by Paula Lester
A Bottle Full of Djinn
Sunnyside Retired Witches Community, Volume 1
Paula Lester
Published by Paula Lester, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A BOTTLE FULL OF DJINN
First edition. February 18, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Paula Lester.
Written by Paula Lester.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
About Paula Lester
Chapter 1
Sunnyside sparkled. Zoey Rivers grinned as she walked down the sidewalk. Having grown up in the small town, the sight was familiar and made her feel all warm and cozy inside. The place didn’t only twinkle because the sun was high in the summer sky and glinted off big storefront windows, although that was part of it. Sunnyside, California was a town mostly inhabited by witches and associated supernaturals. So, the glitter in the air might very well be a physical manifestation of the magic bouncing all around the town.
Zoey chuckled at herself. She was obviously feeling fanciful. Maybe the sparkle was just the sun after all.
Breakfast with Doug had been a great idea. Zoey had met him at the Spoon and Sip where she’d ordered pancakes and extra crispy bacon. They usually didn’t see much of each other during the week. His work schedule was a typical nine-to-five, so sometimes they’d meet for lunch, but their normal date nights happened on weekends. Of course, Zoey wasn’t ever really off-duty from her job as Head of Staff at the Sunnyside Retired Witches Community.
So, she had been pleasantly surprised when her boyfriend called the night before and asked for a breakfast date. “I don’t want you to have to wake up too early,” he’d said. “But if we go at seven-thirty, I can still get to work on time.”
“I’m in!” Zoey had said excitedly. “Susan’s breakfasts have left a lot to be desired lately. In fact, I’ve mostly been having cereal.” The retirement center’s chef, a sixty-something witch who wanted to retire herself but couldn’t yet, was disgruntled about something—no one knew what—and she was taking it out on everyone in the form of serving substandard food and grumbling under her breath all the time. Zoey knew she should have a talk with the woman, but her people-pleasing nature made it hard to engage in such a touchy conversation.
She turned off the sidewalk to enter her favorite coffee shop, Witch’s Brew. The owners thought it was funny to hint at Sunnyside’s magical nature to passersby. The food at Spoon and Sip had been outstanding, but the coffee was weak and tepid. Zoey needed a shot of the good stuff to get her geared up for a day of work.
“Zoey!” The cheerful voice drew her attention toward a small table in the corner of the shop as soon as she set foot over the threshold. It was Janie Barnett. Zoey smiled and crossed over to the woman she’d known since grade school. Janie had short, spikey, purple hair and pink, horn-rimmed glasses. She was a sweet person who’d stood by Zoey even during the difficulties she’d experienced when her mom began to engage in dark magic. “I usually don’t see you here in the morning. What’s up?” She smiled, and her slightly upturned button nose reminded Zoey of the cat that lived at the retirement home.
“I went out to breakfast with Doug,” Zoey explained, glancing at the table in front of Janie, where a stir stick swirled away in her mug without the benefit of a hand guiding its course. Zoey raised an eyebrow at her friend and nodded toward the coffee.
“Oh! Oops!” Janie grabbed the stick and finished stirring the normal way. She grinned sheepishly. “I forgot where I was.”
Sunnyside was mostly a witch-inhabited town, but non-magical people did come through from time to time. Witches weren’t supposed to use their magic out in public, just in case a normal was around to see. That missive was frequently forgotten, though. In fact, as Zoey bid Janie farewell and turned toward the counter to order her coffee, an impatient woman waved her hand and muttered a spell toward the donut case. A plump Boston cream floated out of it, over the counter, and into her hand. The witch almost ran into Zoey when she turned away with her prize. She returned Zoey’s look of mild reproach with a jut of her chin. “That barista is so slow,” she said. “I don’t have all day to wait for my pastry!” She dropped a couple dollars on the counter and stalked out the door.
Zoey didn’t have too much time, either, but luckily, the witch behind the bar got to her quickly, delivering her hot coffee with a sweet grin. When the first sip of caffeinated goodness hit her bloodstream, Zoey sighed. She was ready to fully attack the day and get back to work.
It was only a ten-minute walk back to the retirement center where she worked and lived, but Zoey took her time, waving at Henrietta, the fifty-year-old witch who was on her hands and knees digging in the garden beds in front of her house. Then, she sighed as the watering can next to the woman floated up and tipped over on its own—floating on the waves of a little magic, of course. Zoey shook her head and continued past. It really was a wonder their community hadn’t been outed to the world yet, the way so many people used magic in public without thinking about it.
Of course, some non-magical people had stumbled into Sunnyside, discovered its secrets, and stayed a while. Like Zoey’s dad. He’d even married a witch, but Zoey’s mom had been enticed by the dark side of magic. She’d disappeared when Zoey was in high school—presumed eaten by a demon she’d unwisely summoned—and her dad had left town once Zoey graduated.
Pushing the bad memories away, she stepped onto the grounds of the retirement center. There was gardening going on there too. Cyrus was never too far away from his plants. He looked up from the hedge he was trimming and tipped an invisible hat at her. “Morning!”
