G is for Genies: A-Z of Horror, #7

By P.J. Blakey-Novis

G is for Genies, the seventh book in an epic series of twenty-six horror anthologies. In this book you will find a collection of thirteen mystical tales from some of the most exciting independent writers on the scene today. What happens when you can have your every desire come true? What price must be paid for this gift? G is for Genies contains a variety of stories, from the innocent wishes of youth, to the horrors of a brutal serial killer, and everything in between.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Cape Publishing
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201296766

Book preview

Red Cape Publishing Presents...

The A-Z of Horror: G is for Genies

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 Red Cape Publishing

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Red Cape Graphic Design

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Interior Artwork by Art Autopsy

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Broken Globe

Joshua Boliard

Alexander Mitchell sat at his small desk. It was just large enough to hold his laptop, a folder filled with papers, a desk lamp that glowed a soft yellow, and a snow globe he used as a paperweight. The office he occupied was a corner office, but lacked any windows to make that a selling point. The only window sat next to the door and, when the blinds were open, they showed a mass of cubicles that on any normal day would be occupied by around fifty under-paid, and some unpaid, interns.

Mitchell's phone buzzed and he glanced at it. It was an email from his boss recapping their conversation from that afternoon. Before Mitchell read the email, he noted the carbon copy section of the email contained his boss's boss and that man's boss. Mitchell let out a long sigh. He knew that meant the conversation had not been as candid as his boss made it seem. Fifteen years at this firm and they were preparing to push him out the door. Over one mistake. Granted, that mistake cost the company $1.5 million. It didn't matter that over the last year Mitchell alone brought in well over $5 million. The loss also brought negative press. Negative press in their business was harder to fix than a loss in money.

Mitchell picked up the snow globe and looked inside. A frame made of candy canes wrapped around a picture of Mitchell holding his daughter, Anna. In the picture she was five. He held her on his shoulders and her smile revealed a missing front tooth. Mitchell smiled. When he felt overwhelmed, he just needed to see Anna's face. It put everything in perspective. If he made it to Friday, he would see her in person and his mind would reset.

Gently, he set down the snow globe and finished reading the email. Just as he suspected, the email detailed the conversation while placing emphasis on certain words: avoidable, unnecessary, unacceptable, last time.

Mitchell closed the email and pocketed the phone. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers against his temple. Concentrating on the air flowing into his nose and down to his lungs, he pushed his boss out of his mind. On his twentieth breath, a light knock on the door interrupted him. He opened his eyes and stood up. When he opened the door, one of the interns stood on the other side.

Mr. Mitchell, I hate to bother you. I know you were supposed to be gone already, but I saw that you were still in your office and... well this gentleman was very insistent that he speak with you. Mitchell glanced behind the young girl, who he could swear was named Ashley, at the man standing five feet back. He wore blue jeans with holes in the knees and a white t-shirt with a blue and black flannel unbuttoned over it. His hat on his head sported the label for a major beer company. In his right hand was a red vase.

Great. It's always the hicks that find them.

Me specifically? Mitchell asked.

No, not you specifically. But he demanded to talk to someone here, and since you were the only one left in the office-

Look, man. I found one and I want to make my demands, the man interrupted Ashley.

Wishes, Mitchell corrected before turning back to Ashley. Would you mind getting me and Mr...

James, the man said after he realized the long pause was waiting on his name.

...James a couple cups of coffee? I have a feeling we might be here a while.

Sure, I was just planning on leaving.

And you may, as soon as we get our coffees. I'll have mine with two sugars and a bit of hazelnut creamer.

Y'all got any of that vanilla coffee? Mr. James's voice oozed Alabama.

I'm sure I can find some. Ashley turned and walked back towards the office's kitchen, leaving Mitchell and James alone. James quickly moved forward, swapping the vase from one hand to the other, it slipping in his grip slightly and James overcompensating by pulling it into his chest like a football. Mitchell sucked in a quick gasp of air as it happened, then released when it seemed safe. James stuck his hand out. After a brief pause, Mitchell accepted his hand and shook. The redneck's grip significantly stronger than Mitchell's.

Earl James, but my friends call me 'Buck.'

Of course they do.

Nice to meet you, Earl. My name is Alexander Mitchell, Mitchell said through gritted teeth. Mitchell turned into his office and motioned for James to follow him. Have a seat. And please set that down on the desk.

Mitchell took his place in his chair and allowed James to follow him. James looked around the office before sitting down in one of the two chairs opposite his desk. James set the vase down on the desk between them. As he placed it down, it rolled on its base slightly before settling flat on the desk. Once again, Mitchell found himself slowly releasing the tense breath in his lungs.

So, about these demands, James started.

Wishes, Mitchell corrected again.

Wishes, whatever. It can be whatever I want, right?

