A Bottle Full of Djinn

by Paula Lester

  Doug led Zoey outside. Cyrus was mowing the side lawn, and they could hear the lawnmower. “I think whatever is going on originated in that first residency wing,” he said. “I just get a feeling the magic in that area is a bit . . . disgruntled.

  Zoey nodded thoughtfully. Of course, she couldn’t see how that information would help her. The residents visited one another’s rooms often, after all.

  “I think I know what’s caused the disturbance too.”

  That got her attention. She peered up at his handsome face, wondering what he’d been able to figure out from just walking around and talking to some of the residents. “Really?”

  Doug nodded. “I think you have a djinni on the loose.”

  Chapter 8

  Zoey knew next to nothing about the Djinn, but she didn’t want any of the residents to hear Doug’s theory. “Do you have time to talk about this in my office?” She glanced toward the side of the building where Cyrus had finished mowing and was ambling toward the landscaping in the center of the loop driveway.

  Doug nodded, and the two went back into the building. Zoey could see Steve and Kelli in the receptionist’s office. While Doug wandered to the other side of the room to look out the window overlooking the backyard, Zoey leaned on Kelli’s doorjamb.

  “How does Mr. Masculine like our set-up?” Steve asked. He was sitting on the edge of Kelli’s desk holding a spreadsheet.

  Zoey aimed a look she hoped was reproachful at her second-in-command. “He likes it just fine.” Jerking her head toward the spreadsheet, she said, “It’s Saturday. You don’t have to work on financials today.”

  “Nah, I just wanted to look at the grocery expenses for the past few months. Ashley wants to get her own supplies instead of having one of us go pick things out, so I need to get her added as a user on the credit card.”

  “She does? Wow. That is going to be really nice.” Having that chore removed from her shoulders felt good. Ashley was already becoming worth her weight in gold. If she kept it up, she’d be moved into the “indispensable” category of employees at Sunnyside which existed only in Zoey’s mind.

  She noticed Doug talking to Shawna, and it brought her mind back to the task at hand. “Hey,” she said to Steve. “Can you come to my office for a few? I want to talk to you about—” she glanced at Kelli, not wanting to hurt her feelings but also hoping to avoid having her take part in the discussion “—those spreadsheets you turned in to me last week. I have some questions.” There, that should do it. Spreadsheets made Kelli’s eyes glaze over. She’d probably rather go without nail polish for a week than discuss them, and that was saying a lot.

  Steve stood. “Sure, boss. I thought you said we didn’t need to work on financials on a Saturday, though.”

  Oops.

  “Um. I did say that. And this won’t take long. I just wanted to have you explain it while Doug was here because I’m just not getting it, and he’s a whiz at numbers. Like you.”

  A look Zoey recognized as suspicion crossed Steve’s face, but he nodded and turned to Kelli. “I’ll see you later. Do something fun with your Saturday, okay?”

  “I have a hair appointment in an hour. I’ll be back before it gets too hot in here, though.”

  Zoey led Steve and Doug to her office and closed the door firmly once they were all inside. She quickly shared with Steve Doug’s assertion that they had a djinni problem.

  “Djinni, huh?” Steve gave a low whistle. “I don’t know much about them, but my grandmother told me some stories when I was a kid that would raise the hair on the back of your neck.”

  Doug nodded, lowering himself into a chair by the small round table. “Yeah, most djinni stories are like that. The Djinn are not particularly nice.”

  “I really don’t know much about them at all.” Zoey sat down opposite Doug at the table, reaching out to twirl the vase of flowers in the center. She plucked a dead leaf off a tulip. “They were banned, weren’t they?”

  Doug nodded. “They cause havoc everywhere they go, with their wish-granting nonsense. See, they don’t usually grant the wish in quite the way you hope they’re going to when you make it. So, for instance, you may wish for money and think a pile of bills is going to appear in front of you but instead, nothing seems to happen. Then, later that day, you’re out in your backyard and you look into the pond and see that it’s absolutely filled with pennies. So many that they’ve killed the fish and turned the water green.”