“Good morning, Cyrus. The beds look great.”
He nodded and returned to his work without another word. He wasn’t a great conversationalist. Unless you trampled one of his plants. Then he’d read you the riot act in a blue streak the likes of which you would never believe could come out of such a mild-mannered man’s mouth. No one bothered Cyrus’s flower beds.
Zoey entered the front door of the big building. It was nice to be home.
She took one step into the complex’s big main common room and stopped short. One of the elderly residents, Howie Nurl, was standing in the middle of the room waving his hands around. In response, a Queen Anne chair lifted off the ground and zoomed across the room to land in another spot. Now that she looked closer, she saw that most of the furniture in the big room was out of place. Exercise mats were scattered around all over, some sitting on their ends. “Um. What’s up, Howie?”
The small man turned to smile toothily at her. “Obstacle course,” he said. “My regular fitness classes are getting kind of boring for the students, so I thought I’d spice it up.”
“You’re making an obstacle course for the other residents?” Visions of elders with broken bones jumped into Zoey’s mind, and she was slightly alarmed. Of course, it was more immediately concerning that Howie wore only a pair of black spandex shorts and the signature red and yellow terrycloth sweatband around his forehead. His chest and arms were scrawny and white.
Then she heard a shriek that p
ulled her attention to the far end of the room where Maria Montes sat on a loveseat, scowling at Jerry, the long-haired retired sorcerer who sat in a chair across from her. “You scoundrel!” Maria cried.
Jerry leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am.” He stared straight ahead.
The elderly woman scowled harder. “There’s no wind in this living room,” she said. “So I know you used magic to ruffle my skirt and try and get a look. Pervert.” She got up and stomped away, and Zoey’s eyes widened when she saw Jerry wave a hand in the woman’s direction and the back of her skirt drifted up as though a strong wind had hit it.
Zoey gave Jerry her best reproachful look and then smiled at Maria as she passed by. Luckily, the poor woman hadn’t felt her skirt rise and reveal the old-fashioned short pantaloons she wore underneath.
Her eyes moved away from Jerry and slid over the rest of the room. She was used to watching everything at once while she was at the retirement home. She had to. You never knew when a retiree would need a hand with something. Her gaze fell on Shawna Belle, who sat at a small table looking out over the huge back yard. A young woman sat next to her, and Zoey wondered briefly who was visiting. It wasn’t one of the woman’s two adult kids—they hadn’t been by since they’d dropped their mother off.
Zoey glanced at Howie again. Some of the other residents had gathered near him, obviously curious about what he was doing. “Okay.” The elderly fitness buff gestured at his course. “First, you jump over the chair, using the arms to cartwheel yourself. Then you go around that first mat. Then . . .” He looked confused for a minute, studying the course before shaking his head. “Well, why don’t you just drop and do a few push-ups after that? Try not to use magic to help. I know we aren’t as young as we used to be, but you can all do this.”
Zoey rolled her eyes but headed toward Kelli Perry’s small office without interfering with the fitness group. It didn’t look like there was any way they could really get hurt doing Howie’s course.
Kelli looked up when Zoey entered, quickly stashing a magazine under a thick stack of papers. “Hi, boss. Ooh, you got Witch’s Brew coffee.” She closed her eyes and inhaled before sighing deeply.
Sinking into the chair across from the receptionist, Zoey nodded. “It’s life. Have you seen Susan yet this morning?”
Kelli widened her eyes and shook her head, looking like a rabbit frozen in fear. “I just skipped coffee this morning. I’ll probably have a headache later, but it’s better than being pummeled by Susan’s grumpiness so early in the day.”
Zoey frowned. “I really have to talk to her. She’s making everyone miserable.”
“Talking about Susan?”
Zoey looked over her shoulder at Steve Grace, her assistant director and right-hand man. He looked perfect as always, glasses sitting level-straight on the bridge of his nose and goatee and close-cropped hair trimmed at the exact right length. She wondered idly if he used tiny scissors to get fly-aways every day or just went over it with a shaver. “I was hoping she was just going through something and it would blow over, but it’s only getting worse.”
Steve nodded. “I braved the kitchen just now, and she’s stomping around like a yeti.” He held up a mug. “Plus, the coffee is horrible. I think she only used one scoop of grounds or something.”
A heavy sigh escaped her lips as Zoey dreaded confronting the cook. “I guess I’ll go talk to her in a few minutes.” She brightened. “Hey, how was your date last night?”
Steve shook his head. “Horrible.”
The women giggled. “What happened this time?” Kelli leaned forward in her chair as though getting ready to watch a juicy soap opera on TV.
“She’s a siren. Kept breaking out into song and leaning toward me seductively during the movie. It earned us a lot of glares and muttered curse words. I was super embarrassed.”
“You weren’t drawn in by her song?” Zoey had never met a siren, but she’d read enough to know they tried to trap human men with their gorgeous voices.
