Page 3

Chapter

Three

The question rumbled like distant thunder, edged with an otherworldly authority which made Mandy's mouth go dry. The air fairly crackled with barely contained fury. Mozart and Bach bolted from her lap, disappearing down the hallway in streaks of orange fur.

She struggled to push herself out of the recliner, clinging to the arm for balance, her heart pounding against her ribs. The lingering effects of the pain medication made her head swim.

"Well?"

The furious tone reverberated through her bones, raising goosebumps along her arms and sending a shiver down her spine. Her heart skipped several beats before racing to catch up, hammering against her ribs as though trying to escape her chest. The voice carried an unearthly quality, masculine and compelling, unlike anything she'd ever heard in her sixty-seven years.

She scanned her small living room, finding no intruder, yet she could somehow sense the brooding, oppressive masculine presence.

"W-who's there?" A hoarse whisper was all she could manage. Her writer's imagination supplied a hundred scenarios, each more fantastical than the last, but none quite matched the reality of an invisible man's voice demanding answers in her living room.

"I asked you a question, woman." The voice held centuries of command, expecting immediate compliance. "What are you doing with my pendant?"

Mandy's throat constricted. Her eyes flew open - when had she closed them? - at the harsh male voice.

Her chin tilted upward. She might be old, she might be disabled, but she wasn't going to let anyone push her around. Even if it was some kind of ghost. "I'm not in the habit of letting disembodied voices intimidate me in my own home, no matter how impressive they might sound. So if you want me to answer, you can damned well show yourself."

A tall figure materialized from the shadows near her bookshelf across the room. Mandy blinked hard, certain the pain meds were causing hallucinations. He stood well over six feet, a tall, imposing figure in flowing robes of midnight blue embroidered with silver threads that caught the lamplight.

But it was his hair that caught her attention - pure white, flowing past his shoulders, contrasting sharply with black eyebrows above pale blue eyes that gleamed like frozen ice in the low light.

A chill ran down her spine, and she glanced at her front door. How had he gotten in? She'd locked the door, she was certain of it. And why was he wearing what looked like something out of Arabian Nights?

"Who are you?" Her voice came out embarrassingly squeaky. "How did you get in my apartment?"

The man radiated power, filling her small living room with an almost electrical charge that made the hair on her arms stand up. His glacial gaze locked onto her with the focus of a hunter stalking prey.

Mandy took a shaky step backward, her mind racing. Her heel caught on something solid - the low ottoman she kept beside her recliner for grooming the cats. She lost her balance, and a sharp cry escaped her lips as she fell. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact with the hardwood floor.

Pain exploded through Mandy's hip and back as she landed, her vision bursting into a cascade of bright stars. A strangled cry tore from her throat as white-hot agony radiated through her spine. She instinctively tried to curl away from the pain, but every movement only intensified the burning sensation.

Through the haze of pain, she heard a deep voice muttering what sounded like foreign words - possibly curses from his tone. The earlier hostility had vanished, replaced by genuine concern.

Strong hands gently turned her onto her side, positioning her carefully. The voice spoke again, closer now, its ethereal quality softened with worry. "Where does it hurt? Tell me where the pain is worst."

Mandy struggled to focus on his words through the sharp agony stabbing through her hip and back. His hands were impossibly warm where they touched her shoulders, radiating a heat that seemed to seep into her muscles.

"M-my hip," she managed to gasp out. "Down low."

"Don't move," the voice commanded, though gently now. "Let me help you."

His hands shifted, one on her hip, while the other pressed carefully against her lower back. That strange warmth intensified, spreading outward from his touch like ripples in a pond.

Heat continued to radiate from the stranger's hands, seeping deep into Mandy's muscles. The burning agony in her lower back began to fade, replaced by a tingling warmth that spread through her spine. Her rigid muscles relaxed as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a profound sense of relief.

The sensation reminded her a little of Jacinth's presence in the ER - how the woman's gentle voice and warm smile had somehow made the pain more bearable. But this was different, more intense. Whereas Jacinth's presence had merely dulled the edges of her discomfort, this man's touch actively chased the pain away.

"Better?" His voice had lost its earlier anger, though it still held that deep resonance that made her skin prickle.

"Yes." Mandy drew a careful breath, amazed to find she could do so without sparking fresh waves of agony. She shifted slightly - a movement that would normally have sent lightning bolts of pain through her spine - and found only blessed relief. "How did you...?"

