"Oh so I'm an asshole?"

Chucky raised both of his hands with a shrug and a tilt of his head; "If the shoe fits."

Ghostface scoffed and easily pocketed his knife; "I was just getting to know her a little better, that's all. Thanks to me now we know we don't have any loose ends to worry over. I don't know about all of you, but I for one don't like loose ends. All we have to do now is just wait for Mommy and Daddy dearest to get back home and then we'll really be one big happy family," Ghostface then did a mock curtsy as if he had played an instrumental role in some bigger picture, dipping swiftly down and back up; "You're welcome."

"Yeah, yeah, whaddya want? An applause?"

"Not from you I don't. I wouldn't be able to see you even if you gave a standing ovation."

"You got any material other than short jokes? That's low hangin' fruit at best, dickhead."

"I can't imagine why you'd complain. Low hanging fruit is the only kind you can reach."

Just then a napkin holder hurtled through the air between the both of them, crashing into the fridge and causing some of the fridge magnets to clatter to the floor as a result. That earned everyone's attention. Looking to where it had come from, it didn't take a detective to figure out that it had been none other than Michael Myers who had thrown it.

The silent killer made frustrated gestures with his hands. One moment he mimicked covering the sides of his masked ears and the next his hands repeatedly clutched in aggravation on either side of his head. Michael then pushed himself out of his stool to a stand, stalking out of the room itself. If anyone was to guess what he had conveyed, it seemed as though he had had enough of their bickering. It was further evident when he left the kitchen altogether.

Chucky gestured after him; "Y'see what you did? You made Mike upset," Additionally he noticed that the other mute killer was still standing. He had been standing ever since Jennifer had exited, and the way he breathed indicated he wasn't pleased.

"And not only did you manage to piss off one, but you pissed off the other too. You're a real charmer."

Jason Voorhees wasn't the only one displeased.

Though no one had noticed, his rival Freddy Krueger was none too happy with the information that had been weaseled out of the teenager. But unlike the Haddonfield Slasher and the Crystal Lake Killer, he kept his discontent to himself. Typically he would have joined in on the back and forth, but presently he was too occupied with his thoughts. Both Jason and Freddy were upset for different reasons: Where Jason had been tragically reminded of his own harsh bullying from Ghostface's unruly treatment of her, Freddy was stewing over the fact that she had no friends that he could kill. That bit of information was certainly going to throw a monkey wrench into all of his plans.

Meanwhile Pinhead had taken the leftover glass of orange juice that had been abandoned. Ignoring the painfully dull conversation that was taking place, he instead cast his focus on the contents of the glass. He held it at the mouth of the cup, looking through the transparent shape that held it all in. Swishing the juice around, his coal-stained eyes studied the bright liquid inside. Had he really once enjoyed something as trivial as breakfast beverages? He stilled the circular swing of the glass to bring it closer to his face as if to sip from it. But he did not partake. Though close enough to drink from, he passed the drink just under his nose and inhaled experimentally through his nostrils. Its pungent odor was indeed familiar...Some faded echo of another life hidden within its scent.

That only left the djinn.

The bastardized genie was also giving their entire ordeal some thought. After being trapped inside the accursed fire opal for so long, it was quickly becoming apparent to him that he wasn't used to being in the company of others. This knowledge only heightened whenever his newfound company prattled on the way they did. Had it really only been nearly nine hundred years since he was last united with his brethren? Humans were right to claim that 'time flies', despite the absence of wings.

Humans also frequently claimed that 'two heads were better than one', but the djinn was willing to consider this saying less than accurate seeing as combined, their group had a staggering eight to rely on. And yet none of them had been able to conjure up a plan or solution to their current issue.

He sneered to himself in thought.

Humans and their sayings. What good were such mortal quotations when the world of man would inevitably come to an end? When the djinn finally ruled the Earth, where would their funny phrases get them then? That's when the sneer slowly melted from his lips.

Nearly one millennium had passed and his kind were still nowhere closer to fulfilling their destiny.

