The weight of my pouch is a little heavier as I march along the streets. The iron ball—washed and sterilized—is back in there, and so are both of the fangs—also washed but not sterilized.
My gait tends to get people to look at me twice, more so than my clothing, but I pay no one any attention, and I doubt most remember me for more than a few seconds once I’ve walked by. If you walk with purpose, people leave you alone, but they also get out of your way. That’s all I want—for people to get out of my way and leave me be.
It’s a lonely job, being a supernatural bounty hunter, even if you have to talk to clients.
And that’s where I’m off to. It’s time for the genie to pay up.
Amad lives in a small apartment. Most genies nowadays are free. I think they were only ever really captured and forced to grant wishes back in the middle ages and even earlier. There might still be a few trapped in urns or lamps throughout the world, and I would not want to be the ones to unleash them. I shudder to think what they might do.
“You want to be the richest man in the world?” Proceeds to dump enough gold coins onto the man until he suffocates from their weight.
“You want to be loved?” Gives them a stalker who ends up killing them because the wish-maker dared to breathe air the stalker didn’t provide him.
“You want someone raised from the dead?” Raise the person, but the zombie kills the wish-maker.
And so on and so forth. Yeah, no thanks. The only one who is going to grant my wishes is me. I don’t rely on anyone else, not even clients.
I climb the stairs two at a time and knock on the door marked “3C.” The “C” hangs crooked, and my fingers itch to straighten it. In the end, I do.
The door opens. Amad waves me inside without a word.
As soon as the door shuts, a puff of smoke appears. Before, a man with dark skin, black eyes, and a goatee stood before me. Now, in his place, stands a teal-colored genie with the same goatee but dark green eyes, no white at all. Genies' eyes are a bit unnerving if you ask me.
Still without speaking, the genie holds out his hand. I reach my hand inside my pouch and curl my fingers around one of the fangs.
“My payment?” I ask.
Amad bares his terrible teeth, and I shudder and glance away. I've never met a genie with nice teeth. They're either rotting or filed to points and razor-sharp. I'm not sure what they have against dentists.
“My payment,” I repeat, but it’s not a question this time.
The genie’s bottom half is a swirling mess of teal cloud that solidifies into pants wrapped in bulky blue pants. He grabs a small bag from his pockets and holds it out.
Swiftly, I hold out the fang, and we quickly make the exchange. He’s being far too distrusting. I don’t get it. I killed the vampire, and this isn’t the first time he’s used my services either. Amad hadn’t been like this before. What’s gotten his smoke cloud all stormy?
He’s paid me in coins I’ve never seen before.
“What is this?” I demand.
“Qirsh coins,” he says, his words heavily accented.
“Are they even used nowadays?” I ask suspiciously.
“You asked for payment. You have received payment.”
“I don’t want this. You paid me in dollars last time. I want greenbacks.” I glower at him.
The genie grins, flashing his teeth again. “You can want what you want, but I don’t have to do as you wish.”
I’ve never turned on a client, but I’m tempted. No other client has ever treated me like this before, not even when I had been sixteen and first started this business.
“I killed the vampire.”
“Yes, but only after the vampire killed yet again.”
I throw up my hands. “I tried to save her—”
“But you were too late, and she hadn’t been the only one to die.”
Are you kidding me? He’s displeased because the vampire killed people while I hunted him?
“If you wanted no one killed, you should have mentioned that to me,” I say airily, trying to fool him into thinking I’m not furious with him.
Spoiler alert. I am.
The genie’s look is terrifying. I haven’t had much personal experience with demons, but to say Amad looks demonic is not an exaggeration.
“Look. You wanted the vampire dead. He’s dead. Could’ve brought him in alive, but…”
“Vampires are evil, vile creatures,” Amad bursts out. “They hunt your kind, and yet all you care about is money. You should have been willing to kill him for free!”
“You could have killed him yourself, but no. You hired me to do it. I don’t know why you’re playing the murders of those people on me, but their blood is on the vampire’s fangs. I don’t even have fangs.”
“This is not a joking matter.”
"I'm not joking. I didn't kill those people. The vampire did, and you have the fang. The vampire can't return. He can't kill anymore, so you got what you want. Now, do your part and pay me properly."
“What are you going to do if I refuse?” the genie asks. He crosses his arms, his legs disappearing into mist again.
Amad looks like such a stereotypical genie right now. All he needs to do is put his long hair into a ponytail. I don’t think I’ll tell him that, though. He’s angry enough as it is.
“You’re far too callous with human life.”
“Am I? Except I’m human, and you aren’t.”
“Plenty of humans don’t care for fellow humans’ lives. Look at how many wars you humans have fought.”
“Yes, because I can and should be blamed for what my ancestors have done. We aren’t at war.”
“You aren’t personally, but other humans are.”
"So, I'm supposed to be lumped in with the worst of my kind?" I shake my head. What is his point?
“Vampires are evil.”
“Not all of them,” I say, even though it pains me.
“Yes, they are. They need humans’ blood—”
“Not all of them drink from the source,” I say through gritted teeth.
