Page 11 of Enslaved By Magic

Chapter 5

Amari

Over the next few days, she would slip in the occasional hip bump or caress while standing way too close to him. There was nothing that would seem to be on purpose, but as he introduced her to the modern world, she made sure to take advantage of every opportunity to make herself seem desirable. And she could see it was having an effect on him. She caught him watching her out of the corner of his eye as she moved around his small house, cleaning and straightening things for him.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he said as he watched her tidying one day.

She paused, looking up with a slight smile. “I’m used to it; besides you seem really busy with all of your work—do you ever take a day off?” Even when he was home, he was usually hunched over the computer or preparing packages to go out in the mail; sales from his online store, he’d explained. So, she cleaned, and cooked for him, preparing what she could with the limited food supplies in the house. It was a pity, she often thought, that she couldn’t use the magic of the bottle to do such chores.

But aside from granting his three wishes, she was basically a normal woman in many ways. By the fourth day the cabinets were bare, and she realized she’d have to go get more food somehow. While her bottle could provide for her own needs inside, those things couldn’t be easily brought out into the real world to cook for him, so shopping would be necessary. It meant figuring out the complexities of the public transportation system but it was an exciting adventure and she ended up quite enjoying the bus ride to the store and back.

Steam rose from the plates that crowded the small table, each heaped high with a fragrantly seasoned dish. She was satisfied as she settled in across from him, feeling oddly comfortable with the hominess of eating together. She didn’t serve him first, because that seemed to make him uncomfortable, but when he didn’t reach for any of the food, she frowned, wondering what was wrong.

He had an expression on his face that she’d come to realize was his ‘trying to figure things out’ face. “What is it?” she asked. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He hesitated and then grabbed a bowl and began ladling a bean dish on his plate. She was about to warn him it was heavily spiced with red pepper oil and meant to be eaten in small amounts mixed with rice, but before she could say anything, he distracted her with a question. “Where did you get all of this? I thought you couldn’t do magic unless I made a wish?” he asked, with just a slight hint of accusation.

She narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t that she expected gratitude for all her work, but he could at least eat what she’d made without all the suspicion. Over the past couple of days, he’d developed a habit of pouncing on her every time he sensed an inconsistency in her story. It was as though he still didn’t believe what she was and was convinced he’d find out it was all a trick.

He no longer thought she was a hallucination, at least she didn’t think so. Instead, he seemed to feel that she was some kind of illusionist who could fool the eyes. Not with magic, of course, but with elaborate trickery and props. What her motive would be for that, he either still hadn’t decided or at least not shared it with her.

She sighed. “I can’t. I told you, I’m limited in what I can do when I’m not granting wishes. A little shape-change magic is about it, outside of actually being magic myself,” she said. It had come up already a couple of times when he’d pushed her to prove her powers in a larger way than just making her clothes vanish, or her hair change colors, and she’d informed him that to do more he’d need to make a decision about those wishes.

“Then how do you explain all this,” he said, waving a hand at the table and nearly knocking a bowl of rice to the floor.

“It’s food? Just regular food and I cooked it,” she snapped. “What, do you think I’m incapable of using a stove? I was corked for the past thirty years, not a hundred. I’ve used stoves before.” Her lips pursed and she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks as she got close to losing her temper.

“Okay, fine, you can cook, but where did you get the food? I know I didn’t have any of this here,” he said. He paused, frowning as he added, “I keep meaning to shop actually.”

“I noticed! So, I went to the store and bought more food. It wasn’t exactly difficult,” she said in a seething tone. “And before you ask, I took the bus. The schedules are online, and I used the money you left on the counter to pay.”

“The money I left… oh.” He suddenly seemed to remember the small stack of bills he’d left there, from the sale of a few items to a local antique store. “I guess—I’m sorry, I was just surprised,” he said. His tone was apologetic now, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“At least the others didn’t pretend. They knew I was a slave and treated me like one. None of them told me to be a person when they didn’t even believe who I was.” Her eyes dropped to her plate and she refused to look up at him. If she had been a weaker woman, she might have cried over it, but she hadn’t done that in many years. Besides, she wasn’t hurt; she was angry. She began to eat with a cold silence stretching between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I appreciate you cooking—you really don’t have to, but it’s nice to come home to this.”

Silence.

“Look, what you want me to believe just isn’t possible. It’s not that I think you’re lying, it’s just…” He trailed off. They both knew there wasn’t much else he could say. Either it was real, and he believed her, or she was making it up. There weren’t any other options.

“I’m sorry,” he said again with more firmness.

A spiteful thought entered her mind and it was too delicious to ignore. The magic that bound her to the bottle wouldn’t allow her to hurt the owner, any more than it would allow her to disobey, but it did give her a lot of latitude in how she responded to anything other than a direct order.

She took a deep breath and straightened. She pushed her long hair back behind one ear and looked up as she put on what she felt would look like a brave face, complete with quivering bottom lip and eyes that were suspiciously wet. It was nothing but manipulation, of course, but he wouldn’t know that.

“If you were really sorry, you’d at least eat the food before it got cold,” she said. The slightest tinge of woe crept into her voice and it caused the exact reaction she’d hoped for.

It was such a small thing to show he hadn’t meant to hurt her, and he rushed to prove his regret by shoveling a big spoonful of the spicy food into his mouth. “Mmm, it’s delicious!” he exclaimed through the mouthful.

“Here you’ll want some of this on it. It really adds to the experience,” she said as she picked up a small bowl and poured a large amount of tangy sauce over the food. It was cruel, and she knew it, but the sauce was about to triple the heat factor of that dish, and, in a few seconds, he was going to feel like he’d taken a bite of lava.

The overly sweet tone of voice should have warned him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he immediately filled his spoon high and shoved it in his mouth before he’d even finished chewing the last bite. And then another hearty helping joined it, making his mouth comically full in his attempt to show her how much he was enjoying her cooking.

Once he realized there was no more room, he was forced to chew and swallow as fast as he could to clear his mouth—which was when he noticed something was wrong. She kept the innocent look on her face for as long as she could, but as his eyes began to bulge and sweat poured down his face in streams, she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching up at the corners.

There was a fire burning in his mouth and his choices were to spit out the food and risk insulting her all over again—or swallow. He swallowed, but that made the problem worse. Halfway down, the flames engulfed him, and he began to choke and cough.

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