And here he thought being a prisoner to a sorcerer's gemstone had been Hell. Every day that he walked free while his brothers could not, gave him feelings worse than the years worth of confinement he had endured being in that forsaken statue. How much more time would pass before his kin could be freed? Not much longer, if he had anything to say about it.

Zoroaster. He thought hatefully. Oh, what he would give to be back eight hundred, ninety-four years ago. Djinn was fairly confident the cenobite would positively 'turn green with envy' if he could see what the Wishmaster would have had in store for that damned wizard now.

His plans had gone awry then, had gone awry now, and would continue to do so unless he figured out the confusion the usage of the portal had caused. While a much needed twist of fate had finally gotten him out of that statuette, another less fortunate one had delivered him here. His last Waker had wished him to Hell and to Hell he had gone. And now he was free from the opal, but had no Waker. This was unheard of.

Djinn needed to think over this complication. He needed somewhere private. And at the rate these two were going, he wasn't going to find a moment's silence to think.

It appeared as though Jason Voorhees had also been entertaining the thought of leaving, because the giant suddenly began forward. His impressive stature continued past Pinhead and rudely shoved past Ghostface with a cold shoulder.

The mere brush spent the other colliding with the fridge, making a further mess of all that had been magnetically pinned in place; "What the fuck! Watch where you're going!" The bigger killer didn't falter in his stride as he left the room, which left a very annoyed Ghostface to dust himself off; "What the fuck did I do to him?"

"Voorhees is a walking ANTI-Bullying PSA. What the fuck do you think?" Freddy had finally broken out of his thoughts at the question to throw in his two cents.

Pinhead glanced up from his study of the half-empty glass of orange juice to finally set it down, saying absentmindedly; "I wager you invoked some rather unpleasant memories."

Ghostface grumbled to himself; "Well excuse the shit out of me,"

"That makes two of us." Segued Djinn, smoothly slipping past Ghostface to exit. Upon exiting the space Djinn nearly walked into Jason standing at the foot of the stairs. It seemed the hockey player was staring silently up into the second story in the direction of Jennifer's bedroom. As the door shut behind the Wismaster, those still within continued to converse, their voices muffled behind the wood:

"Where's everybody going? All of a sudden I'm the bad guy now?"

"Not everybody's got the patience to listen to you make yourself out to be the victim. Y'know it's a shame Jen didn't slice you up when she had the chance. I would'a bet money on that."

"And that would have been a bet you lost, shortstack."

"Oh fuck me, here we go again. Y'know somethin', I bet..."

Thankfully by the time Djinn had made his way up the majority of the staircase, the conversation had died away completely. While his recently met companions could be insufferable most of the time, he had to admit accompanying them was nothing if not entertaining.

He gave a final glance to the goalie to find him still standing in place, staring endlessly above as he had before. Jason's focus on the girl's room had Djinn briefly setting his own eyes on her bedchambers as well. In time he would inspire her desires and ease her trepidation so that her inhibitions would loosen. She was right to have been wary in refusing his earlier offers, and the behavior of his peers wasn't helping to let her guard down.

But that was for another time.

His eyes wandered away from her door only to land on what he recalled being the bathroom. These were often places one would go to seek solitude. Djinn made short work of making his way over, entering, and briskly shutting the door behind him. Just for good measure, he even fastened his grasp upon the lock to employ its use. He turned to the room to properly soak in the visual.

It was a relatively small space: White walls, no windows, a bathtub directly opposite the door, with the toilet and sink adjacent. Items of a manmade origin littered the area in their own disarray. Meager decorations. It was a wonder how humans lived in these conditions. Homes had never been this small and lacking before. Where had gone the palaces and vaulted ceilings? The servants and guards? All of the spacious luxury of the past, along with its priceless treasures? Though what mankind had lost in appearance, they had made up for in technology...But he was forgetting himself, and so he went on to scan the restroom: A dark blue curtain hid the tub within, childish depictions of green fish scribed onto the material; Something the humans had named a 'shower curtain', a hanging fabric for sake of privacy, and in this case, it was a particularly hideous one. His eyes drank in the view with a grimace before moving on. The toilet sat on his right while the sink sat on his left. Quickly crossing to the sink, he gazed into the mirror. While djinn were indeed immortal and could not die, they did however still age. No being was totally immune to the passage of time. Physically not much would change of a djinn overtime, save for one small detail-

Their tendrils.

