Authors: Felicia Jedlicka
“Cori,” Danato’s voice was quiet. When she looked at him, he gave her a stare that said she shouldn’t be gawking at a man capable of destroying her with a snap of his fingers. She sat back in her chair and tried to reduce the number of glances she offered him. She could see Belus eyeing her between chapters in the large overly earmarked book he had fetched from the file cabinet. She closed her eyes and focused on the ticking clock. She was really starting to appreciate that clock.
“Here we are,” Belus announced finally. “We are requesting the stipulations on resignation of all three successive wishes with regard to…state your full name.” Belus and Danato looked up at her from the large book. She sputtered before stating it clearly as if she were on trial.
“Corinthia Ellen Reiger,” Belus repeated it to finish his request properly. “We would also like to know the outcome of her resignation of wishes with regards to us.”
The genie chuckled. “You know I can’t tell you that. Her past, present, and future is currently bound under the terms of the wishes. Once she relinquishes those wishes she will return to her previous present, which will rewrite her to
her
original past, and place her in line with
her
intended future. I have no right to tell you what that is, or how it impacts anyone else.”
“But you know,” Danato pointed out.
“Of course I know.” The genie looked at her before returning his attention back to them. “But I can no more tell you her future, than you can walk through walls.” He motioned to his body as if the fact of that statement were written all over him, which it likely was. “Perhaps you could ask me a simple question, one that isn’t strictly forbidden to answer.”
Danato and Belus exchanged a look. “Is she who she says she is?” Danato asked glancing at her. She turned to the genie just as intrigued at hearing the answer as they were.
The genie locked eyes with her. She felt small sitting next to him, even though he wasn’t particularly tall. He was well muscled and a good deal paler than she remembered him being. The tattoos on his face had beautiful sharp black lines. She raised her hand to touch his face. He didn’t stop her, but she stopped just short of actually touching him.
“Yes,” the genie spoke breaking her concentration. “She is who she says.” There seemed to be a sigh of relief in the room.
“I thought I couldn’t be hypnotized or mesmerized anymore,” she said still locked in his eyes.
He leaned in just a little. “You aren’t bewitched. You’re just reacting to seeing my corporeal form.” He lowered his voice. “I’m as close to a god as the earth allows, and you can’t help but be drawn to me.”
“Is that why you usually stay translucent?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She gulped. “Can I touch you?”
“Cori!” Danato’s rebuke ended her fixation. She tucked her hands under her arms. She was aware of how childish it looked, but she didn’t know how else to keep herself from reaching out to the man next to her. She was reasonably terrified of him, but for some reason she desired to touch his skin.
“Don’t worry,” the genie whispered. “They feel it too. They are just better at fighting it.”
“What are the stipulations of release?” Belus asked getting them back on task.
“The stipulations are the standard 1-2-3 clause.” The genie said pulling out a new scroll. Belus flipped through his own plague of post-it notes to find the clause. After a quick read he looked up at her. She raised a brow offering the question she knew didn’t need to be asked. “Is that the only offer?”
“That stipulation will dissolve all three wishes, and null her current recent past, and erase this present in lieu of hers.”
“Is that what you want, to be rid of this version of normal?” Danato asked her. She could see the sympathy in his eyes, and for a moment she didn’t understand why. As it dawned on her, she felt her heart clench.
“If I dissolve all three wishes, I lose my mother, again.” It wasn’t really a question so much as an acknowledgement, so they knew, she knew, what the ramifications of the choice were. Danato nodded.
Despite being committed to her decision just seconds before the statement, she wondered if she was being selfish choosing a particular path in life over her mother’s very existence. Shouldn’t she be willing to give up her adoptive family—who were apparently just fine without her—for her blood family.
Cori stood outside of the office in clear view of the window. She had stepped out to clear her mind and give herself a chance to make an honest decision. She was surprised Belus had let her leave the room at all, but she assumed he was watching her like a hawk.
She knew that her mother being alive was a complete tangent to her history, but now that she had her back, she wasn’t sure she wanted to let her go. On the other hand she couldn’t have it both ways. She was either going to go back to life as it was and lose her mother, or she was going to have to choose between a life with her mom and a fiancé she didn’t know, or people she knew, but didn’t know her.
Even as things were now, she wasn’t sure Belus or Danato would let her stay. She may not have the option of trying to recreate a life here. Ethan didn’t appear to be the same man she loved, so maybe that was for the best.
She leaned against the window and tried to rationalize that her mother was dead before, and she accepted it eventually. However, she wasn’t sure she could accept it when she was the one causing her to die.
“This is bullshit,” she said when Danato stepped into the hall to check on her.
“Yes, I know,” he said with the only level of softness his voice was capable of.
“I shouldn’t have to decide my mother’s fate like this. It’s too much to ask?”
“I know,” he said again. He didn’t seem to have any better answers for her.
“I know what I have to do. I knew it before I came here, but…she’s my mother,” she said with more anger than sadness.
Danato nodded. “Yes, I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but…” He paused. “Perhaps you should hear the conditions of the resignation before you commit one way or another. I don’t know that it will make your decision easier, but at least it will be informed.”
“Why do I keep screwing things up?” She wanted to punch a wall, but she knew it would only hurt, so she settled on thumping it with the meaty part of her fist. “I have been in and out of trouble since I got here! I should just rid you of myself for good and go back to my mother. You would be none the wiser, and I doubt very much anyone would miss me.”