He narrows his eyes. “You would defend them? Have you… Has one hired you?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your concern,” I snap. “Do you want me to start asking you questions? Why do you want a fang from a vampire anyhow? Seems to me an item like that could be used in a spell. Are you working with a witch? You do know that not all witches are good, don’t you? What if you are in leagues with one who is evil?”
“I thought that one of your tenets was that you did not ask questions.”
“Normally, my clients know better than to question me.” I will not be bullied, and I will defend myself. No genie is going to make me cower.
“Your callous nature is going to end up getting more and more killed.”
I smirk. “Did you forget that you hired me to kill the vampire? If I could’ve just captured him and brought him to you alive, then I could have snatched him the moment I first came across him, but no. You wanted me to kill him and fetch you a fang. Not only that, you wanted a specific vampire’s fang. Not any old vampire would do.” I shrug. “I’m not asking why. I’m just stating the facts. Why you want that vampire’s fang is your business, but I will say one thing. Since I don’t plan on giving up my bounty hunting business, I will get more killed because I will be doing the killing. Oh, and think of it this way. I killed the vampire. Yes, he killed a few more while I hunted him—”
“Five! And that isn’t including the girl!”
“But he can’t kill anyone else now,” I finish.
“Who are you to play god?” he roars.
“That’s funny,” I say dryly. “You played god with that vampire.”
“Is everything a joke to you?” he spits out.
“I’m not laughing,” I inform him. “Oh, and by the by, the vampire was older than you told me he was. I had the…”
I trail off, thinking furiously. The amount of vampire repellant I used should have killed a vampire as old as the genie claimed the vampire was. I should’ve had more, a lot more.
But what if the genie specifically told me the wrong age on purpose?
“Did you want me to die?” I ask.
“I thought you don’t ask questions,” Amad growls.
“Oh, come off it, Amad. I don’t ask clients questions, but we both know you aren’t going to hire me again, are you?”
He floats higher in the air, his cloud growing bigger, wider.
“You wanted the vampire to kill me. Did you even want that fang? I suppose you could always sell it to a witch.” I shake my head and scoff. “What do you have against me, if I may ask?”
“I’ve been watching you,” the genie says. “I hoped you were making a difference, that you were selective with the cases you took on. After all, it did seem like you were killing evil paranormal creatures, but that’s not always the case. In fact, that’s more happenstance, isn’t it? It only matters what the client will pay you, isn’t that right?”
I say nothing.
“You only want money and nothing else. You didn’t ask me about the vampire I had you kill. You claim some are good. What if you had killed a good one?”
“You know my tenet. I don’t ask questions of the client, so why should I look into the target? That doesn’t exactly make any sense. That’s first of all. Second of all, that vampire killed a woman right in front of me as well as the five others you mentioned. That’s not a good vampire.”
The genie eyes me. “You think that because you killed an evil vampire—”
“I’ve killed more than one vampire,” I say dryly.
“And I can kill you in an instant if I wanted to,” he hisses, zooming over to tower over me.
“Go ahead,” I challenge him. “Take a whiff. You can smell emotions, right? Do you smell fear? You don’t. I’m not afraid of you. You want something from me. What? An eyelash? Spit? Some blood? Because if you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have debated and talked ethics with me for so long. It must be something that won’t change after death if you did want the vampire to kill me. A fingernail? A bone?”
The genie shrinks and turns his back to me, his cloud dissipating as his legs reappear. “You should leave now before I do kill you.”
I toss the small bag at him and misjudge the distance. Instead of the bag landing near his feet, the bag hits him square in the back of his knee. I couldn’t have hit that exact spot if I tried.
“I wish you would tell me what all of this was about,” I say softly.
The genie stiffens. “We don’t give wishes,” he mutters disgustedly.
“Oh, I realize that, but I still wish you would tell me.”
I didn't realize that. I really did think the wish thing was real. Genies do have tremendous power, and I can't believe that all the stories about their being trapped were the figments of someone's imagination. No, people at one point had found a way to get the genies to do their bidding, aka grant their wishes.
Amad says nothing. I roll my eyes and head to the door.
“I wanted you dead,” he says softly. “I thought you might prove to be a threat. I hoped you could have actually done something amazing and wonderful with your life, but that’s not going to happen, not if you don’t start asking questions and asking the right ones.”
I say nothing. So I disappointed him. What do I care? I barely even know the genie.
I open the door.
“You forgot your payment,” he calls.
“Keep your coins.”
He murmurs something in another language, but I don’t ask what it means, and I leave the apartment complex.
About a block away, I realize my pouch is heavier than it should be. Inside are two solid gold pieces. Thick but malleable gold pieces. They’re pure gold.
There’s also a note.
We're even now. You did what I asked, even if I wanted you to fail. I know how much money you are trying to save. I just don't know why. Perhaps this will help, but, truly, Rebel, start to ask the right questions.
Amad’s right. I am trying to save up a lot of money. What he doesn’t know is that I do have a lot of questions, questions I desperately need answers to. Maybe, with these gold coins, I’ll get them sooner rather than later.