Page 9 of Bewitched By the Djinn
The clothes, the accent... where is this guy from?
I don’t know whether to be terrified, or turned on. Maybe a little bit of both.
“Do you see a glowing tunnel? Feel a warm sensation? Light pulling at your soul? Anything?” I gesture vaguely upward.
“There is no light except for those sconces,” he nods to the wall, “which appear as though they need to be dusted and are not very bright.”
“So you’re a judgy ghost. Got it. Maybe instead you should be seeking a dark door full of hellfire.”
He takes a few deep breaths, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them again. “Who are you? Where am I?” The words are resonant. He pins me with an intense gaze, almost like he’s willing me to answer him.
I almost laugh. Is he trying to compel me? Cute.
None of this makes sense. Ghosts don’t need to breathe and gather themselves. They aren’t bossy. They’re an annoyance, the leftover energy from life, no longer grounded in a body.
I walk around the desk toward him, keeping my steps measured. “You look so real.”
“Iamreal.”
The paperweight bounced off him. He touched it. He must be solid.
He breathes in deeply, leaning toward me. The scents of jasmine and cedar brush against my senses, along with the heat of his body.
He’s warm.
Not a ghost.
Not a ghost that is now reaching for me with both hands.
With a gasp, I jump out of his reach. “You’re real.”
He shakes his head, dazed for a second before focusing on me once again. His hands clench at his side. “As I said.”
My eyes alight on Kevin’s bat. Perfect. I pick it up. “I am not above violence. Just so we’re clear.”
“You freed me. Why are you now threatening me with a stick?”
“You jumped out of a lamp. I didn’t free anything.” I lift the bat higher in an attempt to appear more menacing.
He lifts his hands. “I will leave peacefully.”
Is his lip twitching? Is he mocking me? “Hell yes you will.”
“I did not intend to intrude on your evening, I assure you. I assume I can go out this way. Shall I?” He jerks his head toward the door.
“Wait!” The kids are sleeping on the floor below us, which he will have to pass to get to the door. This place can be a maze if you don’t know the way out and I can’t risk him accidently wandering where he doesn’t belong.
We stare at each other for a few long, silent seconds. I think I’m going into shock.
“Yes?” he asks.
“I’ll show you to the front door.”
We move through the house in silence, my whispered directions guiding him through the maze of creaky stairs and shadowed hallways.
I want to ask him questions.
Why was he in the lamp? What is he? A genie? I can’t believe genies are a thing, but maybe it’s not that outrageous. I have magic. There are witches and psychics and vampires. A genie can’t be that much of a stretch, can it?