The twin tentacle-like growths that sprouted from every djinn's scalp; These were the only parts of his race that changed overtime. Even in younglings the tendrils were present. At birth they presented as dark nubs protruding from the skull. He could recall, before he had been chosen, that many of the elders had their own at spectacular lengths.

He himself was a rather young djinn. His own tendrils only reached little past his shoulders, whereas many of the elders' reached well below their knees. It was an impression of age among his people. At first glance it was a characteristic that bespoke of a djinn's lifespan and experience, the only one aside from visible form and height that easily separated a knowledgeable djinn from one more foolish.

Djinn was pleased to see that little had changed since the last time he had laid eyes on his countenance. This meant that he had not been trapped for quite as long as he had expected. Perhaps there was hope yet. Hope. His face muscles contorted as if he had tasted something rotten. He had to be truly desperate to recite such a word. 'Hope' was something reserved for those of a weaker, more pathetic nature. His eyes sank to the view of the hand soap near the basin to entertain the impulse to scrub his skin clean, as though the short use of the word alone had dirtied him.

Instead he let his lips quirk. Djinn indulged himself one last appreciative glance at his features before sobering up. He retrieved the fire opal from the depths of his garments and held it in the palm of his hand. As always the loathsome little jewel felt cool and pristine against his skin. The tiny amount of humor he had felt left immediately. He couldn't refrain looking down upon it with a scowl. While he had been freed from the despicable gem, he couldn't quite part with it. Perhaps it was to serve as an added reminder of his duty. Or maybe he had grown a reluctant attachment to the infernal object. Crushing it beyond recognition would give him such a divine elation, but the opal still served purpose.

When mankind at last fell to their knees in total subjugation, then and only then could he safely destroy the tainted jewel once and for all. His gaze scorched its ruby-red surface with a promise. Soon.

Though 'soon' couldn't come soon enough.

With his other hand, Djinn cast his focus on the thought of his brothers, willing forth the veil between worlds. It was a simple gesture and initially one would have thought the wave of his hand had done nothing-

Until the room began to shift.

Slowly but surely a distortion in his surroundings became evident. It looked as though this reality was that of a pond with its smooth surface disrupted by beginning rainfall. The air around him wavered and danced in blurred and strange patterns. The details of the room became less distinguishable, waving back and forth in an almost serpentine manner. The visual was strikingly similar to being underwater. And just as suddenly as the change had begun, other additions to the wavering scenery made themselves present: Humanoid forms.

As always his kin were more than ready to answer the call.

A soft cacophony of devilish whispers eased into the space, emitting from the human-like shapes that writhed and wandered throughout the shimmering of this plane. With every passing second, these figures became more clear and less human-like. Djinn was slightly startled by their clarity. Had the veil between this world and his people's thinned over the passage of time? Or had his brothers become all the more determined to breach the Earthly barrier? He personally believed less of the former theory, the latter seemed more likely.

Just when he thought he might lay eyes on old familiar faces, the melding of worlds had reached its peak. Through the surroundings of the small bathroom, the djinn that had answered the call were almost discernable. All were dressed in their typical garb to wander the void somewhat comfortably. They lacked their coloration, instead taking on an invisible appearance as though they were made of glass. It was as if the walls of the room had taken on lives of their own. Even the foretold tendrils that grew from their scalps were defined enough to see. Their voices carried the same effect in that the words became less floaty and whispery, and instead became stronger and more solidified.

