Page 4

Chapter

Four

The pendant's warmth pulsed against Mandy's skin as she processed the Djinn's words. Her mind spun with the implications. Three wishes. Like something out of a fairy tale, except this was real. At least, she was pretty sure it was real - the warmth of the tea in her hands, Bach's soft fur as she pet him - felt too substantial to be a dream.

"But..." She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Why me?"

Kieran's expression shifted, softening into something complex - a mixture of exasperation, fondness, and amusement that transformed his austere features. The change made him appear almost human for a moment, despite his otherworldly presence.

"Apparently," and his resonant voice carried a note of dry humor, "she liked you."

Mandy's throat constricted as memories of the ER flooded back - the endless hours of pain, the feeling of invisibility as staff rushed past, until Jacinth appeared with her gentle smile and kind words.

"Oh." The word came out small and dejected. "She felt sorry for me."

Kieran's black eyebrow arched upward, his pale eyes fixing her with an intense stare which made her skin prickle. That silvery-blue gaze pierced through her defenses as if he could read every thought fluttering through her mind.

"That is not what I said," he corrected, his deep voice firm but not unkind. "Nor is it what I meant." He set his tea glass down with precise movements. "Jacinth liked you and felt you were deserving of Djinn wishes."

Mandy struggled to process Kieran's statement - the idea that someone as magical and powerful as Jacinth had genuinely liked her seemed almost as fantastical as everything else that had happened.

"But that doesn't make any sense." She returned her attention to Kieran, even while absently stroking Bach as the cat indolently flowed off the recliner arm and onto her lap. "She doesn't even know me. We only met the one time, yesterday in the ER, for, what - maybe fifteen minutes?"

She remembered how Jacinth had pressed the pendant into her hand with such gentle insistence. "How could she possibly decide I deserved something this... this significant based on such a brief encounter?"

Kieran's pale eyes studied her with that unnerving intensity that made her feel like he could see straight through to her soul. The silver embroidery on his midnight blue robes caught the stray sunbeam pouring through her front window as he shifted.

"Jacinth," he said, his deep voice resonating through her small living room, "has a unique way of seeing through to a person's very heart." His expression softened slightly, though his presence remained imposing. "She can read the truth of someone's nature in moments - their past, their pain, their potential. It's a rare gift, even among the Djinn."

Looking back, Mandy remembered the way Jacinth had looked at her in the hospital corridor - not with pity, but with a deep understanding that had made Mandy feel truly seen for the first time in years.

"So, um, the wishes. I don't suppose there's a user manual for this sort of thing?" She tried for humor, though her voice trembled slightly. "Some kind of Wish-Making for Dummies guide?"

The corner of Kieran's mouth twitched. "No. Though there are certain... rules that must be followed."

Mandy felt a spark of mischief ignite inside her, chasing away some of the overwhelming strangeness of the situation. Her natural sense of humor, which had been buried under pain and confusion, finally resurfaced. A grin spread across her face as understanding dawned, lighting up her green eyes with a spark of mischievous delight. Her writer's brain whirred into action, conjuring up the scene in Aladdin's cave with the big blue genie.

"Oh, right!" She straightened in her chair, causing Bach to readjust his position with an annoyed complaint. "Like in Aladdin - there are specific rules about wishes." Her green eyes sparkled with renewed energy as she ticked off points on her fingers. "No wishing for more wishes, no bringing anyone back from the dead, and no making someone fall in love with me."

Kieran released a long-suffering sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. But Mandy caught the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the barely-there quirk of his lips that betrayed his amusement despite his stern demeanor.

"Yes," he confirmed, his deep voice carrying a hint of dry humor beneath its deep resonance. "Those kinds of rules."

A chill ran down Mandy's spine as another story about wishes surfaced from the depths of her memory.

"Wait." Her voice quavered. "There was this story… The Monkey's Paw …"

The words barely left her mouth before vivid images from that horrifying story flooded her mind - the grieving parents, the mysterious knocking at the door, the implications of what waited on the other side. That story had given her nightmares for weeks after reading it in Mrs. Peterson's sophomore English class.

Kieran's shoulders slumped. His elegant fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose as he released a long-suffering sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"Not this again," he muttered, his deep voice carrying notes of exasperation. "I hear of this story from many of our Wish Bearers. Do you have any idea how many humans bring up that wretched story when offered wishes? It's become quite tedious."