Danato nodded. She thought he was agreeing with her, which made her turn away to shield herself from the slight. “I’m going to skip the part where I tell you that I wouldn’t be able to let you leave with your rings still functional. Instead, I’m going to ask you what your Danato would say to you leaving.”
Cori turned back to see if he was saying it to get her to think about or if he really wanted to know. His pause gave her the opening to answer. “Danato would be torn between letting me be with my mother, and keeping me here with him. He would probably hide behind his duty to the secrecy of the prison so I would have to stay, rather than appear to rule for his own preferences.”
“And what would your Ethan think of you giving up your life with him for your mother?”
Cori sighed. She missed Ethan so much. Even with his likeness being so close, she felt farther from him than Danato and Belus. At least they were essentially the same men, but Ethan was different. He had matured differently. Slower or quicker, she wasn’t sure which. At any rate he was not hers and she knew he never would be. “Ethan is my rock. Without him…there’s just too much history to lose. I need him.”
“Mothers are always intended to be left behind so the children can start their own lives,” Danato said. “That doesn’t negate your love or your connection. It just means you are continuing with the life that she gave you.”
Cori wasn’t sure she felt less guilty about signing her mother’s death certificate, but she did prefer that Danato agreed with her. The only logical choice was the only practical choice as well.
“Come back in so we can discuss the stipulations. You’ll have time to make your final decision.”
Back in the office Cori didn’t feel compelled to touch the genie anymore. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the blunt edge of the situation, or if he had adjusted his form so as to not distract her.
She thought back to her first encounter with him and tried to think if she could have done anything different to prevent this from happening. If she did make it back to her original life, she was going to yet again have to explain herself.
“You know,” Cori said bringing everyone out of their reading. “I didn’t technically rub the lamp. I kicked it with my shoed foot.”
No one jumped for joy at the admission like she had hoped. “The contract between the lamp and the wisher is activated by touch on the body of the lamp,” Belus recited as if he was familiar with the passage that defined the activation. “If the material that touches the lamp is considered clothing: gloves, shoes, etcetera, it is therefore an extension of the body and counts as interaction. You could, however, place the lamp inside of a bag or purse and carry it without activating, as long as all tangible handling, clothed or otherwise, remained on the handle or spout.”
“Oh,” Cori said disappointed by the exceptional detail in the genie laws.
“Cori,” Danato began, “we need to explain the 1-2-3 clause to you before you decide anything. In order to relinquish your wishes and go back to your version of reality, you must endure sacrifices.”
“That doesn’t sound appealing.”
“You can choose one, two, or three sacrifices, but obviously the lower number requires the greatest detriment,” Danato explained.
“Okay,” she said bracing herself for the hard truth. “Let’s have it.”
“One death, two accidents, or three minor inconveniences,” Danato summed up.
“What does that mean?” Cori asked Danato, but he turned to Belus. Belus looked at her. She raised her eyebrow in expectation.
“Choosing only one debt for the favor of releasing you means that someone you know must die,” Belus said.
“My mother will die if I do this anyway.” Cori shrugged.
“Unfortunately,” Belus said, “That doesn’t count, since she was within the boundary of the wish. Someone else you know will die.”
“Who?” she asked even though she already knew it wasn’t an option.
“That’s the nature of the sacrifice, you don’t know who,” Danato interjected. “It could be your ninety year old third grade teacher, or it could be…one of us.”
Cori felt her supper rise in her throat. She shook her head and swallowed the acidity back to her stomach. “No way, I won’t risk that. No one gets to die because of me.”
Both Danato and Belus seemed to ease upon hearing that. She wasn’t sure if it was officially a test of her character, but she knew that would always be a test she could pass. “The other option is two accidents,” Belus continued. “This usually involves others, but it can be you.”
“What kind of accidents?”
“It can be car accidents, work related accidents, or just household accidents, but it won’t cause death.”
“That doesn’t sound too horrible,” Cori said scooting to the edge of her chair in anticipation of finding a solution to her problem. “What are we talking: bruises, broken bones?”
“Yes,” Belus said glancing at Danato, which meant, it was worse than she was interpreting, “but it could also mean head trauma resulting in comas, spinal injuries resulting in paralysis. It excludes death, but it doesn’t mean all your limbs have to be intact and functional.”
Cori shot a look to the genie, who seemed rather bored with the conversation. She wondered if it was his decision that created these potentially life changing sacrifices, or if his actions were just as bound as his body. “And I’m sure I don’t get to choose who. I mean not that it would be worth the risk of life long handicap parking, but I do have a few enemies.” She smiled to let them know she was joking, but neither of them found her amusing and they seemed genuinely concerned that she would consider this path so she moved on. “Door number three?”
“Three minor inconveniences,” Belus said. “Unlike the others these can only happen to you.”
“That’s good,” she said more hopeful than enthusiastic.
“Yes, if you are willing to take them on, but…” Belus paused looking her over.
“What?” She said irritated by his dramatic pauses. She knew he was only doing it to skip the repetitive and verbose heeds to caution, but it was damned annoying.
“As it is stated, the inconveniences are minor because they don’t cause injury or death to you or others around you, but they can cause incidental harm.” Belus paused again, not so much for drama, but to let her comprehend the statement. “A minor inconvenience to you might be your coat zipper breaking, but the result of the inconvenience might be that you are unprotected by the elements and freeze to death. The zipper breaking, of course, is minor, but since you are unprepared to compensate, other circumstances can lead you to bigger problems.”
“I could drop a bucket of water, and an electrical wire could fall in the puddle and roast me?”