All said voices were male, for every djinn of the Ifrit tribe were male. Not one female resided among them. The opposite gender would only be found in their opposing tribe of the Marid. Whereas the Ifrit were born of the smokeless fire, the Marid presided over water.

Djinn turned from the mirror, gazing about at all who had gathered. His eyes fixed upon seven figures despite the continued twisting of the atmosphere. For a second time he was taken aback as he realized that all of the eldest of the Ifrit had appeared before him. He gave a low hum to test his voice. It had been quite a while since he had last spoken his mother tongue.

To the ignorance of human ears, their language would no doubt be impossible to make sense of. However for Djinn, he understood the voices of his brothers perfectly. From their different positions set in the walls, the other djinn looked down upon him:

"At long last you seek our council. We were beginning to grow concerned, child."

Djinn had to refuse his urge to let his lip curl at the word. No one had the gall or authority to address him as something so low, but coming from his elders, the comparison was truth. To them, he might as well have been exactly that.

"Indeed. Tempting thoughts arose."

"Thoughts of choosing another in your place."

"Where have you been all this time? Surely not hiding away? Shirking your duty?"

The sting of the implication had him grinding his teeth. Nonetheless, he answered, raising his head to address them in turn; "Elder Ones, as you well know I was made prisoner to the sorcerer Zoroaster's gemstone-" He was interrupted.

"Yes, yes. A tale you have told so frequently I have lost count."

"Where is your Waker, boy? You hasten to waste breath with us, while you should be in the company of your Wishmaker instead."

Hot indignation rose within. Addressing him as a child was humbling, but boy? That had been meant as a sincere insult. Letting himself have a moment to stew, Djinn swallowed down the vicious words that wanted to lash out through his lips, choosing to replace them with others; "Do allow me to continue. I find myself in quite a predicament and am in need of your wisdom."

There was but a fleeting moment in which the others exchanged looks. One of the seven promptly turned to him and nodded; "Proceed, however do keep it concise." A hint of sarcasm at the word. Djinn forced himself to ignore it;

"While I have not only been trapped inside Zoroaster's jewel, I was also ensconced inside of a statue. After the," He didn't want to say the word, knowing if he did it would leave quite an unpleasant taste on his tongue. But there was no room for the luxury of preference, so he begrudgingly continued; "Failure of my third Waker, I was transported back inside it. It wasn't until a second break-in of the museum it had been kept in, that I was freed once more. My fourth Waker had made his first wish swiftly-"

"I fail to see this so-called predicament you say you are in. Rather it sounds more like another yarn you are spinning. Yet another failure that you are beginning to enlighten us of."

The same elder interrupted him a second time. It was apparent then that this was the one on the council that was the most fed up with him. In turn, Djinn was starting to become quite fed up with the other djinn as a result; "I am not finished, Elder One."

"Then I suggest you make haste in doing so quickly. Has it not occurred to you that nearly one millennium has passed in the span of your fumblings? Your tenure as our chosen is nearly at its end."

It was true. He had been given exactly one thousand years to grant the djinn freedom. While he still had about two hundred years left in the arrangement, time was rapidly becoming an eager rope around his neck. One hundred of the sum had already been spent long ago; Before he had lured the present king at that time to ruin. Now all he had left was a mere one hundred years before his time was up. If he were still unsuccessful in completing the prophecy, his tribe would have him exiled and replaced. Be it as it may that no djinn could die, being banished from his people would be just as suffice as a death sentence. While the entirety of their race as a whole was already exiled, if this humiliation came to fruition, then he would be cast out from his brothers, forced to wander alone through the endless ash-covered plane of the void between worlds. Not even the Marid would have him.

An exiled djinn was a dead djinn.

Djinn cast the thought out as quickly as it had come in. He would not fail again. Unlike him, Ahura Mazda was going to stay a forgotten deity. This new trail of thought led him back to the past, back to Mr. Beaumont's party. The host had wanted it to go down in history and he had been kind enough to indulge the gentleman. If not for the Ifrit council currently in front of him, Djinn would have enjoyed the memories. The present tension had him rushing through the remembrance for sake of 'getting to the point': Beaumont's extensive collection of forgotten gods and stone-fleshed idols. The room of lost gods. He took the second before responding to privately vow to himself that he would not join them in their ranks of irrelevance. Failure was out of the question;

"I will spare you the details."

