The clock’s ticking grated on Amélie. The executive director needed to assign the roles for Giselle, and he had told her that she either needed to return to full-time dancing by next week or put in her notice for retirement. The clock on the wall seemed to be streaming at her that the deadline was coming.
Her cell phone rang. She sighed irritably, walked over to her bag, and answered it.
“Signorina, an elephant-headed man is coming for you. Go with him,” a masculine voice said.
“Say what?”
She look at her phone. It was an unlisted number. Amélie typically didn’t answer unlisted numbers and had not answered the last three times her phone had rang. They were often sales calls. She had no idea why she had answered this time. She was too kind to spammers.
“Thank you for your phone call,” she replied before hanging up. She was too nice to the prank callers, too. She should have just hung up without saying anything. It would just encourage him.
She dropped her phone in a her canvas duffel bag and returned to the center of the empty dance studio. She needed that role.
The studio was one of the smaller rooms of the Royal Ballet. A mirror covered the entire wall opposite the door. A barre was attached to the other three walls, and a small upright piano sat in the corner, left of the mirrored wall. She tapped the tips of her pointe shoes in the resin tray before the mirror and then ground the tips into the wooden floor.
Amélie walked to the center of the room and faced the mirror. Her elegant reflection was dressed in a plain black leotard, pale pink tights, and a sheer wrap-around skirt. The other dancers typically wore footless tights and t-shirts, but she liked the more traditional outfits. She attempted a plié and her knees popped as they bent out. Pain shot up her leg, but she ignored that. She then tried to leap with a jéte, but her legs gave out on the landing. She fell, rotating onto her bottom on the wood floor.
Tears came to her eyes. Her knee was done. She had been able to practice for multiple hours most of this week. She had never had her legs give out before.
After her ski accident and knee replacement surgery, the doctors had warned her that she could walk and even be very active, but she would probably never reach the level of performance she had before. They tried to softly suggest discovering other careers around dancing to pursue. She had refused to listen to them. That was six months ago.
She was one of the principal dancers at the largest ballet company in the UK. At thirty years old, she was at the peak of her career and had been the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker, Odette in Swan Lake, Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, and so many other dream roles. She was striving to be the best dancer of her generation, yet the vice-like grip of pressure around her knee would not diminish after months of therapy. She didn’t want to be a choreographer or a teacher. She didn’t want to transition to ballroom dancing. She wanted to be like one of those very rare dancers who were still in demand at sixty years old, like Prima Ballerina Assoluta Alessandra Ferri. Yet, her knee did not agree with her.
It was all over. The doctors had told her that ballet was one of the hardest athletic activities to return to after a total knee replacement. The twisting, full squats, and sharp jerking motions were tough on the knees. A dancer’s career was typically short, and the time it would take to heal fully, get back into top condition, and try to master those roles again would take her into the age most dancers retired. She was going to have to move back in with her parents on the edge of London and try to start over again.
Tears rolled down her cheek.
At that moment, the massive mirror covering the wall of the room began to ripple. Amélie didn’t notice at first because of her tears, but rippling brought pastel waves of color.
“I overworked myself,” she muttered. “I probably need to get something to eat.”
She had thought it was the waves of tiredness that she would get periodically when she had gone to rehearsals without breakfast, but the rest of the room was unchanged. Her tears dried up as she looked around more intensely. The mirror’s colors began to create shapes and pictures. They were like the fanciful pictures from a watercolor storybook. The colors solidified to form a tiled mosaic of jewel-tone flowers, fruit, birds, and butterflies. In the center of the mosaic was an arched doorway with a heavy wood door painted blue.
“Is this real?” Amélie asked, looking around.
The rest of the dance studio was empty and unchanged. She moved her legs to stand, and a shot of pain stabbed her from her bad knee. She sat back down. It was real.
The blue door then slowly opened, and a very athletic man with the head of a small elephant walked through. The man wore a fashionable brown suede coat over a light blue cotton collared shirt, and Italian-cut gray trousers. The light blue silk tie was tucked into his shirt just like one of the models from the fashion magazine in the lobby of the dance studio.
