Page 9 of Enslaved By Magic

“This kind, I suppose. What? You were expecting maybe harem pants and veils?” She gave him such an amused look his skin darkened with embarrassment.

“Maybe. I don’t know—I wasn’t expecting you at all but, yeah, definitely not an old band shirt,” he muttered.

She looked down at her shirt. The Grateful Dead had been old when she’d put it on, so by now they were probably ancient. She wondered if he even knew who they were. “It’s what I was wearing when I went back into the bottle last time—I suppose that was a while back,” she said. How long? She didn’t ask, but the question must have been obvious because he answered.

“The estate where I bought the bottle had been locked up since the owner died. I think they said twenty years back,” he said. “Were you in there all that… What am I saying? This isn’t possible. Nope.” Shaking his head, he pushed past her and left the bathroom, heading right back to the bottle so he could pick it up and look it over. He kept glancing from it to her and back again as though he were trying to figure out how she’d fit.

“It was 1990 when the last one made his second wish and ordered me back into the bottle. I expected he’d pass me on soon after but…” She made a slight gesture with her hand and didn’t bother finishing. It was obvious he’d never done that. “The year?” she asked.

“Now? It’s 2018,” he said automatically. He looked like he was annoyed to keep playing into her delusions, and it was amusing to watch because she knew deep down, he believed it. How could he not?

She was silent for a few minutes, trying to take in the fact that she’d been bottled up for nearly thirty years while the world passed her by. She’d known it had been a long time but that was more than she’d expected. She couldn’t help but wonder why, but the moment she thought the question the answer was there. She had, perhaps, gone a little too far in her attempts to push her last owner into passing on her bottle.

She had liked him even less than most who had held her captive over the years and, while she couldn’t free herself, there were certain things she could do to make owning her less of a joy. There’d been no rush to sell her after he’d made the second wish, but she’d been afraid he’d never let her go either.

Not that man. She’d been just another possession for him to hoard. So, she’d encouraged him to want her gone. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that, but apparently, he’d been more stubborn than most and… and what? Ordering her into the bottle wasn’t enough for him. Somehow, he’d blocked her access to the outside entirely, which she hadn’t even known was possible.

“Robert Janvier, that was his name,” she said, pulling it from the many in her memories.

There had been dozens over the years, and she couldn’t possibly recall them all, but he’d been the last and, even if he hadn’t been, she’d have remembered him. “He wasn’t a good master, or a good person,” she said simply. She didn’t let any emotion creep into her voice, but those memories were filled with pain. The Frenchman had been cruel to her in many ways and locking her away so no one else could have her was not a surprise. The fact that he was greedy and possessive explained it all, but she had no desire to dredge up old pain for this new master. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Would you like to make a wish, Master? Or would you like to know the rules first?” she asked. If she had her way there were certain things she’d never tell, but part of the magic of the lamp was that she was required to tell whoever owned her the basics. She couldn’t refuse to answer questions either. It also kept her from lying to the owner of the bottle, but she’d learned over the years how to get around that to a certain extent. She could choose her words carefully, however, to imply things that weren’t true, and she’d become an expert at that.

“Stop calling me Master, my name is Luke,” he said, sounding stressed and close to snapping.

“Yes, Mast—I mean Luke.” She’d tried to call him Master anyway, since she could tell it bothered him. He flinched every time she said it, but he’d phrased it like an order and the magic had forced her to comply. She could have fought harder, but there would be time for that later once she’d taken his measure.

Luke sighed, and sat down abruptly. “Okay, let’s say for one minute I believe any of this. How—how does all of it work? You’re a—a genie, right? So, you grant wishes and what are the rules then?” he asked.

