Her desktop was devoid of personality without her Italian Djinn filling up the LED screen. Her heart was even emptier. I’ve grown accustomed to his face, thinking of a song from My Fair Lady. She was Eliza Doolittle to his Professor Higgins. The common mortal transformed into a queen.
Wrapped in a blanket, she sat at her desk with a cup of Theraflu steaming beside her. The lemony medicated liquid soothed her throat going down but hit her empty stomach like a ton of bricks. She hadn’t felt like eating since the virus had taken hold.
Bored, feverish, and unable to sleep, Maggie surfed her way to eBay. Lots of old crap to look at. Collectibles for dusting and display. Everyone needed a clay cylinder depicting erotic acts from ancient China, or a fertility goddess with a missing head from Peru. She often searched for what was on her mind at the time. Kope-luwak coffee. Gold-laced chocolate. Vintage jeans. Why not do a quick search for “Djinn?”
The search for Djinn brought more humor than tangible evidence. She giggled through “binding spells” to call out Djinn for wealth and sex. Cheap jewelry, purchased from closeout sales resold as “magical connectivity” items, seemed to be the number one item in the search. Crap and horse feathers. All of it. Except for one item. An artifact of true American horror. A flask unearthed at Gallows Hill Park where twenty accused witches were hanged or crushed to death in 1692. A guaranteed haunted item with a “buy it now” price of sixty bucks. Haunted with the tormented spirit of a wish-granting jinni’s homosexual lover.
Release the spirit and capture his Djinn lover and hold him until your three wishes have been granted and you are healthy…wealthy…and powerful beyond measure. But be quick. The trapped spirit is that of a powerful witch and he will escape if you are not vigilant.
Maybe it was the fever. Maybe it was fate.
Holy crap, this is too incredible to be a marketing ploy. During Salem’s darkest hour, the witch loved a djinn. His tormented spirit was forever trapped in this flask. I am so into this. She hit the “buy it now” link.
The act of eBaying was enough to thoroughly exhaust her. Retail therapy, my ass. She didn’t even turn off the computer, but left it on, trusting it would go into hibernation, and she crawled into bed.
Chapter Seven
Rest and cold medicines did little to assuage her growing frustration with the boundary between her and Adanto. Dare she admit it? Should she admit—to herself and him—that she had fallen in love? It was far easier to complain about the distance between them than admit the truth.
“I’m tired of this, Adanto. It’s time for you to materialize on my turf.” Maggie bathed in the Tuscan sunset the day after her fever broke.
“Wishing me into your world is not a good idea.” Adanto sounded worried, but then again, he always sounded worried when that topic came up. “The guidelines for wish-granting are quite narrow. I have no leeway in how I fulfill your request—if I can take a potshot, I’m going to have to do it.”
“What if you went against the code, or whatever it is, and granted what you know I want in my heart as opposed to interpreting my vocal request with evil Djinn intent? Or what if I wished for you to not be a jinni any longer?”
“Maggie, there is no evil intent—it’s just the price that must be paid for accepting wishes. There’s always a catch.” Adanto paused. “I know your heart, mi aria. I have known it for centuries. And you have captured mine.” Adanto kissed her knuckles. “I want nothing more than to be with you in every way possible. But to leave my life as a Djinn, another must replace me. And I have not yet found my replacement. Truthfully, I am away without leave from my realm. It would be wise of me to find my replacement posthaste so I am not forced to return without you.”
“Why haven’t you? You know, found your replacement?”
“I don’t know. Fear, perhaps? I want nothing more than to cross over and be with you—while at the same moment dreading the transference of my divinity. I will be human again.”
“What’s wrong with being human?”
Adanto sat up. “I am closer to God as a Djinn than I ever could be as a mortal. The angels comfort us. The heavens are our home. As a mortal, though, I would have the blessings of hearth and home, I would be weak and mundane. And mortals don’t have God’s ear. He gave them free will and lets you all run your own lives.”