"Please do." One said dryly.

A displeased growl emitted from his throat before complying; "My fourth Waker wished me to Hell. The human's Hell."

Contrary to popular belief, there were many Hells. Only one was not fit enough to sustain the sheer magnitude of malevolence that existed. Mankind was convinced that there was just one of its kind, but the djinn knew better. There existed far more than the classic hellfire and brimstone, much, much more. 'Leviathan's Realm' as the cenobite had put it, was yet another Hell of many, but nowhere near the only one.

The human's Hell was every bit that they had promised and imagined it to be. The mortals believed so vehemently, so strongly of such a place, that the staggering level of their faith had made it so. It had been the place he had been stuck in, the very same place he had met the other horrors that had traveled with him through the portal, and the sole reason he hadn't been able to grant his fourth Waker's second wish. By the time he had gotten out of Hell, Djinn had not been able to detect the presence of his Waker. Therefore, his Waker had died in his absence, rendering a frustrating restart of the process altogether.

And thus making possible the current conundrum.

A collective murmur whisked around the room, half of it in curiosity, and some parts of it being chuckled out in either humor or disbelief. Have they so little faith in their Wishmaster? The skepticism he heard had his tendrils twisting in agitation. He would show them. In time. When it would be him that managed to free them and in turn arrive with mankind at a kneel, he would be rewarded with the sounds of their previous skepticism being choked into those of apologies and praises. The daydream pleased him. He continued on with the fantasy in mind;

"That is where I have been all this time, and it seems as though the act of traversing back to the world of man has placed me in a position most puzzling. I am freed from Zoroaster's opal, but have no Waker to return to."

"No Waker!"

"Blasphemous!"

"Impossible!"

"I have never heard of such a thing!"

He braced himself in the face of their incredulity, declaring louder above the wagging of their tongues; "I too struggle to make sense of my plight. However fantastical it may be to believe, I urge you all to do so nevertheless. What I say is true, and that I place on my honor as a djinn of the Ifrit."

The bold proclamation silenced them. To swear something in the name of one's tribe was akin to an oath, and one that would not be broken, could not be compromised. Under it, a djinn could tell no falsehoods.

"No Waker to usher in our rightful place over the kingdom of Earth," Murmured one of the elders in thought, a hand to his chin; "Yet we remain trapped in this forsaken void."

"Tell us, have you granted any wishes upon your return to the world of man?" Questioned another.

"I have not." Answered Djinn.

"I have an interesting thought to propose to the rest of the council." A new voice was heard. It belonged to one of the seven elders, the only one of which had not spoken this entire time: The voice of the oldest djinn of the Ifrit. Immediately all hushed. The elder that had tested Djinn's patience earlier, encouraged him to speak; "Please brother, do us the kindness of your speech. Share with us your proposition."

Normally Djinn would have internally compared this elder to what the humans would call 'a kiss-ass', but he could not indulge the will to do so. The 'brown nosing' behavior that the elder had exhibited towards the eldest was undeniably deserved. The oldest of his tribe held both the loyalty and respect of his people. Of them all he was the most revered, and the most, dare he utter such a silly term, loved.

The form of the eldest hovered above them all. So high up in the room, his head nearly brushed the confines of the bathroom's ceiling. His hands came together in a contemplative steeple of fingers, which had Djinn realizing that he was sitting. Instantly he knew where the elders were in the void. There was little doubt in his mind that the council members of the Ifrit were gathered in the arena of the Nephilim.

