Curse of a Djinn

by Lichelle Slater

  She burst out into laughter—a reaction I wasn’t expecting. “Right! You mean you’re a genie?” Guinevere shook her head. “I must’ve hit my head when I fell.” She promptly turned on her heel and disappeared down the stairs that had been hidden behind her.

  I stood awkwardly in the dim light. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. I’d never had a master walk away before. They always got greedy and started wishing right away. Guinevere hadn’t given me an order, so technically I could return to my realm and wait for her to summon me again, but I had no desire to return to my prison.

  I pushed my hands in my pockets and waited.

  Chapter 3

  Gwen

  I almost made it to the front door before I wheeled around. The crazy “Doren” guy hadn’t followed me. Pressing my lips in a thin line and resting my hands on my hips, I contemplated my options. To my right stood the door. The exit, safe and sound. In front of me gaped the opening to the attic. To the djinn.

  If this guy really was a djinn . . . I could use some wishes now more than ever.

  I’d been around magic my entire life, and I should have recognized that burst of color and the familiar dusty smell. Even the guy appearing was enough to show me he was some kind of magical creature.

  He hadn’t appeared to be much older than me. Then again, if he really was a genie, he could be hundreds of years old. Then again, he could also be a shifter impersonating a genie. Who happened to be hiding in an attic. And pretended to be summoned from a painting.

  I ran my tongue over my lips and let out a sigh, relenting to my curiosity.

  I reached the top of the steps and saw Doren still standing there in his terrible blue parachute pants and dark purple tunic. His charcoal hair unruly, as if he’d just woken from a nap.

  “This isn’t a prank,” I said, realizing it wasn’t a question.

  Doren shook his head, and when he folded his arms across his chest, his biceps flexed and I realized he was quite built.

  “This is nuts,” I mumbled as I inhaled. “You’re a genie. Genies are real?”

  He nodded briefly. Man of few words. I could live with that.

  I eyed him up and down, instinctively suspicious. “Okay. So, if genies are real, I get wishes, right?”

  I saw his lips press together.

  “If you are real, then I wish for you to bring me a hundred dollars.” I nodded once.

  “And there it is,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

  “What was that?”

  He smirked. “Humans always want us to prove ourselves. Prove we are what we claim to be. Though, I do admit asking for one hundred dollars is a very easy first wish.” He winked and extended his hand toward me.

  “What?” I asked, frowning at it.

  He rolled his eyes. “Have you never seen one of these before? Do people not shake hands anymore?”

  “I just don’t see why we have to shake on it.” I replied sharply. I stepped forward. “And I really don’t appreciate you treating me like I’m an idiot. You have to teach me how this works.” I took his hand, and as soon as our skin touched, I felt tingles spread through my hand up to my shoulder.

  He winked at me and disappeared.

  I stared at the empty room and let out a breath. “Okay. So . . . that just happened.” I grabbed the painting, hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, and left the attic. If Doren really was a djinn, then this painting is where he came from. I needed it to summon him again if that’s how djinn worked.

  Knowing I was more than conspicuous, I pulled my hood up over my head, more to hide my face than to protect it from the elements. After all, it had finished raining, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds.

  I watched the sun’s rays split the clouds and found myself wondering if life had finally made a turning point. Could it be possible someone was finally looking out for me? I shifted my gaze from the brightness of the sun to search the watercolor sky in shades of blues. I rarely took in views like this. I reached up and set my hand over the Ankh necklace hidden beneath my shirt, and I could have sworn my mother was with me.

  Without warning, Doren appeared at my side, startling me enough I nearly fell off the curb.

  “Don’t do that!” I yelled, smacking him on the arm as I spun to face him.

  When our eyes locked, his lavender eyes widened just enough that I his expression of surprise.

  “What’s that look for?” I asked.

  Doren’s face quickly became unreadable. “You don’t need to hit me.”

  We both had the first opportunity to give each other a proper once-over. He had a young face, early twenties, but it was clean-shaven, and I followed the curve of his strong jaw to his surprisingly perfect lips. He had a long, slightly wide nose, and his skin was a darker olive, barely darker than my own skin.

  “You’re staring,” he finally said.

  “What’s with the purple eyes?” I quickly replied, meeting his gaze and grateful he’d pulled me out of my stupor. I wouldn’t admit to his face that he was attractive, but boy, was he ever.

  “Part of becoming djinn.” He held his hand up, and I realized he’d been holding it out for me for a while and was now making it more obvious.

  I accepted the $100 bill and stared at it. “Seriously?” I asked. I held it up to the sunlight to verify it was real. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I muttered. I looked beyond the money to Doren’s face.

  His brows were pinched in a perplexed look. “I don’t have a kid?”

  “I mean joking. I’m just . . . surprised.” I pocketed the money and continued walking for the bus. “This is crazy. How many wishes do I get? Is it just three?” I stopped. “If I only get three, that means I burned a wish on one hundred dollars?”

  He twitched his brow.

