The Art of Wishing (18 page)

“So, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “That’s it? You grant three wishes, and you just disappear? Then what?”

“Then I get a vacation,” he said, with a grin that looked forced. “But usually not for long. I don’t exactly enjoy not having a body.”

I tried very hard not to think about returning Oliver’s ring and watching him vanish—watching him become a ghost. “Then how do you find a new master? Do you get to pick who it is?”

“I can try,” he said. “But it’s always a gamble. I mean, even if I drop my vessel in the middle of your bedroom, you might not be the first person to find it. And that’s assuming my previous master returns my vessel in the first place. Some of them pass me along to their friends, which is just . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Rude?” I suggested timidly.

“That’s one word for it,” he said darkly. “Especially if they don’t ask first. You’d be surprised how many people don’t ask first.”

I thought of Vicky, leaving the ring on the bathroom windowsill; I wasn’t surprised at all. “Okay, so my first choice is returning your vessel. What’s my—I mean, what was your second choice? The fourth wish?”

If he caught my little slip, he didn’t acknowledge it. “No. I mean, yes, but he didn’t tell me about that right way. The way he told it, my only other choice was to just hold on to the coin, so he’d get to stick around. Not for long, mind you. Without wishes to grant, his magic would fade him away in a week or two, and his vessel would find its way out of my hands. But he’d still get a little while. So that’s what I did. He and I had become close by then. He went to the pubs with my friends. My mother practically adopted him. And Maeve . . . they grew fond of each other, too. She was the only one besides me who knew what he really was.

“But Maeve got hurt. There was a fight in the street one night, and there was a carriage, and panicking horses, and . . .” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking fast. I touched his arm, just to remind him that I was there. “It was my fault. I was right in the path of the carriage, and she pushed me out of the way. Would have gotten away herself, too, if the carriage hadn’t swerved like it did. It fell over, and she . . . Even if we’d had time to get her to a doctor, I don’t think . . . and I’d already used up all my wishes. You have to understand, Maeve was everything to me. I watched her dying right in front of me, and it felt like I was dying, too.”

When he finally met my eyes again, his whole body looked weighted down with the memory. I reached for his hand and held it, savoring the tingling warmth of his touch.

“That was when Niall told me about the fourth wish. So I did it. I saved her life, just like she saved mine.” He smiled crookedly. “And they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

I frowned, hearing something sour in his tone. “Not so happily ever after?”

“Well, at first, maybe,” he said, suddenly very intent on studying his mug. There were hairline cracks in it, just like there were in mine. “I vanished in seconds after I made that wish. But soon I was bound to my first master, which let me create a new body for myself. From then on, whenever I had a body but wasn’t granting wishes, I spent all my time with her. I became Ciarán again, for her sake. I told her about my . . . my adventures, she called them.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips. “She thought it was romantic, at first. But I’d vanish every time my master called me, and sometimes I’d be gone for days at a time, or weeks, and . . .”

He’d pulled his hand out of mine, and was pressing his fingertips hard against his tea mug, like he couldn’t decide whether to absorb its warmth or crush it. I remembered the stricken look on his face that night in the parking lot, when I’d kissed him—and how quickly he’d reminded me that he couldn’t stay.

“She tried to make it work,” he said. “We both did. But in the end, she wanted a real husband. A family. Daughters. I couldn’t give her any of those things.”

She’d wanted a normal, safe, predictable life. Who could blame her? But Oliver, on the other hand . . . no wonder he never let himself have feelings for normal, mortal people.

No wonder he never told anyone who he really was.

“Oh,” I said, feeling entirely inadequate. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked at me, then let out a little laugh and ran his hands over his face. “No, I’m sorry, Margo. You didn’t ask for all this. I came here to tell you how I feel about you. Not her.”

I sat up straight, fixing him with a glare. “Don’t you dare apologize. What, you think I’m going to start being jealous of her now or something, just because you loved her a frillion years ago?”

He shrank back a little, his cheeks going red. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know, I know,” I said, closing my eyes and willing myself to calm down. “Saturday night, you said you wanted me to know who you really are. And all this stuff, Maeve and Ireland and the shapeshifting and the fourth wish—this is what you meant. Isn’t it.”

He nodded slowly, like he was waiting for me to pass judgment on him.

“Right, then,” I said, resolutely steering us back toward what I’d come here to learn. “So where does Xavier come into all this?”

“Ah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, you know I wasn’t originally called Oliver.”