The warmth from his hands pulsed once more, chasing away the last lingering traces of discomfort. She hadn't felt this free of pain in years. Even the shot they'd given her in the ER hadn't provided such complete relief.

Through her amazement at being pain-free, Mandy barely registered being lifted. Strong arms scooped her up as though she weighed nothing, despite her plus-size frame. Her breath caught - no one had been able to lift her since, well, a very long time. Yet this stranger cradled her against his chest with apparent ease, the fabric of his robes impossibly soft against her cheek.

In two smooth strides, he reached her recliner, and deposited her gently in it. The familiar cushions embraced her, but nothing felt familiar about this situation. She stared up at him, taking in the stern set of his jaw, the gleam in those icy eyes, the way his white hair seemed to float slightly as though stirred by an unfelt breeze.

Reality crashed in, and she began to shake. The events of the night - the endless hours of pain in the ER, the mysterious Jacinth, and now this impossible man materializing in her living room - overwhelmed her.

The room tilted sideways as Mandy's breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her heart hammered against her ribs, its frantic rhythm echoing in her ears. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead and the back of her neck. Her hands trembled violently as she gripped the arms of her recliner, her knuckles white with tension. The edges of her vision grew fuzzy, dark spots dancing before her eyes.

The strange man's expression darkened, shadows gathering in the hollows beneath his sharp cheekbones. "Stop that immediately." His harsh directive echoed across her living room with imperious force.

It was enough to startle her out of her shock, and back into reality. Her eyes flashed, temper flaring.

"Excuse me if I'm having a moment here." Mandy's voice quavered but held a thread of indignation. "It's not every day some strange man just... just... just apparates into my living room."

One heavy black eyebrow arched upward, and Mandy caught the suspicious quiver at the corner of his mouth.

"Apparates?" The word rolled off his tongue as if he were tasting something foreign and peculiar.

Mandy scowled up at him, momentarily forgetting her fear in a flash of literary indignation. "Obviously, you've never read the Harry Potter books." She infused the words with all the disappointment of a librarian discovering someone had dog-eared a page.

The man frowned, those pale eyes boring into her with glacial intensity. Mandy forced herself to take a deep breath, gathering her courage.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out steadier than she'd expected, though barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, trying to calm herself; after all, he'd made no actual threat against her, and in fact had been thrown off-balance when she'd begun to kind of freak out. "How did you get in my apartment?"

His glacial gaze locked onto her with the focus of a hunter stalking prey. Mandy fought the urge to shrink back into her recliner, her fingers curling into the worn fabric of the armrest.

The air itself seemed to crackle with barely contained energy. When he spoke, his voice held the cold, commanding tone of someone long accustomed to wielding authority.

"I am Kieran." He studied her a long moment. "I am Djinn."

Something about the way he said his name - as if it should mean something to her - made her skin prickle with awareness. Djinn - she knew that word but in the foggy state of her mind she wasn't able to make the association immediately.

Mandy swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "Should I... know who you are?"

Kieran's shoulders dropped slightly as he released a long-suffering sigh. "No."

“I'm Amanda,” she told him, since they were finally being civilized. “Though most people call me Mandy. And, um, I’m a human.”

The man's piercing gaze dropped to the pendant gleaming on her chest. His lips tightened into a thin line, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees.

"Where did you get that pendant?" Each word came out clipped and precise, like ice crystals forming in the air.

Mandy bristled at his tone, her earlier fear giving way to indignation. Who did he think he was, materializing in her home and demanding answers? She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing him with her best stern Mom glare.

"How about you tell me how you got into my apartment first?" She lifted her chin, although her heart raced in her chest. "I know I locked the door."

Kieran’s icy gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "I was summoned." His tone carried the same impatience one might use when explaining something obvious to a particularly dense child.

Mandy blinked up at the imposing figure before her, his words not quite computing. "Summoned?" The word came out as a squeak. "What do you mean, summoned?"

Kieran's pale eyes narrowed, becoming even frostier, if that was possible. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, matching her body language, the silver embroidery on his midnight blue robes catching the lamplight. "Precisely what I said."

Mandy stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words. "By who?" she asked suspiciously.

"By you."

"I most certainly did not! I..." Mandy's voice trailed off as understanding dawned. Her fingers found the pendant again, remembering how she'd been absently stroking its surface. Like Aladdin rubbing the lamp, and… no. No way. That was impossible.

Mandy's heart skipped a beat as Kieran's deep voice cut through her thoughts.

"Why is it impossible?"

Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized she must have spoken aloud. His piercing gaze held her frozen, those pale blue eyes seeming to look straight through to her soul.

"I... well..." She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Because magic isn't real. Genies don't exist outside of fairy tales. Well," she added with a weak attempt at humor, "and Disney movies."

Kieran's black brows drew together, his expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. One elegant hand gestured toward the pendant.

"That pendant you wear is a Wish Bearer's vessel." His voice held the patient tone of a teacher explaining a simple concept. "It serves as a conduit between the human world and the Djinn realm, allowing the Bearer to be summoned by its holder."

Mandy's fingers flew to the stone, its warmth pulsing steadily against her palm. "A Wish Bearer's vessel?" The words came out barely above a whisper. "You mean... like a genie's lamp?"

"If you insist on using that crude Western analogy." His lips twisted as though he'd tasted something unpleasant. "We prefer the term Djinn."

"We?" Mandy's voice rose an octave. Wait a minute… Djinn… genie. Of course! She knew of the Djinn… magical beings of pre-Islamic Arabian folklore. "Wait… so, this pendant? Are you saying I summoned you by touching this?"

"Indeed." His confirmation fell like ice chips into the quiet room. "Though I suspect it was not your intention."

"I summoned you." Mandy repeated the words slowly, testing their reality. "Me. I summoned you."

"Must you repeat everything I say?" Kieran glowered.

"When nothing makes sense, sometimes saying things out loud helps." Mandy's fingers closed around the pendant protectively, and she glanced down at it. "And right now, nothing about this makes any sense at all."

Kieran's icy gaze narrowed on her. "Now that I have answered your question to your satisfaction, perhaps you might extend me the same courtesy. How did you come by my Wish Bearer vessel?"

"This is yours?"

His exasperated sigh held centuries of patience worn thin. "Of course it's mine. I was the one summoned, was I not? The vessel holds the connection between the Djinn and the summoner."

Mandy flinched at his caustic tone, shrinking back into her recliner. Mozart briefly peeked around the corner from the hallway, his green eyes wide, but apparently decided discretion was the better part of valor and disappeared again.

"A woman gave it to me." Her voice came out smaller than she intended. "In the Emergency Room yesterday. Her name was Jacinth."

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Kieran went utterly still, the kind of stillness that reminded Mandy of a predator about to strike. Even the silver embroidery on his robes stopped catching the light, as though the threads themselves held their breath.

"Jacinth?" His voice held dangerous undertones, like thunder rumbling just before a devastating storm. "Jacinth gave you my vessel?"

"Yes, at the hospital. I had been there for hours, waiting. She stopped to talk to me awhile, and before she left, she gave it to me."

Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in a language Mandy didn't recognize. The ancient words seemed to vibrate through the air, making the room feel suddenly smaller. When Kieran looked at her again, his expression had shifted from anger to resignation. "That explains a lot."

Mandy stared up at the imposing figure before her, trying to make sense of his cryptic response. "What does it explain?"

"Jacinth has been..." Kieran's mouth twisted as if searching for the right word. "Meddling. Again."

"I don't know what you mean about meddling. She seemed concerned about me, even though she didn't know me at all."

"Jacinth is always concerned." His tone carried centuries of exasperation. "It's part of her particular brand of interference."

"Well, meddling or not, she helped me." Mandy defended the woman staunchly. "Somehow just talking to her made everything more bearable while I waited for a doctor to see me."

Kieran's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Yes, that would be her gift. Jacinth has always had a particular talent for easing others' suffering." He studied Mandy with those unnaturally pale eyes. "Though giving away my vessel was taking things rather far, even for her."

"I tried to refuse it." Mandy's fingers found the pendant again, its steady warmth pulsing against her palm. "It's beautiful, and it must be worth a fortune, even if - well - even if it wasn't hers to give." She frowned, thinking over what she just said. "Did that make sense? Anyway. She insisted that I have it."

"Of course she did." Kieran's sigh seemed to stir the very air in the room. "Jacinth has never been one to take no for an answer, particularly when she believes she's right."

The change in his demeanor caught Mandy off guard. The earlier crackling tension in the room dissipated like morning mist, though his presence still filled her small living room with that strange, supernatural type energy. Her cats must have sensed the shift, too - Mozart crept back into view, though he kept close to the wall, watching Kieran with wide green eyes. He leapt in to Mandy's lap, snuggling down, but keeping an alert gaze on the intruder.

