The woman was tanned and petite, with a tough square jaw and brown hair pulled into a low ponytail. She wore a white blouse and olive-colored slacks.
“Jean Luc.” The wisher handed the lamp to the smaller man. “As we discussed.”
Jean Luc nodded and strode away, exiting the room through its only door.
An uneasy feeling shot through Eden. “Where’s he going with that?”
But the wisher didn’t answer—just stared at her in fascination. “Patrick.”
The man with the stethoscope approached her. “Sit here,” he said gruffly. He sounded American too, though he lacked the wisher’s Southern drawl.
Alarmed, Eden took a step back. The Achilles tendon just above her heel hit something hard and sharp.
She whipped around. Behind her was a tan leather chair with a headrest, thick cushions, wide armrests, and the footrest that she’d kicked. It wasn’t a regular living-room armchair; there was something more clinical about it.
“Go on, take a seat,” the wisher urged.
The tall blond man took her elbow and tried to guide her into the chair.
“Hey!” Eden yanked her arm away. The man hopped back, hands held in front of him so she could see them.
“Careful, Patrick,” said the wisher. He was staring at Eden as if she were a rare wild animal he’d never seen up close.
He placed a hand on his chest. “My name is David Brightly.” He gestured toward the other man. “This is Doctor Patrick Evans.” Dr. Evans looked like he thought Eden might bite him. “And this is Jane Johnston.” He indicated the woman, who stared at her without blinking.
“Patrick wants to check your vitals. Heartbeat, blood pressure. Won’t hurt ya. Is that all right?”
“Why?”
The wisher didn’t answer—just stared through his big round glasses.
“Where am I?” Eden asked.
“In a research facility that belongs to Brightly Tech.”
“What’s that?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.
“My company.” He beamed, showing his big white teeth. A slight overbite made them even more prominent, and made Eden think of a horse’s mouth. “Accordin’ to Forbes, we’re the biggest technology company in the world. And accordin’ to most folks you meet, the best.”
A warning bell buzzed in Eden’s head. Since Xavier had never covered technology as a part of her education back in the lamp, it was mostly a mystery to her. She could barely even operate her cell phone—which, she suddenly realized, she’d left in Pepper’s purse.
Eden thought back to Tra La La Karaoke. By now Pepper would have realized she’d been summoned for a granting, but Felicia, Eduardo, and her other friends would be wondering where she’d disappeared to. Eden winced, imagining Pepper having to invent excuses for her.
“Let’s make this quick,” she said to Brightly. “You’ve got three wishes. Ready, go.”
Brightly cocked his head.
“Hello! Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to grant three wishes for you!”
“You need to calm down, little lady.” Brightly was still looking at her like she was something he’d read about in an encyclopedia.
His lack of interest in the wishes was puzzling. Normally mortals were so ecstatic, they couldn’t spit out their fantasies fast enough. She’d never seen a reaction like this.
“I’m a genie,” she said, in case he’d somehow missed that part. “You rubbed my lamp. I’m here to grant your wishes. So let’s get going!”
Brightly turned to the woman. “Jane. Could you be so kind as to help Dr. Evans?”
“Help him with what?” Eden’s heart started beating faster.
The two men locked eyes. Brightly gave Patrick a slight nod.
“Hello! Help him with what?” Eden repeated. “You’d better tell me this instant!”
Jane Johnston darted at her. She and Patrick seized Eden’s arms and pushed her toward the seat.
When Eden was still at least a foot away, she felt a force coming from the chair, pulling her into it. It was like the magnets she’d learned about in the lamp’s lesson room.
The magnetic force was far stronger than she was; there was no way to resist it. Within moments, she was in the chair.
Her back was pinned to its back, her thighs were glued to its seat, and her limbs were stuck to its arm- and footrests. Desperately she tried to pull away, but she couldn’t lift a finger.
As she screamed senselessly for help, Eden couldn’t help thinking that this had to be her worst granting yet.
For the next few hours, they poked, prodded, and examined her. Dr. Patrick Evans listened to her heartbeat, took her temperature, and measured her blood pressure. He reclined the chair, looked inside her ears and nose and down her throat, and shone a light in her eyes.
He tried to draw blood from the crook inside her elbow, but his needle wouldn’t puncture her skin.
“Well, I’ll be!” Brightly exclaimed as he watched in wonder. Jane took notes on an electronic tablet, and even recorded a close-up video.
Of course, Eden knew why they couldn’t draw blood: because her genie bracelet was active. That meant she was under the lamp’s protection, and, therefore, immortal. Nothing they could do would inflict harm on her body.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though. She felt every one of the fifteen attempts.
“Subject seems to be immune to bodily harm, but does appear to experience pain.” Brightly pushed up his glasses. “Jane, make a note of that.”
They did manage to get clippings from her fingernails and cut a lock of hair from her ponytail. Eden watched as Patrick sealed the hard white half-moons in one tiny plastic bag, and the white-blond hair in another.
After a while, she stopped screaming. She was exhausted, and anyway, once they got the results they wanted, she had to assume Brightly would finally make his wishes.
