He cracked his eyes to pain, despite almost no light in the room. Long, almost silent minutes of such ministrations passed, the pain receding further and further. Finally, the dim outline resolved into an intimately familiar shape, though one he never thought to see here, in his own home, again.
“You.”
“Master, I live to serve. After your collapse you became sick, feverish. We knew not what to do. So some of us… we touched you,” her words continued, timid and terrified and filled with that worshiping tone that twisted the knife deeper. “Laid ointments as best we could. Brought you here to heal.”
Through the haze of lethargy, pain, and the blackness surrounding any events after Martinez, his inner voice began its sardonic subtext. He had begun to take them for granted. Had gotten used to what he’d done. Used his sense of guilt for a shield that allowed him to continue to use them in such fashion, ignoring his own humanity being lost.
The memories of the whole, fantastic ordeal unfolded like an unlocked treasure chest. The betrayal by his assistant, a possessed magus, with his ludicrous attempts to distract Adrian with outrageous lies. Despite it all, despite the lunacy of the man and his failed attempt to destroy Adrian, he knew the man did speak one word of truth. He had taken too much for granted. Had turned humans-once friends, once… lovers (even now it hurt to think about it)-into something less. Less than human. Knew he must start down a different path if he was to avoid becoming mad. Avoid becoming Martinez and embracing magic to the point of allowing a spirit to possess him in his feverish desire to find other magus. Knew now that other magus did exist, that other magus could be found, but the current price for finding them was unacceptable.
That different path must start now. His tongue scraped at lizard-dry lips, working moisture into his mouth before he spoke her name with as much reverence as she intoned his.
“Kim.”
The Wish of a Wish by Robert T. Jeschonek
You’d think genies might get a wish to themselves now and then… but from the pain in Magda’s eyes when she opens the mansion’s door, I can see she’s getting zero wish fulfillment out of life.
“Yes?” Her eyes are beautiful, an unearthly bright greenish gold, but the look in them is one of pure misery.
“Good morning, ma’am.” I flash her my badge, and she winces. “Oliver Singel, State Department of Mystic Revenue. I’m here to see Mr. Rudolph Gunza.”
She ushers me in without hesitation. She doesn’t fear me at all; as a genie, she need fear only one man in all the world.
That man is her master, Rudy Gunza.
As she closes the heavy door behind me, I gaze around at the opulent entryway. Everything is glittering gold and crimson velvet and gleaming marble, from the winding staircase to the fountain in the middle of the giant room.
Ill-gotten gains, all of it. Whipped up on a whim and a wish by the magical beauty standing in front of me.
She tosses her head, and the lush, black curls flop about her shoulders. She straightens the dark blue satin bodice of her outfit, smooths the silk harem pants below her taut bare midriff.
Even with the beaten look in her eyes, even with her mouth and chin covered by a pale blue veil, she looks breathtaking. She looks more perfect and radiant than any woman alive, as beautiful as any fantasy sculpted by a man’s imagination.
Then again, she has to, doesn’t she?
“What business do you have with Master Gunza?” There’s a hint of a glint in her eye as she says it-a flicker of power. She might not be able to exercise it against her master, but that doesn’t mean she can’t use it against someone else, like me.
“Serious business,” I tell her. “Tax business.”
“Oh-ho!” Gunza’s jolly voice booms from the top of the staircase. “And here I thought this was purely a friendly visit!”
A weak smile doesn’t quite make it onto my face. “Hello, Rudy.”
Gunza wobbles down the stairs, looking like a tubby sheikh. His glittering red robes can’t hide the stupendous gut wagging in front of him.
When he and I were partners, he never had a gut at all.
“Long time no miss!” says Gunza as he drops from the last marble stair to the floor. “How’s the old gang of idiots?”
“Better than ever, now that you’re gone,” I tell him.
Gunza throws an arm around Magda’s shoulders and squeezes her tight. “Oleo and I used to work together! Isn’t that something, Magda? We was revenooers together.”
Magda’s head bobbles as he jerks her around. Her flat stare drifts past me like litter on a breeze.
“Went after tax evaders, didn’t we?” says Gunza. “Folks who didn’t pay the state a piece of the action from wishes granted and spells cast.”
“It’s income, Magda.” I wave my clipboard at the surrounding opulence. “The state deserves its share under the law.”
“Bull-squat, Oleo.” Gunza chortles and strokes his braided red mustache. “Let the state get its own genie.”
“Yes, fine idea.” I walk around the room, taking notes on the clipboard. “We could get one the way you did. Force an old lady at gunpoint to use up her three wishes on nothing and hand over the lamp.”
Gunza’s grin darkens. “Hey now, Oleo. That was a straight-up gift, and no one can prove otherwise.”
“Almost no one.” I shoot a look at Magda, and she turns away.
Gunza shrugs. “If a door closes, open a window. The department passed me over for a promotion-which you got-but Mrs. Sandusky thought I deserved an even greater reward. She wished for me to have it.”
The walls are made of alternating gold and platinum ingots, which I note on my clipboard. “Well, I wish you’d paid your taxes.” I write more on the clipboard. “If I were you, I’d wish you don’t have a coronary when you see the grand total you owe the state.”
“I don’t owe one cent!” Gunza releases Magda and storms over to grab my clipboard.
I snatch it right back. “You lazy prick. How hard could it be to pay your taxes? You already wished for unlimited wishes, didn’t you?”
Gunza smirks. “That was my first wish.”
“Why not wish for her to pay your taxes?” I point my pen at Magda.
“Because I don’t choose to.” Gunza’s features twist into a scowl. “Because I am the master.”
I shake my head in disgust. “You’re just like all the rest. All the other scum you used to help me bust.”
Gunza gazes into my eyes for a long moment, nodding slowly. “Run,” he says finally.
I know where this is going. I knew from the moment I walked into the place.
“I wish…” says Gunza.
I swing the clipboard at his head, but he knocks it away with one thick forearm.
Before I can take another swing, he finishes his sentence. “I wish that a hunting party of madmen and monsters will hunt down Oliver Singel, then torture and mutilate him for as long as I wish… and not kill him, no matter how much he begs for it.”
Magda’s eyes meet mine. They well with regret and resignation.
I reach out to her. “Magda, please! Don’t do it! I’m here to help you!”
Gunza giggles and smacks me on the back. “He’s a liar! He’s just here for his precious revenooo!”
“I’m sorry.” Magda weaves her arms in the air, and a cloud of twinkling glitter swirls above her. “I have no choice but to obey my master.”
“Wrong!” Even as the misshapen forms materialize before me, I keep trying. “I can help you! Tell me what you want!”