Three Wishes

by Debra Dunbar

  “You stole from me, Asta. Stole. I trusted you. I let you into my hotel room, let you into my heart, and you stole something that’s precious to me. It’s one of the only things I have to remember my grandmother by.”

  She felt nearly sick with guilt. Maybe they’d been mistaken. Maybe Carter hadn’t made any wishes, wasn’t completing the contract with the demon at all. What if they’d just stolen something sentimental from a man who’d gotten his act together the latter part of his senior year and put together a wildly successful company? Humans had done that so many times before.

  And she would have believed him, except for that little nagging part of her mind that screamed otherwise. It was time to dig a little and find out who Carter Phelps really was.

  “Carter, you know what’s in that bottle as well as I do. That first wish involved your schooling and grades, and the second wish involved the success of your company. You’re entitled to make your own ethical decision, and I have no problem with you profiting, but that leaves only one more wish. One little slip, one moment of desperation, and the genie is out of the bottle. I can’t allow that abomination to walk the earth, destroying countless lives.”

  The tables were turned, and now it was Phelps’s turn to plead ignorance. “There is nothing in that bottle. My grandparents got it on an expedition in Turkey. Six hundred years ago it held cooking oil, but there’s nothing in it now.”

  He was speaking the truth. Asta squirmed, realizing he believed the bottle was just a pretty artifact. Darn it all. His success was either honest, or he’d made the wishes accidently, unaware of the repercussions. She’d hurt him; she’d betrayed his trust and it ate at her soul

  “It’s not oil, and it’s not empty. Maybe you weren’t aware of what you were doing when you made those wishes, or maybe you didn’t make any at all. Either way, I can’t take the chance you’ll release the genie.”

  Phelps stared at her with disturbing intentness. “It’s mine, Asta. My Grandmother gave it to me. I promised you I wouldn’t make any wishes, but you stole it anyway.”

  “I had to, Carter. Can’t you see that?” Asta pounded a fist on the table in frustration then lowered her voice as she saw the barista look up at her. “The original sorcerer who put him in there had the ability to banish him back to Hel. You don’t, and if that genie gets out, he’ll kill you first then move on to others. I know you want your memento back, but I have to make sure it’s safe first.”

  “Then teach me how to banish the genie if he gets out. Return the bottle to me, and I’ll assure you the demon will be banished if he accidently gets out.”

  “No. One misdrawn rune, one slip in your pronunciation and it’s all over. I can’t take that risk.”

  “This isn’t your business,” Carter snarled. “Who do you think you are to go stealing my possessions, claiming to be saving the world from demons? You’re crazy, and you’re a thief. And if you had the slightest bit of kindness in you, if you were half the woman I thought you were, you’ll return the bottle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Phelps’ hands clutched the tablecloth. “Right. Let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen, because I’m onto your little game. This expert you’ve called in somehow won’t be able to get the genie out, so you’ll need to confiscate it for all of eternity—which will be as long as it takes you to sell it on the black market. You’re a thief, a lying thief, and I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”

  The man got up and stormed out of the café. Asta pushed the latte away, buried her head in her hands, and fought back her tears. How could she have screwed this up so badly? The only thing to do now was soldier on and do everything in her power to make this right. Carter may never forgive her, but she’d make darned sure he and all the other humans in her city were safe.

  ***

  “Holy Goddess on high, how did someone do this?”

  Kirby’s exclamation wasn’t causing them to have any degree of confidence in his ability to perform this task. Dar had his doubts when the mage had first arrived and spent nearly thirty minutes gawking at Asta. True, Kirby had probably never seen an angel before, but his open awe didn’t do much to solidify his reputation.

  Dar felt a bit guilty—that he’d brought the mage over on this fool’s errand, and that he’d failed Asta. So much for impressing her with his connections in Hel. If only Gareth, an actual sorcerer-level magic user, could have been convinced to make the journey. Although, there was no guarantee he’d know what to do with this bottle either.

