Chapter 7
“Whoa!” Talula sputtered, shock scrambling her words. “Who—what—excuse me?”
“You’re far from excused,” Simon said, his black eyes sharp on Talula’s face. “If what I just saw was any indication of your abilities, you have much to learn before you’re a fit guardian of the Volta.”
Realization dawned brutally on Talula. Sara had failed to mention that her new magic teacher would not be human-shaped. For the entire day, she’d hosted, fed, and baby-talked to a fully cognizant magical talking dog.
And Dahlia, Dahlia. He’d seen everything with Dahlia.
Fear and embarrassment made Talula defensive, angry. She snapped, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted to observe you first, see what I was getting myself into. Besides, why would you think I wasn’t your new mentor?”
In answer, Talula gestured at Simon’s short, stubby, and fluffy body.
“Yes, well.” His ears flicked with irritation. “I haven’t been corporeal in ages. Usually I exist as a loose collection of sentient magical particles. But times are dire, and your mother asked for the best.”
“Why did you choose this form?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Simon barked. “What matters is that you nearly allowed a human to be ensnared by a jinn. Which could’ve had disastrous consequences!”
Memory echoed in Talula’s mind.
“Did Kiki know?”
“Of course I did.” The jinn had opened the front door of the shop and was leaning smugly against the frame.
Talula whirled. “Why didn’t you tell me Simon wasn’t just a dog?”
“Talula, Talula, Talula.” Kiki sighed dramatically. “You have to understand something. Something very important.”
Talula braced herself for mystical knowledge.
“Telling you would have been much less fun than not telling you.” Kiki cackled. “Besides, I liked worrying the cute little doggy.”
Simon scowled. “I’m a wizard who contains the wisdom of a thousand ages!”
“Of course you are.” Kiki made a kissy face at Simon. The jinn turned to Talula. “Now, would you mind taking me to my next life?”
Talula looked down at Simon. “Can we do that?”
“That’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?” Simon waddled back through the café entryway and toward the Employees Only door. “Come, you insufferable jinn.”
But as soon as Simon had passed through the Employees Only door, Kiki uttered a word in an ancient language—the language of the jinn. A wall of light filled the doorway. Judging by the indignant yips from the other side, Simon couldn’t pass through it.
Suddenly, Kiki was inches away from Talula’s face.
“You’ve been wonderful to me today.” Kiki’s mischievous face was soft. “And played so delightfully with my little wish prank. In return, I’d like to give you three things: a promise, some wisdom, and a hug. Do you accept?”
Talula searched Kiki’s eyes. She found no trace of treachery. “I do.”
Kiki lifted a single finger. “First, my gift to you. A promise to never lie to you or any you call your own, past, present, or future. Ask the right questions, and you’ll get the truth. But it’s in my nature to be tricky, so craft your queries well.”
Talula’s jaw dropped. There’d been no stories, not even whispers, of this kind of gift. But her mother had plenty of tales of sorcerers trading various treasures/loved ones/body parts in exchange for a jinn’s honest answers. “Kiki, I’m honored.”
“Of course you are.” Kiki lifted another finger.
“Second, some wisdom. The gift I gave your beautiful friend is no ordinary trinket. It may summon jinn, any jinn, all jinn, some jinn, one jinn at the will of a sorceress. The ring will not allow jinn to be bound to your command, but they can be bargained with. Or be given a cup of tea. Perhaps a sandwich.”
“The ring you gave Dahlia is a way to call you?” Talula ventured, delighted.
“Technically, yes.” Kiki didn’t make eye contact, but a flush warmed their cheeks. “Or a jinn army to vanquish your enemies.”
“Is this your way of saying you want to be friends?”
“Psh,” Kiki blew air out of their lips haughtily. “I am a jinn. We don’t have friends. We have cohorts, associates, cronies, henchpeople, interns—”
“I’m taking my third gift now.” Talula threw her arms around Kiki.
The jinn squeezed her tight, their golden headscarf tickling Talula’s nose. “I’m glad to know you, young sorceress.”
Then the wall of light disappeared, and Simon barreled through the Employees Only door.
