Dust and cobwebs. The decor Penelope had grown accustomed to with every ancient estate she found herself exploring was currently clinging to her hair. It was a dreadful feeling that would require a decent soak once she returned to the manor and often dampened any conversations she had with family or friends of the residence.
It wasn't that she disliked the task, however. She quite enjoyed the hunt for the ornate and museum worthy. There was history - treasure that should be shared, not kept locked up in the dark, damp recesses of an old home. World Heritage strived to meet these endeavors head on and with a thorough eye.
Today, Penelope had left Parker in the care of the woman of the house, long since widowed and in need of a change. Dutchess Wellesley had no use for the trinkets collected by her dearly departed and had tasked the London agent with finding anything of historical significance and taking it off to be guarded and admired. The rest was to be sold or discarded if necessary.
"Shame," Penelope's hand traced over the dust encrusted statue of a regal looking pug with a jeweled crown resting on its head. "This would look lovely in the study, don't you think?"
Sherbert gave her an affectionate yip of approval before following his mistress further into the attic. For as webbed and dusty as the place was, she found the boxes and items clearly labeled and organized. Unfortunately, she wasn't finding anything of significance.
Penelope could recall a time she had been invited to an estate in the south of France and been mystified by a single find in a sea of nothing. Lost Monet paintings that would have remained so if she had simply regarded it as worthless as the rest of the stored trinkets. She knew she could do the same here, so it was with a well trained eye, she began her search for a needle in a haystack.
"M'lady?" A voice called to her an hour later and she sighed in defeat. Penelope had opened every box and drawer possible, coming up empty handed. Absolutely, there were some beautiful pieces of furniture and art, but nothing that would make the news.
"I'll be just a moment longer, Parker." Technically, she was finished, but she wanted one last glance over the storage space. It seemed a shame to have so many years worth of antiquities gathered together for the benefit of none. She passed the tiny dog statue, already planning on how to obtain it from the dutchess, when her hand grazed a moderately sized crate. It was one of the few things she wasn't able to examine without her chauffeur's assistance, but as her skin made contact, she felt a cool breeze rush over her fingers and fade just as quickly.
Stock-still in the upper levels of a home older than her family name, Penelope waited for the sensation to repeat itself. A minute and she let her eyes roam the space for any signs of disturbance.
Nothing.
"Peculiar," her fingers came to rest of the old wood once more and she was hit with the sudden scent of salty ocean air. Penelope lifted a thin brow, bending closer to give the box another delicate sniff, but the smell was gone. Decidedly, she took a step back and eyed the conundrum. Ghosts seemed like a preposterous explanation, but she wasn't beyond counting them out.
"Do you need a 'and up 'ere?" Parker missed the jump his intrusion to her focus had caused. Penelope had a habit of adjusting her bracelets and smoothing out the hem of her blouse whenever caught off guard and she did her best to limit the tells as the elder man rounded the corner.
Her mouth opened with the intent of telling her friend she was finished, but curiosity peaked and she found herself entranced by the crate. "Thank you, Parker." She stepped forward and delicate fingers that could incapacitate those she encountered as an agent hovered over the box before she continued. "I can't be certain until it's opened, but I'm quite interested in bringing this one home. What do you think?"
"Very good, m'lady. H'I'm sure you'll be h'able to find somethin' worthwhile h'in there." Parker stepped to the side, giving his charge the space she needed to slip by. "H'I'll 'ave it down to Fab1 momentarily."
"Very good," she moved towards the stairs, turning back to watch as Parker took hold of the box and began moving it into the isle. Penelope watched his face for a sign he had felt or sensed something coming from it. No furrowed brow or halt mid pull. Parker was as he always was - taking care of her needs without question.
She eventually left him to it, finding Dutchess Wellesley to explain what she had found - or hadn't - and discuss the hopeful endeavor that was the crate Parker was carrying out. The woman didn't bat an eye, offering Penelope a gracious smile and an invitation to return once the auction preparations began.
Now, she was home, wrapped in silk after a much desired bath that left the scent of gardenias in the air. The crate sat in the center of her room, waiting patiently for her to lift the lid Parker had undone. She hesitated, though, letting her mind question the possibilities. It was a silly feeling Penelope knew better than to indulge, but there was no danger here. Simply a box of treasure - or rubbish - that she shouldn't think twice about opening.