A streak of orange fur burst into the living room as Bach charged in like a furry missile. He launched himself into the air and landed squarely on the arm of her recliner, planting his paws firmly. His usually lazy demeanor had vanished, replaced by an alertness that transformed her gentle giant of a cat into something fierce and protective.

Like a miniature lion facing down a threat to his pride, Bach stood his ground, an unusual growl continuing to rumble through his chest. His green eyes locked onto Kieran's icy blue ones, unwavering in their intensity.

Kieran's eyebrows rose slightly, and something which might have been respect flickered across his stern features. His icy blue eyes softened a fraction as he studied the protective feline. "You do seem to have a champion," he said, his deep voice carrying an undertone of amusement Mandy hadn't expected from such an imposing figure.

"It's okay, sweetie. He's not going to hurt us." Mandy tried to soothe her surprisingly protective cat, though she wasn't entirely sure herself if that was true.

Bach ignored her reassurance. His tail lashed once, twice, the only movement in his otherwise statue-still form. In that moment, he reminded her powerfully of the story she'd read as a child by Rudyard Kipling, about Rikki Tikki Tavi, the brave mongoose who protected his family from a deadly cobra. Her gentle, lazy Bach had transformed into a fierce guardian, ready to defend her from this supernatural intruder, and she couldn't help but be charmed.

"Your guardians have returned." Kieran's mouth quirked slightly as he observed the cats. "They display surprising devotion, given how typically self-centered their kind tends to be."

"They're good boys." Mandy smiled down at Bach, then back at Mozart. "I've never seen Bach like this before..."

"Animals are more attuned to such things than humans," Kieran told her. "Their reaction was perfectly natural. Even the other one," and he nodded at Mozart, cuddled in her lap, "is declaring his protection of you, in his own way."

Mandy lifted the pendant, her fingers tracing the warm surface, its golden patterns still dancing beneath her touch. Her heart ached at the thought of giving it up, which seemed silly - she'd only had it for a day. Still, something about the mysterious gift called to her soul.

"If this is yours," she said reluctantly, "I suppose I should give it back." The words felt like thorns in her throat. She began to unfasten the golden chain, her movements slow and hesitant.

Kieran's icy blue gaze tracked her motion, his expression unreadable. "No."

Mandy's hands froze, as she looked at him blankly. "No?"

Kieran didn't respond immediately to her question. Instead, he lifted one hand, waving it in a graceful, flowing gesture.

A small table materialized between them, its dark wood surface inlaid with intricate geometric patterns. Mandy blinked hard, then rubbed her eyes with trembling fingers, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her stomach did a slow flip as the designs appeared to be mother of pearl and what looked like lapis lazuli, a combination she recognized from her time spent in Egypt, catching the lamplight and seeming to dance as she stared. The scent of exotic spices filled her nostrils, so real it made her head spin. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she was torn between the urge to reach out and touch the table and the instinct to scramble away from it.

But it was what sat atop the table that made her mouth fall open. A delicate teapot steamed gently, its spout releasing wisps of fragrant vapor that made her mouth water. Two small glasses, with gold-trimmed rims, waited beside it, along with a sugar bowl, and tiny spoons.

Mandy's head swam. This couldn't be real. She pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to clear her vision. This must be some sort of delayed reaction to the pain shot at the hospital. Clearly she was hallucinating.

Kieran's lips quirked again, the barest hint of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. "You're not."

"I'm not what?" Mandy's fingers clutched the pendant, its warmth steadying her racing thoughts.

"Hallucinating."

Her heart leaped into her throat, pounding so hard she could feel her pulse in her ears. Was he reading her mind?

Wait. If she was hallucinating, then Kieran was just a delusion, wasn't he? And of course a delusion could read her mind - it would all be happening inside her head anyway. That made perfect sense. Sort of.

Although she had to admit, if this was a hallucination, it was an extraordinarily detailed one. The fragrant steam rising from the teapot carried notes of nutmeg and clove, and other spices she couldn't identify. The intricate patterns in the table's surface caught the light in ways that seemed too complex for her imagination to conjure.

"You now possess a Wish Bearer vessel." The man's… Djinn's… deep voice resonated through her living room. "That means you are entitled to three wishes."

"Three wishes?" Mandy blinked up at him, her mind spinning. "Like in the stories?"

"Yes." Kieran's lips quirked upward. "Just like in the stories."

Another elegant wave of his hand, and amber liquid flowed into both gold-rimmed glasses, steam rising in delicate spirals. He bent to pick one up and brought it to her, extending it with a grace that seemed old-worldly.

