Chapter 6
Talula ran out the Employees Only door, her mother’s many warnings about mischievous jinn blaring in her mind. She pulled herself to a stop inches away from the lounging jinn. “That’s-my-human-friend-please-don’t-tell-her-about-magic-stuff.”
A wicked smile unfurled across Kiki’s face. “She’s cute.”
As Talula opened her mouth to beg the jinn for good behavior, Dahlia exploded into the café.
Half a dozen grocery bags stuffed with pet care supplies weighed down her arms. Dahlia collapsed gracelessly into an armchair.
“My parents went overboard with the dog fostering; you wouldn’t believe how many doggy bow ties I found.
” Dahlia straightened as she noticed the jinn. “Hi!”
“Hello,” Kiki replied, stretching out the vowels sensually. “All of this for the four-legged one?”
“Poor guy’s got nothing but the fur on his back.” Dahlia reached out a friendly hand. “I’m Dahlia, by the way.”
The jinn held it with a fiendish gentility, as though they were a rakish rogue from a regency romance. “A pleasure. You may call me Kiki, I’m an old friend of Sah—Sara’s.” Kiki tossed a subtle look to Talula. “Just stopping by for a cup of tea. I’m sure there’s another cup just awaiting your lips!”
Talula was slightly scandalized by the lascivious way Kiki said “lips” while still holding Dahlia’s hand.
“Sounds good! But why does it smell amazing?” Dahlia sniffed the air. “Talula, are you cooking something?”
“Another off-menu adventure.” Talula dared a wink at Dahlia.
“Oh, hell yes! Is there enough for me?”
“There’s plenty for everyone, including Simon.”
“Who?” Dahlia spotted the scowling dog and laughed. “Simon! It’s perfect! Right, Simon?”
Simon did not seem to think her question should be dignified by a response.
“Food’s almost ready. I’ll be right back.” Talula pretended to address Simon, but her message was for the jinn. “Please behave, or I will revoke your snack privileges.”
“Go on.” Kiki flicked their fingers playfully at Talula. “Dahlia and I will have some tea and a chat.”
Nervously, Talula tightened her apron and headed to the back.
Sara’s jinn stories made Talula anxious.
After all, ageless magical beings with limitless power tended to have a warped sense of humor (Sara, for example, could not get enough of knock-knock jokes).
Talula discreetly stuck a footstool in the doorway to eavesdrop as she put the finishing touches on the snacks.
“Miss Dahlia, named for a flower with the beauty to match,” Kiki said. “What is a bloom like you doing in a shrubby town like this?”
Talula felt a pang of envy at Kiki’s masterful flirtation. There was no denying that the jinn had eons’ worth of charisma.
Dahlia’s voice was matter-of-fact. “I had a big quarter-life crisis after my dad died so I quit my job, moved into his house, and started writing because I’m trying to do what I want and not what I have to do. Talula makes me cocoa.”
Kiki’s sudden roar of laughter made Talula nearly drop the plate in her hands. “I take it back. You’re no flower. You’re a symphony!”
“Thank you! And what brings you to Pine Hollow?”
“I need a change. A new chapter.” Kiki’s voice was casual, breezy. But Talula knew better. She remembered the haunted look in the jinn’s eyes.
“I get it. That’s why I moved here,” Dahlia said. “I wanted to feel closer to my dad and all the things he’d been trying to teach me. What do you want your new chapter to look like?”
Curious, Talula paused in her snack preparations and leaned her ear toward the door.
Kiki answered uncertainly. “I don’t know.”
“You must have dreamed about what’s next,” Dahlia pressed.
Silence fell, growing tenser with every passing moment. Finally, Kiki spoke.
“You know, the only thing I dreamed about was getting away. Getting out. Out out out.” Kiki took a deep, audible inhale.
“Do you know what it’s like to forget your freedom?
To forget your heart and path is yours alone and need not bend to another’s will?
I hope you don’t, darling Dahlia. I hope you never do.
For it is the fastest way to smother your own fire and become shadow. ”
A long minute passed. The only sound Talula heard was the quiet sniffs of the jinn.
“Hrmph,” Simon said sagely. Tension broken, Kiki and Dahlia chuckled.
Then, Dahlia said, “I know we just met, but I can already tell that you’re not smothered. If this is you smothered, you’d be formidable at full fire.”
“I was once,” Kiki commented fondly. “I could scorch out the eyes of foolhardy mortals who stared too long.”
“Metaphorically?”