“Is this a joke?” asked Amélie. “Is it animatronic? It’s so real looking.”
The elephant head tilted like he didn’t really understand. He then walked forward towards her. Amélie began to panic.
“Oh no! Stay away from me,” she said as she tried to get up again and then scooted backward when that failed.
The elephant-headed man stopped walking towards her and instead spotted her bag and things. He went over to her belongings, packed them up, and carried them towards Amélie.
“Stay away from me,” Amélie said again.
The man dropped the bag at her feet and pointed to the door. Amélie grabbed her bag and jumped to her feet. She stumbled to the dance studio door and tried to open it. The door wasn’t just locked; it was glued closed. It didn’t even rattle. Amélie fought with the door and pulled on it with all her strength. She then felt the elephant-headed man behind her. She turned around with her back to the door. The elephant-headed man lifted his right hand to take her hand in his. A chill of terror shivered up her arm. At the moment that the shiver was about to reach her throat in the form of a scream, he dropped his hand again. Instead, he pointed to the open door.
Amélie slid down to the ground with her back against her only escape from the room. Her eyes followed the direction he pointed through the magical doorway. On the other side was an English garden on a plateau overlooking a lake that was surrounded by mountains. To the right were lawn chairs and an elegant crystal-clear fountain with a statue in the center. To the left was a pink three-story villa that seemed to come from a travel magazine article about someplace in Europe. She gasped and blinked. Was he kidnapping her to take her there?
“Do you want me to go willingly?” she asked the elephant-headed man. “So do you think that a single woman should allow herself to be kidnapped by some magical elephant-headed stranger and taken to his villa who knows where with no way to get home? You’re crazy.”
Actually, maybe she was the one who had gone crazy.
He sighed. He pulled out of his pocket a little blown-glass bottle and pulled out the the cork stopper. In a quick jerk, he tossed the contents on Amélie. It smelled like flowers and all-spice. The room went dark.
Amélie woke up in her same clothes, lying on a bed in a small, simply decorated room. The furniture was an expensive mix of modern and antique. The window overlooked the same lake she had seen through the magic door.
“He was able to kidnap me anyway,” mumbled Amélie as she sat up.
She glanced to her right where her bag was. It had all of her things. She picked up her cell phone, wondering if she was in some magical land or still on earth. She pulled up the maps app and chose the option to show her current location.
“Italy? I’m near Milan.” She pondered which friend to call for help. Could someone fly out here to get her?
A light knocking sound came from the door of the bedroom. The door slowly opened. A tiger standing on its hind legs and wearing a very fashionable Italian dress walked through the door, leaving it open behind her. Carrying a tray of food in her paws, she walked to the nightstand at the side of the bed. Unlike the elephant-headed man, she was a tiger from head to toe. Amélie slid away from it. The tiger woman took the cold dinner tray lying there and left the new tray. It appeared that Amélie had slept there all night, and it was now morning.
The tiger woman then went to the antique wardrobe that stood against the wall farthest from the door and next to the large window. She opened the mirrored doors with her free paw. Then she turned to look at Amélie. She motioned from the clothes that hung there to Amélie and back, trying to indicate they were for her.
“Umm, thanks?” Amélie said.
The tiger woman nodded, walked to the bedroom door, and repeatedly opened and closed it to show it would not be locked. She left it slightly open when she walked out.
Amélie turned to the food tray. It held flowers in a tiny vase, a cappuccino, and a sweet brioche. Could it be drugged? It was possible, but she had already been drugged. She decided to eat pastry since she was famished.
She carried the cappuccino as she sipped it to the wardrobe. A dress, pants, a blouse, and a fashionable jumpsuit hung inside. A pair of designer sandals with thick two-inch heels were on the wardrobe floor. Undergarments and a box of delicate gold and diamond jewelry were on the top shelf.
She then walked into the bath and saw everything she needed there as well. She took another sip of her cappuccino.
Was she a kidnapped prisoner or on a luxury vacation?
