Twisted Ginni by Nicola Rose
Ginni
The voices of good and bad ran rampantly through my mind, getting louder and louder, each demanding to be heard. They were always the loudest during the early days of a summoning before I settled on a version of myself.
Fuck them over? Help them? Fuck them over? Help them?
Decisions, decisions.
After supernaturally hot-wiring their truck, I sped across the city and pulled up at a gas station on the edge of El Paso. He did say to be quick. Bank heists took planning. They wanted cash, this would have to do for now. Lots wasn’t precise. They’d have to learn for themselves that commands needed to be clearly defined if they expected me to play ball.
I found it nearly impossible to believe these guys were pivotal to current apocalyptic prophecy. Sam could barely even look at me, let alone speak. Andras was ready to detonate, but not in a glorious, villainous way — more of a mental breakdown. And in comparison, aside from some authority issues, Phoenix, with his soothing, lyrical voice, was way too chill for End of Days nonsense.
Besides, they were all way too gorgeous. Sure, they were living in squalor, but they were dressed in fashionable, grungy clothes and Phoenix, with his tattoos, jewelry, pierced nose, and long flowing hair, smelled like fresh laundry! Up close, I’d wanted to bury my face into his coppery mane just to inhale more of him.
Warming energy burned through my insides. Something I’d never felt before. I had no idea what it was, but the fact it was new had to mean something. Truthfully, it scared me.
I couldn’t afford to let it grow, lose sight of myself, no matter how their lovely tormented faces made me feel. No matter that the invisible tether attaching me to a master usually chafed and instead put butterflies in my tummy.
I was already in deep shit, I needed to stay focused, find a way to use them to help me with my own problems. Shouldn’t be hard. If there’s one thing I’d learned in the last couple of centuries, it was that men were simple creatures. They might talk the talk for a while, but all they ever really wanted was sex and money. Power. Power over women, over life. I didn’t need their lists of endless commands to know what they wanted.
Any fool could please them.
And I would — I’d please them, if only I didn’t find them all so dull. If only they’d show a little respect, want something a little more interesting, then maybe I’d be happy. Maybe I’d fulfill their dreams. Treat them like kings.
They never understood it, though. Putting me in a bad mood didn’t go well for any of my owners. An unhappy djinn would always listen to the voice of darkness over good. It was too hard to resist the fuckery.
Which is why I wasn’t too concerned that I was about to rob a gas station with their truck parked up in full view of security cameras, a nice clear picture of the license plate. I doubted it was registered, but it’d still cause them grief.
They said to get money; they didn’t say not to bring some drama with it.