“Sure.”
(At that, Talula gulped and hurried her food preparations.)
“I’ll bet!” Dahlia laughed. “But I don’t think that ever leaves you. Every time you prioritize yourself and your needs, you’re giving yourself power. You’re doing it now, just by being here and choosing to start again. That’s, like, radical self-love.”
“Radical self-love?” Kiki echoed thoughtfully. They said it again, with power: “Radical self-love!”
For a moment, the walls shook, and Talula could have sworn the lightbulbs flashed ecstatically.
“Whoa, looks like the café agrees with you,” Dahlia observed delightedly. “Or maybe the universe?”
“As it should.” Kiki’s voice was a mischievous spark seeking tinder. “For a long while, there wasn’t room for these questions. Of what I need, what I want, or even what I wish for.”
Alarm bells went off in Talula’s brain. If there was one thing Talula knew, it was that when a jinn talked about wishes, you had to be very careful.
Granting wishes is a compulsion for most jinn, and a rush for others, Sara had warned. But not always for the right reasons.
Luckily, the food was ready. Talula burst out of the back area, her tray loaded up with melty goodness.
After nearly exhausting the Voltlette’s supply of bread, cheeses, fancy jams, and specialty pickles, Talula had created a smorgasbord of artisanal grilled cheese.
She set the tray down on the coffee table, then explained the flavors.
“This one is sourdough with American cheese, muenster, and sharp cheddar. Over here is French bread, brie, and hot pepper jam. This one is mozzarella, tomato, and pesto on focaccia. Noosh-eh joon and bon appétit!”
Without hesitation, Dahlia grabbed a sandwich and took a bite.
Strings of melty cheese stretched between Dahlia’s mouth and the sandwich.
She moaned with her mouth full, a sound that felt borderline inappropriate for a coffee shop, even one that was also an occult emporium.
“Talula, is it normal to have sexual feelings about a grilled cheese? Because I’m having sexual feelings about this grilled cheese. ”
Talula, red-faced, did not trust herself to make eye contact with Dahlia, or else it would be obvious that she was having sexual feelings about Dahlia having sexual feelings.
Meanwhile, Kiki raised an elegant brow. “Is this dignified? For tea?”
Talula smiled nervously. “See for yourself, esteemed guest.”
Delicately, Kiki picked up a sandwich. They nibbled at it. Then Kiki shoved the whole thing savagely into their mouth.
“Dignity,” Kiki said, licking a stray strand of melted cheddar off their wrist, “…is overrated.”
“I want a bathtub of this cheesy jammy melty heaven,” Dahlia said, and sighed.
“Is that what you want or what you wish?” Kiki clarified pointedly.
Talula’s heart stopped. Her wide hazel eyes locked onto the jinn’s face. Kiki smiled like a tiger.
“If we’re talking wishes, I definitely wouldn’t waste one on a bathtub full of cheese,” Dahlia scoffed.
“Can you imagine cleaning that thing? I stopped microwaving my quesadillas because I hated scraping the dried-up cheese off the plate. Now I eat cold tortillas and shredded cheese, and it tastes just fine!”
(Despite the imminent jinn danger, Talula’s little chef’s heart wailed in agony.)
Kiki pressed on, their fiery eyes alight. “But truly, what would you wish for?”
“Does anyone want more tea? I could make more tea. Kiki, you want more tea, right?” Talula interrupted desperately.
“I have everything I want, thank you,” Kiki replied sweetly. Talula glared at the jinn, thinking loud, rude thoughts.
Dahlia picked up another tiny sandwich. “How many wishes do I get? Could I wish for world peace? An end to racism? Universal healthcare? Could I wish for a telepathic flying unicorn that shoots mozzarella sticks out of its horn?”
Horror choked Talula like a too-big bite of sandwich.
Kiki stroked their chin. “You get one wish. You could technically wish for lofty, altruistic things. Though no one ever has. You can’t wish to change someone’s heart or control their actions.
But your wish could defy reality, make something new that was old, return lost things, or bring your wildest dreams to fruition. ”
Dahlia stilled, and Talula saw the thoughts form like storm clouds on her face.
Her dad, Talula thought, stricken. She knew no good came of bringing the dead back to life. Especially not with a jinn’s tricky magic.
“Then I guess”—Dahlia turned seriously to Talula, whose internal organs had turned to blocks of ice—“my wish is for you.”
Talula stilled, heart pounding. For me, as in for me? Like she wants just…me?
