by E. M. Lilly
The ugly biker named Spud glared angrily in response. Grizz let loose a bark-like laugh and turned his attention back to Emily.
“Now that they know they can make you cry this easy, they’ll be working harder to do so.” Grizz let out an exaggeratedly disgusted sigh, as if he were disappointed in Emily. “I just don’t know about you, Missy, about whether you’re smart enough to play along. Let’s take that gag for example. I could leave it in your mouth for the next few days, and it would be awfully uncomfortable for you. But instead, I could take it out now. I’d like to do that since you got an awfully pretty mouth as I remember, and I’d like to put it to proper use. But I don’t want to do that and then have you start screaming. Not because it would help you any. Ain’t no one around to hear a little lady like you scream. But I’m prone to headaches, and if you were to start screaming I’d have to bust up your mouth awfully bad, and it wouldn’t be so pretty after that. So the question I got for you is can I take out that gag and have you behave yourself and only use that mouth the way I want you to?”
Emily nodded desperately. From behind Grizz, the biker named Spud grumbled that when it was his turn the gag would be put back in place. Two of the other bikers said the same. Grizz ignored them and removed the gag, his dirty, smelly fingers lingering along Emily’s lips. She resisted the urge to bite him, and as his hand pulled away from her mouth she whispered in a halting, cracking voice, “Jack, please save me.”
All of them were crowded around Emily enjoying the show, so none of them saw Jack as he appeared amidst a cloud of quickly dissipating blue smoke. If Grizz had seen the genie he wouldn’t have smiled sadly at Emily and told her that his name wasn’t Jack and asking to be saved wasn’t what he considered behaving herself. Emily saw Jack, though. Saw the way he stood surveying the scene, his jaw muscles tightly clenched, his lips pulled up slightly into a hard, grim smile, a fury raging brightly in his eyes. Emily broke out crying then.
“Now Missy, what did I tell you about crying?”
Jack spoke up then, asking Emily if she was hurt. He didn’t call her by her name, but by Miss M. Emily realized that he was doing that so that the bikers wouldn’t know her name. The bikers all turned around then. If they were surprised to see Jack there, they didn’t show it. Instead they all looked amused by the fact. They started moving slowly to surround Jack. Emily told Jack between sobs that they hadn’t hurt her badly yet.
Grizz said to Jack, “Boy, I don’t know where you came from, but you made a mistake of a lifetime coming here.”
Jack ignored him and asked Emily if she wished to be rescued. This caused Grizz and several of the other bikers to break out laughing as they continued to edge closer to him. A couple of them drained their beer bottles and held them by the neck as if they were clubs. Emily bit down hard on her gum to stop sobbing. She nodded bleakly to the genie.
“That will have to count as a wish, leaving you only four remaining,” Jack said.
“I understand.”
This was barely uttered by Emily in that same halting whisper. Jack nodded grimly. “Very well,” he said. The look in Jack’s eyes made Emily shudder as she understood what he was going to do. “Please don’t touch them,” she forced out. “I don’t think I could stand to be responsible for that. Even with them.”
“Are you sure, Miss M.? If there was ever a group of miscreants who deserved a demonstration of a thousand black mambas in action, I would have to believe that they would be it.”
“Please, Jack, no. Just take me away from here.”
“Very well,” Jack said, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I will take you away from here shortly, but first they must pay a price for what they did, and even more so for that they were going to do.”
“And what price would that be?” Grizz broke in, amusement shining in his eyes and a menacing smile tightening his lips.
“Simple,” Jack said, “You and the rest of your lads will be going away to prison for the rest of your lives.”
“And why would that be?”
“For starters, gun and drug charges. But once the police start investigating you more thoroughly, they’ll find more victims.” Jack made a face as if he found what he was going to say next distasteful. “For Miss. M.’s sake I will give all of you the opportunity to surrender until the police arrive. I’d rather that you didn’t so I can send you all to jail with broken bones and other injuries, which is the very least you deserve.”