So, with the few steps it took to reach the crate, she drew in a steadying breath and placed her hand on the open lid. No shock. No strange feeling or smells to alert her to the paranormal. Just a box.
And in that box lay rags and brown paper wrapped neatly around ornate dishes, cups, and saucers. An old teapot, adorned with ivy and lilies centered it all. It wasn't the artifact she had hoped to find, but it would do nicely in her collection.
With those set aside, Penelope returned to the crate to find a box at the bottom. With some effort, she pulled it free and placing it on the table under her window. The sky beyond was a dazzling mix of pinks and oranges fading into deep grayish blue, unlike most evenings on her family's estate. Her attention returned to the box, noting the deep engravings that flowed like streams of water in swirls. Fingers slid around the edges until they snagged on a latch, unclasping it before lifting the lid.
"Really?" Penelope's brow knit as she stared at the box's contents. There was only one item inside, nestled against deep blue satin, a golden cord tied across it to keep it secure. She took each end of the neat bow and pulled, the ropes sliding free with ease. Reaching in, she wrapped her fingers around the thin handle, her other hand taking the base as it came free.
An oil lamp. Simple in design and unornate. Certainly not something that needed a chest of such richness. Penelope suddenly felt foolish as her mind fluttered off to stories she'd read as a child, of princesses, unattainable by the men and boys who fell in love with them. Save for magic.
She shook her head, ready to relinquish the lamp back to its box, but the memory of sea air gave her pause.
Could it really -
Her hands squeezed against the metal, the lady in her fighting against the irrational.
But what's the harm in trying? the voice seemed not her own as her hand rose from the handle and slid over the smooth surface in soft circles.
The ridiculous feeling came back as nothing happened and she dropped the lamp as though it were a curse meant to damage her honor as a lady. Penelope made the quick decision to have it disposed of in the morning.
The crate was another matter and she figured it too could go. The tea set could stay and she bent down to gather it up for safe keeping.
The first blast of wind hit her as she stood and Penelope turned to see if the window had been blown open, but the latch was solidly in place. Warm, ocean scented air continued to buffet against her silk nightgown and she watched as tendrils of blue, yellow, and green smoke began to pour from the spout. It spread over her floor, swirling and sparking with flashes of bright gold. Snakes of smoke shot up towards the chandelier, darting in and around, intertwining through Tiffany crystals. They fell into a typhoon of brightly colored gases, swirling and growing as they forced Penelope to step back into the post of her bed. The roar of wind and waves seemed to fill the room and the cups she'd been holding crashed to the floor as the clouds burst out. Her arms covered her face to block the spray of mist that showered over her, the smell of sea water assaulting her nostrils.
The cacophony continued a few more heart pounding seconds before everything stilled. All Penelope could heart was her own breathing under the rush of blood in her ears and for a moment, she considered running straight from the room. What the hell had just happened?
Against her better judgement, however, Penelope slowly lowered her arm.
Sapphire grew wide, unable to decide if the image before her was real or just a hallucination.
He shimmered, gold flecks of light tumbling down tanned skin, wisps of seafoam smoke making their final run over muscles that pulsed with each slow breath. She could just see the side of his face, turned slightly away from her, his blonde waves gently settling with the energy around him, eyes closed to the world. The mists eventually faded and Penelope was relieved to see the loose fitting pants, cinched with deep sapphire cloth and a leather belt that hugged it close to his lower abdomen. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks the longer she stared, her eyes following cords of gold and silver that ran over his bare chest, adorned with shells and sea glass that would befit a merman.
But he wasn't - he was a -
His eyes flew open and in one smooth motion, amber flashed with delight and he turned to face her, a bright grin streaking over his boyish face.
"Hey, there." His hands landed on his hips, moving them side to side as he stretched, eventually bringing his arms up and over his head.
Normally, dealing with a complete stranger wouldn't be an issue, but this was her room and there was a half naked man showing off far too many defined muscles than she dared to count. Not to mention the fact he had just appeared out of a puff of smoke. This was anything but normal.