Mandy shuddered. “Well, it was a horrific story, you can’t blame anyone who’s ever read it for being afraid. I mean, I had nightmares about it! I can’t even imagine why they forced it onto a whole generation in the name of classical literature. Poe was bad enough!”

She needed to hear his reassurance, the memories of that story still sending shivers down her spine. "So my wishes won't come true in some horrible, twisted way that destroys everything I care about?"

"No." Kieran's voice held absolute certainty. "Djinn Wish magic does not work that way. Wish Bearers are not malevolent tricksters seeking to twist words into weapons."

"However..." His deep voice trailed off as he seemed to choose his next words with great care. "While the Wish magic does not operate in such a manner, there are indeed cursed objects that function much like that fictional monkey's paw." His pale eyes held a warning. "Ancient artifacts twisted by dark magic and malevolent intent. But these have nothing to do with the Djinn or the Wish magic."

Mandy swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She took another sip of the spiced tea, letting its warmth - and, it was still warm, she noted - chase away the chill that had crept into her bones at his words. The idea that such things actually existed - cursed objects that could destroy lives with twisted wishes - made her skin crawl.

"So there really are things out there that..." She couldn't quite finish the thought, her writer's imagination conjuring far too many horrifying possibilities.

"Yes." Kieran's voice was gentle now, perhaps sensing her distress. "But the pendant you wear is nothing like those dark artifacts. It is a vessel of pure Wish magic, meant to help, not harm."

The pendant pulsed warmly against her skin, as if confirming his words. Mandy released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her tension easing.

The delicate glass grew warmer in Mandy's hands, and she watched, fascinated, as the tea filled to the gold-rimmed edge without spilling a drop.

A small laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. "Is tea the answer to everything?"

Kieran's expression gentled as he regarded her over his own glass. "This afternoon has been a shock to you. The sweet tea will help settle your nerves."

Mandy took another sip, letting the warm liquid coat her tongue. The sweetness bloomed across her taste buds, rich and comforting. "Is that why you put in so much sugar? Because even in Egypt, they didn't put this much sugar in."

"Indeed." His deep voice carried a note of approval. "Sugar helps ground the spirit when reality has been... shifted."

The way he said it made perfect sense to Mandy. Her reality had certainly been shifted - turned completely upside down, if she was being honest. Yet somehow, sitting here sharing impossibly refilling glasses of sweet tea with a Djinn felt almost... normal.

She took another appreciative sip, grateful for both the sweetness and the simple familiarity of the ritual, even if the tea had appeared by magic.

"I'm sorry," she told him, her voice smaller than she intended. "I'm kind of struggling here. With all of this." She gestured vaguely at the magical table, the endless tea, and Kieran's otherworldly presence that filled her small living room. "It's a lot to take in."

The transformation of Kieran's stern features caught her completely off guard. A genuine smile spread across his face, softening the sharp angles and lighting up those silvery-blue eyes. The change was remarkable - like watching a marble statue come to life.

"That's not uncommon," he reassured her, his deep voice gentler than before. The resonant quality remained, but the earlier edge of authority had mellowed into something almost... kind.

He set his delicate glass down on the inlaid table with precise movements. The silver embroidery on his midnight blue robes caught the light as he moved to settle himself in the oversized armchair across from her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and suddenly appeared far more approachable despite his imposing presence.

Mozart chose that moment to slink out from behind the sofa, creeping closer to investigate this strange visitor who had commandeered his favorite chair. The cat's green eyes remained fixed on Kieran, whiskers twitching with feline curiosity.

Without shifting her gaze from Kieran, Mandy wiggled her fingers at Mozart. He leaped onto the back of her recliner with fluid grace. He arranged himself along the top like a furry orange headrest, and proceeded to purr like a motorboat while Bach stayed anchored in her lap, nudging her hand for pets.

Kieran's gaze softened as he watched the cats position themselves around her, the weight of centuries reflected in his eyes making Mandy's skin prickle with awareness.

"Perhaps it would help if I told you about the Djinn," he began, his resonant voice filling her small living room. "We have existed since the beginning of time itself."

As Kieran continued, his deep voice took on the cadence of a storyteller. "If you believe the Qur'an, Allah created Angels from light, Man from clay, and Djinn from fire. While Angels were created as perfect beings to do Allah's will, both Man and Djinn were given free will." His piercing gaze held hers, conveying the weight of this truth. "Like Man, Djinn may be of the Faithful - Believers - or not. Like Man, they may be good, or they may be evil."