“You’re one crazy muthafucka, I’ll give you that,” Grizz said, chuckling softly to himself. “And you’re also going to be a messed up one real soon.”
Grizz nodded to one of the bikers who had crept closer to Jack so that he was only a few feet to the left of the genie. This biker on seeing Grizz’s signal charged Jack swinging a beer bottle at the genie’s head. All at once a nightstick appeared in Jack’s hand, and in a flash he dropped into a low crouch while swinging out with the nightstick and catching the biker flush in the shins. The impact of the blow caused a sickening crunching noise as bones were broken, as well as flipping the biker head over heels and sending him crashing onto one of his brother bikers who had charged Jack from the other side. The biker with the broken shins started screaming. In a fluid cat-like motion, Jack dove at them, and while in midair he cracked the screaming biker on the side of the head to shut him up and in a blur of activity smacked the other biker twice with the nightstick—the first blow shattering the biker’s jaw, the second rendering him unconscious. Jack landed on his feet with a panther-like grace.
Two more bikers charged then and both ended up crumpled on the floor unconscious and with several broken bones each. That left three bikers: Grizz, Spud, and a lanky biker with a sallow complexion, deeply-lined face and very scared looking eyes. Grizz stepped forward, holding his palms up as if he was giving up. While he did this, Spud moved to the left of Jack while the other biker moved to Jack’s right.
“You’re some kind of freak, aren’t you?” Grizz said, a harsh smile frozen on his lips. “Damn, you’re good with a nightstick, I’ll give you that.”
While Grizz was saying this, the lanky biker slipped a gun from his back waistband. Emily saw this and yelled out to Jack, although it wasn’t necessary. Jack whipped the nightstick at the biker, catching him diagonally across the chest and sending the man dropping to the floor with enough broken ribs to keep him from moving.
“Miss M.,” Jack said. “Please close your eyes tight and cover your ears. You don’t want to see or hear what’s going to happen next.”
The masking tape binding Emily’s wrists and ankles disappeared. Emily did as she was asked, and Jack pulled out of thin air a snarling, angry badger which he held by the scruff of the neck. The animal looked as if it was all fangs and claws, and Jack tossed it at a stunned Spud, who fell to the floor screaming with the badger landing on top of him and fighting like a demon possessed. Grizz stood dumbly for a moment trying to comprehend what he had just seen, and as it dawned on him that he was dealing with a force he couldn’t begin to comprehend his mouth formed a rigid ‘o’ as if he wanted to scream but was incapable of it. He then turned to Emily as if he had the idea that he was going to use her as a shield, but before he could take more than a step Jack rifled billiard balls at him, the first two shattering bones in the biker’s thighs, the third knocking him unconscious.
When the badger finished doing the damage it wanted to do to Spud, Jack opened the door so the animal could waddle out of the cabin. Spud lay prone on the floor moaning, but he wasn’t going anywhere, not with all of his injuries. Off in the distance approaching police sirens could be heard. In a blink, Jack and Emily disappeared from the cabin as if they were never there.
Chapter 18
Something cold and wet pushed against Emily’s hand. She opened her eyes and saw that she was back in Manhattan. More than just back in Manhattan, Jack had deposited her in the armchair in the den that she liked to sit in each night. Looking down, she saw that Winston was pushing his nose against her hand. Emily
collapsed to the floor so she could hug the Bulldog tightly. Winston, sensing that Emily was on the verge of tears, acted exceptionally gentle as he licked her face and let out a soft whimper.
Emily fought to hold back the tears, but it was a losing fight and soon she was sobbing, which caused Winston to whimper more and work harder to lick her face and try his best to comfort her. The dog was so persistent it caused Emily to both laugh and cry at the same time. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Jack standing off to the side looking helpless, his expression set in a deeply worried frown. Emily forced herself to stop sobbing. After rubbing her sleeve across her eyes, she thanked the genie for expanding her wish by bringing Winston back with her. “But I need to go back to Minnesota,” she said, a heavy despair in her voice. “I have a rental car that I need to take care of. I also have to check out of the motel and get my bags.”