Maggie sat up, facing Adanto. “Bigot.”
“What?”
“If you have God’s attention, then you should just stay all jinni-like. If you want me, and all the mundane scenarios I can offer, then why are you here, lounging in cyberspace? Go find your replacement, Adanto. Before your boss finds you’ve taken a long lunch hour, you know? Go. Now.”
Adanto frowned. “Are you sending me away, Maggie?”
She nodded. “Yes. I am. Look, sweetie—Tuscany is gorgeous, but if we are going to have any kind of relationship in the future, I need you in the flesh. Though, I might think twice about it now that I’ve discovered you’re prejudiced against mortals.”
“I am not prejudiced. I lived as a mortal for nearly three decades—in a time when having dinner usually meant going out to kill a rabbit yourself or starve. I have lived as a Djinn for centuries. We are a race both exalted above yet beholding to humankind. I long to lie with you as a mortal man, but do not deny I harbor trepidation at making the change. Once done, there’s no going back. My savior must understand he or she will not touch Earth again. There will be no home in the suburbs, no children—no grandchildren. It might take some time before I find my replacement. I don’t want to be away from you.”
“There are no Djinn babies? No marriages?”
“There are commitments based on love in our world, but children, no. All Djinn are sterile. We cannot produce children with each other or humankind. And it’s better that way. Something goes terribly wrong with human/Djinn hybrids. They behave badly. Very badly.”
“That’s interesting. Are you telling me the worst of the worst in human history have been human/Djinn hybrids?” Maggie could almost believe it.
“Not exactly. There were nine children born to a mortal woman by a Djinn thousands of years ago. Those were seeped with malintent, and their bloodline still lingers in humanity today. The Overseer Angel forbade us the ability to procreate after that fiasco. Some of the most horrific crimes in human history were perpetrated by Djinn-born humans. The stories are shocking.”
“Too bad I won’t get to hear them until you get back.”
“You are going to send me away?” Adanto seemed shocked.
“I am. Go find your replacement, Adanto. An old human adage states if you love something, you should set it free. If it returns, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, it never was. I release you.” She paused, feeling her throat constrict as she said the words again. “I release you.”
“I obey you, mi aria.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. “I’ll be back.”
“I hope so.”
Adanto lifted his chin and eyes to the bright Tuscan sky and faded into the daylight like a thousand fireflies falling into the sun.
Maggie found herself alone in her apartment. Her chilly, dark, empty apartment. For the first time in weeks, she was alone. Really alone.
Not alone like Adanto napped somewhere, but freakishly, horrifically alone.
Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe.
She wondered if she still had an asthma inhaler in the kitchen junk drawer.
Her breath had been taken from her.
Chapter Eight
Maggie pulled an afghan up to her chin and channel surfed. Mind-numbing, blank-staring tube time. Second-guessing time. Is it better to push him away now in order to have him longer later? Or am I fucking nuts for looking a gift horse in the mouth? How the hell am I going to make it through a morning at the gym without him? I’m such an idiot…I fired my personal trainer.
Maggie wiped away a solitary tear. I can do this. I can keep on and keep up. Christ, I miss him already.
Her bod
y ached, her cold had downgraded from hurricane to tropical storm, and the ache in her heart was almost no match for the one in her privates. A little regular sexing had stoked her fires and now the pilot light had gone out.
Drudgery seemed to plague her. The gym was once again a prison.
Maggie bypassed Adanto’s treadmill, trying not to jump on and beg for a ride. She headed into the weight room and kept her back to the instrument of her love.
*
Adanto sensed Maggie’s approach and froze in place, eagerly awaiting her touch. I will report to her my plan for finding my replacement…
But she passed him by.
He fell back onto his recliner and forced himself to think only positive affirmations about his relationship with Maggie. They were separated only so he would be free to find his replacement. They were not separated permanently.
He was miserable.
His gut ached and his testicles felt tight. He needed the release he found in Maggie’s arms. Nothing else would suffice.