Mandy nodded. "Yes, I'm aware. Though in the Qur'an, it mainly talks about the evil Djinn - the shayateen , or devils. The good Djinn are barely mentioned."

Kieran's black eyebrows shot upward, the mask of ancient formality cracking as genuine surprise transformed his features. For the first time since his arrival, he appeared caught off guard, his carefully maintained composure slipping just enough to reveal real interest. "You know the Qur'an?"

Heat crept into Mandy's cheeks under his intense scrutiny. "I spent a year in Cairo as an exchange student through my University." The memories flooded back, bittersweet and vivid. "I was in my mid twenties. Besides Arabic language, I studied Islamic art and architecture."

The memory transported her back to those sun-drenched days. "I also studied the Qur'an, and to some extent, the Sunnah. Though I'll admit my knowledge of that is as rusty as my Arabic language now."

Kieran leaned forward in his chair, those piercing eyes studying her with renewed interest.

"First, let me say, no Wish Bearer can be evil." Kieran's deep voice cut through Mandy's thoughts before she'd even realized the question had formed in her mind.

"Wait." She shifted in her chair, causing Bach to readjust his position with an annoyed chirp. "You keep talking about Wish Bearers as if they're separate from the Djinn. I thought - I mean - don't all Djinn grant wishes. Isn't that what Djinn do?"

"Not at all." Kieran's silvery-blue eyes fixed on her with that unnerving intensity that made her feel like he could see straight through to her soul. "Very few of us choose to be Wish Bearers."

"So..." She frowned a little, thinking about what he said. "Being a Wish Bearer is a specific type of Djinn? Like a... specialty?"

The corner of Kieran's mouth twitched upward, that ghost of amusement flickering across his face. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Though it's more complex than that. Wish Bearer magic operates under very specific rules and restrictions."

Mandy's natural curiosity bubbled up, demanding answers to the flood of questions his words had sparked. "So not just any Djinn can become a Wish Bearer?"

"No." Kieran's deep voice filled her small living room. "Only those who truly desire to interact with the human world and grant wishes are considered. The training process is... intensive. And the scrutiny potential Wish Bearers undergo is extremely thorough. The binding process itself requires absolute commitment," he continued, his resonant voice taking on a professor's tone. "A Wish Bearer must genuinely want to help humans."

He gestured toward the blue pendant she wore. "Before a Djinn can bind themselves to a Wish vessel, they must pass rigorous tests of character and ability. Their motives are examined in detail." His expression darkened, power radiating from him like a gathering storm. "No Djinn with evil intent could possibly pass such scrutiny."

Mandy leaned forward, fascinated by this glimpse into Djinn society. "So, there's actual training involved? Like... what, Wish Bearer Academy?"

"In a manner of speaking." Kieran's lips twitched. "The magic involved in wish-granting is separate from our personal magic. It's more... expansive."

"What do you mean, separate?" Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. The concept seemed elusive. She'd assumed a Djinn's magic was simply part of who they were.

"Wish magic allows us to perform feats far beyond our normal capabilities." He gestured to the ornate tea table between them. "While I could conjure this table easily with my personal magic, granting a wish for, say, a castle, would require the enhanced power of the Wish magic."

"So it's like..." Mandy searched for an analogy her tired brain could grasp. "Like the difference between running on your own power versus having a jet pack?"

A startled laugh escaped Kieran, the sound rich and unexpected. "An oversimplified comparison, but not entirely inaccurate."

"And there's… what, like, magical quality control?" The concept struck her as oddly mundane for such magical beings, and her lips twitched.

"Indeed. The Oversight Committee maintains loose supervision of all active Wish Bearers throughout time."

Mandy couldn't help it - she burst out laughing, causing Bach to give her an annoyed look as her movement disturbed his comfort. "I'm sorry," she managed between giggles. "It's... I mean… Djinn have bureaucracy? In the magical realm?"

"The committee serves an important function," Kieran said with dignity, though his eyes sparkled with reluctant amusement.

"Oh, I'm sure they do." Mandy couldn't help grinning as she imagined magical spreadsheets and performance metrics for wish-granting efficiency. The absurd normality of it all - bureaucracy existing even in the realm of magic - struck her as absolutely hilarious. "Do they have quarterly performance reviews? File reports in triplicate?"

"We do not require paper forms," Kieran replied with exaggerated patience. "Magic is far more efficient."