She then strolled to the large window. It turned out to be a sliding glass door that led to a tiny balcony. Amélie walked out into the cool sunlight and surveyed the English garden below her.
A lake with sailboats was beyond the garden, and green mountains beyond that. It was the most gorgeous place she had ever seen. The villa she stood in was pink, and she was on the third floor which was the top floor. Rooms to her left had the same kind of tiny balconies with wrought iron rails. Directly below her was a large tiled patio with multiple tables and chairs. She returned to the bedroom.
“Well,” she said as she returned her empty cup to the breakfast tray. “This is the strangest kidnapping I have ever heard of. I’m not locked in, but I’m unsure if I can leave. I was drugged to get me here to be with strange animal people. I guess I’ll go along with it for the moment.”
Amélie showered and dressed in the pants and blouse from the wardrobe. She left the jewelry. Once done, she put her phone in her pocket and left the room. The villa was spotlessly clean and perfect for hosting guests. The hallway had modern abstract paintings in antique frames. The house was lit by a plethora of windows and pendant light fixtures. She passed a few bedrooms before she found the spiral staircase. Once she descended a floor, she walked back in the direction she came from. A wall of windows led to the balcony porch she had seen from her room. On her left was more rooms, then an open library and piano; beyond that was a formal dining room and an open kitchen. In the kitchen, a polar bear was cooking lunch. Amélie turned around without disturbing the cook. She found another stairwell tucked between the dining room and the library.
She went down those stairs to find a living room with another fireplace and two locked rooms that required keys. From there, she found the front door, which was easily unlocked from the inside of the house. She glanced around to see that no one was looking before leaving the house.
A garden surrounded a circular driveway with a fountain in the center. There were no cars. The driveway went on through some cypress trees and around a hill. She had no idea how far the road would be, but she heard no traffic, just the gentle splashing of the lake.
“That would have been too easy,” she muttered to herself. She turned around and went back into the house. She would search for cars later. She walked through the house and walked out into the English garden.
The tiger woman followed her through the door with another tray. She stopped at a wrought iron table with a tile mosaic top and set down a bottle of white wine and a glass, a plate of pasta with a white sauce, and a small loaf of bread on a cutting board. She indicated that the food was for Amélie before she left.
“Lunch already?” said Amélie. She must have slept late. She sat down to the meal and began to eat. Her phone rang.
“Hello?” Amélie asked.
The masculine voice from before her kidnapping spoke. “Are you happy, Signorina Amélie?”
“I’ve been kidnapped by a magical elephant-headed man,” replied Amélie. “This might be paradise, but I didn’t choose to come here and can’t go home. What do you think?”
There was silence.
“Hello?” asked Amélie.
“Stay for one night, and I will tell you how to get home tomorrow,” said the voice. “This was the only way. I’m sorry.”
“A… thanks. I guess,” she replied. There was silence, so she hung up.
Amélie finished the pasta and poured herself a second glass of wine before walking into the gardens.
The gardens held the fountain with the sculpture she had seen through the magic door and a pool next to the rock on which the house was built. From the rock was a waterfall into the pool.
“If I weren’t a prisoner, I would be in heaven,” she muttered. She looked back out on the lake. There were other villas. Human people were on the boats.
“What a strange place,” she told herself. “Where did these animal people come from? Are they aliens? What do they want? Who is the man who keeps calling me?” She reviewed those questions over and over again. For some reason, she had forgotten to call someone for help. It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that she remembered. She decided to call her boss, the executive director of the ballet.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Help! I’ve been kidnapped,” she told him.
“Amélie? Where are you? Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I am in a villa near Milan. An elephant-headed man brought me here through a magic portal.”
Silence.
“Amélie, are you drunk?” he asked. “I know you have had a rough time. Retirement is a difficult choice, but considering all you have been through physically… and you are getting to that age… I knew it would happen soon, but you are taking it hard. I just hate that you are letting yourself go like this.”
“I’m not drunk,” said Amélie, almost in tears.
