In a Bottle... Ch. 07

"Yeah, man. You're not looking for a fix, I hope? Stuff's nasty. I'd stick with weed if I were you."

"No, I never got into anything hard. I quit smoking a while back, it got too expensive. I was wondering if you could track somebody down for me. A guy named Bróktic Salauntia."

"No problemo, amigo. I'll send word down through the streets," he said.

"The thing is, I don't care about him. He knows something about another crew. The magi? I need to find them," Alan fished, limiting the amount of information he was willing to divulge, even to Dan.

"Never heard of em. If this guy has dirt though, I know guys that can get him to talk. Hey Al?" He paused.

"Yeah?"

"Nobody calls em crews, man. That's TV bullshit," he said laughing again.

"Thanks," Alan sighed, relieved to have some good luck finally. "I appreciate the help, dude. I'll talk to you later."

"Peace out, brother," he said and the line went dead.

Alan set the phone down and stretched his back. He was still tense from sitting in the car for most of the day. He tossed his pants on the floor and got into bed, ready to be done with one of the craziest days he had had in awhile.

- - -

Alan wandered in the darkness, unsure of the why or where. He saw nothing but vague shapes and as he continued to walk eventually even those too became obscured. Not even the faintest twinkle of reflected light reached his eyes. Within this place he became disoriented, the darkness almost palpable, more like a thick gas than a lack of light--moving, inundating upon itself in little whirls. His feet continued to pace along some solid surface, unsure if even that was real.

He listened to his footsteps, his mind focusing more on sound now that he didn't need to concern himself with vision. They echoed oddly, the sounds almost beginning to form together into words. He stopped walking and listened. The echoing sounds continued, getting louder rather than quieter. He could almost make them out. It sounded like...

"...see if these can hold up better than your last."

Without warning the darkness was banished as a great sphere of flame the size of a beach ball ignited in mid-air and began chasing him. Alan turned and ran as it roared behind him, quickly closing the distance. He knew he couldn't outrun it so he ducked down and rolled to the side in an attempt to get out of its way. It shrieked past him, blasting him with enough heat to cause the little hairs on his arms to curl. He followed its path with his eyes and realized it was headed straight for Carmella.

"Look out!" he yelled too late.

She looked up to see who had yelled and saw the ball of fire racing towards her. Panic washed over her face for a split second and then it was upon her. The force of it took her off her feet and then the flame consumed her.

Carmella screamed, irrevocably burned beyond recognition. Alan rushed to her side to hold her, but the faster he ran the farther away she seemed. His legs moved like they were encased in thick sap, each step a tremendous effort. His lungs hurt from lack of oxygen. He sucked in a breath trying to get some air and somehow got a mouthful of soot instead. He coughed violently and fell to the ground, helpless, his energy spent.

"...master..."

Alan looked up at the sound of her voice. Carmella was now mere feet away from him just outside of arms reach, her skin blackened and flaky. Her hand was outstretched, trying to get to him. She was nothing more than an ash mommet, a facsimile of her former self. He crawled across the ground reaching out to her. They grasped hands briefly, fingers intertwined, before her hand disintegrated in his.

Alan sat upright in bed, his body twisted in his sheets. He fought to disentangle his arm, his fingers shaking.

He had fallen asleep. None of it was real.

Except that it was. Or it had been in some fashion at one time.

Alan blinked several times trying to clear the dancing clouds of shadow from his vision. His heart thundered in his chest and his knuckles hurt from clenching his fists so tightly. He shook his hands a few times to try and loosen the muscles, opening and closing them.

"Hell of a nightmare," he muttered to himself, letting out a deep breath.

Alan stood, finally free of his bedcovers, and padded quietly across the hall to check on the harem; who knew when the magi might return? He peeked inside and was greeted by the soft breathing of four sleeping women and the innocent burble of the fountain. Djinni were magical beings and required no sleep, but they all chose to seem more normal by sleeping when Alan did. He was grateful for the little things they did for him.