Dahlia took in Talula’s deer-meets-eighteen-wheeler expression and chuckled. She plucked a brie and hot pepper jelly sandwich from the tray. “I wish you’d make me another one of these, please!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Talula watched Kiki’s mouth purse with displeasure. She realized that Dahlia had phrased her wish perfectly, asking for Talula to grant it. Not Kiki.
“I will grant this wish,” Talula shouted, practically into Kiki’s face. “Free of charge, completely and wholeheartedly, right now!”
Kiki’s face soured, their eyes glowing slits of sore-losership. But then, a playful smile tugged at their lips. “I’ll take more, too, Talula, daughter of wonder and vexation!”
“Hrmph,” Simon muttered tiredly.
Several cups of tea and many sandwiches later, Dahlia stretched out her arms languorously. “I should head out. Maybe tomorrow will be a better writing day.” Then she turned to Kiki. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“You have made this day radiant.” The jinn lifted the mysterious necklace up from around their neck. “Please take this as my thanks for our time together.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Dahlia protested.
“I know. Now hush and take the trinket.” Kiki looped the necklace over Dahlia’s neck.
Dahlia was transfixed by the ring on the end of the chain. Jokingly, she asked, “Does it grant wishes?”
“Depends on the wish.” Kiki grinned mysteriously. They and Dahlia hugged goodbye.
“I’ll walk you out.” Talula made her way to the door. Simon followed. “Okay, I guess, we will walk you out.”
Suddenly, Talula’s phone buzzed with a flurry of text replies from her mother.
The Council said that your teacher should be there already.
Tell Kiki I say hi!
Show them this cute jinn emoji I found!
Talula frowned at the confusing text. Maybe her new magic teacher was waiting for her at the house? She tucked her phone back into her pocket—that was a worry for later.
Talula, Dahlia, and Simon strolled through the café’s front door, the cool night whispering over their skin.
As Dahlia turned to go, Talula blurted out, “Can I ask you something?”
Dahlia cocked her head curiously. “Go ahead.”
“Why wouldn’t you wish for your dad to come back?”
Dahlia’s gaze dropped to her feet. For several long seconds, Talula was convinced Dahlia would never speak to her again. Finally, Dahlia spoke.
“First of all, I read ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ in ninth grade.
Wishing for lost loved ones to return never turns out well.
Second of all…” Dahlia scrubbed at her face with her hand.
“I have to believe that he’s still here watching over me, and proud as hell that I’m finally listening to what he’s been trying to tell me my whole life. ”
Talula didn’t think. Didn’t blink. She wrapped her arms around Dahlia. Dahlia tucked herself into Talula’s embrace with a sigh. Talula felt a quiet sob shudder through Dahlia’s body, and she tightened her grasp.
“Sorry,” Dahlia murmured into Talula’s shoulder. “The grief sneaks up on me sometimes.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Talula said softly, wishing she could press a kiss to Dahlia’s hair.
“Thank you.” Dahlia sniffled. “For everything, but also specifically the sandwiches.”
“Just do me a favor?” Talula said.
Dahlia nodded against her shoulder.
“Don’t make cold quesadillas anymore. It’s deeply upsetting. Call me, and I’ll bring you something better.”
Talula didn’t hear Dahlia’s silent, hiccuping laughter. She felt it, against her chest, across her skin, warming her blood like the glow of summer. Slowly, they pulled apart, and the light in Talula’s chest went slightly dim.
“I promise.” Dahlia pulled out her phone. “But I don’t have your number.”
Time stopped as Talula looked at the phone. If Talula did this, she wouldn’t just be the girl behind the counter. She’d be a person who did things after work and answered texts late at night. Possibly tipsy on wine while online shopping. She would be exposed. She would be Talula.
A second went by. Then Talula’s thumbs swept across the screen. In an act of true bisexual boldness, she added a sparkle emoji next to her name.
“No more cold quesadillas?” Talula asked (not quite asking the right question).
“No more cold quesadillas,” Dahlia said seriously.
Once Dahlia had disappeared around the corner, Talula sat down on the café’s front steps. She was exhausted and elated. Thrilled and depleted. She’d summoned witchfire, thrown a tea party for a jinn, made Dahlia laugh, cooked up a smorgasbord of grilled cheese, and given Dahlia her number.
“Not a bad day, huh, Simon?” Talula asked as her furry companion waddled over to her.
Simon let out a growl.
“That,” Simon said in a frigid English accent, “was an utter disaster.”