I nodded.

“Niall wasn’t my genie’s real name, either.”

My jaw actually dropped. “What? So he made you a genie and now he wants to kill you? Or, wait, does he want to kill you
because
he made you a genie? Because that’s pretty sick.”

“No,” he said quietly. “My being his . . . protégé . . . that’s the only reason he let me live this long. He could have wished me free the first time he got hold of my ring. He didn’t.”

“He saved you for last,” I murmured. Somehow, that troubled me even more.

“Hey, it’s better than the alternative,” said Oliver, giving me a grin that completely failed to reassure me.

I shook my head. “But you said you were friends!”

“We were,” he said, his grin fading a little. “But that was when I knew him as Niall, and when he was showing me how to use my magic. Everything was fine, and then he just disappeared. Twenty years passed, and when he found me again, he was . . .”

“Xavier,” I supplied, and Oliver nodded. “So what the hell happened? Something must’ve happened. Twenty years is a long time.”

“I wish I knew. I really do. But he never told me.”

Looking away from me, he drained his tea like a shot. I shakily downed the last of my hot chocolate. It had gone cold. When I looked at him again, he was studying his empty mug, a dark look on his face.

“God, Oliver,” I said. “I had no idea. But you have a plan, right?”

“A plan?”

“To get rid of him. Or at least get away from him. What are you gonna do?”

“Margo, there’s nothing I can do.”

“But—”

“Look,” he said firmly. “We’ve got two scenarios here. In the first, Xavier waits to take my ring until you’ve made your third wish of your own accord, like he promised. But let’s face it: That’s pretty unlikely. In the second, Xavier bullies you into making your third wish, so my ring unbinds itself from you and he can steal it. Either way, he’s coming back for me. I’d venture to guess he won’t wait very long.”

I stared at him, chilled by his matter-of-fact tone. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it! But it’s not up to me anymore. If I’d gotten away before he found me, then maybe I’d have had a chance. I could have taken my vessel and hidden . . . but it’s too late now. There’s nothing I can do. Excuse me, ma’am. Could we have the check, please?”

The waitress came over and put the check down in front of Oliver. I didn’t even protest when he paid for my hot chocolate. As we made our way past the defunct jukeboxes and out of the diner, he took my hand again; the spicy tingle of magic snaked up my arm. But this time, it wasn’t reassuring.

Oliver gave my hand a little squeeze as we headed for my car. “You shouldn’t worry about it, Margo. I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a hell of a lot more time than most people do.” He slowed us to a stop next to my car, then stepped in front of me so we were face-to-face. “I’m serious. I know you want to do something about Xavier. I can hear it.” He touched one finger to my temple. “But trust me. Leave this one alone.”

“Leave it
alone?” I repeated incredulously. “How can you say that? How can you just . . . just put your life in someone else’s hands like that?”

“I can because I have to,” he said simply. “I’ve always had to. That’s what it means to have a master.”

“Maybe so, but none of the others were out to kill you,” I said, which actually made him laugh. “Wait. Oliver, I have one wish left. I could use it on him. Make him change his mind about wishing you free.”

He smiled sadly. “You think I never thought of that? I don’t have enough power. I can grant a wish to change my own mind, or a human mind, but the mind of another genie? Not a chance. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

I frowned. “Fine. Then I’ll wish him free, before he comes back for you.”

“What?” he shouted, his eyes going wide. “No. No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” I said.

“Because I can’t just kill him, Margo. I can’t.”

“But it wouldn’t be you,” I said slowly. “If I made the wish, it would be me.”

For a moment everything was quiet, except for a few cars zooming past, just beyond the parking lot. Slowly, Oliver reached out and took me by the shoulders. He spoke in a low, even voice. “Margo, listen to me. I’ve been a genie for a long time now. And I love it. Honest, I really do. I love giving people what they want, changing their lives for the better in those tiny little ways.

“But I’ve done things . . . There are people who honestly want nothing more than to hurt other people. Sometimes you can talk them out of it, but not always.” He ran both hands through his hair, agitated and tense. “Have you ever wished a slow and painful death on someone? Have you?”

“N-no,” I stammered, trying to remember. “I don’t think so. Not out loud, anyway. And I’ve never actually meant it.”