"Explain." One word that her frazzled brain would let out. It was enough though as his arms dropped back to his sides before crossing over his chest.
"You might want to be a bit more specific, mistress." His eyes sparkled with the humor in his voice. "There are quite a few things here that could be explained."
"What are you?" Penelope started with the simple.
"Ah, isn't it obvious?" He looked himself up and down. "Genie, Djinn, wielder of the magic to grant your every wish - from the lamp I'm guessing you rubbed."
"That's preposterous - impossible." Her eyes remained on him as she slid farther behind the bed, effectively separating them.
"Yet, here I am."
Maybe it was his cocky smile or the way he seemed to brush off her incredible amount of apprehension, but she felt a flame ignite in her gut. Penelope's eyes narrowed. "Yes, here you are, in my home. I should consider having you thrown out for what you've done." Her hand found the edge of her robe and she pulled it securely around her as she gestured to the floor now covered in a thin layer of sand. The teacups still lay shattered.
"Ah, yeah," and he laughed, a bright, amused thing that grated against her nerves. "Well, you do have the ability to wish it away, if you like?"
Penelope's eyes met his and she could see the mischief behind them. She'd seen it in enough party guests and foreign diplomats to know it wouldn't be that easy. "What's the catch?"
A Cheshire grin drew over his lips. "Smart lady. The catch is very simple and, I'm afraid, unavoidable. If you wish this mess away, it doesn't just disappear. It has to go somewhere."
"Somewhere of your choosing, if I'm guessing correctly?" She frowned as he nodded. "Is that all? Three wishes and you can wreak havoc with them however you like?"
"Oh no, not three," that amused laugh again. "Those are tales told by those who have never truly met a genie. No, mistress. I am yours for the rest of your life."
His words were like a blow to her resolve and her thoughts stammered to a halt. Life? She would potentially be dealing with this thing for the foreseeable future? The thought of just ignoring him, moving on as though she'd never met him seemed a worthy option. Was that even possible? If she wished it -
Her mouth opened to voice such a proposition when a knock came at her door.
"M'lady? H'is everything alright?" Parker asked, breathlessly from his run across the house, most likely alerted by the noise her 'guest' had made.
"Ah, this should be interesting." The genie watched the door expectantly.
This, she could handle.
"Quite, nothing to worry about." Penelope prided herself in how calm she sounded given the circumstances. She never let her eyes leave the blonde before her and was pleased to see the pout on his face.
"Very well, but h'I could've sworn I 'eard a crash?" Oh bless him, but Parker could be nosey.
"Just a tea set I found in the box." She waited a beat for an affirmative. "Complete loss, but it can wait until morning."
"Very well," he seemed appeased. "'ave a good evening then."
Penelope felt her shoulders relax, a new guilt taking the place of her earlier concerns. She didn't enjoy lying to her friend.
"Aw, you're no fun." He honestly didn't seem all too put out, but she guessed he tended to enjoy a bit of chaos.
"Now, then," Penelope straightened herself, locking him with a stern glare. "About my room."
"It is as you wish it to be," the genie matched her height, his hands folded behind his back.
What was the harm. Just one wish, calculated with no chance of repercussions. Penelope had been trained in noticing the details to manipulate a situation. She could use that here.
"Well then, I wish -" her words sent a spark of light through the amber that watched her so intently. "I wish for the sand to be sent to the sea."
"As you wish," one hand came forward, a quick snap and the sand whirled up from the floor, spinning together into a tight ball of before hurtling through the glass pane of her window, shattering it as the ball continued on to what she suspected was the ocean.
Her eyes grew wide. "Are you serious?"
This time he burst into a gleeful laughter, spurred from so many years without the chance to torment his master. "Sorry, heh - I couldn't help it."
"I wish the glass was back together as it was before you so graciously smashed it!" She hissed, daggers baring into his boyishly smug face.
"Ah, yes," he contentedly sighed, smiling as he snapped again and the broken pieces flew back into the frame, the cracks melding together. "Unfortunately, there's another window out in the world that has shattered."
"Where?" Anger was certainly not an emotion she was accustomed to letting loose and she forced herself to take a calming breath.