Alan took three steps into the room on the balls of his feet before he reflexively shrouded himself in an enchantment of silence. He caught himself just after he had finished and paused briefly to chuckle--silently of course--at the fact that he had been using magic so frequently the past week that it seemed to come without much thought.

He looked down upon them, their forms strewn about the enormous circular bed without any particular rhyme or reason. Misty, with her long black hair splayed out around her, framing her cute freckled face; Magik, one arm draped over the side of the bed looking like she was about to fall off; Lucky, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of green boyshorts that perfectly hugged her behind; and Carmella, curled up into a little ball on the far side.

Alan watched them for a moment, the rise and fall of their chests calming his nerves after his disturbing dream. His breathing unconsciously slowed to match theirs. He moved around to the other side of the bed, released his enchantment, and stood beside Carmella. Ever so lightly, he reached out and brushed his fingers along the smooth skin of her arm. He still loved how her skin reminded him of the color of a rich caramel candy, almost like he could stir it around with his finger. He let his finger trace a trail up along her shoulder before it dipped down to run along her collarbone and then tenderly ran his fingers through her almond-colored hair, exposing her neck.

As nimbly as he could manage, Alan laid down behind her in a spooning position so as not to wake her or disturb the others. He snuggled up close, laying one arm lightly across her torso and pulling her against him. She wiggled closer to him and sighed in her sleep, her slender butt pressed firmly against his groin. Alan buried his nose in her hair at the nape of her neck and inhaled long and slow, savoring her scent as he drifted back to sleep.

- - -

The following day Alan went to work actively looking for traces of a shimmer. After being caught unaware by both Eneros and the Master Genie he thought it would be in his best interest to force himself to think about looking for magic all around him, even if the chances of seeing anything were extremely slim.

Alan brought everyone with him to work again, this time with good reason. No longer was it a peripheral suspicion lingering in his mind from being attacked. He needed to keep them safe. The four genies seemed to sense that he wasn't in the mood to have them distracting him again, so they remained out of the way for most of the afternoon under the guise of his invisibility enchantment. Occasionally they would come up behind him and rub his shoulders, neck, and temples while he worked--staying strictly above the belt.

After he clocked out for the day, Alan took a jaunt over to some of his favorite pawn shops, antique shops, and general trinket stores. He had a vague idea of what he was looking for and decided that he would know when he saw it. In the end he purchased a chain necklace and a miniature gyroscope that he found.

When they got back to the apartment, and Alan was reassured that everything was safe, they went inside and he started dinner then began to unscrew and disassemble the gyroscope. When he had all of the pieces removed, Alan slid the oculus out of his pocket and into the center of the rings. He threaded the chain that he bought through the largest of the rings and finished reassembling the rings. He got a pair of needle-nosed pliers and bent the makeshift cage so that the rings would no longer rotate. Just to be sure he placed the sides where the screws inserted onto the hot burner of the stove while he finished cooking. The smell was awful, but once the metal was hot, he gripped the rings tightly in the pliers, braced it against the counter, and smacked it a few times with a hammer, hoping that it would fuse the screw permanently.

The smell and the noise got the better of Magik's curiosity and she came to see what he was up to. Looking over his shoulder as he hammered, she froze mid-stride.

"Master," she gasped. "Where did you get that?"

"From a friend," he said. He stopped there, hoping he wouldn't have to elaborate. He felt his face flush like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"That is extremely dangerous," she said, suddenly speaking in hushed tones. "Are you aware of what it is that you have?"

He set the hammer down and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Dangerous how?" He asked.

"That is an oculus. I do not know how you came upon it, but I hope it was truly from a friend," she urged. "I have never actually seen one. Only a djinn can create one... though I am not sure how. That little orb holds more power than I have in my entire body. Can you promise me that you didn't just pick this up at one of those trinket shops?"

"No," Alan shook his head. "I told you, it was given to me by a friend. I didn't buy it. I knew that it was powerful, but do you really think it has more magic than you? What can it do?"

Alan ran the whole thing under some cool water in the sink, spinning it slowly in his fingers and inspecting it. The metal rings were tarnished now from the heat, but the oculus within continued to glow.