  Zoey shuddered. “That’s kind of mean. Why are they like that? I mean, what’s the deal? Why do they even grant wishes in the first place?”

  “I know that one,” Steve raised his hand from where he stood leaning against the back of the loveseat. “Ages ago, a dark wizard enslaved their race, locking them into this wish-granting thing with humans. Before that, they were a branch of the Fae race. But you know how the Fae are—always doing something tricky to humans. So, when the djinni were forced to become humans’ servants, they carried that trickery with them. They don’t like granting wishes, so they try to do it as badly as possible.”

  “Yeah, that’s the way it went,” Doug agreed. “Until about fifty years ago, when humans decided it was best to get rid of them. They launched a campaign to find and capture every one of them. Get them out of circulation, so to speak, for wish-granting. Some big-shot witches got together and created a compound to keep the Djinn once they were caught. It was heavily warded with spells to keep djinnis in and dampen their magic. They tried to make it as nice as possible so everyone would think it was a resort or something. And some djinnis are happy there. They love it. They don’t have to work for humans or deal with the other Fae. They can just chill and have everything delivered to them. But there were some who didn’t want to go.”

  Zoey nodded. “I can understand that. A cage is still a cage, even if it’s got golden bars.”

  Doug nodded. “Some Djinn hid. They found ally witches who helped them find containers that seemed innocuous to bind them to. And they bide their time, hoping that someday the dark wizard’s original curse can be broken, and they’ll find true freedom, without having to live in a compound or work for humans.”

  “That’s really sad.” Zoey drummed her fingers on the table. “And you think one of those djinnis—one of the ones who hid—is causing the mischief here?”

  Doug stood up and walked over to the window to watch Cyrus prune bushes. “I’ve encountered one before. When I was a kid. My brother found an old, delicate-looking bottle on the beach and brought it home. Next thing we knew, stuff was going wonky at our house. My brother was making wishes and the djinni he’d inadvertently brought home was granting them—very badly. So, when Davie wished he didn’t have to take a test, the Djinn struck his teacher down with a horrible case of strep that landed her in the hospital.”

  Zoey shuddered.

  “It went on like that for a month before my father caught sight of the djinni in Davie’s room and managed to get it contained in the bottle. He turned it over to the Djinn-hunters.” Doug turned around to face Zoey and Steve again. “I know what it feels like when there’s a djinni around. Both the slightly icky magical signature and the physical evidence it leaves. The vague sense that stuff that’s happening is related to something someone was thinking about before it happened. I’m almost certain that’s what you have going on here.”

  Zoey smacked her hand on the table. “Okay. So how do we get rid of it?”

  Doug stuck his hands in his pockets. “You have to find its container first. And, really, that could be anything. When they went into hiding, the Djinn used a lot of unusual stuff to hide in—lockets, jewelry boxes, old soda bottles. You’re going to have to use a spell to reveal the right container.”

  “How do we do that?” Steve’s face wore a concerned look. He didn’t appear any happier about the idea of a djinni loose in the complex than Zoey was.

  “You need some dried squid ink and Devil’s Shoestring herb. You make a mixture of that and sprinkle it on items
until you see a reaction. It will glow a sickly green, ectoplasm-like color when it lands on something in which a djinni resides.”

  Zoey and Steve exchanged glances. Finding the right container sounded like a huge job. There were probably thousands of things in the complex that could house a djinni.

  “I’ll tell you one thing you don’t have to check,” Doug smirked. “Lamps. They definitely all left their lamps behind.”

  “Well, that helps,” Zoey said sarcastically. Then she jumped up and crossed to Doug. “I’m sorry. I really appreciate all your help. I absolutely never would have thought about a djinni as the cause of all the weird stuff happening around here.” She gave him a hug.

  “No sweat. It was kind of a fun way to spend a Saturday morning. Plus, I got to have some time with you, which is always nice.” He put his arms around Zoey and returned her hug.