It was strange. Before now, she’d desperately wanted every granting to last and last. Now that she wanted to get this one over with, it felt like it would never end.
“Are you done yet?” she asked when they seemed to be slowing down.
“Nah,” Brightly said, watching as Jane input more notes. “But we’re movin’ on to the next portion of testing.” He beamed that big, horsey smile. “You’re an interesting specimen.”
Her heart sank. If she had the lamp, she could make a request for reentry, which allowed a genie to escape in the event of a granting gone wrong. Before, it would have sent her back inside the lamp. But now that her home was with Pepper, it would take her back to New York, right by her side.
Unfortunately, without the lamp, there was no way to make the request. She’d have to wait until three wishes had been granted.
Until a few weeks ago, when the rules had changed, her genie bracelet wouldn’t have allowed the lamp to be taken away from her. But now, since she’d come to live on Earth, the connection between her and the lamp had changed. They might have taken it anywhere.
“If you don’t bring me the lamp right now, you’re going to lose your wishes!” Eden said. Threatening wishers with the prospect of losing their wishes had always been effective in the past.
But Brightly was different. He grinned at her, looking amused. “You’re a tough little cookie, aren’t ya?”
At least they hadn’t touched or mentioned the bracelet. As long as it was on her wrist, she was safe—and so was the lamp, wherever it might be.
“What’s up with this chair, anyway?” she asked. “Why am I stuck to it?”
“We’ve got a little lab here in the building,” Brightly said. “And in it, we’ve developed a magnetic force strong enough to overpower the human body.” He smirked. “If you think that’s strong, you should feel it when I crank it up a few notches.”
“No thanks,” she said.
Brightly pushed up his glasses. “All right. Let’s move on to our next round of tests. For these, we’re gonna need you to be completely honest.”
“I’m not doing any more of your stupid tests.”
“Aww,” Brightly said. “That’s too bad! I was gonna free up your arms for this one. But if you refuse to cooperate”—he shrugged—“I can’t do it.”
“Fine!” It would be nice to have the use of her arms again. “But first I need something to eat—and some water.”
A pleased expression spread across Brightly’s face. “Subject experiences hunger and thirst. Make a note of that, Jane.”
Jane used controls on her electronic tablet to free Eden’s arms from the grip of the magnetic force and pull the chair to an upright position; then Dr. Patrick Evans rolled a rectangular table over.
Jane left the room, then came back with a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese and a glass of water. She, Brightly, and Dr. Evans pulled up chairs and watched Eden scarf it down. It was the worst spaghetti that Eden had ever tasted, but she needed the fuel to stay strong and sharp.
Also, she didn’t know when she’d have a chance to eat again.
The way they watched her, you’d think they’d never seen someone eat before. Jane tapped on her tablet throughout. Sometimes she whispered to Brightly, and he nodded thoughtfully.
Eden eyed them suspiciously as she sucked down the last few strands of spaghetti. The room was so silent, it was like eating dinner back in the lamp.
She patted her lips with a napkin. “What’s for dessert?”
“Jane?” Brightly said.
Jane nodded, cleared the plates from Eden’s table, rolled it away, and exited the room again.
“Seriously? I get dessert?”
But when Jane reentered thirty seconds later, she wasn’t carrying anything sweet—just a black briefcase. She sat down, popped it open, and pulled out two more tablets, which she handed to Patrick and Brightly.
“What’s that for?” Eden asked, but no one answered. Jane snapped the briefcase closed.
“All righty then,” Brightly said. “Let’s get this show on the road. What’s your name?” He crossed his legs and peered at her.
“Eden.”
“Are you a genie?”
“Yes.”
Though Patrick was taking notes on his tablet, Jane seemed to be watching something on hers. Brightly looked over at it and nodded.
“What is she looking at?”
“Why don’t you just answer these questions, Eden. How old are you?”
“Twelve and a half.”
He cocked his head. “Do you have a birthday?”
“Duh. I’m alive, aren’t I?” For being on the cutting edge of technology, these people sure were slow.
“When is it?”
“January twenty-fifth.”
“And when did you become a genie?”
Eden sighed. “When I was born. Obviously.”
Brightly cupped his chin in his hand. “Have you been granting wishes since you were born?”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“Answer the question,” Jane cut in. It was the first time she’d spoken. It sounded like her accent was American, too.
“Of course I haven’t! How could a baby go to Earth and grant wishes?”
There was a pause as they all took copious notes.
“I can’t believe this,” Eden muttered. “It’s like genies for dummies.”
Brightly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. “Did you grant three wishes for a man named Reginald Clarke approximately two years ago?”
“Who?”
“Reginald Clarke,” Brightly repeated in his slow Southern drawl.
“I have no idea who that is. Friend of yours?”
Brightly turned to Jane and nodded. She started tapping on her tablet.
“You know, it would be great if you could tell me what all this is for. Or, better yet, skip past it and make your wishes.”
But Brightly just smiled. Eden banged the back of her head on the cushioned headrest in frustration.
“This is Reginald Clarke.”
An image had been projected on the wall: a photograph of a grizzled old man with dark skin and patchy gray fuzz for hair.