“There are people who do mean it,” he said. “They’re few and far between, but they’re out there. I’ve met them. One of them—a man from Kiev—he said those exact words to me. He wished for someone to die, and I quote, slowly and painfully. I was bound by those words. He didn’t have to decide how. He didn’t even have to watch. He could just make his wish and consider it done. I was the one who actually had to make it happen. It was one of the few times in my life where my job really did feel like slavery.”

“Couldn’t you just—”

“Refuse?” He let out a grating laugh. “No. You can’t refuse. I learned that the hard way. If I refuse, my magic will take over and grant the wish for me, using me as a conduit. It would still be my hands doing it, and my eyes watching, but I wouldn’t have any control over it. So whatever the wish is, you get it over with, and you hope your next master just wishes for a healthy baby, or a huge promotion, or a billion dollars.”

He slid his hands down and threaded his fingers through mine. His voice was unsteady. “But what you’re talking about . . . that wouldn’t just be you using me as a weapon. That would be me agreeing to it. Benefitting from it. I can’t do that. And if you feel anything for me at all, please don’t force me to do it. I know you’re my master, and you can if you want to . . . but please don’t.”

He clutched my hands so hard that it almost hurt. But I squeezed back, even harder. “Oliver,” I said, like I could put everything I was feeling into that one word. It came out choked. “I wouldn’t force you. I won’t. Of course I won’t.”

Relief washed over him like a calming wave, but I couldn’t feel what he felt. How could I possibly be what he needed me to be? How could I open myself up enough to accept the truth of him, only to let him disappear from my life without a fight?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know anything anymore . . . except that there he was, and here I was, and there was too much space between us. So I wrapped my arms around him, wove my fingers into his soft, dark hair, and pulled him close, anchoring myself in the familiarity of his touch. When he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, I could feel an urgency in his kiss that matched my own. He pulled me even closer, pressing himself against me like he wanted to disappear into me.

And I let him, because it was the only thing I could do. I just hoped he could hear, somewhere in my thoughts, how sorry I was. Not just for wanting to use him to wish Xavier free, but for not understanding until now that no matter how much I’d trusted Oliver, it didn’t begin to compare to the amount of trust he’d placed in me.

Chapter
NINETEEN

T
he next day, after French, I leaned against a bare stretch of hallway wall, keeping a sharp eye out for the person I needed to find. “Vicky!” I called, when I finally spotted her. I waved, and she fought her way through the crowd to get to me.

“Hey, Margo,” she said, suspicion edging her tone. “Um. What’s up?”

“I need to ask you a favor.”

The phrase came out awkward and forced, and Vicky couldn’t have looked more surprised if I’d said I was secretly a Martian and I’d come to take over the world. “I . . . what, really? Me? Why?”

Leaning in closer, I lowered my voice. “Because you’ve seen Xavier before.”

She hunched down into herself, like she wasn’t sure whether or not I’d just accused her of something. “Oh, you mean at the bowling alley. Yeah. Why?”

“I need to know if he was with anyone when you saw him. Like, someone who might be his master.”

Vicky frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, um . . . No, I don’t think so. I mean, he could have been, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m sorry.”

I blew out a sigh. That would have been way too easy. So much for Plan A.

“No worries,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said again. “But I promise I’ll keep an eye out if I see him again, okay?”

“Thanks, Vicky,” I said.

I started to move past her, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Hey, wait a second,” she said, and nervously licked her lips. “Can I ask you a favor, too?”

“Really?” I said, before I could stop myself. “I mean . . . sure. What is it?”

Vicky fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. “Um,” she began—but before she could say anything else, some boy walked by and nudged her shoulder. She jerked back in surprise, and he gave her a very obvious once-over, then grinned as he walked away.

“Who was that?” I asked, looking after the boy. The hallway was getting less crowded. The bell would ring soon, which meant I would be late, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Her whole body seemed to sag. “I have no idea. But it happens all the time. It’s the stupid wish. That’s why I need a favor, Margo. I just—” She stopped abruptly, peering at me. “Wait. Oliver did tell you what I wished for, right?”

I nodded.

“That wish was the stupidest idea I ever had in my life,” she said, sounding like she wanted to hit something. “And it’s so embarrassing. I can’t even tell anyone. The only good part is, it didn’t affect everybody. And now I’m going around avoiding the people who suddenly want to be all over me, and seeking out the ones who don’t give a crap about me, because they’re
the ones who make me feel normal.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “And then there’s you.”