  “There’s really a demon in there?” The mage held a long crystal near the bottle, squinting as it glowed. “How does he fit? Is he in the form of an insect, or a single-cell life form, or something?”

  “He’s without corporeal form. The bottle is magically charged to hold him in that state until he performs the service he was summoned to do. Then he’s free to assume a physical form.”

  For fuck sake, he shouldn’t have to explain this to Kirby. His sister had told her this man was good, that he could deliver. Dar was beginning to doubt her judgment—at least when it came to magic users.

  “I thought you guys died when you didn’t have a physical form. That’s what the elves always taught us.”

  Dar gritted his teeth in exasperation. “Not always. Can you break the spell? We need to release him from the bottle and send him back to Hel.”

  Kirby shrugged. “I can try. This isn’t a spell I’ve ever seen before. Trust me; if the elves knew how to strip a demon of his physical form and stuff him into a container, they would have done it. I’ll do my best, but we’ll need to set up serious protection. I can tell by the energy signature on the bottle that this guy is bad news, although the bottle is sealed.”

  “What do you mean sealed?” Asta ran a finger along the side of the bottle. “Carter—the owner—said he’d opened it.”

  “Not sealed like that. It’s like a prison wall—I can’t reach him, can’t communicate with him. All I can do is try to smash through and give him an opening to get out. And given he’s been trapped for hundreds of years, I’d really want him to come out into a warded banishing circle, if you know what I mean.”

  Dar did. He’d be pissed as all fuck if he’d been stuck in there for that long, waiting for someone with enough balls to complete the contract. Didn’t matter whether this guy was an ancient or a Low, he was going to come out fighting. “So what do you need?”

  Wyatt had remained at the convention to keep an eye of Phelps, but Dar could run out and gather supplies while Asta stood guard.

  “Got it all here.” Kirby dumped a huge bag on the floor with a thump. Inside was a huge book, various bottles, several pieces of chalk, a box of salt, and a wand.

  “Can we help?” Asta picked up one of the pieces of chalk.

  “Probably not. I’ll need to charge the runes and the circle as I draw them, in order to ensure optimal containment. Best to do that myself. There is one thing you can do for me, though.”

  “Name it,” Asta replied. She’d been tense and sad since this morning, and Dar wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. Last night had been amazing, and this morning he’d felt the connection with her, like electricity every time she was near. Now... now she was distant and brittle.

  “Deep-dish pizza. Lou Malnati’s on South State Street, with sausage and mushrooms.”

  “Oh, I’ve been dying to try that. Deep dish, it is.” Asta gave a forced smile and headed out.

  Dar watched while the mage drew intricate patterns around the bottle. It was a long and boring ordeal. Even after Asta had returned with pizza and beer, Kirby continued his task. Finally satisfied, he sat and consumed three room-temperature slices and two bottles of beer before placing his hands, palms down, on the table. “We ready to do this?”

  “We?” Dar raised his eyebrows, wondering what part he and Asta could possibly play in this.

  Kirby’s face turned serious. “We. This thing gets out of the circle, I’m going to need all
the help I can get. I got a reading on the energy signature, and I’m gonna say that I’m nervous. I want to identify the demon before I release him if we have time. It’s your call.”

  Dar turned to Asta, his eyes drawn to her mouth as she gnawed her lower lip. “Identify him. Or her. I want to know what I’m up against if I need to go all ninja on one of my brethren.”

  “Him. At least he was in a male form when he got stuck in the bottle.” Kirby chugged down the rest of his beer then went for his book. “I’m going to do a quick spell to reveal his names then see if I have any records on him.”

  The next half hour was as exciting as watching the Hallmark channel. Dar paced, then stared with glazed eyes before he gave up and retreated to the newly stocked mini bar. The angel seemed to have more endurance, watching the mage intently and flipping through his spell book with interest.

  “Did you know they could control time within certain parameters? They haven’t quite realized it yet, but it’s right here. How precocious of them!”

  Dar handed her a mini of gin and watched her sip it. “Juniper. Very nice. Look at this fertility ritual. Can you imagine the garden? True, it only works on Rosa genus, Rosaceae family, but what an amazing spell.”