"Yes, I have heard tales that the first master genie used its soul to create an oculus before it died. An oculus freely given is a gift. An oculus found is a curse. Only the one to whom it was given may gift it to another. To steal an oculus is to invite sickness and death into your life," she breathed, her eyes also drawn to the orb. "I am sure there are not many who could tell you its purpose. Certainly not myself."

Alan shut off the water and placed the chain around his neck. He tucked the oculus underneath his shirt, keeping it close to his skin.

"Master, about that conversation in the car yesterday," Magik whispered glancing back over her shoulder into the living room. "You already found a master genie. Didn't you?"

Alan gazed into her eyes and for a long time neither of them said anything.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Magik," he finally said. "But I made a promise. I am your protector now. I will not let any of you down again. I-"

He looked over her shoulder at the other genies watching TV in the living room.

"I may have to do something dangerous to keep my promise." He patted the little bulge under his shirt. "Something more dangerous than this."

- - -

After a few days of constantly looking over his shoulder, Alan finally got a phone call from Dirty Dan. Dan had an address for him already. Apparently Brock's security guards were smart enough to not want a war with a local gang. He had rolled over on the magi fairly quickly. Alan thanked Dan and told him he would remember the favor if he ever needed anything. He was impressed how quickly they had found Brock, a testament to the fact that his hands were likely in just as much dirty money as clean. Probably substantially more.

He would have been mentally exhausted from being paranoid except that Alan had managed to train his brain to lightly grasp a single concept even while unconscious--such as a simple enchantment. He remembered Lucky's containment chamber, the strange spell that had instilled within him that sense of deja vu. It gave him the idea to simply blend the front door of his apartment into the surrounding siding of the building, making it appear as if it wasn't even there. It had given him a sense of security. Enough to get a few hours of sleep each night anyway.

Saturday morning he decided that it was time to deliver on his word and go deal with the magi before they inevitably dealt with him. He told his genies to remain behind and drove across town. He parked his car a couple blocks away from the address he had written down on a scrap of paper and got out to hoof it the remainder of the way. It seemed like a smart thing to do since they probably knew what type of car he drove.

As he approached, the low howl of a train whistle off in the distance reminded Alan that he was downtown and that the train yard was nearby. It was a comforting sound that reminded him of his childhood for some reason. He thumbed the oculus dangling from his neck absent mindedly before letting it fall to his chest--a part of him hoping it would bring him courage.

He approached a building made of crumbling brick with a faded number on the side--2160--this was the place. It certainly didn't look like much, but he knew better than to doubt the loyalty of Dan. They had been friends long before he even knew what a real friend was.

Alan grabbed the handle of the rusty door and went inside. He tried his best to be ready for anything. He stepped into a room brightly lit by fluorescent lights. The same old brick walls framed the room but everything else seemed to have been extensively modernized. As he walked towards the front desk he noticed how brightly the tile flooring shone, almost as if it had been polished earlier that day.

"Can I help you, sir?" A voice asked him, bringing his attention back to the front desk.

"Yes, I'm here to speak with the magi," he said. He had already decided beforehand that he had a better chance of catching them off guard if he was simply blunt about things. He watched her eyes closely for any emotion to betray her.

"I'm sorry, Magi? I don't think I've heard of anyone by that name. Are you sure they work at this branch?" The receptionist answered.

Just then it occurred to Alan that Brock probably just lied to Dan then turned around and told the magi that he was searching for them to make some more money. Information was power, after all. He could even be standing in the middle of an ambush at the fake address.

Alan crumpled up the scrap of paper in his hand and threw it on the floor, cursing himself for his carelessness.

"Thank you, I'll check elsewhere," he called behind him as he hurried for the entrance.

He slowed down. Had something seemed amiss? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and turned back around. He had been forcing himself to constantly search for shimmers. Had he seen one just now? He couldn't remember accurately.

His eyes scanned the desk. Yes, there was definitely something there. It was muted amongst the brilliant lights overhead and the shiny floor, but it was noticeable. He glared at the woman behind the desk and she smiled back demurely. She was lying to him.