Steven shook his head and took a sip of coffee. Then he grimaced and set the cup on Kelli’s desk. “My mother always said I’m tone deaf. Not just for singing, but for listening too. I can’t really tell if music is on pitch, off pitch, or what. I guess it keeps me safe from sirens.” He paused and the ends of his mouth twitched upward. “Really kind of put Gloria out, though. She was so mad I’m immune to her that she stomped off without even saying goodbye when I dropped her.”
Kelli and Zoey collapsed into a fit of giggles. Zoey had to admit she kind of liked hearing about all Steve’s failed dates. Not that she was interested in him, of course. She had Doug, and besides, Steve was her co-worker.
“At least you had a date,” Kelli pouted. “I haven’t had one in two weeks.”
“That’s not very long,” Zoey insisted. “You’ll get another one soon.”
“It’s hard when you have air magic. Sometimes, when I get nervous, I accidentally make it way too cold nearby.” She dropped her chin into her hand, elbow propped on the stack of papers on her desk, and looked miserable.
Kelli wasn’t a great receptionist, but she tried hard. And she was an absolutely fabulous air conditioner. In fact, Zoey might not have hired her if the retirement home’s air hadn’t been on the fritz when Kelli went in for an interview.
A thunderous, shrill noise tore through the room, and Zoey leapt to her feet almost instantly. “The smoke alarm!” She raced into the common room, Steve and Kelli on her heels. Many of the retirees who had been working on Howie’s obstacle course moments earlier now stood with their hands covering their ears or looking around, bewildered expressions on their lined faces.
Steve raced past Zoey. “Everyone outside!” He spoke clearly, loudly, and calmly. “Move carefully and help each other if you can.” He went straight toward Delilah Newman, who really needed a walker but resisted because she thought it would be admitting she really had gotten old. The elderly lady gave him a grateful look and leaned heavily on his arm as he helped her toward the door. Kelli raced forward to help too, and Zoey saw that Courtney Close, the complex’s new Social Director, was also there, shepherding people outside.
Squeezing past the onslaught of elderly folks, Zoey moved in the opposite direction, farther into the room. “Do you know what’s happening?” she asked Courtney as they passed each other.
The young woman shrugged and moved out of Howie’s way—his sweatband had fallen over one eye as he powerwalked toward the exit.
“I heard a loud noise from the kitchen,” the fitness guru said over his shoulder as he went past. “Just before the alarm.”
Zoey immediately headed for the hallway leading to the kitchen and once she got past the throng of people exiting the building, broke into a sprint. Halfway there, she heard other footfalls and glanced over her shoulder to see Steve jogging behind her. At six feet two inches, his long stride allowed him to catch up with her before she arrived at the doorway to the huge industrial kitchen.
They both stopped short of entering the room. Zoey blinked a few times and even squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, but the image in front of her didn’t change.
The entire kitchen—every single bit of each surface—was covered in something brown. “What is that?” she breathed.
Steve moved past her gingerly, trying to step in tiny clear spots but finding it difficult. He cautiously wiped a finger over the refrigerator, sniffed the substance, and then popped it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said as Zoey’s eyes widened. “Chocolate cake.”
Chapter 2
“What . . . who did this to my kitchen?” Susan’s voice was so high and scratchy as she entered the room from the opposite doorway that it was everything Zoey could do not to cover her ears against the sound.
“We don’t know yet.” Zoey tried to sound calm. She hadn’t stepped forward because she didn’t want to get chocolate cake all over the bottoms of her shoes. “Don’t worry, we’ll
get it cleaned up and then work on finding out what caused it.”
But Susan was shaking her head. She tore her hot pink hairnet off and tossed it into the garbage can. “That’s it! I’m done with this place. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I’m always taken for granted. That crazy exercising resident is always swiping my canned goods to use as weights, leaving me short ingredients for my stew. And I always have a constant stream of people into my space, each wanting something different for dinner and wrinkling their noses like toddlers when I serve something that isn’t their favorite. We’ve had poltergeists in the parlor and there’s all manner of crazy magic getting tossed around all the time. And now my lovely kitchen is covered in chocolate cake.” She removed her hot pink apron and tossed it into the trash too, leveling a glare right at Zoey. “Consider this my resignation, effective immediately. Goodbye, good luck, and have a good time with the nuttiness.”
Zoey raised a hand and moved as though to stop the cook from exiting the back door. A small squeak came out as she bit down on the appeasing words that jumped into her mouth, and she forced herself to stop moving. As much as she always needed a cook present, Susan hadn’t been happy lately, and maybe her leaving was for the best. It would save her from having the uncomfortable conversation that had been on her list, anyway.
The angry, plump woman spun back around as she reached the door. “I’ll come and clean out my suite tomorrow. Make sure you have my last paycheck ready. I’m going to see if Spoon and Sip needs any help, and if not, I might just finally get myself out of Sunnyside, California.”
With a final harrumph sound, Susan slammed the door behind her as she stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Zoey and Steve exchanging helpless looks.
A chunk of cake fell off the ceiling onto Steve’s head, and he brushed it off, dashing over to stand next to Zoey just outside the room. He gave a low whistle. “That is a lot of chocolate cake.”