  “I’m more of a nightshade guy myself.”

  Kirby was frantically writing pages of sigils. Dar’s heart sank. Young demons only had a handful of names—usually less than ten. Ancients could have hundreds of names and titles. The longer the mage wrote, the more shit they were in.

  “I need more booze.” Dar abandoned the mini fridge for his personal stash, mixing juice, vodka, lime, and Grand Marnier in the ice bucket then straining it into two glasses.

  “Here,” he handed one to Asta. “We could probably use this. He could probably use it too, but I don’t want his concentration compromised.”

  The angel took the drink and sipped it, handing over the book as Kirby left his position by the circle. The mage looked drained, pale, and exhausted as he took the grimoire with shaking hands.

  “This isn’t going to be good.” Kirby took the book and flipped it toward an end section. “Not good. Not good at all.”

  “Here he is. His common name is Rubeus. He’s a warmonger, and he’s old. Not an ancient, but I’m still not happy about releasing a demon of this age.”

  Dar let out a breath that seemed to drain every bit of air from his lungs. “Fuck, that’s more than not good.”

  Asta shook her head, frowning. “Warmonger doesn’t sound particularly appealing, but what do you mean by old? How many billions of years old is this guy?”

  Kirby looked up in astonishment. “Billions? What demon is billions of years old? This guy is maybe thirty or forty thousand, but not a billion.”

  The angel smiled, slumping in relief. “That, I can handle. I’m two-and-a-half million. Anything over fifty thousand is a bit much, but under that, I’m good to go.”

  Kirby shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Well, I’m not especially accurate on anything over ten thousand.”

  Asta set her jaw and tilted her chin at the mage. “I’m ready.”

  Kirby walked toward the circle, and they all tensed as he began chanting. The runes lit up with golden light, and Dar felt the spark of magic in the air. The colors in the bottle swirled around, the stopper rattling. Time seemed to halt then rush forward as the room tilted. Blur, the scream of metal on glass, a vacuum pulling all the air from the room. With a sonic boom, the stopper flew free from the bottle, and the glass became clear. A billow of blue and gold poured from the container, racing around the confines of the circle before exploding into a flare of heat and light.

  Asta frowned, and Dar felt a bit out of the loop. “What the fuck happened to him? Did he go back to Hel? Was he unable to form a physical body and disbursed into the universe?”

  “He’s... he’s not here.”

  Dar resisted the urge to slug the mage in the face. “Yes, I can see he’s not here. Where the fuck is he?”

  “I don’t know. He isn’t here. He wasn’t there. The only thing in the bottle was residual energy—about six centuries of residual energy. I released it and it dissipated. But I don’t know where the demon is. The bottle’s empty.”

  Fuck. His eyes met Asta’s. “If the demon’s not in there, that means his contract’s been served.”

  The angel averted her eyes and looked at the empty bottle. “I spoke with Carter today. He desperately wanted the bottle back. If he’d cashed in his third wish and completed the contract, then why would he want the bottle back? Why bother?”

  Kirby lifted one shoulder. “Memories? Nostalgia? Old family antique?”

  No, it wasn’t that at all. Dar’s mind raced as he looked at the glass, oddly clear after being a swirl of purple and gray for hundreds of years. “Asta, have you sensed a demon in the City within the last twenty-four hours?”

  “No. None besides you.”

  Dar felt relief wash through him. “So Phelps made his wish, banished the demon, and now only wants his grandmother’s bottle back. We’re good. Case closed, problem solved.”

  Her eyes met his, brown lit with sparks of gold. “Or he was hoping to guilt me into giving it back so we wouldn’t find out the bottle was empty.” The angel’s eyes narrowed. “But he doesn’t know how to banish. I’m sure of that. Where’s the genie if it’s not here? Why haven’t I sensed it, and why hasn’t it started a killing rampage?”

  “See? Those questions mean we no longer have a problem. Either Phelps managed to find a real banishing ritual online, or he had someone lined up to do it for him.”