  “I should have wished for one million,” I mumbled and started walking again.

  His lips tightened, and I pointed it out. He said, “Humans are always greedy.”

  I stared at him.

  Doren only raised his brows. “Tell me you aren’t.” He hinted toward the money with his eyes.

  “I . . . suppose.” I frowned. “I simply meant it would be nice to have money so I could pay off my student loans, pay rent next month, bills, books . . .”

  He stared at me for a while.

  “Okay . . .” Feeling awkward under his stare, I held up the large painting. “Could you make this a little less conspicuous at least?”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I assume I have to have this to keep you around?”

  Doren glanced at the painting. “Yes.”

  “So, I don’t know. Make it smaller.”

  “Is that a wish?” He met my gaze again, a smirk playing on his lips once more. The way he quirked his lips to the side gave his eyes a glint of mischief that only played on my curiosity.

  “Depends. How many do I get?” I asked.

  He studied me with the same intensity he had when we first saw each other in the full light of the sun. “You must have heard stories about genies granting three wishes?”

  “Exactly,” I confirmed.

  “The truth is, in those stories, the person likely only got three wishes because the djinn was claimed by another master. What you really get is as many wishes as you want.”

  I felt my eyes scrunch. “Really? Just like that?”

  “Yes.” Doren gestured with a hand. “That means you can still wish for your million dollars too.”

  As many wishes as I wanted, and whatever I wanted, and this djinn would grant them to me. Who didn’t wonder what they’d wish for if ever given the chance? Those questions popped up on social media all the time. But now that I had a real opportunity to wish for something, I found my mind blank.

  I started walking again toward the bus, and Doren fell into step alongside me.

  “I could wish for you to take me home?” I asked.

&
nbsp; “Yes.”

  I stopped at the corner. “I could wish for a car?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You don’t talk much,” I pointed out.

  “I’ve been stuck in the djinn realm for the last . . .” Doren paused. “What year is it?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but spotted a woman just down the street talking to a neighbor and pointing in my direction. “I need you to make the painting smaller. Something I can maybe put in a pocket?” I looked back at Doren. “Do I have to shake your hand for every wish?”

  “No,” he chuckled. He moved his fingers, and the painting shrunk so suddenly, I dropped it on the ground. “Be more careful. I’m attached to that.”

  I frowned at him as I scooped it up. “It’s not like it can break, right?”

  He shrugged.

  I rolled my eyes and crossed the street, waiting only for a car to pass, before heading for the bus stop. I still had to get to classes. “What happens between us, then? What’s the protocol now?”

  “Well, it depends on . . .”

  I looked over when Doren left the sentence hanging.

  He was rubbing the back of his neck. “I can stay as long as you’d like. It really is up to you.” He pulled the corner of his lip up in a flirtatious grin. “Certainly, you want me around forever, yes?”

  “Uh huh . . .” I eyed him skeptically.

  My brain was arguing with itself. Doren was handsome. According to him, I now owned him, and he was flirting with me! Then again, if the guy had really been trapped a long time, it was likely he was only trying to flatter me. Maybe my best friend was right and it was time for me to start dating again.

  The bus screeched to a halt, and I was relieved to see a different troll driver. I climbed on first, paid my fare, and then paid for Doren. This time of day, the bus was packed, and I could only find somewhere to stand.

  Doren stared at everything as if he’d never seen any of it before.

  “Just how long of you been stuck in that painting?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low, grateful for the first time ever there was an annoying group of chatty nymphs behind me to help block out our conversation.

  Doren inclined his head. The bus lurched forward, and somehow he kept his balance without gripping onto anything. “Based on the year . . .” He pointed to the digital calendar displayed above the bus driver’s head. “I have been bound to that painting for nearly one hundred years. Something like . . . hm. Ninety-seven to be precise?”

  I eyed his garb. “You’re not dressed like you’re from the eighteen hundreds.”

  He laughed. “True. Because I’m not.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “You mean, you’re older?”

  “Significantly.”

  “But if you’re older, then how is it you can be bound, as you said, to a newer painting?”

  He watched me, gauging me. “I can be bound to different . . . receptacles. If you found it annoying to carry a painting around, you can perform a ritual to bind me to something different.”

  I didn’t miss how he dodged my question about his age and arched a brow.

  “I have been a djinn for a few thousand years,” he finally relented.

  “Thousand?” I squeaked.

  Doren smiled, this time a genuine one that reached his eyes. “Not bad looking, am I?”

  “That’s insane,” I said almost breathlessly. “I have, like, a billion questions.”

  He nodded silent permission.

  I listened to make sure the noise on the bus was still in full swing before asking a question. “What was it like in the nineteen twenties? I always loved learning about the twenties. Have you watched every era come around? What’s the coolest invention you’ve seen? Did you ever meet anyone cool?”

  His face was a complete mask. “I did assassinate RFK.”

  I felt myself swallow as a sense of dread tingled down my head and settled in the bottom of my stomach. This guy had been owned by others before me. I hadn’t thought about that. I certainly hadn’t thought Doren could be dangerous. But it made sense. Especially if his previous . . . owners weren’t nice people.

