Adanto didn’t reply. He flicked a finger outward and Mac tumbled back into his own airspace at the foot of the treadmill, watching as the old man was moved onto a stretcher.
“What the fuck, man.” Mac’s voice was a whisper. “I need a drink. Hey, after this run, let’s go grab a beer. I’m off shift until Tuesday,” he said softly to a fellow paramedic.
Seeing Mac was back safely, Adanto raised himself into a beam of sunlight and traveled across the plains of time and space to his beloved Maggie. She had wished. Better than giving him head—a wish was the ultimate satisfaction she could offer.
Adanto’s dark olive complexion shimmered with a thousand pinpoints of blue light as he entered into the secret place of mind and spirit from whence all wishes were granted. His body quivered and he moaned as if he were coming. He rose to his feet and held his palms out to his sides. The blue lights danced in them before scattering across the vault of heaven.
“It is as you wished.” He paused. “Dear Lord, that felt good.”
“I didn’t mean to say it.” Maggie nibbled her lower lip.
Adanto smiled. “But you did. And for better or worse, I’m here—per your request. What shall become of me in your realm?”
Maggie smiled. “Well, I suppose I’d better take advantage of the situation. So let me say this—I know what’s going to happen to you in my realm.” She winked.
Adanto laughed. “Let’s not waste time, shall we?”
He took Maggie by the waist and skipped across the divide of his world and hers, landing on her bed.
The earth did not quake.
The sky did not fall.
The birds did not cease singing outside the window.
Adanto laughed and stretched out. “I have not lived in this realm for seven hundred years. I have seen it, watched it change, been a part of it on its periphery, but never have I actually been able to absorb its goodness in all that time.”
“Has it been long enough for you to find your replacement?”
“I found two. The second is a probable match.” He hoped he was a match.
“And the first?”
“He wished for money and, promptly thereafter, had a heart attack. I hit on one of the medics. Dear Lord, it’s not like how it used to be. When I was boy…”
“Medic? Christ, Adanto, what have you been up to?” Maggie laughed, then shook her head. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I just want you to kiss me. Kiss me…” She paused. “No…I need to know. Did he live? The man who wished for money?” The sound of the door chime interrupted their embrace. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back. Unless it’s Publisher’s Clearing House saying I won ten million dollars, I’m not interested.”
“Do you want ten million dollars?”
Maggie chuckled. “God, no. You won’t see me wishing for money. I know better.”
“Clever girl. Money wishcraft brings nothing but trouble.”
*
Maggie tapped her head with her finger to indicate she had lots of smarts and darted out of the bedroom. She peered between the front room curtains to see who was at her door. To her delight, a UPS truck was pulling away. She opened her front door and retrieved the small, well-wrapped package.
She ripped it open as she sauntered back into her bedroom.
“Who was it?”
Maggie smiled. He was already nude and in her bed, the covers peaking at his crotch. “Do you have a magic wand under the covers with you or are you just happy to see me?”
Adanto stroked his erection. “I’m very, very happy to see you.”
“I can tell. Hold that thought, huh? I bought this off eBay and I want to see if it arrived intact.”
“As you wish, Maggie. The wait is but sweet agony to me.” Adanto stretched and filled his lungs. “I have not taken a breath of Earth’s air since I traded places with Umberto. I smell a thousand different fragrances on the breeze. Bacon. Freesia. Mountain Fresh laundry detergent. It’s like a symphony to my senses.”
“You’re funny, Adanto. I can smell those things too, but I never give the scents of my daily life a second thought.”
She pulled the package open. Inside a crudely carved Styrofoam packing box was her flask. She tossed the box and moved under the lamp at the edge of her bed. She sat and held the flask under the light. It was unremarkable, save that it was older than the hills and from a time period in American history when intolerance was the norm. The flask was sealed with a lead cap affixed by antiquated cracked wax. Still, it was supposedly haunted. That could be fun. Maybe she’d show it to Moira.