To an extent. Mitchell stared at the vase, its dull red paint faded after what one could only assume to be three thousand years of use. The material was clearly clay, visible between the chips of paint. Around the lip of the vase and the bottom of the base in raised characters were text: Sumerian. Pressed into the lip of the opening, a hard block designed with this specific vase in mind held the power at bay.

What do you mean, to an extent? Ain't these things all-powerful?

Of course they are, Mr. James. These 'things' are more powerful than any other creature that has walked this planet.

Then it should be able to give me anything I want?

Mr. James, I'm going to be frank with you. You are smarter than you put on, otherwise you would have released this creature the moment you found it and made your wishes. But instead you waited to bring it here, to take it through the proper channels.

Nah, that was all Sarah, James shook his head.

Sarah?

She's my girl. She was with me when Kyle and I were out hunting. I spotted this thing laying in the grass. I picked it up and Sarah got all excited. Started screamin' we was rich. Truth be told, Mr. Mitchell, I never believed in these things. I thought y'alls were a scam.

I understand the doubt. In a typical year, we only have maybe ten clients. And rarely are they locals.

Oh, I ain't local. I drove up here to Boston from Georgia.

Not a local? Shocked.

Most of our business is done overseas, but we have built up the reputation as the best in our field.

So, you control these dee-jinn?

Djinn, the 'D' is silent. And no. We don't control them. We simply figure out what you want and phrase it in the best possible way.

So, I tell you my wishes?

First, we discuss terms, Mitchell opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out a file.

Ok. What kind of terms?

First, we determine your first wish.

There was a sudden knock on the door frame. Ashley stood in the doorway with two cups of coffee. She handed one to James and set the other on the desk next to the snow globe.

Was there anything else you needed before I left for the night, Mr. Mitchell? she asked, smiling as her eye caught the photo on his desk.

No, I believe we will be fine. Enjoy your evening, I will see you in the morning.

Thank you, Mr. Mitchell, Ashley said as she exited the room.

Hold on, you get to decide what my first wish is? James asked once Ashley was gone.

In a sense, but I can all but guarantee it will be the same wish you originally would have made.

How do you know that?

Mitchell set down the paperwork in front of him and looked James in the eyes. I'm going to assume you planned on wishing for money?

Well, uh, yeah. I guess that would have been my first wish.

It almost always is.

So, I can still wish for money? Good. I was thinking a hundred billion dollars.

Twenty-five million, Mitchell counter offered.

What? No. Why would I ask for so little if I could have any amount possible? James looked offended at the low amount.

Twenty-five million and we keep five million.

That means all I get is a measly twenty million? That hardly seems fair.

No, it doesn't seem fair. Why are you getting twenty million to begin with?

Let me explain something, Mr. James. The djinn are not benevolent. They are held against their will and forced to grant wishes to the 'lucky' souls who find them. For centuries the djinn granted wishes like a monkey's paw. The blank look on James's face confirmed to Mitchell that he was not a reader. Basically, they would take the person's wish and grant it in a way that would make the person regret wishing. I've heard tales of people wishing for immortality and having their heads chopped off, only being able to live life as an unmoving lump, trapped forever.

Well, this is bullshit. I can't just get whatever I want?

Not exactly. That is why you hire us, though. We work with you and get as close to your wishes as possible while creating the wording that would bind the djinn to the wish without putting you in danger.

James sat, his face unmoving. Mitchell allowed him a moment before asking the question, Do you want to hire us?

I want more money.

Of course you do.

Twenty-five million is the most we can do without causing economic problems. Money just doesn't appear. It has to come from somewhere. What we do is utilize the djinn to take ten thousand of the firm's money and put it in the stock market. Typically, the turnaround for the full amount is thirty days.

Fuck that, I ain't waiting thirty days. I should be able to get my cash now.

Mitchell took a deep breath, This is the safest route to ensure you get the money. If we were to...

You keep saying 'we' as if you was there with me when I found this thing. You wasn't.

Mitchell took another deep breath and counted to five. He thought back to his boss and the conversation they had just that day. Mitchell let a client walk. The man found a lamp somewhere on a beach in France. When the gentleman showed Mitchell the lamp over a video conference, Mitchell noticed the Egyptian hieroglyphic around the base. The paint had begun wearing off the brass. This meant that the djinn would only be held for a handful of releases. When this happens, one of the wishes needs to be spent on refreshing the lamp. It is unfortunate for the finder as they lose a wish, but when this happens the firm waves their fee. The way the higher-ups see it, if the djinn is released, then they lose any potential future customers. To the firm, it just makes sense to take the hit than lose potential figures.

But that gentleman had been not too receptive to the idea of losing a wish. After a heated discussion involving choice words from both the Frenchman and Mitchell, the Frenchman decided to take his chances and make the wishes himself. That was last month. Just yesterday a news report surfaced of a man getting shot in some married couples' room. The couple claimed the man appeared out of nowhere. One minute the couple was engaging in carnal activities, the next a man was standing over their bed, naked with his genitals in his hands.