Sitting on his pity pot, he felt a new vibration rumble through his jinni-parts as an interloper engaged the treadmill.
A thin man with a nine-inch scar bisecting his chest had programmed the treadmill for a twenty-minute stroll with an incline of three and matching speed.
Was this he? His replacement?
Adanto peered beyond the veil of flesh of the man.
There was only grayness beyond the shroud of life. No vibrant colors. No dreams. No goals save the most base—self-preservation.
This was not a man looking for anything beyond the tip of his own nose. As the treadmill engaged and whirred to life, Adanto cautiously pulled the man into the ethers.
Rather, he spoke to the man as if he were a radio announcer. “Would you like to put an end to your suffering?”
“What?” The man looked around. “Am I hallucinating? Damn blood thinners. I’m not schizophrenic, whoever you are, so bugger off.”
“No. You are visitor number seven hundred and ninety-two, and you’ve won a prize.” Adanto kept up with the announcer voice. “Immortality and the opportunity to do good for centuries.”
“Don’t want to be immortal. And I sure as hell don’t want to do good works. Especially not for my fellow man. Now piss off. I’m walking here.”
“I am the jinni of the device you walk upon. I am here to offer you two wishes, and one very special gift.”
“Yeah, then why aren’t you in a brass lantern or fancy bottle? Whoever heard of a jinni in a treadmill? Asshole.”
Adanto frowned. This was one sour old man. “Make a wish. I shall fulfill it to prove my powers.”
“Goddamn medical co-pays are going to kill me. I want money. Money enough to pay off my part of the surgery and then enough to go enjoy besides. You going to give me money, you unseen son of a bitch?”
“I can, yes. But you need to wish for it.” Adanto held his breath as he watched the old man ponder the situation.
“I wish for money. Lots of money.”
“Would you like to define the wish before I enact it?”
“Why? Should I?”
“Yes. To whom do you wish the money to belong?”
“I wish I had lots of money. Me. My money. Oodles of money. All mine. For me. Is that good enough?” The man still didn’t believe, but that wasn’t necessary.
“Your bank account is now at one hundred thousand dollars and it will never decrease, no matter how many withdrawals you make or how much you spend. Good luck with that.”
“Well, good. That’s good. I like the drugs I’m on. This is better than watching Springer on the tube while walking the damned treadmill.”
“Call your bank and check.” No one ever believed. Adanto almost sighed.
The old man reached into the pocket of his sweats and removed his cell phone. He dialed the number from memory and asked for his bank balance. Adanto panicked as the man’s face went ashen.
“Uh, mister…” Adanto began.
The man’s eyes widened, and the phone dropped from his hand.
He collapsed onto the treadmill. The machine sparked and popped. Its belt went askew, and the pulse thumb monitor and emergency clip ripped from their ports on the LED panel, leaving gaping holes.
Adanto watched in horror as gym users and staff rushed to the man’s aid. Someone phoned 9-1-1.
He’d killed his replacement.
Whether it be by shock or surprise or greed—the man had keeled over.
The treadmill looked as trashed as its last user.
From the safety of his invisible realm, Adanto watched the drama play out in slow motion. One of the Bambis brought out a portable defibrillator. Surprisingly, and expertly, she peeled the connectors and primed the machine. She flicked the switch to engage the electrical charge. The old man’s legs lurched at the jolt. He took a raspy deep breath. Bambi rolled him onto his side.
Then the medics arrived.
Three EMTs set to work on the old man, checking his vitals, preparing for transport. The fourth hung back, one foot on the treadmill. He comforted the lifesaving Bambi and called in the apparent heart attack to the hospital.
“He’s not dead. He’s not dead. Thank you, Lord. He’s not dead,” Adanto prayed.
The Bambi nodded toward two maintenance workers. “This machine needs to be moved off the floor until we can get it repaired. Soon as the medics leave with Mr. Horowitz, okay?”
