Pure Audacity

Isaac slid the notebook across the sticky table that he’d cleared of the dirty dishes but hadn’t thought of wiping down. He pointed at the full page of text. It was all written in his surprisingly pretty script.

He smirked. “I have it all worked out, I’m pretty sure.”

Stiare glanced at the paper, too stunned by his audacity to read what he’d jotted down. Did he honestly believe that he could outsmart her? So, what if he’d proven to be a bit more difficult than the previous humans she’d worked with? Difficult didn’t equate intelligence. Isaac hadn’t yet figured that out.

“No.”

“No?” Isaac frowned. “You can’t say no. What I wrote doesn’t break any of your rules. It’s well within the boundaries you set.”

“I won’t do it.”

“But you have to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I-I quit!” That wasn’t quite the right word, but it was close to what Stiare meant.

“Quitting isn’t an option.”

“Why are you speaking like you know all there is to know about me, about jinn? Up until four days ago, I was nothing but a cheap character in movies to you.”

And up until four days ago, Isaac had had no idea that humans weren’t alone. Like most humans, he’d thought he was at the top of the sentient food chain. His biggest concern had been the thoughtless, cruel actions of his fellow humans. Now he knew that wasn’t the truth. Compared to what lurked in plain sight, humans were as threatening as newborn pups.

While waiting for Isaac to make his first wish, Stiare grew convinced that he was making his newfound knowledge of Others her problem. Why else would he be this obnoxious? What else would drive him to be so bold with a creature who promised to grant him three wishes with very few limitations?

It couldn’t be stupidity, could it? His survival instinct wasn’t that lacking, was it?

“I’ve done my research.”

Stiare rolled her eyes. She didn’t doubt that he’d come across some truth. Others weren’t as secretive as they once were. With the rise of the internet and the absurd theories humans had created, some Others mixed in facts with myth, just to confuse humans. Humans were a gullible, excitable lot, and as long as no human with real power found out the truth, no Other governing body cared enough to act.

“You spoke to no jinn.”

Of this, Stiare was confident. Most jinn on Earth Realm (and all who granted wishes) were here to fulfill a prison sentence. None would ever bother to tell a human more than what was absolutely necessary to complete the job. Revealing more than she should risked adding more years to her already too-long sentence.

Isaac’s puffy, scarred face grew even more red. “My resources are reliable.”

“You—”

Stiare caught herself. Why continue the argument? She was done with him. He deserved no more of her attention.

“I said I quit.”

“But I own you!”

Oh, no, he did not. He’d only found the bracelet that tied her to Earth Realm and gave her enough of her original power to grant humans their wishes. That was its primary function. Its secondary one activated once the last wish was granted. Then the bracelet funneled half of the human’s remaining years to her king, which he used to prolong his millennium-long life and rule.

The bracelet gave the human no ownership of her.

“Did you find that in your research?”

“Well, everything I read—that’s how this works.”

Stiare shook her head. “You found my bracelet, and you get wishes. That’s all that happens here.”

Most humans didn’t ask anything past that. Sometimes, she lied about being cursed by an evil wizard when too many questions were asked. No human ever went beyond that explanation. The allure of having (almost) anything they wanted overshadowed any empathy. And they never wondered what price they might have to pay to get their heart’s desires.

“You’re stuck with me, at least, until I get all my wishes.”

That was true. The bracelet would always be with Isaac, even if he took it off, which meant that Stiare would always be nearby. By putting it on, he’d entered a contract that neither of them could get out of until the terms were complete. That was the way her king ensured that all criminals sent to Earth Realm completed their sentences instead of disappearing.

“I still can refuse to act.”

What that would mean in the long term, Stiare didn’t know. She’d never considered it before. Usually, her focus was just on getting through the current human and enjoying the brief feel of her power.

Isaac sighed. “Just grant me the wish. Once we get this one done, we can move on to the other two.”

“That you’ll take a ridiculous amount of time coming up with.”

“I’m being thorough. I know how you guys like to fuck people over.”

Some jinn did. The human’s satisfaction with their wishes wasn’t required. As long as their wish was technically granted, it didn’t matter how it was interpreted or what caveat was added.

As long as Stiare had been doing this, she’d never played with a human like that. She didn’t care enough about them to mess with them. Over the years, she’d even learned to not take some of their wishes so literally, as most weren’t skilled at accurately describing their thoughts. They so often exaggerated.

What humans who got their wishes granted usually realized afterward was that the wishes never solved their deeper issues. Or that they hadn’t considered the consequences of their wishes. Remorse wasn’t a guarantee, but a likely outcome. However, that was none of Stiare’s concern.