"So this pendant, this Wish vessel..." Mandy corralled her thoughts back to the subject at hand. "It's more than simply a magical object?"

"It is." Kieran inclined his head. "The vessel is far more than a simple magical object. It contains and channels the Wish magic itself. Without the vessel, a Djinn cannot access Wish magic." Kieran's deep voice filled her small living room. "It is the magical bond between Djinn and vessel that creates a true Wish Bearer."

Mandy glanced down at the pendant, watching golden patterns swirl beneath its surface. "So you and this vessel... you're bonded?"

"Yes." His deep voice carried centuries of certainty. "That vessel has been mine for over three millennia."

Mandy stared at Kieran, his words echoing in her head. Three millennia. Three thousand years. Her vision swam, the room tilting.

"I need to..." She set her glass down on the magical table with trembling hands, nearly missing the surface. The spiced tea sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

Her head spun as she bent forward, displacing an indignant Bach from her lap. She braced her elbows on her knees and let her head drop between them, focusing on the worn carpet beneath her feet.

"One..." She drew in a deep breath, holding it for a count of three before releasing it slowly.

"Two..." Another breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. The room's spinning slowed marginally.

"Three..." The nap of the carpet's familiar pattern came into sharper focus - she really needed to vacuum under the recliner again. Amazing how the most mundane thoughts could surface in the most extraordinary moments.

Her breathing hitched again. Three thousand years. This object touching her skin had existed since before the Roman Empire. Before Christ.

A warm touch on her shoulder startled Mandy so badly she nearly leaped out of the recliner. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she registered Kieran's large hand clasping her shoulder, radiating a peculiar warmth that seemed to seep straight into her bones.

"Easy." His deep voice rumbled from much closer than she'd expected. "The vertigo will pass."

That penetrating warmth spread outward from his touch, chasing away the dizziness that had overwhelmed her moments before. The pendant's heat pulsed in sync with the energy flowing from his hand, creating a harmony of sensation that steadied her spinning thoughts.

Mandy lifted her head, meeting those ancient eyes that now seemed to warm with unexpected compassion. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a wave - not a dream, not a hallucination, not some elaborate fantasy conjured by her writer's imagination.

This was real. All of it.

Real magic existed in the world. Real Djinn walked among humans, granting wishes and maintaining magical bureaucracies. The pendant around her neck wasn't simply jewelry - it was an artifact that had existed since before the pyramids were built.

And she was sitting in her living room, sharing tea with a being who had witnessed over three thousand years of human history.

"I can't - is this real?" The words escaped in a breathless whisper.

"Yes, it's real." His voice was low, soothing. "Take a few more deep breaths. This is a lot, I know."

Mandy's breathing steadied as the warmth from Kieran's touch and the pendant worked in harmony to calm her racing thoughts. Her new reality settled around her - strange and unexpected, but no longer threatening to overwhelm her.

A question nagged at her mind, refusing to be ignored. "If you're a Wish Bearer," she ventured, her fingers finding the pendant again, "why were you so angry that Jacinth gave me your vessel?"

Kieran's hand dropped from her shoulder as he straightened, stepping back to resume his seat in the armchair.

"Wish Bearers can choose to remove their vessels from the human world," he responded, his deep voice carefully measured. "It effectively puts our Wish Bearer status in... suspension, you might say."

The pendant's warmth pulsed against her palm as she processed his words. "And this vessel..." She lifted the pendant slightly. "How long has it been since it was last in the human world?"

"Centuries." The word fell between them like a stone dropping into still water, creating ripples of implications that made Mandy's head spin again.

She stared at him, pieces clicking into place in her mind like a puzzle finally revealing its picture. "So Jacinth acquired your Wish vessel-"

"Stole it." Kieran's voice cracked through the air like thunder, power rippling outward until the windows rattled in their frames. The temperature plummeted, frost crystallizing along the edges of their tea glasses.

"Yes," Mandy continued, his thunderous expression making her want to hide behind the sofa. "Stole it, and then… gave it to me?"

The silence that followed her question felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Even Bach and Mozart seemed to hold their breath, watching the exchange with feline intensity.

Mandy studied his face, searching for answers in those ancient eyes while trying not to think about how close the sofa was. Her cats' steady presence helped anchor her - if they weren't running for cover, maybe she shouldn't either.

"But why would she do that?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. "Why steal your vessel - you said it had been missing for decades - hold onto it all that time, and then give it to me, of all people?"