The void was a vast, near endless realm that consisted of nothing but sandstone-colored ash and ruins. One unknowing would think it a massive desert of sand, but it was not. The dimension was littered with the ash that the Ifrit had been birthed from, the ash of the smokeless fire. One could wander the desert-like plane for centuries and never see the end of it. There, there seemed to be a sun that never set, forever scorching the ash-filled lands with an almost hateful radiance. There were few places his people could go in such a world, and the Nephilim's arena was one of the few. Djinn faintly recalled it as a wide, circular berth of half swallowed stone and columns; A ceremonial place his people went to gather and to entertain themselves.

"Only through the influence of a predetermined Waker could you have escaped Zoroaster's gemstone, correct?"

Djinn nodded certainly; "Yes, Eldest One."

"Then perhaps you are no longer needing of a predetermined Waker at all."

The 'brown nosing' elder from before rushed after the thought in earnest; "Brother, I do not understand what you seek to convey."

The eldest looked upon the others next to him along the wall, and finally upon Djinn himself. Raising his head with an air of certainty, he declared; "Perhaps you now possess the freedom to select a Waker of your own choosing."

Djinn inhaled sharply at the concept while the others raced to voice their shock. The freedom to choose his own Waker? Surely it could not be. It sounded almost too good to be true. Had being wished to Hell been the best thing that had ever happened to him? How ironic. Granting freedom to a djinn was a dangerous thing. Imprisonment and exile were the safest ways to prevent such a thing from happening. The best way to preserve the kingdom of man, but now? Now he was...Not quite free. Not yet. The interference of the portal combined with the death of his Waker had merely been an unshackling of sorts. Freedom in the smallest of ways. No longer would he have to rely on some human fool to come to him. Now, it would be the other way around.

New possibilities surged to the forefront of his mind. He could pick anyone. Whether it be man or woman, elder or child, the choices were stretched before him promisingly. He couldn't hide the smile that threatened to split the corners of his mouth.

A smile of which was abruptly halted by the jiggling of a doorknob.

Djinn whipped his head around, glaring at the bathroom door, almost willing it to explode into a frenzy of splinters and debris. But alas, the door did not explode from the frame. Instead the doorknob wiggled and twisted more insistently; Whoever on the other end entirely oblivious and unawares to the fact that if not for the limitation of his power, they would have been obliterated in an instant. He stifled a swear.

"I will be but a moment!" He called.

At that the doorknob stopped..

Only to again rotate and sway with a heedless determination.

Djinn growled in vexation, hastily facing the council once more; "My sincerest apologies, Elder Ones. I must away, but first I will express my gratitude for your aid. We will convene again when most convenient."

"See to it that we do not," Replied the 'ass-kisser'; "The next time we speak had better be at the opposite end of a table in which we feast upon. Choose your Waker, boy. Grant the third wish. Free us. Until that moment arrives, I will see no more of your face."

With that the council withdrew as one. Their ghostly images melded back into the walls to vanish behind the continuous movements of both realities blending. Djinn finally permitted his teeth to bare at the insult, angrily waving away the call to the void. With the wave of his arm, all was reverted to the way it had been previously. In one fluid motion, he pocketed the fire opal and unlocked the door.

No sooner had he achieved that, the door opened wide. There the Djinn stood face-to-face with Michael Myers; "Yes?" He spat the word as if it were a hot coal from his mouth, rather than asked it.

Michael said nothing. He never did. He never had. At least not in his company. Djinn wasn't sure why that was. He didn't know if it were just a matter of simply refusing to speak or if it had been the inability to.

He watched as Michael leaned to the side to peer behind Djinn's shoulder into the rest of the bathroom. Apparently he had heard some of the conversation. Djinn wasn't concerned. Even if anyone had been purposely eavesdropping in on their dialogue, no one would have understood a single word. Their language was undoubtedly a dead one, just about extinct really.

After failing to find whatever it was that he had hoped to see, Michael returned to his original stance. There was an obvious question in the eyes of the other. Djinn indulged him vaguely; "You could say that I had a phone call. The room is yours to do with as you please." Djinn slid past him, fully leaving the space. Michael stared at his back for a moment. Then he promptly entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Djinn "tsked" at the door in an aggravated fashion before turning to head downstairs.