“What did you do?” Simon’s ears lay flat against his head, teeth bared in fury.
“Just saying goodbye to my favorite barista.” Kiki danced past the dog through the doorway. “Come! Let’s do some magic, little doggy!”
Below the shop, the Volta glowed, shining tendrils of blue magic reaching toward them. Talula turned to Simon. “How do we do this?”
“I can handle the identity materials,” Simon said. “But you have the connection to the Volta. Give me your hand.”
Kneeling, she lay her hand gently at the scruff of his neck, resisting the urge to pet his fluffy fur.
“Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.”
Talula did.
“Now, think of Kiki.”
“Psh, like she isn’t already,” Kiki teased.
Talula could sense the jinn’s brightness with her eyes closed.
“Find Kiki’s home.”
“Just like that?” Talula whispered, uncertain.
“Keep Kiki in the center of your mind. The answer will come to you.”
Instead, Talula pictured Kiki in her heart.
Their wicked grin and gemstone eyes, the kindness beneath their dangerous demeanor.
A sense of calm washed over Talula as an image appeared—a beachside metropolis, dancing with color, light, and music.
In the distance, green mountains watched over the city.
It was a place to be free and alive. To find company and solace. To be wild and at peace.
Talula blinked her eyes open. The Volta showed the city by the sea that Talula had envisioned, its blue membrane casting the place in cerulean hues.
Kiki’s voice was quiet with naked awe. “Is that…for me?”
Talula smiled. “It is.”
Simon walked to Kiki and pressed his nose into the jinn’s hand. When Simon backed away, a gold medallion filled Kiki’s palm.
“Keep this close,” Simon advised. “It’ll show you where to go.”
“Time for your next chapter,” Talula said gently.
“So it is.” Kiki’s eyes were brighter than usual, shining with almost-tears. They blew Talula a kiss; then, with a bracing breath, they stepped into the shining portal. They vanished.
Talula wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She wasn’t always around when a magical being transitioned into their next life. But when she was, it always moved her.
“Yes, well,” Simon said, as blue filaments of magic fluttered around the Volta’s archway. “That wasn’t totally botched.”
“Thanks.” Talula let out a sniffly laugh. “Let’s go home.”
When they’d begun the walk to the house, Talula had a thought. “What’s your name?”
“What?” Simon said.
“I called you Simon before I knew you could talk. Is there anything you’d prefer to be called?”
“No,” Simon said hurriedly. “My name is unpronounceable.”
“Let me try. It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t have the right mystic vocal organs.”
“And you do?”
In answer, Simon let loose an ear-splitting shriek that somehow made Talula’s inner ear feel like it was bleeding while also being tickled. When it was over, all the night animals had gone completely silent.
Talula shook her head. “You’re right. I don’t have those organs.”
“You certainly don’t.”
“Would you like to pick a name to go by? One that I have the right organs for?”
Simon was silent. He continued taking quick, small steps alongside Talula’s strides. After half a block, a cricket felt brave enough to resume his night music.
“I like Simon,” Simon said.
Another cricket joined the first. Then another.
“Me, too,” Talula said.
After a welcome feast of pork chops in pancetta and herb sauce, Talula showed Simon to the guest bedroom.
“Tomorrow the real education begins,” he declared. He hopped onto the bed, turned around three times, and settled into a fluffy ball of exhaustion. “Organic matter can be so tiring.”
As Talula got ready for bed, she reran the events of the day through her head.
Would Simon bring up Dahlia’s presence in the café?
Would he decide to wipe her memory? But her mother said a local coming in once in a while was good, right?
Could Talula play it off that way? As she brushed her teeth and picked through her worries, Talula’s phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. An unknown number had sent her a text.
After today, I have quit cold quesadillas cold turkey
Thanks again for everything
I’m going to dream of cheese tubs tonight
Btw this is Dahlia. Not a stalker.
Talula gave a delighted gasp (and nearly choked on her toothbrush). She drafted text after text before deciding that simplicity was the best option.
Sweet dreams and good riddance to cold quesadillas!
Talula got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, a grin stretching her cheeks taut. She didn’t sleep for hours.