“It’s guaranteed to be haunted.” She raised the flask for him to see. “The spirit inside is the tormented lover of a Djinn sealed away for all eternity as punishment for crimes against God and nature.”
Adanto raised his left eyebrow, seeming interested. “I know this story. Was the spirit captured in Salem, Massachusetts?”
“So it was. Now who’s being clever?” She set the palm-sized pounded metal flask on her headboard shelf. “I don’t want to play with my new artifact right now, however.”
“I may be able to give you some secret details about that naughty little spirit trapped in the flask. But, my love, let’s summon spirits later, shall we? I am having difficulty breathing. I need air—my air. I need to breathe you in, Maggie.”
“Welcome home,” Maggie said softly, falling against Adanto.
She had made love with him dozens of times—each was more fulfilling than the last. She assumed it was Djinn magic, or the effects of screwing in the aura of a mechanical device. A little electrical current was good for the soul and all. But this time, the act of coitus was brilliant. Rapturous.
Maggie turned on the crisp sheets, bringing her legs up by Adanto’s head. She buried her face in his crotch, sucking his penis deep inside her mouth as he reciprocated by lapping at her clitoris.
She wanted to make him come. She wanted his dick in her mouth as she came too. She wanted to suck him until he exploded, then keep on sucking until he was hard again. She trembled, nearly unable to focus as he peeled her labia wide open and inserted his tongue inside her. His long strokes from apex to clitoris to vagina aroused her to the point where she believed this moment was easily the most erotic experience of her life. She stroked his shaft, sucking hard on his cockhead. His Djinn dick tasted so good against her tongue. She reached a hesitant finger around to his anus and massaged his hole in time to head bobs.
Adanto didn’t just caress her anus. He pushed his thumb inside her vagina and a long, slim index finger into her butt. He pulled on the flesh between them, squeezing tighter and tighter as he diddled her clit.
They rolled and he mounted her from behind, slamming into her with a fury they’d never previously shared. Their wet, hot frenzy shook Maggie’s bed and pounded the headboard against the wall in time to Adanto’s turbulent thrusts.
The cracked wax seal on the flask shattered as the vibrations of their sexual act shook the bed. Maggie heard the cap fall but found the thought quite fleeting as her pleasure mounted.
*
The spirit of the flask shuddered. “At last,” he whispered, relishing the breath of fresh air wafting in through the small opening. Quivering with delight as light filled the dark void of his prison, he hastily surveyed his situation. He’d had a long time to think about this very moment. Escape and rebirth.
So very long ago, he’d loved too dearly without moderation and had been punished for his excesses. He had dabbled with rites of immortality in order to remain bonded with his angelic lover. His immortal, wish-granting lover. For his great love and the workings of the dark arts, he had been crushed to death. He hadn’t known the entire immortality spell. He had only read the first part, and so his spirit lived on trapped inside a nearby cast-aside object. Had he known the right words, he would have been transformed into a shade, able to inhabit the body of others. He would have invaded any one of them…the priest…the magistrate. And done unspeakable carna
l acts in body. He and his lover.
Trapped for so long in silence, the loud, aggressive act of coitus greeting him sounded like a symphony. Deep notes penetrating. Melodic trills in crescendo. This was his opportunity. The one he had prayed for, bargained for. Wished for.
He retreated from the darkness of his tomb, spreading his essence like the wings of a hawk. He swooped silently about the couple as they reveled in their sexual encounter. He would be born to a mortal woman by infiltrating and penetrating the sacred ground of her womb. He would be born anew. And then, he would find his immortal true love.
He rode the crest of the man’s climax, adhering to a single sterile sperm. Deep inside the female, freed at last, the spark of life danced. Life renewed.