That's when his eyes caught sight of the girl's bedroom door in doing so. He stopped short in his path, the words of the eldest echoing in his mind: 'Perhaps you now possess the freedom to select a Waker of your own choosing.' He considered. Should he choose the girl, Jennifer? Originally he had thought of her little more than an entertaining morsel, mere fodder for the fire opal. Another soul to fuel his already limited power. But now...Now he wondered. Would her siblings be more ideal? All three options were youthful ones. Youth typically fell to the schemes of desire and greed. The naivety of youth would be a helpful benefactor to his cause. And who better to choose from than what was most convenient?

He found himself approaching her room with eager steps. The freedom of his people depended on his choice. Obviously the easiest way to ensure mankind's downfall had to be picking either her younger sister or her younger brother to be his Wishmaker. Being so young, they would easily wish the lives of humanity away, and they would be none the wiser.

And yet..

He slowed just before her bedchambers, furiously trying to think.

And yet, a part of him rebelled at the thought. It would be so terribly easy for either of the children to make their wishes. Too easy in fact. Another human phrase came to mind and he searched for it. Ah yes. It would be 'like taking candy from a baby', indicating that there would be no challenge in the act whatsoever. A free victory if you will. The thought left him feeling grim. It would be the best solution to freeing the djinn upon the Earth, there was no doubt about that. However it would also be the least satisfying way to go about it.

If he were to go through with it, he had little to discredit the possibility that his brothers would never let him hear the end of it. The djinn would be freed, yes, but his ego would forever be the one enslaved to their ridicule.

His pride bristled at the thought.

He banished it away with a rap of his knuckles on her door. The manner in which she had politely declined him earlier had reminded him of one of his previous Wakers. One of which he was admittedly a bit fond of and one of which who had left him scorned.

Alexandria Amberson.

The woman's face raced to his mind's eye. She had been so lovely, so worthy in her fight and in the way she had struggled. If he were going to wrangle his three wishes from the clutches of humanity, he preferred to do so with an adversary of worth. He found himself smiling in his recollection. Perhaps if Jennifer wasn't quite fit for the choice of Waker, he could 'rekindle old flames'.

He knocked upon the door a second time. After all, he wasn't an animal. While he carried the indisputable certainty that the human race was entirely beneath him, he had enough class to know that entering without announcing one's arrival was generally considered uncouth in most cultures. If he just mindlessly barged in without so much as a knock, it would do little to distinguish him from a beast. He wasn't about to stoop to primitive behavior. The humans could be civilized and so could he. Although he could only lend so much of his lenience to their reluctant hostess. She was still human. A child of man. A pretty one at that. Though she still didn't deserve all of his dignities.

But she did not respond.

He mulled over what to do in his head. Was she sleeping? Is that why she did not answer? Or perhaps she was ignoring him, fed up with the crude behavior of the company he had been keeping as of late. He stiffened somewhat at the possibility. He would not be ignored. He was much too important for that. Additionally, it would be quite unbecoming of her not to answer if she were indeed inside.

Deciding that both knocks had been customary enough, Djinn entered the room. One swift survey of his gaze told him that she was nowhere within. Not here. So where could she be? That's when his spine elected to straighten at the newest prospect. Had she escaped?

He whirled away from her bedroom, closing her door as he did so. Where could she have gone? His eyes latched onto the railings of the second story he was on. Surely not the front door. She would have been stopped just as she had been before. There was no back door that he could recall. There couldn't possibly be a way down from the second floor other than the main staircase could there?

His tongue paced along the edges of his teeth while his eyes searched the hallway.

Finally his search halted on the stairs to his right. That's when he noticed it. The door at the top of the stairs had been left wide open. He began towards it instinctively. Djinn distinctly remembered having closed it the night prior, after they had found her up in the attic. Was that where she was? Plotting a third escape?

The Wishmaster would soon find out.