Slowly, you shake your head.
"No way, old man. Dealing with you is what got me into this mess in the first place. I'll handle this on my own, thank you very much."
The wizard sighs and retracts his hand.
"Very well. Goodbye, Elliot."
With no fanfare whatsoever, he disappears. As he does, the mall suddenly springs back to life, shoppers returning to their business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Which, for them, you suppose it hasn't. Whatever. If the old man isn't going to help you, you'll just have to find another way to remove the accursed collar. You don't suppose it could simply be cut away, but the old wizard had mentioned that "powerful magic" could overcome the collar's effect. All you have to do is find some.
Unfortunately, finding powerful magic isn't as easy as it sounds—which, given how difficult it sounds, is saying something. However, you do stumble across a lead, if a distant one—a long and embarrassing call to the Better Business Bureau reveals another self-proclaimed 'magic shop' in town, this one apparently on a more permanent basis. Called "Reagents 'n Things," it's about half an hour's drive from the mall and you head over there as quickly as you can manage.
The similarities with the wizard's shop are striking. A small wooden door—albeit this one covered with anti-burglary bars—causes a tiny brass bell to chime as you enter the shop. As before, you seem to be the only customer, and the shopkeeper comes to address you personally. Unlike the wizard, though, this chap is rather young, boasting dreadlocks and appropriately new-age attire.
"Welcome, sister, to this humble house of the mystical arts. Rest easy, you are among friends here."
You don't see anyone but the shopkeeper to merit the pluralization of "friends," and don't appreciate being called 'sister,' but this guy may be your only hope so you grit your teeth and bear it.
"I'm looking for some kind of powerful magic," you say. "Do have anything like that?"
The young shopkeeper gestures to the walls and tables, most of which are lined with various baubles and crystals.
"Perhaps you could be more specific?" he asks. "I have many powerful artifacts here, from stones of warding to hand-crafted talismans of protection. Or perhaps you'd be interested in a spirit crystal? Such crystals are known to possess great healing properties."
You glance hesitantly around. None of that sounds like what you need.
"Actually, I was hoping you had some magical scissors or something. See, I just bought this collar from this old dude in a bathrobe, and now I can't—"
"You what?" interrupts the man, eyes wide. "You visited Spells R Us?"
He reaches forward and brushes the hair from your neck, gazing in wonder at the collar around your neck.
"You're into serious magic, young lady, serious magic indeed."
"Yeah, I noticed. So will any of these crystal things help me remove the collar?"
"What, this junk?" laughs the shopkeeper. "This stuff's not really magical. Just trinkets and baubles to amuse Goth kids and hippies. I do have a few genuine items in the back, but nothing to rival the Wizard's magic.
Your heart sinks.
"So you can't help me?" you ask.
The shopkeeper shakes his head.
"I'm afraid not," he says. "But I might be able to point you in the direction of someone who can."
The shopkeeper beckons you to sit.
"As I said, most of my clientele are posers and wannabes, but on occasion I do conduct business with the genuine article. One particular group came in a little while ago, looking for demon blood. Powerful stuff, that. I didn't have any, but I told them I'd let them know if I got any in stock."
He produces a small slip of paper with an address scrawled on it.
"This is where they said I could find them. I don't know what they're up to, but I could practically taste the magical energy coming off of them. Whatever they're doing, it's serious business—way out of my league. They might be able to help you, I don't know. Be careful, though. These are not people you want to trifle with, understand?"
You nod slowly.
"Is there any other way?" you ask.
The shopkeeper looks thoughtful for a moment, and then reluctantly nods.
"I've also heard a rumor—just a rumor, mind you—of a genuine genie bottle popping up somewhere in Los Angeles. Thing is, apparently whoever found it was some careful archeologist type, so he never touched it with his bare hands. So instead of granting the three wishes and disappearing like genies usually do, it's still there, still waiting for someone to touch it. If you can find that, you'll have that thing off your neck easy as cake. I don't care how powerful that choker is, it's no match for genie magic."
"Isn't that dangerous?" you ask. "Won't a genie try to trick me or twist my wish or something?
The shopkeeper shrugs.
"Oh, it's dangerous, sister," he says. "But that's how it always is with magic, you know? As for twisting your wish—well, that's possible. I imagine a genie could do whatever he damn well pleased. But most of them won't. No, your biggest problem is going to be getting the bottle in the first place. You think it'd still be up for grabs if any old schmuck could just drive to L.A. and take it? No way, sister. I don't know exactly where it is, but I guarantee somebody does. Probably several somebodies. People who will do anything—anything—to get those wishes for themselves."
He nods meaningfully, then passes you the slip of paper.
"Like I said, here's the address of those cultists. I wish I had something more specific for you on the L.A. Genie, but not many details make it this far north, you know? Whatever you choose, good luck. Just… if you get into trouble, don't tell anyone where you got your info, okay?"
Nodding, you thank the young shopkeeper and head out the door, brass bell chiming as you exit.
As you return to Penelope's car you struggle in vain to adjust the thin straps of her bra, which the effort of supporting her heavy bosom is causing to dig painfully into your shoulders. After a few minutes of movement fails to produce any lasting relief, you eventually give up and turn your attention to the more important problem—getting out of this stupid body altogether!
Thus, sitting alone in the parking lot, you ponder the young shopkeeper's suggestions. Should you drive south to Los Angeles in order to find and acquire the genie lamp, or stay in town and try to get help from the cultists?
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