Chapter Ten
Turhan, of the Djinn High Council, had been tasked with tracking Adanto. It suited him as he had long suffered from insomnia. It was cyclical for him. When the pull of the moon was hard upon him and the tides moved too slowly to measure, his thoughts always turned to the days he had lived in Old Salem. Salem, Massachusetts, of long ago, where he had lived for a short time with his love. They had watched the moon together, his breathmate and he. He’d have given it all up for his love and, in fact, he’d been grooming his replacement.
Until the tribunal had pulled his lover from his cottage in the middle of the night and placed him in irons before the inquisitors. Why had his love not been reborn? Was his soul so shattered by the Peine forte et dure—the harsh and forceful crushing of witches—it had gone into hiding for all time?
The wakeful night found Turhan wandering the empty halls of the Djinn palace, alone and feeling hopeless against the flood of memories. He’d never liked Adanto. He’d be certain to blame his current suffering on that little Italian low-caste jinni.
A bell rang in his heart. It pounded against his ribs like a burst of thunder, melting the black ice of suffering, penetrating his secret regions, bringing light to the darkness of his soul. A warm, magical glow filled his belly and lungs, cascading all the way to his fingertips. He recognized the warmth. It had a scent and flavor all its own.
It was he. The one he’d lost. The one he’d lost was finally reincarnating.
The great Djinn fell to his knees and wept as he had a thousand nights previously—only this time, he wept tears of joy. He stole into the throne room and poured a measure of water into the High Ghul’s looking glass basin. He wanted to see the mother of his love. He had to make sure she would accept the spirit planted inside her and nurture it to birth. In not too many human years, he would be reunited with his love.
Not so long a time to wait after already waiting three hundred years.
The rippling water of the viewing pool subsided into a mirror-like stillness. Turhan peered beyond the confines of the room to see the face of she who would bear his lover.
She slept in the arms of her lover, this sacred creature, this Madonna of his Savior. Strong arms surrounded her, comforting her, protecting her. Turhan’s eyes widened as he realized he knew well the face of the man holding his breathmate’s birth mother. It was Adanto. Adanto was the father of his love. Impossible.
A child of a Djinn and mortal—impossible. And if it was to occur—horrendous. What havoc would this child’s birth bring to humankind? What horrors?
He shifted the mother’s timeline forward and found no child in her future.
Turhan fell to the floor, light-headed and dizzy.
There was no child.
By the grace of God, or by the hand of man or by some event of nature, there would be no child. Humankind would be spared another rogue demon spawn. Nor would he hold his breathmate in his arms once again.
This was hell. Hope stripped away like flesh peeled from bone. The loss of hope and onset of horrific despair mired with soul-sapping guilt at the mourning of a being who would do no good on Earth. A being who harbored the reincarnation of the man he loved. It struck him in the gut and tightened until the pain was nearly unbearable. But the pain in his belly was nothing compared to the anguish in his heart.
He, at first, didn’t notice the hulking presence of the High Ghul behind him. “Turhan, what troubles you so? Why are you prostrate upon the floor? Have you been injured?”
Turhan turned his head but did not rise. “Forgive me, sire, but I cannot stand to greet you properly for I am overcome with both joy and fear. An odd combination, it is, sire—and one I have not experienced before.”
“What has happened?”
“My breathmate grows in the belly of a human woman. His spirit has returned.” Hope and pain warred within Turhan.
“I am pleased for you.”
Turhan rocked forward, holding his gut. “It is the seed of Adanto inside the body of his breathmate.”
“Adanto? The little escapee? Oh, how I shall punish him. But tell me, Turhan…how can it be that he has sired offspring? We are sterile.”
“I know not, my lord. But the child has no future. I gazed into that of his mother’s and he is absent. Her life ends suddenly, leaving no issue.” The ache intensified.
*
The High Ghul peered into the pool. He saw much more than Turhan had. His eyes were not blinded by emotion but opened by opportunity. “Do not fear, Turhan. I shall look into this matter for you. Do not trouble yourself. Go to your home. Have a drink. I shall meet with you later.” The High Ghul kneeled and helped his friend from the floor. “Go home.”