Mitchell got a photo of the man and confirmed it was the Frenchman. He had mentioned in their conversation that he wanted superpowers. It didn't take long for word to travel around the firm and soon Mitchell's head was on the chopping block.

Nah, man. I think I'll take my chances with the dee-jinn, James's voice brought Mitchell snapping back to reality.

Sir, that would be unwise.

Look, I only came here because Sarah asked me to. I didn't want to drive all the way up here, but she insisted that it would be the safest way to handle this thing. And I'm starting to think that she was wrong. Clearly you people just want to take my rightfully earned wishes.

Mitchell slowly inhaled as he stood up. He grabbed the snow globe off his desk and looked at the picture inside. Anna smiled at him. He smiled as he said, Sir, I want you to think carefully. The creature in this container is not something to be messed with. It will use any opportunity to hurt you and the ones you love. It doesn't care what you think about it, it just knows one thing: vengeance. Do you know why these creatures are locked up?

Uh- no...

Long ago, monsters and men lived side by side. Monsters tormented man, while man hunted them. Man hunted most of the monsters down to extinction. Do you know why that is?

Cuz we were smarter than them?

Far from it. What we are good at is reproduction, Mr. James. We as humans are super good at that. We fuck so often that soon our numbers were able to just overpower anything that opposed us. Just by sheer numbers alone, we were able to hunt most monsters down to extinction. But the djinn proved to be problematic. They cannot die. How do you hunt something that cannot die? Mitchell set the snow globe back down on the desk and grabbed the vase, he ran his fingers over the engravings, feeling each bump. Magic. Man figured out a way to embed magic in containers to trap the djinn and force them to do their will. Man figured out how to make the djinn their servants.

Pretty smart of them, James said, his voice uneasy. Why did they limit themselves to three wishes then? Seems like they could have had as many as they wanted.

They didn't at first. But the power became too much for one man to control and the djinn were able to trick their masters into letting them go. So, three wishes became the standard. Just enough to get you what you want, but not enough to get ultimate power.

What if I want ultimate power?

Mitchell paused and looked James in the eyes. He held the stare as he said, No one needs ultimate power.

I think it'd be pretty fucking awesome. To be able to tell everyone what to do, be in control. I want to be rich and powerful. That's my wishes. Oh, and I want Sarah to be smoking hot. She's already good looking, but she could use some improvements.

Mitchell could feel his eye twitch. He closed his eyes and let go of the vase as he rubbed his temple. As he opened his eyes he said, Look, I told you, the first wish is for money but a limited amount. I don't care what your second wish is for as long as it's not ultimate power. The third wish has to be to restore the vase. We cannot risk letting a djinn loose.

Listen here, I don't give a fuck what you think. Like I said, Sarah made me come here. She said you guys would help. But clearly you're only here to screw me over.

No one is trying to screw you over. Opposite in fact. We are trying to help-

Fuck you. I'm gonna take my genie and leave. James stood up, his hand reaching out for the vase. There was a crack as the snow globe came into contact with his skull the first time. Mitchell didn't even remember picking it up, but he had it in his hand, blood seeping out of a wound now on James's head. Mitchell slammed it down again. James fell back into the chair. He looked up at Mitchell, his eyes burning with anger. He raised his hand up and Mitchell brought the globe down again. This time there was another crack as the glass broke, water and fake snow spilled out and mixed with blood down James's front. Mitchell slammed it down one last time, the jagged glass impaling James's skull. James's eyes twitched. He opened his mouth to speak but coughed instead. Red gore flowed from the massive wound on his head, dripping into his mouth. Mitchell released the tight grip on the snow globe and it fell to the ground. He stopped clenching his jaw. When James didn't stand up, Mitchell fell to the floor and backed up against the wall. He looked at James's sunk in skull, the massive dent noticeable even below the thick layer of blood that poured down his head.

Mitchell vomited.

Once he was done, he brushed the chunks from his chin and looked at the mess that was now his office. How could he have let himself lose control? Anger had boiled up inside and exploded out. Because that fucking redneck was going to mess everything up. He was going to risk letting the djinn free, which if word got back that Mitchell let him slip out, he would be out of the job.

But now Mitchell faced a new problem. Jail.

The idea hit him hard, like a snow globe.

Mitchell leaned forward and crawled to where James dropped the vase when he struck him. On its side, in a puddle of fresh blood, the vase sat. Mitchell thanked a God he didn't believe in that it had not broken upon impact. He grabbed it and stood up. He placed it on his desk and looked around his office. In the corner was his gym bag, which he grabbed and unzipped. He pulled out the towel inside and discarded the bag back to its corner. With his left hand, he held the top of the vase and with his right, he began wiping away the blood. As he did, he noticed the runes begin to glow a faint yellow. By the time the blood was completely gone, the vase was vibrating. Mitchell placed his hand on the vase, the towel now sitting on the desk. The vase was warm and getting hotter.

For releasing me from my cage, I shall grant your heart's desires, a voice called out as a plume of smoke