  Steve turned his back on the couple, suddenly becoming very interested in Zoey’s bookshelf. He pulled out a book, pushed it back in, and then pulled out another one while Zoey and Doug giggled and talked softly to each other.

  Finally, Doug glanced at his watch. “I should get going. My brother and I have a golf date this afternoon. Do you play golf, Steve?”

  Looking up from the book in his hand, which Zoey could see was a handbook on how to play water polo, Steve shook his head. “Nah. It’s too much like going for a summer stroll and not enough like a real sport. I prefer basketball,” he said. “Hey, if you ever want to join us, we play pick-up at the high school court on Wednesday nights at seven. Shirts and skins. Bring a water bottle and some court shoes.”

  Keeping his arm around Zoey’s shoulders, Doug raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like fun. I have to warn you, though, that I’m pretty full-contact when it comes to b-ball.”

  Steve turned his body to stand more squarely with Doug. He shrugged. “The guys who show up there are all pretty fit. Most of us have been playing since we were kids. No one there is going to get upset about a little contact. Just be sure you bring your A-game. We don’t give anybody any slack. Even beginners.”

  Zoey squirmed against Doug, getting herself out of his grip, which had been tightening progressively as he talked to Steve. She clapped her hands. “Okay, my office doesn’t usually have this much testosterone flinging around inside it,” she said. “Stand down, you two, and let’s get on with our day.”

  The two men shuffled their feet and mumbled. Zoey crossed to the door and opened it. “Can you find your way out?”

  Doug nodded. “Yeah, no problem.” As he passed Steve, he said, “I forgot. I need to take the Beamer for an oil change too.” He stopped at the doorway to turn and give Zoey a kiss on the forehead. “Bye. I’ll call you later.”

  She rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s back as he walked away from her. Then she spun around, hands on her hips. “What is it with guys?” she demanded. “Why do you have to pound your chests and compare cars and sports ability?”

  “I didn’t pound my chest. And golf is stupid.” Steve put the water polo book back on the shelf, a pouty look on his face.

  “You pounded a little bit.” Zoey insisted and then waved a hand. “Whatever. I have bigger things to worry about than a little male ego drama. How are we going to track down this djinni?”

  “Sounds like we need some dried squid ink and Devil’s Shoestring. You know where we have to get that from.”

  Zoey groaned and plopped onto the loveseat, stomping her foot a little. “I don’t wanna,” she whined.

  Steve sat beside her. “It’s the only place in town to get it unless you want to order it off the internet. And that’ll take at least a few days to get here. I think squid ink comes from Japan.”

  Throwing her head back on the sofa, Zoey screwed her eyes shut and winced. Then she opened them and sat up, leaning toward Steve. Putting on her best puppy dog face, she begged, “Can you go get it?”

  But Steve shook his head. “I have a date this evening, and I need to go to the car wash and get gas first. Plus, I have an appointment to get my hair cut. My date is one of the Mer-people, and I want to impress her.”

  Zoey narrowed her eyes as she studied his head. “You have a buzz cut. Can’t you just do that yourself with a shaver?”

  He looked affronted. “No, I can’t do it myself. I pay a pretty penny to have my head and face looking just right before my dates. And I make the car look nice too.” In a lower, more grumbly tone, he added, “Even though it’s a Toyota and not a BMW.”

  She groaned again and crossed her arms. “Fine. I’ll go get the stuff for the djinni spell.”

  Steve grinned and stood up. “Atta girl, boss. Face your fears and come out victorious!” He pumped a fist in the air and chuckled as he left her office.

  But Zoey knew there was very little chance of her coming out ahead in a meeting with Hope Vega. The woman had been out to get her since they were in high school.

  Chapter 9

  Zoey sat in her old Chevy and chewed her bottom lip. Through her dark sunglasses, she stared at the occult shop next to her. Telling herself to just bite the bullet, go in, and get it over with, she was surprised when her body didn’t budge an inch.