“So, you risk upsetting me to ensure that I make your wish terrible?”

“But you can’t.” Isaac tapped the notebook. “I’ve worked through every way you might do that.”

Stiare stood up. She was nearly seven feet tall, and her skin was a deep maroon. With eyes the color of molten gold and hair blacker than a starless night, she knew the terrifying image she presented as she bent near his face.

“I’m leaving.”

To Isaac’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “And get—what?—three hundred feet away?”

She could get further away from him, but not by much. The only way he could know this was if he’d been watching her over the past few days. While he’d planned his first wish, she’d paced around, feeling like a caged beast and hating her brief illusion of freedom. After all this time, it hadn’t gotten easier. After all this time, all she wanted was to go home.

Unlike most criminals, her sentence did not fit the crime. Officially, she’d been charged with insulting the king. Foolish but only worthy of a few decades on Earth Realm.

Only a few knew the truth. Stiare had done more than insult the king. She’d broken his heart. When he’d offered to make her one of his wives, even his First Wife, she’d turned him down.

His rage told her that he’d genuinely loved her. Or maybe the king was just upset that he wouldn’t get the land that her father had offered as her dowry. What a shame that jinn women had the final say in who they married, even if it was a king who proposed.

“I can just wait for you to die.”

He wouldn’t be the first human who’d worn the bracelet and died before their three wishes were granted. When that happened, that human didn’t count toward her sentence. Usually, the loss would enrage Stiare, but if she lost Isaac, all she’d feel is relief.

Isaac scoffed. “Wait for me to die? You’re bluffing.”

“I don’t bluff.”

“You also don’t have patience, and everyone in my family has lived well into their eighties. Can you hang out doing a bunch of nothing for the next few decades?”

Stiare didn’t answer.

He pressed on. “You’re not going to wait around that long to prove a point.”

“I’ve done more ridiculous things.”

“I really irritate you that much, don’t I?”

“I would strangle the life from you if I could.”

But she couldn’t physically harm any human she met, not just the ones who wore the bracelet. Jinn didn’t consider humans a threat, so they weren’t worthy of attack.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, look…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not trying to be a dick, you know.”

“For not trying, you’re definitely successful.”

He flinched. “Yeah, uh, I have a knack for that.”

“Yes.”

Isaac slumped in his chair. “I can’t—this is all insane, you know? I wasn’t supposed to find a magic bracelet with a jinn in it. I was just cleaning out my aunt’s gross attic.”

Stiare glanced around Isaac’s cramped, unkempt apartment. He wasn’t the most unclean or disgusting human she’d come across, but his cleanliness habits left him no room to judge someone else’s.

“You made the choice to put it on.”

The bracelet called to those most desperate. Those who wouldn’t likely question getting three wishes for seemingly nothing.

Isaac looked away from her. “Yeah, I did.”

Stiare crossed her arms. She nodded at the notebook. “Why are you so meticulous with this wish, outside of trying to avoid getting screwed over?”

“My brother died last year. He was run over by a drunk driver after soccer practice. I was supposed to pick him up. I was late. I don’t remember why. I just was. And it doesn’t matter why, anyway. He’s gone.”

“I told you, I can’t bring back the dead.”

“I know that.”

“So…?”

“If I’d just shown up on time, he’d still be here.” Isaac gave a bitter laugh. “I want my wishes to be meaningful. To be the one right thing I’ve ever accomplished.”

“I see.”

“That’s stupid, isn’t it?”

Stiare cocked an eyebrow. Humans didn’t ask what she thought of their wishes. They listened to the few rules and then made their demands. She was but a means to an end. Her opinion didn’t matter. The less she talked, the better.

“You would be the first who had noble intentions,” she finally told him.

He stared at her.

“Noble intentions are…a pleasant change,” she added, meaning every word.

Isaac blinked. “You’ll grant my wishes, then?”

Stiare studied his face—tired, earnest, and maddeningly human. She hated that it moved her at all.

“I will.” She tapped the notebook. “I’ll even help you so they have the best chance of turning out as well as you hope.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks,” Stiare said. Then added, “But no guarantees, either. A wish won’t heal your grief or guilt. After getting what you want, you may feel no better than you do now.”

“Fair enough.”

Stiare stepped back, giving Isaac space. For the first time in days, the air around them felt lighter.

“I still think you’re arrogant,” she said.

“And you still terrify the shit out of me.”

A pause.

“Maybe,” he muttered, “we can work with that.”

She tilted her head. “Perhaps we can.”