The Djinn extended both the pen and the book toward her, dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Would you sign it for me?"
"You want me to...?" Mandy stared at the pen's intricate patterns. "Is that magical?"
"Perhaps." Jacinth's lips curved mischievously. "Does it matter?"
The pen felt warm in Mandy's palm, its weight perfect in her grip, as if crafted specially for her hand.
"What should I write?" The blank title page stretched before her, intimidating. She'd signed books before, but this felt different. Significant.
"Whatever you'd like," Jacinth said. "Just make it personal."
Mandy stared at the page, suddenly aware that she was about to sign a paranormal romance book for an actual magical being. The absurdity of the situation hit her, and she couldn't help but laugh. "I never imagined I'd be autographing one of my books for a Djinn."
The pen moved with surprising smoothness, the ink shimmering slightly. She paused, gathering her thoughts, then wrote:
"To Jacinth -
Who brought magic into my life in more ways than one. Thank you for showing me that sometimes the most wonderful stories aren't just found in books, but in the extraordinary moments of our everyday lives.
With deepest gratitude,
Amanda Dupont"
She finished her signature with a flourish, then sat back to examine her handiwork. The silvery ink caught the light, her usually plain handwriting transformed into something elegant by the magical pen.
"There," she said, carefully closing the book and returning both it and the pen to Jacinth. Her cheeks warmed as Jacinth read the inscription.
Jacinth hugged the book to her chest. "Thank you, Mandy. This means more than you know." Then the book simply... vanished.
Mandy's jaw dropped. Despite the magic she'd witnessed, watching something disappear still shocked her.
Jacinth's musical laughter filled the room. "Your expression!"
Mandy shook her head, finally finding her voice. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."
"Oh?" Jacinth's grin turned impish as she pointed toward the kitchen.
The spaghetti sauce pan's lid lifted. The wooden spoon rose, dipped into the sauce, and stirred with perfect circles before settling back on its rest. The lid descended with a gentle clink.
"Could I wish for enchanted kitchen utensils?" The words tumbled out.
Jacinth's musical laughter filled the room. "Already thinking practical applications? I like how your mind works."
"Standing at the stove isn't easy these days. Help with cooking would mean fewer days of pain afterward."
"That's actually quite clever. Most people wish for wealth or power or beauty. But enchanted kitchen tools?" She grinned. "That's original."
"What's it like?" Mandy asked. "Being a Djinn? Where do you live when you're not appearing in hospitals and kitchens?"
"Until recently, I lived in Qaf, which is the Djinn homeland," Jacinth said, her dark eyes growing distant with memory. "It's beautiful there - all sweeping desert vistas and hidden oases. The tents look simple from the outside, but inside..." She sighed happily. "Imagine the most luxurious palace you've ever read about, then multiply it tenfold."
"Until recently?" Mandy prompted, curiosity overcoming hesitation.
"Yes." Jacinth beamed. "I'm married now. We have a house in the Hudson Valley - my husband Douglas, our children Ben and Molly, and my adopted daughter Talya." Her voice softened. "It's different from Qaf, but wonderful. Though I miss the endless desert and the stars you could almost touch."
Mandy frowned, calling up old memories. "I remember learning about Qaf in school - the great circular mountain range ancient geographers believed encircled the world."
"Both true and not true," Jacinth's eyes twinkled. "The physical mountain exists, but Qaf is also a mystical realm parallel to your world. Like two pieces of paper laid together - they occupy the same space, but on different planes."