  She didn’t want to go inside the shop and talk to Hope. They’d known each other for years—had gone to high school together—and had a frenemy type relationship. They’d sort of been friends back in the day, but they were always competitive, and now that they were adults, Zoey could never shake the idea that Hope had won. Her life had turned out better. She owned her own store, had a fancy sports car, and never had a bad hair day with her long, blond, wavy tresses.

  In comparison, Zoey made a mediocre living, drove a beater, and had almost totally given up on getting her hair to do anything trendy.

  Zoey blew a raspberry at the thought and then pulled down the visor to check her black, shoulder-length hair in the mirror. Of course, it wasn’t lying right on the right side. It never did. She ran her fingers through it, trying to force it into submission, but it only got frizzier, as though to spite her. She pushed the visor back up harder than she needed to and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Taking a deep breath and straightening her shirt, she slunk up to the shop’s door and went in.

  The atmosphere was bright and inviting, full of glass and crystal that reflected rainbow colors everywhere. It smelled good too. Like sage with a faint hint of cinnamon.

  Hope was talking to a man near the front counter, and she gave Zoey a tiny wave of acknowledgement but didn’t move toward her. “Yes, it’s a pretty simple spell,” she said. “I mean, as long as you are good with spell-work. Of course, you’ll need to prepare the space properly first. This is one bit of magic that you don’t want to backfire, or you’ll end up looking like a great hairy bear.”

  The man was about six inches shorter than Hope. There wasn’t much in the way of distinguishing features about him, but the green and blue plaid suit he wore was a little different than the norm. At Hope’s words, he looked alarmed and his hand drifted to his head, stroking the big bald spot in front of a rapidly receding hairline.

  “Okay, listen carefully,” Hope said. “If you want to grow your hair back, this is what you’re going to need to do. Don’t skip anything, don’t mess up the order, and don’t rush it.” She took a deep breath as though to underline the gravity of what she was about to say. “First, you need to make a circle and smudge the room with sage. Greet the four directions and then do fourteen jumping jacks.”

  “What are the jumping jacks for?” The man’s eyes were wide, and he’d pulled a scrap of paper sitting on the checkout counter closer so he could scribble notes on it.

  “It clears the space of hair-hating spirits. They despise the arm-flapping. So then, on the fourteenth one, you need to go down on one knee. The left one. If you go down on the right, you’ll lose more hair, so don’t get that wrong. You go down on the left knee and lean forward until your forehead touches your right knee.”

  The man scribbled franti
cally, and Zoey crossed her arms.

  Hope continued, speaking faster. “Okay, once your forehead is down, you take some of this—” she gestured toward a packet of cream-colored powder on the counter between them “—and sprinkle it into the prepared cup of hot water you previously placed in the circle.”

  “When . . .”

  But Hope didn’t wait for him to finish his question. “You’ll have to stir it in with the ring finger of your left hand, but don’t let your forehead leave your knee. Then you say the words on the slip of paper that I put in with your powder. Once you’ve done that, you can sit cross-legged and drink the tea.”

  The man nodded several times, muttering to himself as he continued to scribble madly, turning the slip of paper over for more room.

  “Now,” Hope said, her tone hushed. “Just do that twice a day for six days, and on the seventh day, don’t eat any meat or drink anything with sugar in it, and you’ll see your first hairs sprout back.” She clapped her hands and beamed. “And then you’ll be on your way! Do it for a month straight, skipping every seventh day to avoid meat and sugary drinks, and you’ll have a full head of hair by the next full moon.”

  The man stuck the slip of paper in his pocket, grabbed the pouch of white powder, and stuffed a few bills into Hope’s hand before rushing past Zoey and out the door.

  Hope’s gaze fell on Zoey, and a small smile played over her perfectly lined, ruby red lips. Moving toward her, Zoey said, “He didn’t need to do all that stuff just to grow a little hair. A simple spell recital and the tea would suffice.”

  The shop owner pushed her hair behind her right ear and walked around to stand behind the checkout counter, sticking the money in the cash register. “I know. But I like seeing how far people will go to get what they want.” She raised her eyes to meet Zoey’s. “For most people, the answer is pretty far.”