“Are you having a nervous breakdown? Did you hear what you just told me?”
Amélie couldn’t reply. More tears came. Even if she could prove she was in Italy, How could she prove an elephant-headed man did it? She sighed.
“Never mind.” She hung up.
She gulped the rest of her wine. Retirement and being kidnapped. It could be worse, she supposed. She could be locked up in some cell or closet instead of being served gourmet food at an Italian villa.
As Amélie sat down on one of the lawn chairs in the garden , a shadow blocked the sunlight. Amélie turned to her right and squeaked in surprise when she saw it was the elephant-headed man. She covered her mouth with her hands. He seemed as terrifying as the first time she had seen him. He motioned for her to come with him and pointed to the house.
There was no point in fighting him this time. Amélie wanted to know why she was here. He led her into the house and unlocked a room to the right of the entry and living room. It was a massive art studio with fabric and drawings of models and fashion designs on three large work tables. Five sewing mannequins stood around the room. She saw two sewing machines and other tools a fashion designer would need. On the wall hung pictures of runway models in various styles. A portrait of an Italian man with a model on either side of him also hung on the wall. The elephant-headed man pointed to the picture and to the room.
“Does this house belong to that fashion designer?” asked Amélie.
The elephant-headed man nodded.
“What happened to him?” Amélie asked.
The elephant-headed man pointed to himself and back to the picture. When Amélie didn’t respond, he started to motion more frantically. Amélie turned pale and started to back away.
“You killed him?” she said with horror.
He shook his head and pointed to a gray taffeta fabric. Then, he tried to mimic the walk of a woman.
“You turned him into a woman?” Amélie asked as she continued to move backward to the door of the room.
He made fists and slammed one on the table. Amélie jumped and froze. He then went to grab a tablet in the middle of a work table to his left. The device made an audible zapping noise in his hand. He squealed, dropped the device, and then danced around, holding his hand.
Amélie didn’t wait for more. She dashed out of the room, up the two sets of stairs, and ran into the bedroom she had woken in. She closed the door, locking it from the inside.
“He killed a fashion designer with that zapping device and took his house from him,” said Amélie to herself as she hugged herself. “Is this going to be like one of those horror stories in which he tries to make me his wife or something?” She paced the room in panic. “Think, Amélie, think!”
He hadn’t harmed her yet. He had brought her here, but he made no sexual advances yet. The device had zapped him, not her. She stopped pacing and sat on the bed.
“What is going on here?” she exclaimed. Her phone rang.
“Signorina, you have made a great error,” said the masculine voice.
“Who are you? How do you know?” she asked.
“I am on your side,” he replied. “I am that designer in the picture. My name is Signore Giovanni Piccolomini Ammannati, and I am under a curse from an enchantress who became angry about a dress I made for her. You must help the elephant-headed man to help me.”
“You should have just told me that instead of having that monster kidnap me,” replied Amélie. “Who is he? Some kind of alien or magical thing?”
“He is part of me or most of me. Would you have believed me?” he asked. “You didn’t believe me when I told you about the elephant-headed man coming to get you.”
Amélie paused. No, she wouldn’t have believed him, just like her boss didn’t believe she had been kidnapped.
“Ok, you have a point, but–“
“I can’t talk,” Giovanni said. He then changed the pitch of his voice higher and said in a more feminine slur, “Hey Siri, hang up.” The phone went silent.
Amélie looked at her phone. So, how was the elephant-headed man part of this voice? Considering all the odd things happening to her, it could mean anything.
She threw her phone on the bed and walked to her window to look at the lake. It was a beautiful home. If Giovanni was telling the truth, he and this elephant-headed man were cursed because of a dress. How unfair was that? Amélie looked down at the garden and saw the elephant-headed man standing next to the rail at the edge of the garden, staring out at the lake. For the first time, she felt pity for him.
Then she smirked. Would breaking this spell have requirements like some fairytale? Would she be required to kiss him or fall in love with a mute stranger? The idea of even getting close to him gave her the creeps.