The hair on the back of Adanto’s neck stood on end. Move the treadmill? He’d have no contact or chance for replacement if the treadmill was moved. The only one even remotely close to accept the gift was the fourth paramedic.
“Should I?” Adanto wondered.
He took the chance.
He reached into the paramedic’s mind and removed his spirit from the chaos of the gym.
“Hey. Where the fuck is this?” The medic had a dirty mouth, but the rules never said a replacement had to be perfect. Just willing.
“You’re still at the gym. I’ve just shifted your perception a bit so we can communicate.”
“What are you? An alien? Am I being abducted?” The medic looked panicked, wide-eyed. “I’ve heard about shit like this.”
“No, you’re not being abducted. My name is Adanto. What’s yours?”
“I’m Mac. Captain Mackenzie. Did I pass out? Shit. I should have eaten a better breakfast.”
Adanto shook his head. “You’re not unconscious. Look, we haven’t got much time here. I need to ask you something.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mac ran a hand through his hair.
“Would you like to live forever? Live forever doing the work of saving lives just like you are now?”
“I suppose.” Mac appeared skeptical but talking. A good sign. “You’re not the devil, are you?”
Adanto stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the lackadaisical attitude of his potential savior. “I am a jinni. I can offer you two wishes and one gift. If you accept the wishes and the gift, you will live forever, and I shall be officially retired from service.”
“You mean like I Dream of Jeannie? That kind of jinni?”
“Yes. Exactly. Only I live in the aura of the treadmill and not a colorful bottle.” Same story, different potential replacement.
“You’re not blue. Disney had a big blue jinni with Robin Williams’ voice.”
“I will turn blue. I’m not old enough yet. And if you want me to speak with Robin Williams’ voice, I can. I just don’t see the point since we need to get through this matter fairly quickly.”
“Did you frighten the old man? Is that why he had a coronary?” Mac narrowed his eyes at Adanto.
“Not deliberately. His heart couldn’t handle the results of his first wish. I don’t have time to wait around for him to make a second. I need you to claim me and make a wish.”
“I ain’t putting claim to no man. I’m not claiming you if I have to have sex with you or anything like that. You’re kind of fuzzy in this light, but I can tell you’re
a dude. My gate don’t swing both ways, you know?”
“No swinging needed. Just agree to two wishes. After that I can offer you a great gift.”
Mac shrugged. “I don’t get three wishes?”
Adanto wanted to slap the medic. “Yes. You could have three wishes, but the whole two-wish scenario is better, especially if you accept the gift.”
“You sure don’t seem like any jinni I’ve ever heard about.”
More skepticism. Great. “I’m real. What most people know about the Djinn race comes from the movies. It’s ridiculous. I don’t have time to give you the short history of Djinn and mortals right now. Can you make up your mind, please?”
Chapter Nine
Maggie’s life had become quite boring in Adanto’s absence. She’d once thought everything should be accompanied by an orgasm. Now she knew she was right. Striking up a conversation with the checkout clerk was nice, but it wasn’t the same as stepping onto a treadmill and burning calories in several delightful ways. She missed the conversation, his little accent he tried too hard to hide. The way he whispered her name. The scents of lavender and wine. She missed Adanto.
“Jesus, I wish he were here right now,” she said carelessly, immediately realizing she had vocalized the magic words she was not supposed to say. “Christ. What have I done now?”
She looked around her living room, waiting for the sky to fall, or the walls to close in, or the sun to rise in the west and set in the east. She’d made a wish. A random wish.
* * * *
Adanto held his right index finger aloft, silencing the medic. “You know, Mac—I’ve got to run.”
“You get paged?” Mac asked.
“Yes, actually. I’ll be back. I’m serious about the wishes, so come back later. All right?” He wanted to give Mac the brush-off. He was giving Mac the brush-off. “I’m going to send you back now. I hope the old guy pulls through.”
“Whatever.” Mac waved a hand. “Gives me time to think about my wishes, anyway.”
Claimed by the Djinn Page 5
