The most underrated part of being a genie, if you ask me, is the supernatural patience. If I was still human, sitting around a mansion for a few weeks by myself would drive me crazy.

As I found out from summoning the encyclopedia before my duel, I could summon books I've never seen or read. I hoped to abuse this by conjuring a few books on magic or Outsiders and the like, but no matter how I snapped my fingers, waved my hands or pictured a badass grimoire, nothing happened.

Slightly frustrating, but I didn't really expect it to be that easy. Since finding a genie in my attic, I just sort of assumed all of the fairy tales were real until proven otherwise. I already found witches and Fae, and Terese had accused me of being a demon, so anything goes as far as I'm concerned.

When I was a mortal I had very few hobbies, being one bad day away from homelessness often does that. My father and I loved going to the shooting range before the car accident took both his legs and one arm. It still broke his heart when we had to sell great-grandpa's autographed Winchester, along with the rest of the family firearms.

Even before the cancer I tired easily and hated sports, preferring to read or play the ancient video games my dad loved. I also loved food, cooking and eating it. Not really a hobby you get to keep with the way our finances were. I skipped many meals in secret so my growing brother and aging father could eat, claiming I'd eaten with friends.

"Wow," I said to myself looking around the large dining room, while sipping a mocha, nibbling on a large breakfast, and reading from my Contract, "times change."

While it might be called a Contract, the way it acted was much closer to badly-designed automated call center robot. Most of my written questions simply vanished as I wrote them, or told me I had yet to meet a threshold without telling me what that was.

I was being spoon-fed information, and at a snails pace.

"Is there a way to rank up?" I wrote, having asked a ton of different variations on this question over the past few hours.

Your rank is inherited. Further explanation will be shown when you've reached the cusp.

"Cusp of what?" I wrote back for what felt like the fiftieth time.

The words simply vanished, leaving me so grumpy I almost missed when the view outside the large bay windows suddenly changed.

Terese had followed my instructions and simply tossed the vessel out into the street, where a homeless man had found me and sold me to a pawn shop. I had been sitting in a filthy display case ever since.

Now, however, I was sitting on the floor in what looked like a basement. My vessel sat in the middle of a ring of salt, with two people starting at it very intently.

The first was a tiny old lady with large glasses and deep laugh lines. She dressed like a stereotypical grandma and looked very distraught, wringing her hands and glancing at the man next to her.

He stood at least 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair. He was dressed in a gray turtleneck along with a large brown trenchcoat and black cargo pants. His craggy, stubbled face held eyes of brushed steel.

"What happened?" The woman asked.

"I'm not sure," he replied in a gravelly baritone, "the ritual should have called for a creature capable of clearing a haunt, like another type of ghost or perhaps a demon. I wonder…" he stared down at my vessel expectantly.

Still holding my mocha and peering out the window, I decided to show myself. If one of them didn't count as my Master, then I wouldn't be able to leave the vessel anyway.

I coalesced, coffee in hand, and waved at the startled old woman.

"Tristan MacLennan, at your service. I make dreams come true." I said with a bow. Today I wore a deep blue vest over a black button-up with a pink tie.

"What are you, Outsider?" The man said, hand in his pocket as if palming a weapon.

"It's kind of rude not to introduce yourself after I just did," I replied, taking a long drink of my mocha before I continued, "but I'm a genie, here to serve whoever summoned me."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The man pulled the woman back a few feet and started talking to her in a low voice, shooting me glances every few seconds.

I shrugged and looked around, stroking my red beard and curled mustache. Nothing but a few boxes, a furnace, and a staircase leading to the first floor. Definitely a basement then. Rhythmic pounding and slamming came from above every few moments.

Finishing their conversation, the grizzled man and the old woman came back to stand before the circle of salt.

"My name's Samson," he introduced himself, "I'm afraid I need proof you're a genie before I let you out of that circle. Genies are exceedingly rare and dangerous Outsiders as you probably already know."

I looked down at the salt and back up at him, before awkwardly just stepping over it.

"Does that prove anything?" I asked.

"Very well, I didn't think salt and iron would effect one of your kind anyway, but it's good to have proof." Without any other preamble he continued, "I wish the spirit upstairs was banished"

"I hold no sway over mortal souls, my Master" I automatically replied, the words forcing their way out of my throat.

Well that's new, I wondered how I could I resurrect people if I couldn't mess with souls?