“It would be like Beauty and the Beast or The Nutcracker,” she muttered. “Ugh, the idea of kissing an elephant is horrible.”
She left the window and wandered around her room. She thought about social media or watching videos to waste time, but it didn’t interest her. She just wanted to solve this mystery and go home… to face her forced retirement. Her boss had told her to retire, and he might force her to if he thought she had a nervous breakdown. She would be going home to pack up her apartment and move, starting over with a new life. Going home didn’t sound so fun when she put it like that.
There was a knock on her door. Amélie unlocked it and opened it to see the tiger lady. She didn’t have a tray. She motioned for Amélie to follow her. If the elephant-headed man wasn’t a murderer, she really had no reason to stay locked up. She would hold them to the promise she could go home tomorrow, though. Amélie grabbed her phone from the bed and followed. She would play the heroine role for now.
They walked to the stairs, down one floor, and then out to the patio. One of the tables was set for dinner. There was only one place setting, but the doors to the house were left open. A note sat on her plate with a newspaper clipping. The tiger woman pulled out the chair and motioned for Amélie to sit down. Amélie did so and picked up the letter. It was written in large, messy letters, like someone trying to write without looking at the paper.
“I am sorry I scared you. I have never killed anyone. I need your help, but you are free to go if you like. I cannot leave. If I touch any electronics, they give me an electrical shock. I also get shocks trying to walk off my property. I don’t know how to break this curse. I need help figuring it out.”
Amélie folded the note and laid it next to the plate. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t stay here for months trying to break a stranger’s curse. Her family would worry about her, and her friends would wonder if something terrible had happened. Maybe she could plan on coming back as a vacation? Then again, a plane ticket to Milan was expensive.
She then picked up the newspaper clipping. “Fashion Designer Disappears,” said the headline of a British newspaper. Amélie scanned the article. He had been last seen the previous year, right after the summer runway show in Milan that September. No one would talk about the investigation, but it seemed like his house had disappeared as if it had been demolished a couple of years ago. If he did not show up in time, he would miss this year’s show, which would be catastrophic for his company. The article ended by predicting the demise of his fortune and his legacy.
Amélie put the article down and sat back. Her forced retirement didn’t seem all that urgent compared to his struggles. Still, she couldn’t stay.
The tiger woman came and placed a small bowl of gnocchi on the plate before Amélie with bread and a bottle of sparkling water. As she left, the elephant-headed man walked into the library on the other side of the glass from the porch. He did not look at her but sat at the piano and began playing.
Amélie ate the multi-course dinner as the elephant-headed man continued to play. When she finished, Amélie stood up and walked inside the house to him.
“I read your note,” she told him. She kept a safe distance.
He stopped playing and turned to her with expectation.
“I can’t just stay here for weeks to figure out how to break this curse. I have a family and a job… Well, I used to have a job. It looks like I am going to be forced to retire. Even so, I need to go back. Maybe I can plan on a vacation to come back and –“
He shook his head and stood. He patted her shoulder and walked away. It was hard to read the expression on an elephant’s face, but his sad eyes had broken her heart. She turned and went to her room.
Her phone rang a moment later.
“Signorina Amélie,” said Giovanni.
“I told the elephant-headed man that I couldn’t stay,” said Amélie. “I mean, if there were something specific I could do, that would be different, but I can’t stay trying to figure all of this out for months. I have family and friends.”
“I understand,” he said sadly. “You will be allowed to leave, and I will try to purchase a ticket for you at the airport. The elephant-headed man can not touch any electronics. He cannot open the garage because of the electronic opener and alarm system. He also can’t drive the speed boat, but the sailboat is in the water.”
“I don’t know how to sail,” said Amélie.
“Just use the motor on the back. It is slow, but it can get you to the restaurants south of us. Take the jewelry to pay you back for the taxi and whatever you need. There isn’t much cash at the house.”
“Thank you,” said Amélie.
“I am sorry about your retirement,” he went on to say. “It is horrible. I saw you in London once when I was visiting a customer. You were amazing. I have been following your career since. Sometimes, I can watch your performances online. You are very talented.”