Eden recoiled. Even with the ludicrous amount of money she’d granted him, he hadn’t fixed his rotting teeth.
“How do you know him?” she asked.
“So you do remember Mr. Clarke.” Brightly sounded pleased.
“How could I forget? The beach bum who spends his whole pathetic life hunting for treasure.” He’d become her third wisher when he summoned her to Jamaica. The only good thing that had come of that granting was that she’d seen the ocean for the first time.
“Mr. Clarke runs the best resort in Jamaica,” Brightly said.
“I know,” Eden snarled. “How do you think he got it?”
“I went there last year for a vacation,” Brightly went on. “Jane sent me. She thought I could use a little rest and relaxation. Very thoughtful.” He shot Jane a simpering smile. “One night, I got into a conversation with Mr. Clarke at the bar. When I meet other professionals who dominate their fields, I try to learn their stories—and the secrets of their success, if they have them.” His fingers drummed on his leg. “Well, Mr. Clarke sure did. That night he told me an incredible story.
“He said that one morning, about a year earlier, he’d been walking on the beach, searchin’ for jewelry dropped in the sand. At the time, that was what he did most days. Having grown up poor on the island, he’d learned to make a livin’ off the carelessness of wealthy tourists. He’d beg, search for lost valuables, pick a pocket or two on occasion.”
“What a gentleman,” Eden said sarcastically.
“I respected his drive.” When Brightly leaned forward, she could see the coldness lying beneath his good-guy veneer. “Anyone who rises to the top knows you’ve got to look out for yourself. No one else will.” Brightly leaned back. “On this particular mornin’, Mr. Clarke wandered into an area he didn’t normally cover. There he found a treasure unlike any he’d seen before: an antique oil lamp, made of gold. Right away, he knew it was special. It looked like a genie lamp, straight out of myths and legends. So he rubbed it, and a genie appeared.” Brightly pointed at her. “That genie was you.”
“And when he told you this, you believed him?” Most mortals doubted anything they couldn’t prove. That was how the lamp remained a mysterious myth throughout the course of thousands of grantings.
“Darlin’,” Brightly said, “I’ve built my career by dreamin’ up things that don’t exist, and makin’ them real. For me, believin’ in what you can’t see is essential.” He cracked his knuckles. “Mr. Clarke had told dozens of people about the lamp, but I was the first one to take him at his word. After that, I made it my mission to find you. And now I’ve done it. Here you are.” He beamed that huge white smile. It was disgusting how pleased with himself he was.
Still, Eden had to wonder…
“How?”
She hated listening to him boast, but she also couldn’t help her curiosity. She’d never heard of anyone setting out to find the lamp and then managing to do it.
“Have you ever used a cell phone?” Brightly asked.
“Yeah.” As of two weeks ago, it was true.
“Do you happen to know who made that phone?”
Eden tried to visualize the phone she’d been carrying around in New York. Suddenly she realized why Brightly’s name sounded familiar: it was printed in small letters on the back.
“You did,” she said. “Or your company, at least.”
“Correct,” he said. “Brightly Tech has the honor of producin’ ninety-three percent of the world’s cellular phones, as well as ninety-five percent of electronic tablets, eighty-four percent of MP3 players, and eighty-seven percent of personal computers.” He reared back as if someone else had just recited the statistics, and he couldn’t believe they were true. “Is that right, Jane?”
“Eighty-five percent of MP3 players,” she said dryly.
“Eighty-five percent!�
�� He shook his head. “That number keeps creepin’ up.”
Eden rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with the lamp?”
“Well, since I’m in charge of all the phones, I get to find out what everybody’s talkin’ about all the time!”
Eden blinked in disbelief. “You listen to people’s conversations? Is that legal?”
“Heck no.” Brightly pointed at her. “You gonna report me?” He laughed loudly.
She shook her head. “Okay. So you heard someone say something about the lamp?”
“Well, not exactly. I couldn’t very well listen to every conversation all over the whole world and wait for someone to say ‘genie lamp,’ could I?” He chuckled. “Come on, now. This is Brightly Tech. We rigged up a little system to flag mentions of oil lamps, genie lamps, genies. Jane here was in charge of checkin’ them out. Eventually she caught somebody tellin’ their friend about this weird lil’ antique lamp they’d found. Lucky for us, they didn’t put the pieces together—just had it sittin’ on a shelf in the house, didn’t even try givin’ it a rub!” He grinned. “So Jane got there, offered to pay them more money than they thought it was worth, and was back here faster than a hot knife slicin’ through butter.”
Eden was horrified. “That’s not the way the lamp is supposed to be found.”
“Hee-hee!” Brightly giggled. “What can I say? It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there!”
Eden swallowed. She needed to wrap this up fast.
“If you’ve been waiting to find the lamp for so long, I’m sure you’ve come up with amazing wishes.”
“Eden.” Brightly tapped his fingertips together and leaned forward. “After what you’ve learned about me tonight, do you really think my mind works like other people’s?”
Eden sighed. She’d never met a mortal with such a high opinion of himself.
“To be honest with you,” Brightly said, “I’m more interested in learnin’ how the lamp works. Last thing I wanna do is waste those wishes.”
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