A faint hiss sounded as wisps of smoke began to rise from the bottle, and then, the mist formed and there was a very tall, very gorgeous man standing there. The memories flooded back.
“Rameer, right?” I asked, remembering bits and pieces of our conversation.
“At your service again, Mistress January.” He gave me a low bow, then caught a glimpse of Teran and Ari. “Well-met to you.” Turning back to me he added, “I hope you realize that I cannot give you any more wishes. You’ve had your three.”
I frowned. “Didn’t I set you free?”
Rameer shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. “You did, but to be honest…I have no clue of where to go or what to do. I’ve been in servitude so long that I decided to think about it for a while. I didn’t expect you to be opening up the bottle again.”
Ari cleared her throat. “Did you really make those wishes come true? And if so, will you honestly tell us if you twisted them?”
He tilted his head, staring at her with an odd grin. “Well, that could have been the case, but honestly, I was so grateful to get out of that bottle again, and you two were already so drunk that I decided you’d probably screw them up enough yourself. So no, I didn’t. I just gave your wishes an oomph in energy.” He paused, then asked, “Why? Did something happen?”
There was a hint of concern in his voice that I didn’t expect. Djinn were notorious for their trickster-like natures and they usually didn’t care much for most mortal types—be they shifter, human, or witch. But Rameer didn’t appear to be gloating.
“Yeah, you were right. We were drunk and I didn’t think through the ramifications of what I wished for. One I can deal with though it’s going to be tricky, but I’m not sure what to do about the other two.”
“Which two would that be?” he asked.
“The wishes about my ex, and being a sex goddess. Is there any way you can…un-oomph them?” I wasn’t sure how that would work with Ellison and the fire, but if there was any way to mitigate the damage, I was interested. But Rameer shook his head.
“I’m sorry, once the wishes are granted, there’s no way to take them back. Besides, my magic doesn’t guarantee they’ll happen, it just sets up circumstances for them to occur.” He cocked his head. “What happened, if I may ask?”
I stared at him, wondering if I could trust him. After all, I had no clue what he was really like, though I liked him from what I saw. I glanced over at Teran, who was watching him closely. At that moment, Esmara came through loud and clear.
He’s all right, as far as a djinn can be. And you’re learning a valuable lesson, which is why I didn’t warn you off from the wishcraft ritual. Think through what you want, because sometimes you get more than you bargained for.
You mean you knew this would backfire and you still let me go through with it?
I’m here to guide you, but sometimes the best guidance is to let the student burn her fingers. You should have thought things through. Next time, chances are you will.
I wanted to argue back, but she made a good point. If I had stopped to think about what I was wishing for, if I hadn’t gotten off-my-ass drunk during a magical ritual—which was one of the first things my mother warned me against—I wouldn’t be in this position.
Let me ask you one thing, though. If I hadn’t cast that spell, and if Rameer hadn’t given it a boost of his energy—would the magazine still have burned down?
There was a pause, then Esmara said, Most likely. No one can know for sure, but it wouldn’t have happened if the risk for fire hadn’t already been great. Don’t hold on to the guilt. You didn’t set the fire, you just gave the situation a little more energy. Ellison had a choice as to whether to throw that cigar into the garbage and he made a stupid decision. You didn’t toss it in for him, nor did you influence him to be careless.
Feeling a little better, I turned back to Rameer, who was patiently waiting. “Please have a seat. As to what happened, well…that doesn’t matter, really. I just need to figure out how to deal with the fallout.”
He sat on the sofa next to Ari, looking both a little conspicuous and a little uncomfortable, like the three hundred–pound gorilla in the room. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to talk about my issues in front of him, so instead I scrambled for something to say. I had been drunk last time we had met, so I decided just to start in with a few questions of my own.
“So, how long have you been in that bottle? I vaguely remember you mentioning California, but not much else.”
“All of the djinn own their own bottles. They serve as our homes when we aren’t in the realm of fire, but the trouble starts when a mortal finds and claims the bottle.” He shrugged. “I was first imprisoned in 744 CE. I made the mistake of visiting a beautiful oasis in a desert and a very enterprising young man realized what I was. He spied on me, and when I went into my bottle to rest, he claimed it. Thus, he was able to control me, and control who my bottle was passed to. But that bottle—the perfume bottle on the table—that’s not my original bottle. Someone stole that from me in California, which is why I live in that thing now.” He waggled his finger at the perfume bottle, frowning. “When you freed me the other night, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, but first, I need to find my own bottle. If I can find it, then I will truly be free. Until then, I run the risk of being summoned by someone who finds the original bottle and is able to use it to summon me.”
“I don’t understand,” Ari said. “Can’t you just ignore it, since January freed you already?”
He shook his head. “No, because I have to reclaim my original bottle in order to be free, and also…the bottle is a doorway to my own realm—the realm of fire where I come from. Only the djinn can travel through the portal, but if I have my original bottle, I can return home to live in peace and freedom. I can’t do that with a substitute.” He looked so forlorn that all I wanted to do was find his bottle and hand it back to him.
“Is there a way you can track it down? Do you know who stole it?” I asked.
Rameer shrugged, then let out a sigh. “I do know who last had it, but I had no way of getting it back. The woman who trapped me in the perfume bottle stole my original. I don’t know why she chose to keep it away from me. Maybe she thought she’d figure out how to wheedle more wishes out of me. I guess she must have died before using her last wish. I don’t know how this bottle came to be in the store where you found it. Neither do I have a clue how to track her down. I can’t just pick up a phone book and start calling people.”
I smiled. “You have no idea what’s going on in the world today. When were you in California?”
“1950. Why?”
“What was the name of the person who stole your original bottle?” I asked, pulling out my phone.
“Hmm,” he said, stroking his chin. “I believe it was Brenda. Brenda…McAvoy.”
I brought up a browser and began searching on her name. “How old was she?”
“Around fifty. She was human, and one of the most demanding biddies I’ve ever had to grant a wish for.” He shuddered. “I can’t tell you how distasteful I found her.”