“Thank you,” said Amélie.
“I don’t want you to think I had been obsessing or a… what do you call it? A lurker? A stalker? No, I just love good art, and you create masterpieces. Oh, I must go.” His voice changed again. “Hey, Siri, hang up.”
Amélie prepared for bed and stayed awake trying to come up with ideas to help Giovanni out of this situation. She eventually fell asleep in the early morning hours.
The tiger woman’s knock on her door woke Amélie. She sat up as a breakfast tray was placed on the nightstand. It again held a cappuccino and a sweet brioche. Amélie ate the pastry and drank the cappuccino before going to the shower. She would wear the dress and the jewelry, as Giovanni had said. She needed to look nice if she was going to get help from the wealthy people around the lake. She quickly got ready, packed her bag, and went down to the dock.
The small sailboat was waiting for her. It was about 15 feet long, with a single mast and bench seats around the sides. A single person could sail it easily. The only thing electronic on it was an outboard motor on the back. Amélie searched her phone for instructions on how to operate the motor on the boat. She found a few articles, and it seemed easy.
The elephant-headed man strolled next to her and offered his hand to help her into the boat. She took it with reluctance. Once she was in the boat, he untied the rope, threw it in, and pushed the boat away from the dock with his foot. He then pointed south.
“Thank you so much!” she called out as she moved to the outboard motor and started it up. She had been on boats before, but she had never driven one. It wasn’t complicated from the middle of the lake. She was concerned about docking it again, though.
After ten minutes, the boat lurched and then started driving itself. It turned the boat around and went north.
“Hey!” she shouted at the motor. “What are you doing?”
She tried to wrestle the lever for control, but nothing would give. The boat continued on for thirty minutes into a mountainous cove and docked at a large white villa that was at least twice as big as Giovanni’s home.
At once, the motor died. A human-sized terrier on its hind legs was waiting for Amélie.
“Great!” she mumbled. “More animal people.”
The terrier man beckoned for her to get out and come with him. She did, since sitting in a dead boat didn’t do anything to help her.
The villa was lavish to the point of gaudiness. Sculptures, antiques, gold-plated furniture, and exotic decorations gave the place a creepy look. It wasn’t a haunted style, but it felt unhinged, like a child with too much money hoarding every kind of expensive thing it could find. It didn’t match but clashed like a Middle Eastern bazaar.
They went into the house from the back through French doors into the living room with a connected library. Lounging on a smoking sofa was a fully human woman of indescribable age. Her jet-black hair was tied in a bun and stabbed with two jewel hair sticks. She was of some sort of European descent, but even that was hard to decipher. She was dressed in a jumpsuit that could have been worn by a model in the last runway show. It was edgy and clever but didn’t suit the woman. Somehow, they clashed.
“Kind of you to stop by,” said the woman.
Amélie was startled because the deep feminine voice sounded precisely like Giovanni’s voice when he needed to hang up the phone.
The woman sat up and glanced behind her. “Is that right, Giovanni?” she asked.
On a middle shelf of the library wall sat a giant fish bowl with a head of an Italian man in it. The head rocked and blinked.
“I don’t know what you mean?” it replied to the woman, “Why are you asking me?”
Amélie gasped in horror. She recognized his voice, too. She now understood what he meant about the elephant-headed man being part of him. That was his body. Here, his head sat bodiless.
“I ask because you have been calling her for two days,” she said. “I have a call log on my phone.”
Giovanni opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He remained silent.
“Well, I expect he was calling you for help,” said the tacky woman. “So now you can tell me his plan, and I will let you go. Don’t lie to me, though. I’ll know.”
“There was no plan,” said Amélie. “I told him I had no idea what I could do to help, and he let me go.”
“Nonsense,” said the woman. “I will have to keep you here, then, until Giovanni finishes my dress.”
“I have made you four dresses already,” the head exclaimed. “You have kept them all and have still kept me prisoner!”