Mandy stared at the offered glass as though it might transform into a cobra. Her hand hovered near it, not quite touching. When she finally gathered the courage to touch it, the rim felt solid beneath her fingertip. She waved her palm over the steaming liquid, feeling its warmth against her skin. It certainly seemed real enough.

"It will benefit you more if you drink it," the genie's voice carried a note of dry amusement.

"Djinn," he corrected immediately.

"I know it's Djinn." Mandy lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes twinkling. "I let myself think the word 'genie' on purpose - testing to see if you really could read my thoughts."

Kieran's eyebrows rose slightly. "Clever." The word held a mix of annoyance and reluctant respect.

She finally took the glass from him and lifted it to her lips, inhaling the fragrant steam. The spiced tea's warmth spread through her chest as she took a careful sip.

"You say the word correctly - Djinn - as if you are familiar with it." Kieran's glacial eyes studied her with renewed interest.

Shrugging one shoulder, Mandy aimed for casual despite the intensity of his gaze. "I used to speak Arabic." She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. "Was conversationally fluent, actually, though it's been so long I've forgotten most of it now."

One black brow rose, genuine surprise flickering across his austere features "That's not an easy language to master." He tilted his head slightly, and for a moment, the stern mask slipped, revealing something almost like approval. "The classical form or the modern dialects?"

The question caught her off guard - most people didn't know enough to ask. "Both, actually. Classical for my studies, Egyptian dialect for... daily life."

Mandy's throat tightened as memories rushed in, unbidden. The sweet tea, and the ornate table, transported her back to early mornings in Cairo, when the call to prayer would echo across the city, mingling with the plaintive bleats of goats and the enthusiastic arguments of shopkeepers setting up their stalls. The air would be thick with wood smoke from breakfast fires, mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of fresh-baked aish baladi bread.

The weight of loss pressed against her chest. She could almost feel the dry heat on her skin, hear the musical lilt of Egyptian Arabic, taste the fava beans and tomato chunks served small, round pita bread - that had been her standard breakfast every morning, along with millions of Egyptians. But those days were gone, lost to time and circumstance, existing now only in increasingly hazy memories.

Her fingers tightened around the delicate glass, its warmth anchoring her to the present. She forced the memories back into their carefully locked box, refusing to let them overwhelm her. Some doors were better left closed.

"It was a long time ago," she managed, her voice rough with suppressed emotion. She took another sip of the tea, letting its warmth and rich flavor ground her as memories threatened to surface - memories she'd rather keep buried. "Another lifetime, really."

Mandy watched Kieran cautiously, his presence somehow less intimidating now that they were sharing a civilized cup of tea. Her natural curiosity rose to the fore, so many questions crowding into her mind, each clamoring to be asked first. One rose to the top, refusing to be ignored.

"If this is your… vessel," she ventured, touching the warm pendant, "how did Jacinth come to have it?"

The temperature in the room plummeted again. Kieran's expression darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. He set his delicate glass down on the inlaid table with precise, controlled movements that somehow made Mandy more nervous than if he'd slammed it.

His hands came together in a sharp clap that seemed to echo through dimensions beyond the physical. "Jacinth!" he called out, his voice resonating with power while remaining at a perfectly normal volume.

Mandy's eyebrows rose, impressed despite herself. The way his voice carried such authority without actually raising in volume reminded her of endless battles with her teenage daughter. She'd never quite mastered that particular parenting skill - achieving maximum impact without maximum volume. What she wouldn't have given for that ability when Sabrina was fourteen and testing every boundary in existence.

A shimmer of mist coalesced in Mandy's living room, solidifying into the elegant form of Jacinth. Mandy's breath caught - seeing the mysterious woman from the ER appear out of thin air should have been shocking, but after everything else that had happened today, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.

Bach's tail twitched, his ears pointing forward in feline curiosity, but Mozart remained firmly in her lap, apparently having decided Jacinth posed no threat

Jacinth waggled her fingers at the cats, and gave Mandy a wink. "Nice to see you again." She was casually dressed in worn jeans, a Disneyland t-shirt, and scruffy sneakers, her thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached her waist.

Kieran crossed his arms over his broad chest, fixing Jacinth with a stern glare that would have sent most people running for cover. Jacinth met his icy stare with remarkable composure, her lips pressed together in a prim line that somehow managed to convey both innocence and mischief.

"This human has my Wish Vessel."

"Oops?" Jacinth's musical voice carried a note of carefully crafted contrition.