She came over and took a seat next to him, tucking her legs up under her so she could lean against his strong shoulder. Her voice, when she spoke, was carefully cultivated to be seductive. Her wiles were the only power she had over those who controlled her, and she’d learned to use them well. “Any wish your heart desires”—the slight pause, and then his name—“Luke. Wealth, fame—anything. Uh—there are a few rules, of course, but there is very little I can’t do,” she said. What she meant was that people tended to ask for the same old boring wishes every time and they were rarely creative enough to come up with something that wasn’t within her power.

Luke shifted away, scooting back when she moved too close to him. “I heard stories about this kind of thing when I was a kid and most of them were pretty scary,” he said. It was not quite an accusation, but he was obviously suspicious of her motives. “People making wishes and then they go wrong, and horrible things happen.”

“Legends, fairy tales,” she said, scoffing. “I’m not like that. You’re probably thinking of the Marid—a type of jinn. They can be scary. They’re not always, but they grant wishes and they can be full of tricks. They’re what the legend of the genie stories are based on, but no, I’m not like that,” she assured him.

“How can I be sure? I don’t want to wish for money and have one of my relatives killed and then brought back like a zombie,” he said, frowning at the very thought of losing the few loved ones he had.

“Oh! You’ve read The Monkey’s Paw?” She laughed and clapped her hands with delight. “Such a wonderful story!” With plenty of time in the bottle she read voraciously—though, of course, now she had many years of new literature to catch up on. Stories about genies and the beings they were based on, were her favorite things, mostly because she kept hoping to find a loophole that would set her free.

“That… actually doesn’t make me feel any better,” he said, scowling.

“Listen, M—Luke, I’ve read all the stories and I can see your concern, but I’m only technically a genie in the sense that I’ve been cursed to serve whoever holds my bottle and given magic to grant wishes. Physically I’m as human as you are,” she said. The guileless look on her face should have been enough to convince him, especially since it was true, but he still looked doubtful.

“Human?” he asked. He shook his head and fell back on his earlier defense. “None of this is real anyway,” he muttered as he got up and began to pace.

She sighed; convincing him was taking far too long, so she decided to skip a few steps and present him with evidence he couldn’t logic away. “Oh, Luke?” she called sweetly. When he turned to look, she snapped her fingers and suddenly her clothes vanished, leaving her completely naked. “Don’t I look real?”

He gaped, staring at her flawless skin for a long moment. Finally, he swallowed hard and looked away. “Put your clothes back on,” he said. His voice was a bit weak and breathless, so she knew she’d gotten a rise out of him. Maybe even a physical one.

Because it was phrased as an order, she had no choice but to comply and, in a second, she was clothed again. “Better?” she asked, suppressed laughter in her tone. He looked so embarrassed. She could see a deep shade of red creeping up his neck and, in that moment, she knew she’d be able to drive him crazy with her body. He was a young man, clearly unprepared for her, and that meant she could get the upper hand.

He hesitated before looking back and then nodded shortly when he saw she was covered. “Okay, so providing I don’t wake up and find you gone tomorrow—I guess I have to accept that there’s something going on. I don’t know if it’s magic but…” He trailed off and then shrugged. “I can’t deny what I see with my own eyes. So, first you’re going to tell me these rules, and then, I guess, you can show me more of what you can do,” he said.

His voice had taken on a surprisingly firm tone; she could hear the steel underneath his frustrated confusion causing her to sit up and take notice. Perhaps he wasn’t going to be such a pushover after all. “As you like, Luke.” She began to go through the very basics of the bottle’s magic, listing out her few limitations; mostly it involved the free will of others and he seemed satisfied with them.

The bottle did require her to tell him everything, though, and for the umpteenth time, she gritted her teeth and tried to hold back the most important bits. As usual she failed, and the words burst out of her.

“You have three wishes, and when you make the third wish I’ll be freed from the bottle,” she said. And then, after a deep breath, continued, “Until you have made your third wish, I am your willing slave and must obey all of your commands. Use me as you will, Ma—Luke.” The last sentence was obviously strained, and close to a snarl. She hated having to say it—hated it as much as she hated the evil man who had cursed her to this life.

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