"Yep, that's a genie alright, if my books are too be believed," he told the woman next to him, "sorry Mrs. Frederick, it looks like me and the Outsider here will have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"Do what the old-fashioned way?" I asked, "there's some sort of ghost upstairs?"

"Have you never worked with an exorcist before?" He seemed surprised.

"Not yet no, are you Gifted?"

"Only in roguish charm I suppose," he chuckled, "exorcists are usually just mortals who got caught up behind the Curtain, although it's not uncommon to see a Changed in the ranks."

"Changed?" I asked.

"You have a lot of questions for an immortal, how inexperienced are you?"

Really wishing I could lie to Masters, I explained the relevant parts of my backstory.

"So that's where genies come from huh?" He summed up," well to answer your question, Changed are things like vampires, prometheans and of course, changelings. That's where the name comes from, Changed is kind of a catch-all term for the individuals between mortal and Outsider."

"Wouldn't that make me Changed?" I asked, pointing to myself.

"Frankly, you ain't between shit," he scoffed. "There ain't an ounce of mortal in you, do you even bleed?"

"… Well no." I admitted.

"There you go. For better or worse you left humanity behind when you put those cuffs on. Anyway," he said, " let's get down to business, I'll just assume you know nothing. Upstairs is a wight, a revenant-adjacent kind of hostile spirit. Unlike a revenant, wights aren't hunting down their murderers, instead they're filled with loss and sadness that they died alone, and seek to kill the ones that they love the most so they can be together again."

That seems really screwed up, I thought, you do everything right in life and surround yourself with people you love, only to try to murder them after you die? Not fair at all.

"Wights are much harder to deal with than typical spirits, very stubborn. I used up all my salt and iron marking the basement door. Short of burning down this whole house, the only way to get rid of the late Mr Frederick is with the good stuff: blessed silver, the right enchanted object or strong enough holy magic. Genies aren't particularly holy, so give me a run down of your basic abilities and maybe between the two of us, we can figure something out before that door breaks down, and the wight kills everybody in here but you."

Well, that's a lot to take in all at once, I thought to myself.

"I can summon and dismiss small objects and I can innately cast small spells, without you wishing for anything. I think I'm probably stronger and faster than a mortal as well. Other than that, you'd probably have to make a wish." I explained

"Can you try summoning some blessed silver?" He asked.

I opened my hand and snapped my fingers. A small pile of silver coins appeared, glowing with a bluish sheen. When I handed them to Samson however, they crumbled into pink glitter.

"Hmm," he scratched his head, "conjure me a cup of coffee."

I obliged, a ceramic mug full of steaming Colombian dark roast popping into my hand. When I handed him the cup, nothing happened. He took a sip.

"That hits the spot, but it confirms my theory." He said. "there's a limit to what you can give others for free." He nodded to himself and held out his hand, "I wish for a blessed silver weapon that I am proficient with to appear in my hand"

"As you wish," I replied.

I snapped my fingers and a bluish-silver hunting knife appeared in his hand. It was large, with a wicked curve on the end and serration on the back. Silvery-pink engravings covered the handle and the blade, the results of a durability enchantment I threw on for free.

"Can you control fate magic?" He asked, weighing the blade in his hand.

"No idea."

"Better not risk wishing to win then, what do you recommend?"

I thought about it for a bit, Samson's about to get into a knife fight with a ghost, with my help of course. I would be more useless with a knife than unarmed, and none of my "small magics" could affect the creature either. Small bangs and crashes had been echoing upstairs as well, reminding me often that the salt Samson used to block the door is a limited protection at best. I came up with a few ideas.

"Perhaps you could wish for Mrs Frederick to be somewhere safe while we do this, and also wish for me to help you."

"I have to make a wish for you to help me?"

"No," I replied, "but if you wish I could help instead of just asking me, I'll have a lot more power to bring to the table. I'll even throw you an extra wish once this is over, cuz I like to help out beautiful widows." I said, causing the quiet Mrs Frederick, who had been silent this whole time to let out a quiet nervous chuckle.

"Very well," he declared, "I wish Mrs Frederick was somewhere safe nearby, and I wish you would help me banish this wight to the best of your ability."

"As you wish."

Power filled my Incarnate to absolute bursting, cracks forming and vision blackening before I settled into it. I sent Mrs Frederick into my vessel, confused but satisfied I could do that with a wish even without the Break, and summoned a large pearl-gripped 44 magnum loaded with blessed silver hollow points.

"Ready when you are, boss."