  While they argued, Kirby gathered his supplies, putting them into his backpack. “Do you need anything further from me? I’ve got a family thing I need to go to. Nothing like good Carolina que.”

  Dar stared down at the bottle, then at the runes across his hotel room floor. “No, I can’t think we’ll be needing you for anything else, Kirby.”

  The mage shouldered his backpack. “I’ll wait for you to fulfill your end of the bargain as agreed upon, then. Catch you all later.”

  Dar didn’t bother to watch Kirby leave. Instead, he turned his back and dug through the fridge, pulling out a variety of take-out containers and an assortment of beers.

  “Let’s eat. Beer or wine? Or hard shit? I’ve got a fully stocked mini fridge waiting for you to dig in.”

  Asta plopped down on the sofa, frowning at him. “What do you mean ‘let’s eat’?”

  “Consume food? I’m the only demon in town, and you’re out of here in one more day. I intend to ensure you make the most of it. We’re going to get a snack, have amazing sex in my giant Jacuzzi tub, then head for Navy Pier and the ferris wheel.”

  She shook her head. “Something’s not right.”

  “Yeah, we’re not naked in my tub. We need to rectify that immediately. I’ll move the contents of the mini fridge in there.”

  ***

  “I don’t sense the genie.” Asta jumped up to stand in front of Dar, blocking the demon. “I know you said some demons are stealthy and virtually undetectable. What if that’s the case and he’s still here, waiting to make his move?”

  Dar moved left, and she blocked him again. A hoop of cheese fell out of his arms to bounce along the carpeted floor. “Come on, Asta. He’s gone. Let’s have some fun, and if you sense any kind of demon besides me, I’ll help you track him down. Deal?”

  “No, no deal.” It was so frustrating how Dar wouldn’t listen to her. Darn it all; there was something wrong here. “Why is Carter not dead? What was his third wish? And what is this genie planning to do? I’m willing to bet my wings he’s not in Hel, and he’s certainly not likely to be benignly sunning himself by the pool, sipping a margarita after being imprisoned for hundreds of years.”

  The bottle is empty. Carter’s words had rung true this morning, and she’d just assumed he was innocently unaware of the genie. But now... . He knew. He knew the genie was out, knew he’d been granted his third wish, knew the bot
tle was empty.

  What was that third wish?

  Dar sighed and turned around, dumping his armload of food and drink onto the dining table. “Fine. There is one possibility, but it’s pretty far out there. Do you know anything about possession?”

  Asta shook her head. “Other than most of the time it’s simply a human with a mental-health problem? I know Hayyoth has had reports of it in his territory. He says it registers more as a channeling than an actual demon presence.”

  ‘I wouldn’t know how they register with you, but I can fill you in on the juicy details. Most possessions are by a Low who doesn’t have enough power or skills to maintain a convincing human form. Sharing a ride with a human is the best way to stay safe from angels.”

  “But this guy is old and powerful, not a Low. What benefit would he gain besides hiding from me? Honestly, if he’s as powerful as you say, he probably doesn’t give a flying leap if I sense him.

  “I don’t know of any benefit. Angels might not sense a possessing demon, but humans are damned good at it. All it takes is a halfway-decent priest and you’re out of there. Plus, a demon’s powers are blunted when he’s hitchhiking. Subjugating the human is easy enough, but it’s difficult to do things like blow shit up without destroying your host. The tradeoff sucks.”

  Long shot indeed. This idea hardly sounded probable. “Why would he bother? Help me here, Dar. Brainstorm some crazy ideas, and let’s see what fits.”

  The demon smiled. “You sure you’re an angel? Batting around crazy ideas sounds rather demonic to me.”

  After last night, she wasn’t sure how much of an angel she was either. “I’ll go first. Maybe he needs to do something here in Chicago and needs to stay hidden from me while he does it, so he’s possessing a human. He needs time to do his bad stuff and doesn’t want me calling in the head of the Grigori. He wants me to think he’s still in the bottle, or that he’s been banished back to Hel.”