Jack wiggled his right index finger and a soft cotton towel and box of tissues materialized next to Emily. Showing a bleak smile of gratitude, Emily used the towel to wipe the wetness from her face, then grabbed a handful of tissues so she could blow her nose.
“You don’t need to go back there,” Jack said. He tried to smile, but it did little to hide the worry in his eyes. “Your rental car, motel and bags have already been taken care of. I even made sure all your clothes were freshly laundered before being packed in your bag. Since you were in no condition to fully specify your wish I took certain liberties.”
“I thank you for that.” The barest trace of a heartbreaking smile showed on Emily’s lips for a brief moment. “I bet you wouldn’t have done that if Lawrence Willoughby had been in that same position.”
“No, I don’t suppose I would’ve.” Jack’s own forced smile tightened into something grim at the thought of his previous master. “But then again, you’re not Lawrence Willoughby. Thank goodness!”
If Jack had interpreted her wish literally, he could’ve made things even more miserable for Emily, but somehow it didn’t surprise her that he had gone out of his way to fix up her wish as much as he did. She remembered the look in Jack’s eyes when he first materialized in the bikers’ cabin and a shudder ran through her. “You would’ve touched all of them if I hadn’t asked you not to.”
“Yes, Miss. Mignon, I would’ve. Of course, I was outraged seeing how they had treated you and what their intentions were. Throughout my existence I’ve encountered many similar human jackals who prey on the defenseless, and I have little sympathy for them.” The genie sighed heavily and shrugged. “But in this case I was also thinking of your well-being. If they were dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about any of them searching for you. But you still won’t ever have to worry about that. None of them will ever leave prison. Nor will you ever have to worry about them victimizing anyone else as they had planned to do with you. Their days of preying on others is over.”
“You called me Miss. M. so they wouldn’t know my name?”
“Exactly. I was afraid you’d ask me not to touch them. Even though they were going to be locked away in prison for the rest of their lives, I didn’t believe it would’ve been a good idea for them to know your name.”
A weariness dropped over Emily as she considered what Jack told her. In a voice that showed her exhaustion, she said, “When you warned them, you told them that the police would be finding out about their other victims. Did you know for a fact that there were other victims? How would you know that?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, Miss Mignon, there were others.” He paused for a moment as concern deepened in his expression and carved deep lines up and down his cheeks. Attempting a weak smile, he continued, “When I’m in the presence of these types of human jackals I can see their past violent acts vividly.” He shrugged. “One of the more unpleasant properties governed by the natural law of genies. I was truthful when I told them that the police would be uncovering their past crimes. I made sure to leave the necessary evidence on them to lead the police to all of their past victims. But there were enough drugs and stolen guns in that cabin to send them all to prison for many years regardless.”
Emily appeared to struggle with the thought of asking another question. Perhaps wanting to know how many other victims there were. The helpless look forming over Jack’s face persuaded her not to ask anything further and she must’ve also decided the information wouldn’t do her any good. Instead she nodded somberly and thanked the genie for everything he’d done for her. “Thank you also for not asking me how I ended up in that situation,” she added.
“Of course.”
She pushed herself to her feet and stood stiff-legged, as if she might lose her balance at any moment. Alarmed, Jack asked whether she needed medical attention.
Emily shook her head. “I’m sore and have some physical aches, but no, I don’t need to see a doctor. All I need right now is to take Winston for a long walk.”
Jack again attempted to smile genially but the concern flooding his eyes made a mockery of it. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
Emily shook her head again. “Thank you, but no. Just Winston and me,” she said. She headed to the door then with Winston waddling behind her.
##
During the next three days Emily kept her cell phone turned off, and when she wasn’t sleeping she would either be in the den or taking Winston for walks around her Manhattan neighborhood. As far as her publishing company knew she was still in Minnesota, and she made no attempt to correct that impression.