The receptionist stood then, revealing a shapely set of legs. She tossed her mane of long red hair once, letting it cascade down her shoulders to settle around her full breasts.

"You must be Alan," she stated, looking him directly in the eyes. It wasn't a question.

"You'll have to forgive me but I haven't heard nearly as much about you as you evidently have heard about me," he trailed off, prompting her to introduce herself.

"Winifrey, and yes, I am one of the magi as you've doubtlessly concluded."

"I saw the shimmer of magic. After what happened with Eneros I'm a little keyed up when it comes to that stuff. It's pretty hard to miss."

"Yes, well the same can be said for you. You're a very curious individual, Alan Castillo. You pulse with magic like you were made of the stuff, it's like you're not even trying to hide it," she said. Her smile faltered briefly.

Alan felt panic prickle up his arms and down his back at his foolishness. He had tried to hide the door to his apartment using magic. The magi would undoubtedly notice the shimmer if they came searching for him at that address. He had provided nothing but a false sense of security for himself; a child with a blanket over his head hiding from monsters.

Winifrey pressed on, "You and I both know you can't wish for more wishes--we've all tried that one. So how did you get such a strong signature?"

"Dust."

"I beg your pardon?" she replied with an eyebrow raised.

"Dust. You know, like faerie dust from pixies? Peter Pan, happy thoughts, all that jazz? Turns out the stuff actually works."

Winifrey's eyebrow steadily climbed her forehead as her skepticism rose. She obviously wasn't buying it, but Alan didn't care. Before she tried to slice-and-dice him or light him on fire he wanted to get some information out of her.

"So you're going to stick with that story, then?" she crooned. She came out from behind her facade of a desk, stepping around it with her long legs and high heels, and slowly walked toward him. Alan clenched his hands into fists, preparing himself for whatever was to come. She reached out towards him with five shining, manicured fingernails and Alan's hand snapped out and grabbed ahold of her wrist.

"Wait," he whispered. "If things have to be like this, I at least want to know why you are after me."

Winifrey looked genuinely surprised at both his hand on hers and his question. She wrenched her hand out of his grip, grabbed his tie with her other, pulled him close so her breasts were pressed firmly against his chest--was her shirt open that far earlier?--and her face was close enough that the fuzzy little hairs on her skin tickled his cheek.

"We are not after you," she breathed into his ear. "We covet the djinni, just as you do."

Then she ran her tongue around the inside of his ear. Somehow her hand had made it into his pants and began to slowly stroke up the inside of his thigh.

"B-b-but what can you use them for? They're obviously already bound to me." Alan stammered as his erection grew of its own accord. He hadn't counted on her trying to seduce him and was caught by surprise again. He took a step back and removed her hand from his pants. His mind felt empty, like someone had taken all of life's answers and replaced them with questions.

Winifrey smiled pointedly at his crotch before looking him in the eyes and unbuttoning her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She was wearing a tight pair of teal panties that grabbed his attention. He almost forgot what he had asked. Did it really matter?

"There are ways around that," she said as her shirt joined the skirt on the floor, "We can still drain them just as well while they're bound to a master, and much faster than you obviously. You've still kept them alive this whole time."

Alan tore his eyes away from her underwear and looked her in the eyes when he heard that. He suddenly remembered a fragment of what the master genie had told him and his anger flared. Something about decomposing from the inside out. He wouldn't let anyone drain his genies. He wouldn't let his testosterone get the better of him when it came to keeping his promise to protect his friends. Her eyes had gotten darker than before. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed how dark they were at first, it was hard to say. And somehow she had gotten half naked without him even realizing it. But obviously he had realized it, the giant erection in his pants was proof enough of that.

"Are you going to tell me your name at least before we have sex?" Alan asked the cute little vixen. He couldn't believe he had seduced the receptionist when he had come here looking for the magi.

The magi? Why did he need to see them?

Suddenly it became very hard to think about the magi. Alan knew that he had just been following a train of thought from somewhere, but he had no idea what. And there was a woman standing in front of him taking off her brassiere. When did she get there? Oh that's right, her name was Winifrey.