“Did I miss something?” Vi comes out of my bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Her blonde hair is going every which direction.
“Remember what you said about having my wish ready?” I point at the possessed object.
Olivia opens her eyes wider, realizing what I’m pointing at. “Fuck.”
I nod. “Yeah. Fuck.”
Chapter Nine
“Olivia, you don’t need to stay here and miss more work.” It makes me feel terrible, and frankly I don’t need a babysitter, as I’ve already explained three times.
“Some guy shows up in your kitchen, making demands, and you just want me to leave you alone?” She pours herself a cup of coffee. I don’t bother telling her it was made by a genie. Or a very tempting Satan. Why ruin an already perfectly horrible morning?
“I know I sound like I’m begging to be a story on the six o’clock news, but he doesn’t come across as dangerous.” In fact, there’s something about him that intrigues me. For example, how did he beat me home yesterday and return the bottle? Better yet, how did he know I threw it out or… Buried it in the backyard?
“Hold on.” I inspect the bottle, noting the odd-shaped cabochon near the bottom. It looks like the same one.
I set it down on the kitchen counter and head out the back door. I hug the white bathrobe wrapped around me and shiver as the cold morning air hits my body.
“Where are you going?” Olivia yells.
“To see if the pieces are still buried.” We obliterated that thing last night.
I cover my face, peek through my fingers, and approach the spot between two rosebushes where we had our drunken burial ceremony.
The hole is empty! Completely cleaned out. “No way.” I bend down and inspect closer.
“Well?” Vi stands behind me a few feet away.
“Come look at this.”
“I prefer to stay over here—far, far away from that demonic object.”
She’s forgetting it’s back inside the house.
“Well? What’s in the hole?” she asks.
“Nothing. It’s like he vacuumed it out.” It’s a perfectly formed, clean hole in the ground.
All right. Someone is going to extreme lengths to make me believe in magic. The bottle in my house appears to be the same one; however, we broke that thing into dozens of pieces. It couldn’t have been put back together. But how did this man know what we did?
My mind whirls with all sorts of creative solutions as to how such trickery is possible. Hell, maybe he’s a magician. Or maybe not? Either way, I can only think of one way to get rid of him, and it’s not calling the police. I mean, yeah, I could file a report, but what are they going to do after they laugh in my face? They might send a patrol car or park out front for a day. Perhaps they’d do extra patrols in the neighborhood. Those are no match for such a crafty man with fancy tricks up his tailored sleeves.
I stand, dust off my hands, and head back inside.
“Uh-oh. I know that look, Ginnie. What are you up to?” Vi trails behind me.
“I’m going to make that wish.”
“For real?”
“Yup.” But first I have to read the instructions. I grab the paper he left on my counter. It’s not regular old computer paper or anything like that. This stuff is more like a very thin parchment with a light brown hue. Being a crafty person myself, who loves to craft, I’ve seen all sorts of paper, but nothing quite like this. It almost has a plastic feel.
I unfold it and start reading…
You get one wish. Make it count.
Okay, I got that part. I continue reading…
This bottle has found its way into your hands. Call it fate. Call it luck. Call it anything you like. Carefully follow the instructions below, and your wish will be granted. It is paramount that you return the bottle to where you originally found it once your wish has been granted. Fate awaits another, and it is rude to deny someone else their destiny.
Sincerely,
Mr. Wish
I lower my hands and look at Olivia, who’s standing across from me at my kitchen island, with big worried eyes.
“What?” she prods.
“Read it.” I shove the paper at her and watch as she skims the words.
“He calls himself Mr. Wish?” She cocks one brow. “Like some sort of superhero.”
“Or maybe he really does think he’s a genie,” I say.
She returns to reading, this time out loud. “Rule number one: follow the rules.” She glances up at me and shrugs.
I shrug back, eager to hear the rest.
“Rule number two: read all of the rules before placing your wish. Rule number three: you must make your wish within forty-eight hours of finding this.”
“Guess I blew that rule,” I say. Must be why he’s so ticked off. Clearly, the man likes his rules, and I’m not following them.
Vi continues, “Rule number four: write your wish on the back of this paper, roll it up, and return it to the bottle.