The tacky woman pretended to yawn. “That is the prerogative of the jinn,” she replied. “Until I am happy, you will be mine.”
“But Signora Lilith—” he replied.
“Enough! Be silent,” she replied with a wave of her hand.
Amélie’s mind began to go through all the ballets and fairytales she could remember. How did people defeat an evil jinni?
“Do you make all the animal people I have been meeting, or are they jinn like you?” asked Amélie.
“Oh, I turned people into the animals that they remind me of,” she replied. “I can turn you into one. It keeps people quiet and still useful.”
“Is that your only trick?” asked Amélie.
“Of course not!” said Lilith, sitting up for the first time. “I am infinitely powerful.”
“But you can’t make a dress,” said Amélie. “Why do you need humans to do things?”
“I can do anything, but magic is tiring,” said the jinni. “You are also tiring. I may end up turning you into something if you don’t cooperate. I want to know what Giovanni wanted with you first, though.”
“But I have already told you,” said Amélie.
“Petris, take this woman upstairs until dinner time,” said Lilith. “Her lies bore me, and I need to decide what to do with her.”
The terrier servant came and indicated for Amélie to follow him. He led her up a marble staircase. The dog servant then glanced around before motioning for Amélie to be silent and took her to a side room. It was locked, but the servant opened the door with a key.
Inside the room was a very messy and very tacky bedroom. The servant then showed Amélie the various piles of things on the tables and shelves.
They were potions and magic books. One of the books was open to legends about jinn. Another book had recipes for potions to turn people into animals. The servant kept rushing to the door and checking on the hallway.
Amélie found a box with a digital lock that had a numerical keypad. The servant rushed to her side, pointing and motioning for her to open it.
“I don’t know the code,” Amélie whispered.
The terrier tried to hold up the fingers of his paws, but it was difficult to do. He then tried to pat her hand.
“Start over,” Amélie whispered.
He patted three times. Amélie typed in the number. He then patted six times. Amélie typed in that. The terrier patted nine times and then twice. Amélie typed those in and the lock opened. The terrier servant rushed to the door to check the hall.
In the box was little pills with pictures on them of different animals. Glancing at the book near them, it looked like recipes for the pills in an odd language.
The servant came back to Amélie and began to urge her to leave. She was eager to follow but quickly slipped one of the pills into her pocket. She slammed the box close and rushed after the servant. They left the room, and the terrier locked the door behind him.
The servant then led her to an empty bedroom to wait and locked the door. Amélie glanced at her phone. She had no signal. The room was beautiful but dull. When the servant returned at dinner time, she was glad to leave.
Amélie had the pill in her pocket. She blessed the elephant-headed man for creating a gorgeous summer dress with pockets. The jinni woman was already waiting on the balcony. She sat at the wrought iron cafe table looking at a fashion magazine. The magazine was difficult to manage with the large rings on her bony fingers and layers of gold chains on her wrists. She looked up.
“So, are you ready to bargain?” she said as she reached down for a cup that wasn’t there. “Where is my coffee?”
The terrier servant scurried in with a tray. He whimpered with his tail dragging.
“Never mind the excuses,” said the jinni, “Pour it.”
The nervous creature placed a cup in front of the enchantress and lifted the coffee pot.
“What about my guest?” she questioned. “Honestly, you need more training.”
The servant whimpered again as he nervously placed another cup on the table but almost spilled the coffee pot.
“I have it,” replied Amélie, taking the coffee pot. “It is a strange day, isn’t it?”
The servant wagged his tail, not lifting his eyes.
Amélie poured the coffee for the jinni with the grace from years of dance training. Then she poured her own glass. She was about to return the coffee pot to the tray but was stopped.
“Leave it on the table,” said Lilith.
Amélie nodded and obeyed. “May I sit?” she asked.
The jinni smiled at the implication of authority such a request gives. The smile was almost as subconscious as the implication.
“Please do,” she replied.
“I am ready to negotiate,” said Amélie. “You know that I want to go home. Did you know that I am a dancer who can’t dance?”