Turhan nodded. He managed a weak smile before leaving the chamber. “I trust you, my lord. Thank you.”
The High Ghul stirred the pool with a long, blue fingernail. “That little renegade Adanto has crossed over by the will of a wish and his action shall set me free. I wish…” He paused. Djinn did not use the word “wish” lightly. “I have wished for this for a very long time.” He turned from the pool and strolled across the chamber. “The time to give up my immortality—and my torment—is at hand. Thank the Lord and His angels—my life will soon end. This life will end. This long, twisted, gifted life.”
Chapter Eleven
Maggie knew something was wrong as soon as Adanto pulled away.
The afterglow of their union was always stellar, but this time it didn’t dissipate. It lingered. It filled her. It swept through her belly like the Santa Ana winds and ignited a spark.
The spark smoldered and popped.
If Maggie were the California hills, she would have been consumed in a hellacious blaze. She was on fire—and afraid to give voice to her fears. There were risks involved in making wishes. She knew that. She’d known that for years. And here she’d made a wish and it had been granted. What consequences would now play out?
She touched her belly lightly, trailing her fingertips over her little paunch that so intrigued Adanto. Maggie had a feeling she knew what the consequence was. Life was the consequence. New life.
Though cradled in the loving arms of her Adanto, Maggie did not sleep well. Already her hormones fluctuated and there were butterflies in her belly. Cells splitting and joining and binding in miraculous patterns woven on the loom of the cosmos. Yeah…it was all kind of beautiful. Until she vomited.
Damn, damn, damn. Maggie flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth. I do not want to be pregnant. I do not want to gain back all the weight I’ve lost.
She dressed and then headed to the gym.
It wasn’t long before she strode through the doors of the now familiar building.
The treadmill was gone. In its place was an incumbent bike.
Maggie walked every inch of the gym looking for her treadmill. As large as it was, it couldn’t have gone far—unless it had been scrapped.
A dire sense of panic eating at her gut, joining forces with the ball of light growing within her and already trying to push its way out, Maggie swallowed her pride and asked a Bambi for assistance.
She had to calm herself down.
Go Zen.
Otherwise, she’d grab Bambi by the shoulders and demand to be taken to her tre
admill. Jesus Christ…did they scrap it because some old dude had had a heart attack on it?
Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She brought her hands down to her sides and clutched the fabric of her sweatshirt to keep from clenching a huge flying fist. “Hi. Excuse me? Where’s the treadmill?”
“We have six treadmills. You’re welcome to use any one of them.” Bambi smiled at her, and the urge to punch the bimbo nearly overtook her good sense.
“I like the big one. The one that’s missing.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“It’s out for repairs or replacement.” Bambi went back to folding a basket of white gym towels.
“When will it go back on the floor?” Her right hand released its palm-full of shirt.
“I think it’s going to be replaced. The next model is out now. So, I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know if it will be brought back in.”
Maggie lifted her chin, trying to release the lump in her throat. “I need to know where it is. Is it in a storeroom somewhere? Has it been moved out?”
“Let me train you on another piece of equipment.”
Maggie flexed her fingers. “Look, just let me see it. I need to say goodbye.”
“I’m not supposed to let patrons back there.”
Maggie saw herself reaching out, taking Bambi by the throat, and shaking her. But she replied, pathetically, “Please.”
“All right. Come with me.” Bambi pulled off the spiral key ring around her wrist and led Maggie through a non-descript locked door into a long concrete corridor. “This is the exit to the loading dock. The truck is coming to pick it up.” Bambi smirked. “Do I need to leave you two alone?”
“Only for a moment, yes. I owe my life to this machine.”
Bambi pulled up the garage-style folding door and snuck around the corner. Maggie wasn’t positive, but she was pretty certain she smelled menthol cigarette smoke a moment later.
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