During the time that Emily sat in the den, Winston would lay by her feet. When she’d summon Jack, Winston, on seeing the genie, would wag his tail, but stubbornly refused to leave Emily, even if it would only be for a few seconds so he could more enthusiastically greet his previous owner. Emily made no attempt to speak to Jack or even look at him. Instead she would sit lethargically in the armchair and stare blankly at whatever manuscript she was holding, every few minutes turning the page in a methodical, almost mechanical, motion. While she did nothing to acknowledge Jack, it was clear that the genie’s presence provided comfort to her. If Jack felt snubbed by her behavior, he didn’t show it.
On Friday evening at seven-thirty this abruptly changed. Emily put down the manuscript she was making a halfhearted attempt to read and looked directly at Jack. The genie, who was hovering in midair as if he were on an invisible chaise longue, likewise lowered the book he was engaged in and smiled back at her, a good deal of relief showing in his expression over Emily finally coming out of her stupor.
“You were right about Ethan,” she said. “He’s every bit the pretentious, narcissistic jerk you told me he was.”
“Miss Mignon, was he responsible for what happened to you?”
Emily stared blankly at Jack for a long moment before nodding. Then she proceeded to tell him what had happened. How Ethan had taken her to a remote lake, what he later said and did, and how he drove off abandoning her. Emily’s voice remained calm and subdued as she told Jack this, although at times anger flashed in her eyes. Jack’s anger was far more apparent. A pulse beat rapidly along his right temple and a darkness muddled his face as if a violent storm was brewing. When Emily finished her story, he looked as if he could barely contain his rage.
“Miss Mignon,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. “Let me do something to him. Please, give me permission to do this. It won’t even count as a wish, but I beg of you, let me turn him into something soft and squishy. Something that can be tossed into a pit of hungry crocodiles.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jack, but no. I can’t have everyone who’s a jerk to me turned into something soft and squishy. As much as I might like to in this case.”
“He was far more than simply a jerk.”
“I know.”
Jack brooded over this. “Let me at least give him a painful, disfiguring rash,” he asked at last.
Emily shook her head again.
“Debilitating migraines?”
“No, Jack.”
“At least a
persistent upset stomach. Let me at least give him that.”
“No.”
“Impotency?”
“No.”
“Frequent bedwetting?”
Emily hesitated before asking how frequent.
“As frequent as you’d like.”
There was another long hesitation from Emily before she shook her head. “Please, Jack, no. Don’t tempt me like this. I don’t want you doing anything to him.”
The genie’s jaw muscles clenched tightly in his frustration. He opened his mouth once as if he was going to argue further with Emily, but instead pressed his lips into a bloodless line as he decided against it. “Very well, Miss Mignon,” he said at last in a defeated tone, “but I am assuming you will allow me to nullify your previous wish regarding having this miserable cretin’s book published. I will do so in a way that will not cost you an additional wish, nor will it negatively impact your standing within your publishing firm.”
“Thank you, Jack, but again, no. The author may be an insufferable jackass, as you had tried to warn me, but I still believe in his book, and I want to continue to work to see it published.”
Jack stared wide-eyed at her, aghast at this possibility. “You can’t allow him to benefit from this,” he implored. “Forgetting about everything else he did, he should not be allowed to benefit simply from the disrespect that he showed you.”
“I will handle him my own way.” Emily forced a weak smile. “Jack, I told you what happened not so that you would avenge me or force some retribution, but because I needed to tell someone. But please, leave this alone, and don’t do anything to Ethan or his book.”
The genie didn’t like this, but he promised Emily he wouldn’t do anything. For the next five minutes he lay stewing on his invisible chaise longue. Emily glanced at him with a wan smile.
“I bet it never would’ve upset you this much if something like this had happened to any of your other masters,” she said.
Jack stared back with an exasperated look before he broke out with a short snorting-type laugh that soon turned into a heartier one. “You’re right,” he said after his laughter died down. He rubbed at one of his eyes as if he were wiping away tears. “With most of them I would’ve very much enjoyed it. But again, Miss Mignon, you’re not like any of my past masters. But I must thank you for the laugh. It was quite therapeutic picturing my previous master, Lawrence Willoughby, thrust into a similar dilemma.”