Kieran's broad shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug, and the oppressive chill began to dissipate. The frost on the tea glasses melted away as if it had never existed.

"Who can truly understand why Jacinth does anything?" His deep voice carried equal measures of exasperation and fondness. "She follows her own peculiar logic, guided by instincts and insights that often only make sense to her."

The way he spoke of Jacinth reminded Mandy strongly of how she used to describe her daughter Sabrina's more creative teenage escapades - that same mix of frustration and underlying affection. It was oddly comforting to realize that even ancient, powerful beings could be exasperated by their friends' antics.

"You're not actually angry with her, are you?" Mandy observed, noting how the earlier crackling tension had dissipated from the air around them.

"No." Kieran's lips quirked upward slightly. "Annoyed, perhaps. But Jacinth has an uncanny way of being right about these things, even when her methods are..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Unorthodox."

Mandy stared at her hands, watching them tremble slightly against the glass she held. Magic was real. Actually, truly real. Not just the stuff of her imagination or the stories she wrote, but tangible, measurable, right here in her living room.

Kieran watched her with those ancient silvery-blue eyes, his scrutiny both unnerving and oddly reassuring. With precise movements, he raised one elegant hand, his fingers flicking gracefully. Her glass once more filled itself to the gilded rim with steaming tea.

A surprised laugh bubbled up from her chest as she reached out to take it from the table. "You really do answer everything with tea, don't you?"

Heat bloomed across her cheeks as his intense gaze remained fixed on her. She dropped her eyes to the glass of tea, watching patterns form and dissolve in the steam.

"So..." Mandy chewed on her lower lip. "What happens now?"

"Now," Kieran's voice resonated through her small living room like distant thunder, "you make your wishes."

Mandy's head snapped up, her stomach doing a backflip. "Wait - what?" The words tumbled out in a squeak. "Right now? You mean... actual wishes? Like, right here, right this minute?"

She stared at him, her mind suddenly blank as a fresh sheet of paper. Three wishes. Real wishes. The concept that had seemed abstract moments ago now loomed before her like a tidal wave about to break.

His head inclined in confirmation, his silvery white hair catching the rays that spilled across her windowsill. The slight movement made the strands ripple, reminding Mandy of moonlight on water. His light blue stare remained fixed on her, the steady intensity of his look sent flutters coursing through her stomach.

"Just like that."

Three wishes. Right now. No preparation, no time to think it through, no chance to research the implications or think, or...

This couldn't be real. It couldn't. She had to be dreaming, or maybe the pain medication from the ER had some weird side effects. Any moment now she'd wake up and laugh about this elaborate fantasy her writer's imagination had conjured.

But the feel of cat fur beneath her fingers, the warmth of the glass she held, the spiced tea's aroma, the sensations were all too real, too vivid and complex to be a dream. The inlaid table before her gleamed with impossible perfection, its surface catching the late afternoon sunlight streaming through her windows. And Kieran... Kieran sat in her oversized armchair, his presence too solid to be a product of her imagination.

Those ancient silvery-blue eyes studied her with patient intensity as she struggled to process the situation. The power radiating from him filled her small living room like static electricity before a storm, making her skin prickle with awareness.

This was really happening. An ancient, powerful Djinn sat in her living room, waiting for her to make three wishes that could change everything.

"Oh my god." The words escaped in a breathless whisper. "This is actually happening. It's… real."

"What is your first wish?"

“I… could I have a little time?” she asked him, glancing up briefly to meet his gaze. “This is so huge, I can barely even wrap my head around it right now.”

“I understand.” He rose to his feet. “When you are ready, simply touch the vessel and call my name,” and he indicated the necklace she wore. "I will come."

One moment Kieran stood before her in all his otherworldly glory, silver hair gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight - the next, he simply... wasn't there. No sparkles like Jacinth's dramatic exit, no smoke or dramatic special effects. Just... gone.

Mandy sat frozen in her recliner, her hands trembling slightly as she touched the smooth surface of the pendant. The blue stone pulsed with gentle warmth beneath her fingers, somehow both reassuring and terrifying. Her writer's imagination supplied a dozen possible explanations for the afternoon's events - a vivid dream, a medication-induced hallucination, maybe even a mental breakdown brought on by chronic pain and isolation. But the pendant's steady warmth against her skin defied all rational explanation. She had three wishes. Real, actual wishes. The thought sent equal waves of anticipation and terror coursing through her veins.