The Accidental Genie (17 page)

Nekaar stared at her long and hard as though he were scanning the depths of her soul, making Sloan’s arm around her tighten.

Jeannie fought a flinch, and rushed to apologize for her inadequacies again. “Okay, so just say it. I’m the crappiest genie ever. I guess a big fancy genie like you wouldn’t understand what it is to suck like I do, but give me a little time and the djinn handbook, which I swear I’ll study like I’m taking my driver’s license test, and I’ll be golden. I’m a super quick study—even with my bad memory. I also hear this gig is forever, so any help with getting control of this is more than a little appreciated.”

Marty swept across the floor and poked Nekaar in his big, bronzed, Mr. Clean–like arm. “Talk, Yul. Tell her what you told me.”

Nekaar crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Jeannie. “Is it as the woman with the crimson lips that always move says? Burt spoke before imprisoning you in his wretched bottle?”

Jeannie nodded hard. “Yes! I think. I don’t know. He spoke in a foreign language . . . I think . . . and to be honest, it all happened so fast, and I was so shocked when he popped out . . .”

The djinn’s eyes flashed hot and angry. “Then we must find Burt, for he has spit upon the djinn and brought great dishonor to our kind!” he thundered, the overdeveloped muscles in his shoulders flexing and tensing.

Jeannie held a tentative hand up, inching a little closer to Sloan. “Before you go curse-crazy here and let your temper get the better of you, you are the genie who cursed Burt to the bottle, right?”

He gave her a condescending look with sharp eyes. “I am. You knew this, how?”

“It’s a long story, but my magic carpet, Mat, heard you do it. That’s for later. So w
hy
did you curse him to the bottle?”

Regret flashed in Nekaar’s eyes—regret and something else Jeannie didn’t understand. “Burt is a blight on the djinn community. Unlike what you have obviously read on your computers and watched on your televisions with the screens so thin one would wish to feed it a cracker, we are an honorable people. We wish only to live out our centuries in peaceful coexistence. Thus, we primarily live beyond this realm and stay behind the veil.”

“Veil . . .” Jeannie muttered. Yet more genie lingo. “Is that like an entire genie world separate from our human world? Because if being a genie means I have to live somewhere else, I want out.” No more relocation, thank you very much.

“Indeed, madam. We do have a universe apart from yours. As you are not djinn by birth but rather by circumstance, I know not what this means for your future.”

Oh, for sure it was so not bright she wouldn’t need shades. Jeannie fought to keep her panic to herself.
One fact at a time, Jeannie.

“So, back to Burt. Why did you curse him to the bottle?” Sloan asked, reading her mind, his eyes now intent on Nekaar.

“Alas, much like your human world, we have our share of upstarts—troubled souls who wish only to create mischief and discord with their gift of trickery. Burt was one of them. He could no longer be allowed to roam between the veils freely. He flaunted his magic. He abused it, using it on those whom were helpless to defend themselves.”

“So he cracked on humans?” Nina asked.

Nekaar frowned, the solid stone of his features lining. “Cracked?”

“Took advantage of humans,” Jeannie added helpfully.

Nekaar sighed long and put upon, his thick wall of a chest rising and falling under his vest. He dipped his shiny head low. “It is so. Thus, I imprisoned him to the bottle for eternity.”

Jeannie spread her arms wide. “Well, glitch in the cursing thing, yes? Because here I am—stuck with a bottle and a man I can’t get more than a few hundred feet from. So what happened? How did Burt manage to break your curse? Who would steal the bottle? And what’s with this attached-at-the-hip thing?”

His look was dry, his words drier still. “The curse was broken because
you
, madam, let him out of the bottle.”

Jeannie’s anger spiked. “Well, hold the hell on now. I don’t want to go all
Girl, Interrupted
on you, but why, if Burt is such a bad genie, would you ever leave his bottle just lying around so just anybody could open it? I mean,
hello
. It was at a party I was catering, for gravy’s sake. Why wasn’t it in a genie holding cell or something? And why would you imprison him, in of all things, a gin bottle? It’s like putting him in a can of Coke! Maybe, if you’d locked him in, say, a can of spotted dick, or even Spam, your chances would have been less likely someone would have opened it, and he would have escaped. Who eats spotted dick? Never mind. I’m sure there are lots of people who do. But I think there are far more who drink booze. I mean, c’mon.
A bottle of gin?
If you ask me, that was just careless curse planning, genie. Weak, weak, weak!”