  Slowly, Doren’s lips spread into a grin, and he chuckled.

  “You were just kidding?” I asked hesitantly. I felt my lips wanting to smile, but my brain was working hard to tell me not to.

  “Just a little joke.” He chuckled again.

  I relaxed but gave him a sock in the shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

  He rubbed his arm, and his face softened.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m not . . . exactly used to having conversations with my masters,” he explained.

  I shook my head. “How could they not talk to you?”

  He shrugged. “They worry too much about their wishes.”

  “Did any of them get to know you at all?” I asked.

  “None that I can recall. Besides, why should they care?” His eyes shifted beyond me, and I followed his gaze to a mother holding her two-headed child.

  “Because it’s the humane thing to do,” I said.

  “I’m not human.” His gaze returned to me. He answered it so . . . simply, it hurt.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “All right, the story about you djinn being prisoners, is that true?”

  He nodded.

  “What did you do to end up a prisoner?”

  Doren’s eyes moved just enough I knew he was taking in the features on my face. He stared at me with enough intensity I felt a blush rush into my cheeks.

  I cleared my throat.

  He exhaled. “It’s a long story. Not really appropriate for here.” He shifted and looked through the window. “Where are we?”

  “Utah.”

  He tilted his head again. “Don’t remember being here.” He leaned forward a bit to take in the view of the buildings as we drove to my little apartment. “I got the painting sold at auction. Must have traveled far.”

  “Where were you last?”

  “Hmmm, Chicago?” He looked at me. “Does that still exist?”

  I laughed. “Oh boy, yes, it does.”

  Doren wasn’t . . . quite what I expected. At least, not in that moment. I hadn’t realized he would have such childish curiosity, and it didn’t end when the bus stopped at campus and almost everyone on board exited.

  “How long did you say it’s been since you were last summoned?” I asked Doren, noticing the way he stared at the trees, grass, and people.

  “Maybe . . . thirty or so years?”

  “What’s it like?”

  He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “The djinn realm?”

  I nodded.

  “Colorless.”

  Chapter 4

  Doren

  Guinevere had taken me with her to a pawnshop, where she sold some pieces of electronics I didn’t recognize. She had tried to get me to choose something in hopes I could transfer to a different receptacle. Apparently lugging a painting around wasn’t all that fun. I told her I didn’t care what she chose, but she didn’t like my answer.

  In all honesty, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. When I’d first seen her in the sunlight, really taken her in, all I could think of was Zenja.

  My beautiful Zenja.

  In spite of her nearly twin-like appearance, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the possibility of Guinevere being Zenja reincarnated. Likely, Guinevere was a descendant and just happened to look like the woman I had loved all those years ago.

  After leaving the pawnshop, we walked down a wide, wet sidewalk until we came to an area with tall and wide buildings. One to our left looking like it had been built ages ago, made of browning red brick and white pillars. Another to the right was covered in black windows that reflected images like the reflecting pond in my world.

  “That building you’re looking at.” Guinevere pointed.

  “The black one with all the windows?”

  �
��Yes. That’s the library. The inside is spectacular. Very modern and bright. Though, I have to admit, I do love the old city library. It was built in the early nineteen hundreds.” Her dark eyes practically glistened with light. “This is my campus. Blackwood University”

  “What about that weird one?” I pointed with my chin toward a building that had two windows coming to a point, and then a large chunk of metal pierced out from it like a scorpion’s tail.

  Guinevere laughed. “That’s the arts building. They like to make things look pretty. Around the back, they have a theater. I’ve been to a few of their plays. Not too bad.”

  “Like Hamlet?” I asked eagerly. “I do like that one.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “No, like a musical?”

  “What’s a musical?” I asked. My brows dipped in thought.

  She stopped walking. “A play with music?”

  “Oh. You mean opera.”

  Guinevere buried her face in her hands. “No, I don’t mean death by music, I mean entertainment by music.” She peeked out from under her hands, and I felt my heart begin to flutter against my ribs.

  I couldn’t resist a smile. “You mean, like Mame or Hello Dolly.”

  “Exactly.” She lowered her hands. “Have you ever seen one?”

  I shook my head. “I saw parts of Hello Dolly, but masters don’t care. I remember seeing flyers and banners, or overhearing music, but our purpose is to make wishes happen.”

  “You don’t break the rules?”

  “I can’t.”

  She looked surprised when she turned to me again. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting that answer. She finally said, “We should have fixed that,” and gestured to me.

  I looked down at myself. “Me?”

  “Your clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with this?” I frowned and pointed to my attire.

  She glanced around, and only then did I realize people were glancing at me sideways as they passed. “It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not . . . really era appropriate. Don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Is that something I could wish for?”

  I nodded.

  Guinevere smiled. “Go take a look around and see what you like, then dress that way. Do I have to add that I wish it? I don’t know how to wish these things.”