Free Djinn Rummy by Tom Holt Page B

here!’
    â€˜You’ll have to grant me three wishes first.’
    Philly began to get impatient. ‘Kiss,’ he shouted. ‘If you don’t quit horsing around and let met out of this contraption, I’ll kick your arse from here to Jupiter. ‘
    â€˜Three wishes, Philly. You know the score.’
    Petals like steel traps were slowly ripping his socks to shreds. Hand-woven from the fibres of firebird feathers (the second hardest material in the Universe) they had been custom-built to withstand the phenomenally corrosive properties of genies’ sweaty feet. ‘No dice, scumbag,’ Philly roared. ‘Get me out of here and I might just let you live. Otherwise . . .’

    The last scrap of sock was digested, and Philly Nine suddenly became acutely aware that the hardest material in the Universe is the petal of a psychotic flower. ‘All right,’ he screamed. ‘One wish. But I’m warning you, you’re going to regret -’
    The bubble popped; and Philly Nine was falling, helplessly entwined in roots and leaves, towards the Earth’s atmosphere.
    â€˜The wish is,’ came Kiss’s voice from far away, ‘that in future . . .’
    Philly hit the atmosphere like a fly hitting a windscreen. For a fraction of a second the pain of impact paralysed him; and then he was through. Scrabbling frantically he managed to pull himself up on a handy thermal, and floated agonisingly in the upper air.
    He glanced down and breathed a long, slow sigh. All the wildflowers had burnt up on re-entry - as had his shorts, his underpants and his impossibly expensive designer Hawaii shirt.
    â€˜. . . In future,’ sighed the winds around his head, ‘if you’re going to be evil, make a mess of it. Have a nice day.’
    Â 
    Thirty-six hours later, the hole Philly had made in the ionosphere was still there. It was closing, but there was still a gap large enough for, say, a few wildflower seeds to drift through.
    These days, nobody can seriously doubt that plants have the power to communicate; and the more self-aware the plant, the greater the power.
    Ready? asked the Primrose.
    Ready , replied the Forget-Me-Not. Let’s go.
    What about him?
    Who?

    Him.
    Oh, you mean the . . .
    Yes.
    You ask him.
    GRAAAOOAARR!!!
    I think it’s safe to assume he’s ready too. OK, chaps, here goes.
    They dropped in.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    J ane looked up.
    â€˜Where,’ she asked, ‘have you been?’
    â€˜Saving the world,’ Kiss replied, materialising just in time to take the weight of the picture Jane was trying to hang straight. ‘Bit more left, I think.’
    Jane stood back, nodded and made the adjustment. ‘What from?’
    â€˜Annihilation by overgrown carnivorous plants, if you must know. Has it occurred to you that this one would look much better over there by the alcove?’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Over there,’ Kiss repeated, pointing. ‘And then you could have the one of the three fluffy kittens playing with the ball of wool over there, where nobody would be able to see it, and that’d be verging on the ideal -’
    â€˜No,’ Jane replied, frowning, ‘before that.’
    â€˜Overgrown carnivorous plants?’
    â€˜Mphm. You are just kidding, aren’t you? Only I never seem to know . . .’
    Kiss looked offended. ‘I am not kidding,’ he replied grumpily. ‘I was just looking out of the window when I saw
a disturbing fluctuation in the infra-red, which turned out on closer examination to be an old mate of mine heading into orbit with a small cloth bag stuffed up his shirt . . .’
    â€˜You must have remarkably good eyesight. ‘
    â€˜I have, yes. Anyway, when I caught up with him it turned out the bag was full of nightmare carnivorous plant seeds, and he was just working out where to sow them. Fortunately, the silly sod hadn’t realised that if