Nekaar rumbled his discontent, making the room shake and sway. “I will not have you defame my djinn capabilities, you disgraceful mortal!”

Sloan set Jeannie behind him in what she gathered was an effort to defend her, but she was tired. And cranky. And damn well fed up to her swollen eyeball with this whole genie bag.

She gave Sloan a shove and stepped in front of him, her nostrils flared in anger. On tippy toe, she rose, rolling her neck at him. “You listen here, you crazy, chick-trouser-wearing, crappy-cursing, elitist djinn
snob
. You back the hell off and quit calling names! I’m a disgrace, my eye! If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening! Now, if you have absolutely nothing useful to offer in the way of fixing the mess
you
created, get the hell out of my house!”

“Niiiice, homeslice. Way to slap an asshole down.” Nina thumped her on the back, then stood behind her in protective mode, placing her hands on Jeannie’s shoulder.

There, Nina approval. So, hah!

Nekaar lifted his chin in arrogance. “You, pale of skin”—he sneered at Nina—“have a vile mouth.”

“And
you
, bald of head”—she sneered back—“have sissy pants.” She pointed at the filmy cloth covering his tree-sized legs.

“Hold up!” Wanda ordered, parting the group and giving Nina a hand signal of warning. “Stop right there. You may not like it, Nina, but Nekaar’s our only solid lead to the djinn world. So don’t razz the caged tiger, huh? Jeannie? While it’s super-duper awesome to see you stand up for yourself and find your voice, there’s a time and a place, agreed?”

Jeannie let her head fall to her chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled. In truth, she was really just taking her frustration out on Nekaar. He’d done the right thing by capturing Burt. His intentions, if nothing else, were good. Wanda was right. They needed this nutball to help them.

“Okay, so, put away your easily affronted genie sensibilities and help us. Tell them what you told me about Burt,” Marty encouraged with a smile.

Nekaar stood silent and regal.

Marty sighed, running a hand over her neck to massage it. “Now, don’t be petty, Yul; do it or I’ll hunt down your bottle again. And this time, I’m bringing swatches and as many fluffy, pink pillows as I can wrap my werewolf hands around.”

Nekaar’s stiff posture slumped slightly. “Burt’s bottle was stolen from me. I do not know who took it, nor do I know how it ended up on this plane. I am responsible for your plight. There. We have cleansed in a group setting. I consider that absolution. Now, may I go, madam?” he asked Marty in a peevish tone.

Marty planted her hands on her slender hips and shook her head. “No. No, you may not go. You’re more than a little responsible for losing track of Burt’s bottle. If you’re the upstanding djinn you say you are, you’ll not only help, but you’ll tell me why your face was flashing all sorts of signals when we told you Jeannie had granted more than three wishes. Which, if I remember as we chatted over a pot of jasmine tea, you said was all you were obligated to grant the person who sets you free. In turn, the genie is set free from enslavement. End contract. As you can see, that’s not the case with Jeannie. We’re on wish number five, if we’re counting Keegan’s wish, pal. Ante up, genie.” She snapped her fingers under his nose.

Nekaar rolled his genie eyes at a very bossy Marty. He shook his fingers at her, glistening with rings. “You are maddening.”

“And you’re going to sleep amongst a bunch of throw pillows in three, two, one . . .” Marty threatened, the tassels on her vest quivering when she shook her finger at Nekaar.

The genie cleared his throat, the thick cords moving up and down his deeply bronzed neck. “This is the dilemma as I see it. Upon release from his eternal prison, Burt cursed Jeannie to the bottle. If he were an honorable genie, of which I have informed you, he is not, he would have granted you your three wishes and been freed from the curse I placed upon his dark soul. As is quite obvious, Burt defies honor and sought only to gain his freedom. It is also my assumption that when he blathered his curse upon Jeannie, he somehow confused his words and tethered you to your master for eternity. Burt was never very adept academically. He was always mucking something up. Often, he would create havoc during lessons. That he doomed you to another poor soul makes enormous sense to this djinn. Burt and I practiced often together. I still bear the scars of our class on creating thunderstorms for botanical purposes.”

Sloan, who’d remained silent while he absorbed the information bandied about, finally spoke. His deep, gravel-hard voice sent chills up Jeannie’s spine. “So Burt, the guy
you
lost track of, cursed us to be together for eternity? Eternity?”

“It is so,” Nekaar said in his hushed, yet somehow booming voice.

