Chapter 5 #3
“And I have to answer. Each time. But people tell you what you did for so long, and… you just get tired of fighting. You start to figure out how you could have done it instead of saying you didn’t.
I don’t know.” Caspar scrubbed his face and let out a ragged breath.
“I did not do this. Probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.
Should have stayed quiet and waited until Anthony and his dad got there.
Maybe I would have gotten a deal, or something. Maybe…”
“No maybes, only black and white, yes or no. The world and wishes are not run on maybes.”
Malek was quiet. The silence made Caspar uncomfortable.
He shifted. “I suppose my defense strategy doesn’t matter anymore, yeah?
When it was over, I wrote to leagues and leagues of people about it.
I knew I was innocent, and apparently, someone else does if they’re willing to risk everything to break me out. Right?”
“Yes. Your name’s been cleared in our books, at least. But we’re still curious about how it all went down, you know?
There’s a lot of t’s to cross and i’s to dot in this system.
Normally we have the small stuff like your place, your new identity, things like that done sooner, but a few things made us rush this one. ”
“Like my eye?”
Malek nodded. “The Chaos Cartel and their reject members have been a spot on Jocasta’s immaculate reputation for a while now. She’s livid that she didn’t get to you in time, which is probably why we had to move so fast.”
“So those Chaos Mages actually helped me in the long run? Who knows how long I would have been waiting if not for their jolly hands?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
“Then how would you put it?” Caspar didn’t realize he’d raised his voice, and immediately chastised himself. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just a little on edge. Sugar. And memory lane, I guess.”
“It’s okay. I understand. You’ve been made into a legend. It’s gotta get to you, man. Before those dicks took your eye, you were already robbed of a lot.”
“Oh yeah. But I’m not a legend anymore, right? I’m dead now?”
“There is going to be a body labeled as you. Given a glamour spell so it seems like it’s you. We’ve done this before; all very standard. You’ll have a glamour, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“A glamour is a cloaking spell. You’ll look like yourself to yourself, but to everyone else, you’ll only bear a resemblance to the Ghoul of Main Street. They won’t be able to stare at you long enough to make the connection. Plus, with the public death, it’ll be like you’re gone for good.”
“Then I hide in plain sight in the Toronto apartment? Get a job as an accountant?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Caspar allowed them both to lapse into silence.
They pulled onto a busier highway. There was more to look at now, more to consider, and when Malek put on the radio, Caspar didn’t even tell him to stop.
He rolled over these details in his mind several times.
He wanted to be happy. He wanted to feel as if he’d been given a second chance.
But really? Being an accountant after living in a prison seemed like…
a letdown. This ending to his escape plan wasn’t as badass as he’d hoped.
He’d planned on being an accountant when he was in his early twenties in school, then maybe getting married and having kids.
Settling down in the suburbs after he’d sowed his wild oats.
But how could he even consider that as an option now, after everything he’d gone through?
Could someone like him even have a normal ending like that?
Not to mention he hadn’t studied economics in years, and had no idea if he even remembered basic bookkeeping.
At least I’ll still look like me. Caspar caught a glance of his reflection in the car’s mirror.
When he’d been a kid, he wished that he had blond hair to match his hazel eyes.
With blond hair, he could have blended in and been like one of his cool friends.
Instead, he came from the house that smelled too strongly of spices, and he was dark in some places while fair in others.
He’d grown to like his looks by the time he’d gone away to university.
Especially when his golden skin looked so, so good underneath so many of the men and women he took back to his dorm room.
Caspar blinked away the old memories. He’d no longer have to think of Isabella in his bunk late at night to get himself off, or focus on the feel of Randy’s mouth as he rubbed one out in the shower.
Now Caspar could have new men and women at his disposable.
And maybe they would like to fuck an accountant.
Who really knew what people were into anymore? Maybe boring was the new hip.
“So, my new life and new name,” Caspar said. “Are they part of my wishes?”
“No.”
“So… that’s out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Our hearts, yeah. You’ve had a bad time that you didn’t deserve, so we’re making sure you start life again on the right foot.
We’ve done this enough to understand that when people get out of prison or any kind of captivity, there are a couple things they want right away: food, clothing, shelter, and a job, among other things. ”
“Ah. So the Hickory Sticks aren’t just your vice?”
“Maybe not.” Malek grinned. “But beyond those things, I’m here to provide you with all that you may desire.”
“Desire, huh?”
“Well, there are rules.”
“So tell me the rules.” Caspar smiled. He wondered if they were flirting.
Could he flirt with a djinn? He wanted to—oh, did he ever want to—but he cooled his thoughts and tried to focus on the rules that would dominate his life for the next one thousand and one days—if he made it that long before using up his remaining two wishes.
“Like I said, wishes must be as specific as possible. No vague concepts. That’s why I asked for the traffic jam in that exact place.
If you said you wanted to get out of prison, well, you were already out of prison, in a bus.
So the wish was moot, you know? But what we really needed was enough time for J to put her escape plan into action.
You gave us time via the traffic jam. All other wishes must follow that example in specificity.
If you want money, you can’t say you want to be rich.
Saying that you’d like six grand deposited into your account every month for twelve years, though, that would make you rich, so that works as a wish. ”
“Okay. Where does this stuff come from, though?”
“That’s another rule: A djinn’s magic must work with energy and materials already available.
If you ask for an ice cream sundae, you get it—but it isn’t just conjured out of thin air.
It’s repurposed from ice cream and chocolate sauce that already exists.
The cash you ask for would come from someone else, too. In theory, it’s stealing.”
“In theory,” Caspar repeated. “So how do you see it?”
“Well, insurance companies live off this kind of damage. Stuff goes missing from shipments or businesses all the time. Insurance covers it—it’s what they’re paid to do.
When something big goes missing, it’s probably a djinn behind it.
You must always ask for something that exists and can be repurposed so someone else—the insurance companies—can cover whatever damage is left from that wish. ”
“So wishes are damaging?”
“Everything is damaging. Everything comes at a cost,” Malek said, his voice grave. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wish for something or want to have something. It means you must be responsible, though.”
“Got it. What can’t I do, though?”
“Don’t mess with people. Along those lines, you can’t ask for anyone dead to come back to life or anyone living to die.
You can’t make people fall in love. You can’t force people into actions, basically, because it’s not a renewable resource.
You can try to persuade them with gifts, but you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do. You can’t remove that choice.”
Caspar bit back his questions about sex, especially sex pertaining to djinns themselves. “But your chains on the bus… I didn’t wish for that, so how did that work?”
“The ring you have binds me to you. As soon as I’m bound, I can’t belong to anyone else—so the chains come off. I can only be bound to the person possessing my item or the head djinn. Our patriarch, if you will.”
“So not Jocasta?”
“Not quite. I’m… not as powerful as other djinns, so not all the same rules apply to me.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You don’t really want to hear the story behind it.”
“Why not? Sounds more interesting than the stuff I’ve been overhearing in the cafeteria the past eight years. I could wish for you to tell me, right?”
Malek smiled, light and easy, but he also shook his head. “No, you couldn’t. But I could conjure up some of those romance novels you seem to like.”
“Oh, God. How did you…”