarm of locusts over the plains. The keys jangled. Archaic things, keys, but when magically enhanced, as effective against djinn as they were to mortals. Kal braced himself. His time of reckoning was at hand.
“Stand back, dog!”
Kal smiled and stepped to the back of the cell. As if insults hurt him after what he’d endured. The jailer needed to come up with a new repertoire, but Kal wasn’t about to tell him that. Let the poor misguided eunuch think he had something over Kal—other than that damn poker, that was.
Six of the guards trooped in and gripped him by the armpits, yanking a shudra over his restraints. Now that hurt. But Kal didn’t let them see his pain. No need to fire their bloodlust now. The gods knew, it’d be fired enough when he refused to open his mouth. Mostly he did that to protect the vial, but when he’d realize that silence made Faruq angrier… well, hey, he had to get what he could out of the situation and saying nothing worked better than saying something.
Until he hadn’t.
“Your luck has finally run out,” another said with a sneer. “The vizier is putting you on trial before the High Master.”
The High Master. They were taking him into the court of the man he’d worked so diligently to serve—until Faruq had stolen it all from him. Maybe his luck was finally starting to turn.
This was it. He was finally going to be free. After two hundred years of captivity at the hands—and sadistic imagination—of his old nemesis, Kal was finally going to outsmart Faruq and use Iman’s vial to lose himself in the vast desert surrounding Al-Jannah, the capital of the djinn world.
They dragged him from the tiny cell and paraded him through the corridors of the High Master’s palace like the dog they’d called him, but Kal kept his head held high, his anger in check, and the all-important vial of potion tucked securely beneath his tongue.
“Move along, traitor,” another of the eunuch guards taunted, poking him in the back with the recently sharpened point of his scimitar.
Kind of hard to get mad at a eunuch really. The most Kal could muster for him was pity because, personally, he’d rather be dead than sentenced to that hell on earth.
The corridor opened into the main hall where a serving girl was pouring ambrosia into a set of glasses beside the High Master’s throne. Before it, in the middle of the room, stood a dais three times the size of Kal’s cell and draped in blue silk shot through with gold.
The irony wasn’t lost on him as he glanced down at the blue shudra he’d been given to wear. Everyone knew the High Master favored blue; it was the gold that was ironic; it matched the cuffs Kal had figured out how to remove, which was his crime and the reason he was here.
Two other prisoners were already seated on the dais, with cushions for four more. Kal wondered what their transgressions were. Surely none of them could compete with the horror he’d committed; no djinn had ever removed the cuffs of Servitude, a badge of honor among those in The Service.
Kal ran his tongue over the vial. Once he put the plan in motion he’d have to return to Iman’s to find his lantern. As long as it lay unclaimed, he could belong to no man. But the minute someone picked it up, he was back in The Service and he hadn’t gone through all of this to find himself right back where he’d started, not without the hope of the promotion that had started all of this. The promotion Faruq had stolen.
“Move along.” The eunuch prodded him again.
Kal stopped and spun around. He’d had enough of being sword practice, of being at Faruq’s mercy, of having all his hard work and dreams tossed aside as if his life were meaningless. He was just itching for a fight. “Go ahead, walad. Stab me. Let’s see if you’ve got the balls to do it.”
A stricken look crossed the eunuch’s face as Kal realized what he’d said. The guy didn’t have the balls, actually.
The big, muscular guard behind the first one growled. “Get up the steps now, traitor, or you won’t either.”
Newly snipped, probably. And not happy about it.
And definitely not worth it with freedom so close at hand.
Kal climbed the steps, wanting to get through this trial so he could be out of here faster than a flying carpet.
If only he could use his powers on a carpet, but no. He’d have to lay low on magic because Faruq would be able to track him through the Glimmer magic left behind—unless he could come up with some way to disguise it.
A door opened on the far side of the room and three women were brought in, two in shackles and the last one with such a disgruntled look on her face, Kal wanted to laugh. She was pissed and, yeah, he could relate.
“Sit.” Newly-Snipped knocked the back of Kal’s knees and shoved down on his shoulders, leaving him no choice but to do as he was ordered. Story of his life.
The shackled women stumbled up the steps on the far side of the dais, their chains catching under their feet. The other woman added Disgust to Disgruntled and huffed over to the steps he’d just climbed, marching up them and plopping on the cushion next to him.
“What are you in for?” she asked, her eyes a surprising blue against an olive complexion.
“Quiet!” Newly-Snipped shoved his knee into Kal’s back as if Kal had been the one talking. Ah well, the guy had to muscle his testosterone around while he still had it.
Blue Eyes rolled those striking eyes, then turned her face forward and arranged her tiny feet beneath her knees. No lotus position for her. Faruq wasn’t going to be pleased about that. Faruq was all about the pomp and circumstance—and torture and starvation—of his position.
A cloud of blue mist wafted into the room, dissipating when the High Master emerged with Faruq following a half pace behind—the closest he could get without overstepping his bounds, but Kal knew how much that half step killed the power-hungry vizier.
The High Master clapped his hands and the eunuchs stepped behind the prisoners and slammed the tips of their scimitars into the wooden da
is. The room grew quiet as the High Master scanned the line of prisoners. Then he began giving those at the far end his Evil Eye—the one that rendered them either dead or unconscious for transportation to their bottles and lanterns.
Kal knew which would be his fate; there was only one outcome for removing the cuffs.
The manacled women fell back in tandem, the eunuchs catching them before they hit the floor.
The High Master approached the next victim, er, prisoner, and Faruq read the man’s list of transgressions from a papyrus scroll.
He hadn’t finished before the High Master passed judgment.
Kal jiggled his knees with nervous energy and tongued the vial. He should have enough time to swallow the evidence before he, too, would keel over, looking for all intents and purposes as if the Evil Eye had worked its deadly magic on him.
The High Master moved closer and Kal saw a slimy smile slide across Faruq’s face when the vizier’s gaze landed on him, gloating, because he, alone, would know the secret of the cuffs once Kal was gone.
Kal couldn’t have that. He couldn’t give Faruq that kind of power. He ought to tell someone in case the potion didn’t work as Iman said it would, or if Faruq caught on and managed to kill him. The secret die shouldn’t die with him.
The man next to him fell back, the eunuch behind him catching him and laying him down softly.
“Diamonds,” Kal muttered to Blue Eyes.
Of course, telling her would be a loss if she was sentenced to death, too. The chances were fifty-fifty for her. For him? One hundred percent dead.
Or so they’d think.
The High Master now stood before him. Kal worked the vial onto his back teeth and closed his jaw, waiting for the right moment.
Your Wish Is His Command Page 1