Amélie paused and felt her hand and pocket. They were empty as they should be. The question was whether she had been able to slip the pill into the coffee cup. Was her aim accurate enough, and did the pill stick to her palm when it wasn’t supposed to?
“Go on,” said Lilith, tapping the table next to the cup of coffee.
“I want to dance more,” said Amélie. “You said you can do anything. If I tell you about our secret plot, will you fix my leg?”
The tacky jinni smiled. “The cost of your legs is nothing to me. I will give you new legs that will let you dance forever. My gifts come with immortality attached.”
Amélie stared at the cups of coffee. Why hasn’t the jinni drank hers yet? Amélie decided to take a sip of her own to see if that would cause the jinni to sip, too.
After a long sip, Amélie spoke. “Would those be human legs? I don’t want to look like a freak.”
“Does it matter?” replied Lilith. “You will have everything you want most.”
Finally, the jinni took a sip of her coffee. Amélie waited anxiously. Nothing happened.
“I don’t know about that,” said Amélie. Her anxiety was rising every second. Were the pills just some kind of joke? “What animal do you think would be able to dance? Aren’t humans unique in their abilities to match music and perform complicated rhythms?”
“I think you would look adorable with the legs of a Persian house cat, don’t you think?” said the jinni. “They are very agile and —”
At that moment, Lilith began to shrink down and change color to a solid black. She grunted and shrieked as she curled over, falling out of her chair. The terrier servant yipped and hopped around in both a frightened and excited manner. As Lilith shrunk to the size of a shoe box, her body grew four more limbs. She continued to writhing in pain as she shrunk even more. When the metamorphosis was complete, she was a black widow spider.
Amélie didn’t wait a moment. She grabbed the heeled sandal off her foot, leaped to the other side of the table, and slammed her shoe onto the spider. The cracking, oozing sound made Amélie feel slightly nauseous. She always hated killing bugs. She slammed the shoe down two more times to make sure the jinni was dead.
Her phone rang.
She pulled it out of her pocket. “Hello?”
“Brava, Signorina! but hurry out of the house right now! That villa is going to disappear. I’ll pick you up from the dock.”
“A head is going to come and collect me?” she thought.
“A… sure. Thanks.”
Amélie had learned to trust the voice and rushed down the steps from the balcony patio into the garden. Then, from the garden, she turned right to the dock.
She turned around to look back at the villa. As they fled the house, three animal servants were transforming back into human shapes. The house itself slowly faded from view.
The motor of a small boat grew louder from behind her and getting nearer. She turned back towards the lake. In the boat stood a gorgeous Italian man dressed in high-fashion athletic wear: shorts and a fitted cotton shirt.
“Buonasera, Signorina!” he shouted as he pulled up to the dock. “Climb in.”
“Do I know you?” Amélie asked.
He laughed. “I am the elephant man, and the head in the jar put back together. Do you not recognize me?”
Amélie chuckled nervously. “You’re better looking together than apart.” She blushed. Did she just tell him that he was hot? He was, though.
He extended his hand towards her, “Thank you, but we should go. I don’t know what other magical things she has done, and I don’t want to be here as everything gets righted.”
She took his hand and climbed into the boat. As he turned the wheel to drive away, he asked, “Where would you like to go? Milan isn’t far from here.”
“Could we go home… I mean to your villa. I would like to rest.”
“Of course,” he replied, “There won’t be any more magic to frighten or trick you. I am sorry I had to use any on you at all. It took me a long time to learn those tricks from the Jinni.”
“Without magic, how would you have gotten me here?” asked Amélie coyly.
He smiled and lifted his phone. “Siri, call Amélie De La Fontaine of the Royal Ballet.”
Amélie laughed as her phone rang.
“Answer,” he urged as he drove the boat with one hand.
She obeyed. “Hello?”
“Signorina Amélie, you are the most talented and beautiful dancer I have ever seen. Would you have dinner with me tonight?” He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows.
Amélie gave a flirty smile. “I would be delighted. Thank you for your phone call.”
THE END
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