"Oops?" Kieran's tone could have frozen a desert. "That's all you have to say?"

He jabbed a finger toward the pendant resting on Mandy's chest. "That vessel has been missing from my study for three decades."

Jacinth's chocolate brown eyes widened with an innocence so perfect it had to be practiced. Her gaze fixed on the pendant, her expression practically seraphic. "Oh my, has it really? I wonder where it could have been all this time?"

Mandy had to bite back amusement as she watched the exchange. The way Jacinth's eyes sparkled with barely suppressed amusement reminded her strongly of Sabrina as an adolescent, caught in some particularly creative mischief but too pleased with herself to properly pretend remorse.

Jacinth's expression shifted, the mischievous glint in her eyes softening as she turned toward Mandy. Her warm brown eyes held genuine concern. "How are you feeling now, Mandy? Any better since I saw you last?"

"Yes, much better. They got to me not long after you left. The shot helped, and then..." She glanced uncertainly at Kieran, not quite sure how to describe what he'd done to ease her pain when she fell earlier. "Actually, I haven't felt this good in years."

"Wonderful!" Jacinth's smile lit up her entire face. Her gaze dropped to the nearly empty glass in Mandy's hand.

The glass suddenly grew warm against Mandy's palm. She watched in astonishment as amber liquid materialized inside, rising until it reached the gold-trimmed rim, fragrant steam curling upward in delicate spirals. The unexpected magic startled her so badly she nearly dropped the glass, tea sloshing dangerously close to the edge.

Mozart made a disgruntled sound as a few drops landed on his fur. He shot Mandy a reproachful look before beginning to fastidiously clean his shoulder.

"Oh!" Mandy steadied the glass with trembling hands. "I... thank you?" The words came out more like a question than she'd intended.

Mandy couldn't help her mind wandering despite the surreal situation. She wondered idly what the feminine form of Djinn would be. Djinna? Djinnette? No, ugh, that was worse - like some magical backup singer.

"Djinniyya," Kieran's deep voice cut through her musings.

Heat flooded her cheeks. "Thank you," she replied with exaggerated solemnity, trying to cover her embarrassment at having her thoughts read yet again.

His lips quirked upward, that ghost of amusement flickering across his stern features. The expression transformed his face, making him appear less otherworldly for just a moment.

Taking another sip of the magically refilled tea, she gathered her courage. "So, excuse me, but can we perhaps get back to why I have two Djinns - well," she paused, glancing at Kieran, "one Djinn and one Djinniyya standing in my living room, plying me with admittedly excellent tea?" She gestured with her free hand at the Djinn, and the tea table, and the room in general. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but this is all a bit... surreal."

"Actually, the plural is Djinni," Jacinth said, her melodic voice carrying the patient tone of a teacher correcting a minor error. "But given how Western popular culture has rather... appropriated that term, what with that charming but ridiculous 1960s television show and Disney's rather flamboyant blue creation, we generally stick with Djinn for both singular and plural when speaking English."

"Oh, thank you so much for clarifying that," Mandy heard herself say, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because naturally, that's the most pressing matter at hand right now."

"You're very welcome," Jacinth replied with perfect solemnity, though her dark eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth.

The tension in the room rose as Kieran's patience visibly wore thin. His pale eyes narrowed, and the air crackled with barely contained power. The pendant against Mandy's chest grew warmer, as if responding to the rising tension.

Bach's fur ruffled, and he hissed, while Mozart jumped down and slunk behind the sofa, apparently deciding discretion was the better part of valor.

"Jacinth." Kieran's voice held centuries of authority and growing irritation. "You will explain yourself. Now."

"Oh!" Jacinth's eyes went comically wide as she glanced at a delicate gold watch that definitely hadn't been on her wrist a moment ago. "Would you look at the time! I completely forgot I have an appointment with... um... someone. Oh, right, have to pick up the kids from school. Very important. Can't be late!"

She turned to Mandy with an exaggerated wink and a brilliant smile, before vanishing in a shower of golden sparkles that winked out of existence before they hit the floor.

The silence that followed felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Mandy held her breath, watching as various emotions flickered across Kieran's stern features - frustration, reluctant amusement, and finally something that might have been resignation.

Kieran released a long, deep sigh, and his shoulders dropped slightly as the crackling tension in the room dissipated. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a surprisingly human gesture for such a magical being. "It seems," he said, his deep voice resonating through Mandy's living room, "that Jacinth has taken it upon herself to decide you should be granted three wishes."