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then I went back into the bottle
until tonight. Thanks for that, by the way. You have no idea how lonesome and
boring it gets in there.”
    A beeping sound startled him. Hayes jumped up, nearly
knocking over the chair. The woman, she eased off the couch and came around it
slowly.
    “It’s just the oven. My dinner is done.”
    He looked toward the oven and then made a disgusted sound in
the back of his throat. “Sorry ’bout that. I’m not familiar with modern
devices.”
    “It’s okay.” She took it slow, approaching as if he were
some wild animal she needed to move carefully around.
    Hayes decided to go easy on her and put distance between
them. When she opened the oven door, the aroma hit him like a ton of bricks. It
smelled incredible and made his mouth water. Real food. Home-cooked food that
satisfied a man’s stomach. How long had it been since he tasted anything
substantial?
    She grabbed a towel and then reached in and touched the
glass pan. Instantly she yelped, jumped back and grabbed her hand. Hayes
pointed at the pan and it floated from inside to the top. The door shut and
then he moved toward her.
    “Let me look at that.” The woman backed away with fear in
her eyes but he ignored her, reached out and wrapped his fingers around her
wrist. A small, delicate wrist with cool flesh against his warm palm and he
couldn’t believe he was actually touching a woman. “That’s a nasty burn.” He
laid the tip of his finger over the damaged flesh and in seconds it healed.
    “How’d you, what,” she looked up at him, surprised. “It
doesn’t hurt anymore.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t like seein’ people in pain.”
    She stood there, staring at her finger in silence and then
sighed. “Do you eat? I mean, can you eat?”
    “Sure. I don’t really need it to live but I can still enjoy
food.” Was she offering to share? Did anyone ever share their meal with him
over the last two centuries?
    “It’s not much but I’ve got plenty. That is, if you’d like.”
    “I’d like. I’d like a lot. Thank you, ma’am.” He waved his
hand toward the stove and the pan blinked to the table.
    “Hot pad,” she shouted. “Hot pad. Pick it up a second.”
    Hayes did and she slid a thick piece of material beneath it.
He lowered the pan and smiled. “You should have used that to take it out. You
wouldn’t have hurt yourself.”
    “My name is Chance,” she said, staring at the table as if
trying to comprehend what just happened.
    “Chance?”
    “Yes, that’s my name. Stop calling me ma’am.” She jammed her
hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Dishes are in the cupboard.”
    It took a moment but then it clicked. She wanted to test
him, that or confirm in her head what he could do. No big deal. He waved his
hand and two dishes appeared on the table along with utensils. “Anythin’ else
you’d like, Master?” He meant it as a small joke but her eyes grew wide and she
plopped down in a chair.
    He grew a bit concerned when her flesh turned pasty white.
“Are you sick?”
    She swallowed hard. “This can’t be happening. It isn’t real.
Genies aren’t real, much less Southern-talking genies wearing clothes from the
eighteen hundreds. I must be losing my mind.”
    He didn’t like the sound of her tight, strangled voice.
Sitting down slowly beside her, Hayes placed his hands on the table where she
could see them. “I’m sorry, Chance, but it is real. Genies are real. It doesn’t
matter where they’re from. Can’t say I blame your doubt though. I don’t
remember much from my past anymore, but I do remember thinkin’ the same thing.”
A huge mistake on his part, one he’d never make again.
    “They’re just legends,” she whispered.
    “Yep, and legends are grounded in some sort of truth.” The
knowledge he learned as the shackles grew into his bone was hard to stomach.
Dragons did exist at one time. Fairies were real and still lived among humans.
The list went on. Evil did walk the earth