"Since you're still learning, a dilapidated shed. You just gave it a little more character." He tried to smile sweetly, only managing to intensify her ire.
"Thank you," Penelope practically spat, taking a step forward and hearing the crush of porcelain under her slippers. She closed her eyes, counted down until she could calmly speak. "I wish - oh, never mind. I'll have it swept in the morning."
"Are you sure?" His tone teased.
"Positive," blue eyes pinned him once more as she stepped over to the small stool in front of her vanity table. She gracefully took a seat, ankles crossed properly below her. "Now, what to do with you." It wasn't a question she expected him to answer. A few minutes ago, she hadn't expected to be asking it. This all still felt completely bizarre and the lack of control was setting Penelope on edge.
For his part, the genie seemed to be enjoying himself as he glanced around the room. "Do as you like, mistress. I would like to ask where I am, exactly?"
"London," she saw no reason not to offer the information. "In my home, of course."
"Ah, figures," his face fell slightly. "At least I'll have the rain."
"Pardon?" What did rain have to do with any of this?
At this, he turned to face her, his hands lifted, palms up and there was an instant flash before a sphere of water coalesced above them. He flicked at it and it moved, flowing around his hands and through his fingers in a mesmerizing display. Penelope found herself staring helplessly at the living water until it began to spin, flattening into a disk and finally exploding out around them.
The spell was over, leaving a line of moisture along the walls and across her top and she growled. "Would you please refrain from any further damage to my room?"
He ignored her, "To answer your earlier question, genies are elemental beings. I thrive in wet climate, which is why rain is important. I'd hoped for a master who lived on the beach, but I guess you'll do."
"Honestly, I'm of the mind to just put you back in that infernal little thing," Penelope gestured to the lamp. "Have it sealed away somewhere."
"You're just not getting this," he crossed his arms, his voice patronizing as he took a step closer. "I'm your genie. Nothing can change that and even if you lock me a million miles from here, the moment you say those magic words, I'll be right there to grant it. That's my job, like it or not."
Penelope stood to meet him, her arms crossing over her chest as she refused to blink. He was quickly becoming a challenge that she needed to reign in, whether that be through banishment or -
Could she use him? Her job entailed so many different facets. If she could reign in his jovial tendencies, could he be an asset?
"As I see it, the options are you stay, free to roam as you like, or you go back in the lamp only to be summoned when I deem it necessary," Penelope watched the flicker of something she perceived as apprehension, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she had even seen it.
"As you see it."
"An accord, then?" And here was where Penelope needed to be cautious. She was going to trust him - this genie and his unnatural abilities - to be a part of her life or until she could find a way to rid herself of him.
A blonde brow lifted with intrigue, "What d'you suggest?"
"You help me ensure my wishes do not cause anyone harm and I will let you be on your own in my home." She was assuming the freedom would be a welcome change to the lamp he'd resided in for who knows how long.
"Mighty generous of you," the genie paused in thought, "I can warn you about possible consequences, but there will always be the rule of give and take. Fix a broken window, break a window. You want jewelry, it's gotta come from somewhere."
"Understood," Penelope could work with that. "All I ask is that you keep me from unintentionally hurting anyone."
His features soften just the slightest. "Then we have an accord." One hand withdrew from his chest, and he held it out. Her eyes stayed on his as she mimicked the gesture and as her fingers pressed to his palm she felt a surge of bright energy that sparked and ebbed. It left her breathless, heart pounding and she frowned as she caught the mischievous grin.
Snatching her hand back, Penelope shot him a glare. "I'm already regretting this."
"You make it so easy, mistress," he chuckled brightly.
"Noted. Now, as it seems you will be staying, you'll need your own room." Her mind snagged with lessons drilled into her head since birth. "But first, what do I call you?"
"Call me? Genie doesn't suffice?" He spoke in mock offense.
"I don't believe it would be prudent to refer to you as 'Genie' in public." Penelope could imagine the reports of the young socialite and her new companion. "I am Lady Penelope Creighton-ward. What name should I call you?"
With his hands placed firmly on his hips, he gave her a beaming smile. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Penelope. You can call me Gordon."