He shrugged. ‘It’s true that you don’t seem to be the smartest owner I’ve ever had but, hey, it’s not like I had much of a choice.’
My eyes narrowed. That was an interesting – and incredibly distasteful – choice of words. ‘Owner?’
‘Of course!’ He pointed to the letter opener. ‘I am Bob. The Genie of the Sword.’
I looked from the fallen blade to him and back again. ‘You mean letter opener.’
‘No, no, no, no,’ he declared. ‘This is a sword.’
‘It’s really not.’
He flicked a disdainful glance at it. ‘Alright,’ he conceded, ‘it’s not a sword. But it is a very fine example of a dagger.’
‘It’s a letter opener.’
‘No, it’s a…’
I held up my palm to forestall him. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, shall we? Besides, I thought genies lived in lamps. How do you live in a letter opener?’
‘Dagger. And there was one genie who lived in one lamp a very long time ago who gets all the sodding credit and is in all the sodding stories. Most of us aren’t that lucky.’
‘You live in the metal?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Of course!’ He sprang back to the blade, grinning. ‘Watch.’
There was another painful flash of light. I swore again, wincing because my eyeballs felt like they were on fire. When I recovered enough to see properly again, I picked the knife up gingerly between my finger and thumb. Sure enough, reflected there in the flat surface, was Bob’s smiling face. He gave me a two-dimensional wave. Then the air filled with a hum once more. At least this time I was smart enough to cover my eyes.
‘So,’ Bob said cheerfully, ‘what would you like?’
I frowned. ‘Excuse me?’
‘What wishes would you like? You get three, you know.’
No way was I going to fall for that trick. Anyone with a scrap of intelligence knew to steer clear of anyone offering wishes. ‘I’m good,’ I told him with a definite edge to my voice.
‘I don’t care whether you’re good or bad. What do you wish for first?’
‘Nothing. I don’t need anything.’
‘Hah!’ he scoffed. ‘Everyone needs something. Go on. You can tell Bob everything. I can make it happen.’
‘No thank you,’ I said primly.
He gazed at me, disappointed. ‘Why ever not?’
‘I know how these things work,’ I told him. ‘I ask for money and the next thing I know I’m receiving compensation for having my leg chopped off in a freak accident. I’ve read the stories. Everyone’s read the stories.’
He pouted. ‘You’re no fun.’
That stung. ‘You know what the psychiatrist said to the genie, right?’
Bob looked at me suspiciously. ‘What?’
‘That his feelings were all bottled up.’
He deadpanned me. ‘I don’t get it.’
I thought about explaining and then decided against it. Life was too short. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘jump back into the let— I mean the dagger, and I’ll take you back to where I found you. You can give the banker his wishes instead.’
‘Whoa! Hold your horses, Uh Integrity! I don’t want to go back there!’
I waggled my eyebrows. ‘Well, you’re certainly not staying here.’
‘He’s never once cleaned the blade. I’ve been trapped inside that thing for years! I can’t go back to that.’ Bob got down on his knees and clasped his fingers together, holding them up beseechingly in my direction. ‘Don’t make me!’
‘So what do you suggest?’ I said. ‘I’m certainly not going to pass you along to someone else so they can get burned by wishing for stupid stuff they don’t need.’
Bob gazed at me with an air of unmistakable desperation. ‘I take back what I said before. You’re obviously very smart for a Sidhe. Let me stick around. Even if you don’t use any of the wishes, I’m sure I can still help you.’
‘First of all,’ I said, ticking off my fingers, ‘I don’t need any help. And second of all, I’m not really a Sidhe.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Of course you are.’
‘I’ve renounced my heritage.’
Bob threw back his head and laughed. ‘It doesn’t work like that, you stupid…’ His voice faltered mid-sentence. ‘Oops. I didn’t mean that.’
The washing machine suddenly groaned as it switched gears. Shaking dramatically, it began its inexorable path across the kitchen floor. Bob, alarmed, jumped about a foot in the air. ‘A monster!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t worry, Uh Integrity! I’ll save you!’
Good grief. How long had he been stuck in that letter opener? ‘It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just a machine.’
His eyes went wide and saucer-like. ‘You mean it’s a robot?’ he whispered.
I hissed through my teeth. ‘No. I’m going to bed. If you’re going to stay here then don’t touch anything. I have to get some sleep.’
‘But it’s morning. Why do you have to go to bed in the morning?’
‘Sometimes I work nights,’ I said shortly. I waved a finger at him. ‘And I meant what I said. Don’t touch a damn thing. I’ll decide what to do with you later.’
‘Sure, sure.’ He nodded his head vigorously. ‘There’s just one thing though.’
‘What?’