Genie Knows Best by Judi Fennell

mind whirling like the scene in front of them. She didn’t have any experience in renovations other than a week on a Habitat for Humanity project, but taking Kal up on his “wish is his command” directive would solve that problem.
    Samantha walked around a leaning pole with a genie lantern on top. “Kal, I wish you’d fix that.”
    Kal waved his hand, and orange glitter seemed to spout from his fingers as the pole went erect really quickly.
    That was so not a word she needed to be thinking about. She’d noticed his reaction to her touch back in Stavros’s office—and she was well aware of her reaction to him charging across the street toward the two dragons. Kal, in full-on genie glory, was definitely not a typical guy.
    Bart seared the spire off a building with another blast of fire, torching a window into a molten lump of glass that cooled as it fell, only to shatter when it hit the sidewalk below it.
    Maille’s neck frill ruffed up like a medieval queen’s best court finery. “That’s it, you self-important sauropod. I told you to leave me alone. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
    “You’ve got that right, Maille.” Kal waved his hand, and sparkly orange muzzles appeared on the dragons’ snouts. “I sent you to the Forum to work things out. What are you doing back here?”
    Maille crossed her dragon arms—something Bart wasn’t able to do since he didn’t have any—and pointed one long, lime green claw at the muzzle.
    Samantha didn’t want to be out in the open when that came off so she slid behind Kal.
    Kal waved his hand, and the muzzle disappeared. “No fire or I put it back. I’m not going to risk Sam.”
    Maille blew the sprinkles off the end of her nose. “Sit down and talk it over? Yeah, we did that. Done. Check. Mate. Or rather, stale mate. Which is what ol’ brat is. A stale mate.”
    “And you’re a lying, heartless witch, chain-Maille!” Bart scratched the sand like an angry bull preparing to charge—which he then did, his run turning into flight so fast that anyone else would have ended up in his vicious talons, but Maille took to the air and outmaneuvered him.
    Kal sighed and crossed his arms. “This is getting us nowhere.”
    Samantha came out from behind him, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun the dragons had flown toward. “It’d be so much better if they couldn’t blast each other.”
    Kal turned his head slightly, a devilish smile on his lips. “Is that what you wish?”
    Samantha smiled back. Nothing like being on the same page. “You know? It is. I wish they couldn’t blast each other. Or fly, either.”
    “As you wish, Sam.”
    Two seconds later, Maille and Bart—at least she thought they were Maille and Bart—floated down from the sky amid a shower of sparkles.
    In human form.
    “You didn’t! You couldn’t!” Maille screamed, fire threatening to erupt from her eyes. Better there than her throat.
    The same height as Samantha, Maille was full of muscle, with a purple stripe bisecting sleek, black hair that hung to her knees, and almond-shaped eyes that tilted up at the outside corners—and not because she was smiling.
    Far from it.
    “You cursed brat, and I don’t mean my idiot ex. Seriously? You wished this on us? Where are my scales? My beautiful scales?” Maille twisted to look at her back, now covered in a replica of the outfit Samantha wore but in red. “And my wings? You got rid of my wings? How could you?”
    “Chill out, hothead,” said Bart in a surprise move. Balding and about a foot shorter than Kal, Bart was a beanpole whose vest and billowy pants hung on him. And he, unfortunately, could not pull off curly-toed slippers. Especially fuchsia ones. “Girl’s got a point. You can’t go around destroying the place.”
    “Me?” Maille lunged toward her mate, who, even though he had arms now, seemed to forget that fact as he leapt out of the way with all the speed his dragon self had had. “You should have thought of