A knife flashed in my mind, and I tensed at the memory of Saturday night in my car.
That wasn’t her,
I reminded myself firmly. But my voice still came out squeaky when I said, “Me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I said automatically, but if the words sounded as false to her as they did to me, then I was in trouble. I tried to remember if I’d ever acted as nasty to her as I’d felt. I didn’t think I had, but you can never be sure of those things.

“Okay, maybe not hate. But you don’t like me—and that’s fine. I really don’t blame you. I mean, Naomi’s your friend, not mine. Uh . . . I mean, you guys are still friends after Saturday night, right?”

Honestly, I had no idea if we were. Naomi still wasn’t speaking to me, and the idea that she might have complained about me to Vicky was . . . I didn’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t good. But I didn’t have time to think about that now, so I just shrugged, trying my best to look nonchalant.

“Well, whatever,” said Vicky. “I’m just saying, she only hangs out with me because of the wish. And I knew you wanted my part in the play. I just wanted to be in the chorus, but the wish . . . I shouldn’t have gotten that part. And nobody seems to know it but you and me. And George, I think, but he’s too nice to say anything.”

This was it. She was going to ask to use her third wish to undo the second. Everything would go back to normal, and maybe Miss Delisio would even recast the show. All I had to do was loan her the ring.

It was Saturday night all over again.

Oliver could tell the difference between Real-Vicky and Xavier-Vicky, but I couldn’t. This was him again. I was sure of it. I should be running. Why wasn’t I running?

Vicky let out a deep breath, which sounded almost like a hiss in the quiet hallway. “Would you give me acting lessons?” she asked.

“But I—” I paused. Rewound. “Wait, what?”

She ducked her head a little, blushing. “Acting lessons. I know I’m doing everything wrong, but Miss Delisio won’t give me notes except if I’m standing in the wrong place or something. She just says I’m doing great, and I know I’m not, and . . .” She sniffed. “And we open really soon, and I don’t want to suck.”

I let out a breathy laugh, giddy with relief. This was definitely not Xavier.

“Yeah,” I found myself saying. “Sure, I can do that.”

“For real?” said Vicky, her eyes going wide behind her glasses.

I laughed. “Yeah, for real.”

“Okay!” she said. “Awesome! When are you around? Is tonight all right?”

“Actually, I’m seeing Oliver tonight.” I hadn’t made any actual plans with him, but I wasn’t sure I could figure out how to be a good teacher on a few hours’ notice. “How’s Thursday?”

“Oh, um, okay. Oliver. Right. So you and he are really . . . ?”

She looked keenly at me, and I smiled. “We’re something. Yeah.”

“Good,” she said. She pressed her hands together, smiling to herself. “That’s good. He’s nice.”

She seemed gratified, which didn’t make sense. “Yeah, he is,” I said. “But if you think he’s so nice, why’d you abandon him like that?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Abandon him?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, with a wry little huff of laughter. “You gave up your third wish and left his ring in the girls’ bathroom, remember?”

“I didn’t want another wish,” she said defiantly. “You saw how much my second one backfired. Can you really blame me? And I did not abandon him. I left it there so you could find it. I mean, I would’ve just given
it to you, but . . .” She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure you’d take anything from me.”

“You
wanted
me to have it?” I said, bewildered. “Why?”

She shifted her weight, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Well, I made you mad when Miss Delisio gave me your part in the play. And I made Oliver mad when I didn’t like the second wish he granted for me. So I figured I’d try to make it up to both of you at the same time. Give you three wishes of your own, give him more time with you.”

“More time with me?” I repeated. “What do you—”

“Come on,” she laughed. “Like you didn’t know. Ever since he watched the auditions, you were all he could talk about. ‘What class does Margo have third period?’ ‘Has Margo always been able to sing like that?’ ‘What’s Margo’s favorite band?’” She sighed. “Speaking of which, has he had a chance to impress you with his newly accumulated knowledge of Neko Case yet?”

“That was you?” I blurted out. I’d assumed that Oliver had snapped his fingers and made himself a Neko fan for my sake, like the musical equivalent of becoming fluent in my language. But he’d learned about Neko the real way. Without magic.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was just a guess that she was your favorite, but I mean, your entire Facebook page is her song lyrics, so . . .”

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t even know what to say.”

She shrugged. “I’m just glad it worked out, that’s all. You guys seem . . . Anyway, I have to get to class. I’m already late.”

Before I could even get the words
me too
out of my mouth, she was gone.

And I was no closer to finding a way to save Oliver.