“Jesus Christ,” Sloan murmured.

Jeannie heard the disbelief in Sloan’s voice, and she was sure she heard disappointment, too. Deep disappointment, the kind that should be expected when one found out they had a forever albatross around their neck. Even though she was experiencing the same disappointment, she found it still hurt a little. So she wasn’t blonde. She was still funny—and a little interesting.

Taking a deep breath, Jeannie plowed onward. Good or bad, she had to know what could be around the corner. “So how do we fix it? Can’t I just wish my way out of this?” She’d given that notion some thought. If she was just granting any old wish, why not her own?

Thunderclouds flashed across Nekaar’s angular face. “No, madam. You must never, ever,
ev-er
make a wish for personal gain. Djinn code strictly prohibits it. Burt often abused his magic, and you see what happened to him.”

Silly, Jeannie. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?
Her snort dripped sarcasm. “Yeah. Because as a result of what happened to him,
this
happened to me.” Jeannie circled the space between her and Nekaar.

“A thousand apologies, madam,” the genie offered with a bow. Yet, she wasn’t convinced he really had any sincerity going on to match his contrite look.

“Spilled milk and all,” Jeannie retorted. “So, if I have to be a genie forever, fine. I’ll figure out the death-by-push-up-bra thing, but I can’t have Sloan stuck to me forever. This isn’t his fault. He was just helping me, and because he was just being a decent person, he has to be stuck with me forever? That’s crazy—and unjust—and crazy. So what do we do?” She closed her eyes then, waiting for the inevitable.

Nekaar’s sigh was full of remorse. “I am afraid only Burt can reverse a curse of this magnitude. To do otherwise would be to meddle in another djinn’s magic. Magic, in our world, is quite personal in nature. It is the signature mark of each djinn’s work, much in the way you identify a popular singer’s voice or a particular author’s writing style. It is unique and carefully cultivated over thousands of years. I have seen but one attempt to break a bond by a djinn who meddled in another’s magic, and then only once in all my thousands of years . . .”

Jeannie’s eyes popped open. “And?” Wait for it because for certain the answer would be exactly what she didn’t want to hear.

Nekaar’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a gulp. “And one of the two parties no longer roam your plane. Or any plane.”

Bingo. “So this person is dead?” she squeaked, the tremor in her voice pounding in her ears.

His eyes, for all their snooty arrogance, flashed a moment of sincere sympathy at her. “It is so, madam.”

Forever. It was really true. She was stuck to Sloan forever. How did you ask the person who saved you from death by beer stank to also consider finding a way to break a curse that could leave him dead?

She’d been telling herself over and over it could be worse, but even the best relationships in the world couldn’t withstand that kind of twenty-four-seven pressure. How in the world could she and Sloan survive something like continual proximity when they hardly knew each other? Choosing to be with someone forever had a whole new meaning with this new information.

“Well, then, there’s some good news,” Sloan offered, letting his fingers stray to her in reassurance. “I’m a werewolf. I have eternal life. Problem solved. Can’t kill me if we break the curse. The only person we have to worry about is Jeannie.”

Nekaar sighed again. “I am aware of your paranormal origins due to the incessant ramble of the one with the crimson lips and sunshine-dappled hair. However, I am afraid your nature can be trumped by djinn magic. Nothing, and, sir, I do mean nothing, can trump the magic of the djinn.”

Jeannie warred with her knees, silently directing them to stay locked in place.

Nina put her hands under Jeannie’s elbows to keep her from swaying. “Fine. So we need to find the greasy asshole who cursed her to the bottle. That’s on you as far as I’m concerned, Aladdin. You fucked up when you lost that damn bottle. So when, note I’m using the word
when
, you get your hands on this Burt, just give him to me. I’ll fucking make sure he reverses this curse. Count on it. In the meantime, explain the wishes gone wild, dude. Why the hell aren’t her wishes all dried up by now? Last count was five.”

Confusion skittered across Nekaar’s elegant face, and then he replaced it with his haughty mask. “I have not the answer to this, angry one. Yet, I find Jeannie’s dilemma most troublesome. There are no djinn I know of with this magnitude of power. We grant three wishes and we are, as you of this realm say, out. And wishes bestowed upon another are only allowed upon release from captivity as rather a courtesy for our freedom. That you have been granted this gift is quite puzzling. I shall chalk your unlimited power up to Burt and his irresponsible desecration of a curse with the proper intent.”