Chapter 3: Jinny the Genie.
Sons of the CullUnlike our fellow furry and feathered folklores, vampires don’t have a sense of camaraderie. It’s eat or die trying. There’s no sharing food with the homely child down by the wayside. Willful Luck can change estate heirs into stable boys at her leisure.
“Knock knock, is the wicked witch dead?” I yell at the grand oak door.
Once upon a time, Lady Luck was Lucilla the Witch — a story for another era. Junhoe’s persistent dry heaving is accompanied by the smell of rotting flesh. His insides are threatening to come out with each guttural retch. Superstitious Hanbin fixates over the crows’ exact words again. 20th time’s the charm.
“Open wide,” I mock, and — as says me — it does.
Wood slowly creaks on rusted hinges, boasting old fashioned American hospitality. Wisps rush by in purple hazes to reveal an empty hole in this grassy knoll. Someone left the cauldron boiling. Reptilian instincts suggest hasty retreats from obvious traps, but Junhoe’s gag reflex sends him slithering over the threshold; vampire vomit joins the mysterious concoction bubbling over.
“Are we sure this isn’t Junhoe’s natural state of being?” I ask my wary prince. “Pukey and positively putrid?”
“Remember that one time Count Dracula contracted food poisoning?” Hanbin reasons with a reasonable reason worth reasoning, “Exactly; this is magic-related.”
“Isn’t everything?” I laugh at my own joke.
Our absent host isn’t likewise pleased with Junhoe’s rude intrusion. Rattling accompanies low vibrations of shifting soil. A head of scales erupts from the fireplace, scattering charred kindling. Dodging the bits still lit aflame distracts from the monstrous snake coiled from here to there, baring its dripping fangs.
It bellows in a faraway echo, “Who dares trespass on these holy grounds?”
“Finally decided to throw your hand in with the big man upstairs?” I ask the witch hiding behind the giant, no-legged lizard.
“Your sarcasm has a bad history with diffusing dangerous circumstances.” Staring down beady black eyes, Hanbin suggests, “Try groveling and cowardly begging for our lives.”
“Yes! Bend a knee to the great and all-powerful—”
Junhoe cuts this theatrical boasting short with a projectile stream of green goop. The giant rattlesnake recoils at the stench. Illusions fade until it’s five feet of fearful animal cowering beneath a broken bookshelf. Its similarly-sized master pushes past dusty curtains: Jinny the Genie turned Witch — a story for another audience.
“What do ya say, Jinhwan?” Hanbin addresses him by his favorite name. “Is there one last wish in the ol’ lamp?”
Genies begin as humans. “On one condition,” Jinhwan reasons with a reasonable reason worth reasoning, “Bobby stays outside.” Point proven.
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