The Jilted Jinn

by S. E. Babin

  “What’s after that?”

  A smirk formed on the side of his mouth. “Considering the state of your kitchen, I figured we’d finish that next. I’ve heard you liked to bake?”

  Surprise rattled through me. He was right. I did like to bake. Very, very much. “Oh. I do. Where did you hear that from?”

  The smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. “A lady named Melody. I assume she’s a good friend of yours?”

  I groaned. “I am so sorry.” That little twerp was trying to hook me up!

  “No need to apologize. She was just trying to be helpful.”

  “Helpful, my foot,” I grumbled. “But yes, if you can get the kitchen fixed, I would be very grateful.”

  “If you make me some cupcakes, I might be able to knock a day or two off the time.”

  A smile formed on my face. “Really? Hmmm. I’m not sure a contractor should be bribing the homeowner, but I’ll tell you what. Knock two full days off and have my ceiling and kitchen island fixed within the week, and I’ll make you whatever you want.”

  His amused dark gaze met mine. “Deal. A serviceable roof and kitchen for a half dozen chocolate cupcakes with vanilla buttercream and salted caramel drizzle on top.”

  I blinked. “That’s a...specific order, but you have yourself a deal.”

  “Good. We will fix the island and a few other things to get you back in here, but there’s still a lot of work to be done, especially if you want the kitchen up to your specifications. Also, you’ll need to order your new appliances so I can install them.” He looked down at the clipboard. “I’d say you’re looking at about a month to have your kitchen completely done. About a week before you can use it pretty close to all the way again.” He looked up at me. “But don’t expect to be in here all the time. There’s going to be a lot of dust and debris for awhile, but we will give you notice when we’re going to be doing the kind of work that will keep you out of here. Sound okay?”

  I grinned up at Martin. “Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “We’ll get to work right away.”

  An invisible but heavy weight lifted from my shoulders. Martin seemed competent, self assured and made me feel at ease. This morning was the best I’d felt in awhile. I gave him a nod and a shaky smile and headed back to my office to catch up on some bills and paperwork I’d been putting off.

  I planned to go into work tomorrow. As long as I stuck to that plan, I’d be just fine financially. I still had to pay Martin the other half of his fee once he finished, but that wasn’t due for awhile. Home renovations always took awhile and with the extent of work I was having done to the house, I figured it would be at least a few months before that bill came due.

  I also had to pay my mortgage, buy my new appliances and add furniture to my guest room, my new office and replace my ancient couches. I sighed as I realized exactly how much procrastinating I’d been doing since I met Jeff. I’d given up everything to spend time with him only to have it all thrown back in my face. So now...here I was pinching pennies until I could get my shit together.

  I let my head drop onto a large pile of paperwork in front of me. I would catch up. I would. It wasn’t like I had anything holding me back anymore.

  5

  3 Months Later

  The house was a nightmare. I’d been warned by plenty of people that renovations were no joke, but this was insane. Granted, Martin had kept his word about my kitchen, and I’d kept mine and made him a delicious batch of his requested cupcakes, but ever since then it was like Martin had put on warp speed. Everything around me was in shambles, though I could see things slowly coming together. I was still able to use the stove and oven, but my cabinets and countertops were out, so all of my dishware and pots and pans were in boxes on the floor of my living room. It was a pain in the ass trying to sort through everything and I knew Martin could tell how annoyed I was.

  He would try to assuage any rage I had by letting me know this was normal and that it wouldn’t be too much longer until I had my house all to myself again. I’d grumble something and fish through the boxes trying to find my favorite coffee mug and Martin would turn his radio back up and keep working. The other guys in his crew stayed mostly out of my way unless I decided to bake something. Then they hovered over me like flies on a horse until I either shooed them away or gave them something fresh from the oven. Although, thanks to the chaos of the house, even my baking had slowed down because my island now stayed mostly full of power tools.

  I was still a bit of a mess, but things were starting to get back to normal. I saved my woe was me tears until I was in the shower and by the time I got out, I was usually okay. Going back to work had been a challenge. On my first day back, I’d broken into tears several times and had to leave early. So I eased back into it slowly with half days and within two weeks, I’d managed to make it back full-time and rarely cried anymore.

  It was progress.

  I still hadn’t heard from Mark about the money for the reception, so I knew I’d need to go see him, sooner rather than later. For now, though, I was concentrating on work and keeping my house in some semblance of order. Both were easier said than done.

  It was nine a.m. and I’d just stuck the keys into the door of The Magical Brew, my craft beer/wishing shop, when the phone started ringing off the hook. Word had gotten out that I was back full time and now I could barely keep my schedule straight. I was always busy, but taking several weeks off had led to a backlog I still hadn’t managed to get a handle on. I rushed in, taking a moment to lock the door behind me and snatched the phone off the receiver.

  “Magical Brew, this is Katie,” I said, a little breathless.

  “Hello,” the voice on the other end said. It was a woman with a sultry, deep tone to her voice. Almost hypnotizing. “I’d like to make an appointment for next week.”

  My lips twisted to the side in annoyance. I didn’t even need to check my datebook. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m booked up a month in advance. The earliest I could take you is in September.”

  The woman’s throaty chuckle rang through the line. “I’m sure you’ve had a cancellation. Would you mind double checking for me?”

  I would, actually, but I tried to run my business with the motto that the customer was always right. I didn’t agree with it, but it was one of those things where I had to ask myself, was it worth fighting about and was it worth losing money over? I gritted my teeth but still managed a pleasant voice when I said, “Sure. Hold please.” I clicked Hold before she could respond, shrugged my jacket off and headed into the back to the tiny office where I kept all my paperwork.

  I flipped open the book to the next week and skimmed down the page only to find a blank spot for Wednesday at 4pm. I frowned. How that had come open I had no idea. And wasn’t it weird that she had known it? Was I being magically manipulated? Or was my customer? I picked up the phone in my office and clicked the button to bring the woman on the line. “How strange,” I said. “I do happen to have an opening.” I rattled off the information and the woman gave me what was obviously a fake name. A lot of people did. Even though we lived in a magical town, no one wanted to pony up the fact that they needed a wish granted.

  I took the 50% deposit down, went through my refund policy, which was basically nil unless they cancelled 48 hours in advance, and finally hung up the phone.

  I stared at the receiver for a minute, shaken but unable to tell why. Something inside of me twisted. Whoever this woman was, I didn’t want to meet her because I felt like if I did, my life was going to change in some pretty unpleasant ways.

  Standing up from the chair, I tidied up my desk and updated my calendar with the fake info the woman had given me: Lila Rose, a vampire real estate agent. It was possible the info was true, but in my field, that was almost never the case.

  I finished updating things and went out into the bar area to make sure everything was ready to open. Even though I didn’t need to, I wiped down the hardwood of the bar, made sure the taps
were clean and we were fully supplied for the next week. I checked the tank for the new Blood Moon beer we’d just gotten in which turned out to be a pretty spectacular hit in this area. The brewer, one of the Lupin pack, had pitched his product in person and I’d been so charmed by him, I ordered on the spot without even tasting. That was extremely rare for me, but it turned out to be a great decision because his beer was selling like hotcakes. It was an odd beer with a flavor profile I’d never tasted before. Chocolate and coffee mixed with the slightest hint of cinnamon gave way to a beer that was not quite a stout, but not even close to being a lightweight. It was a hit particularly with the men who all seemed to enjoy the darker beers we sold.

  We were full and had two more weeks of supply in the cooler and everything else looked good, too. I checked all of the tables and made sure they were all stocked with silverware and napkins before I headed to the back area.

  The Magical Brew was the product of me wanting to own a business, but not wanting it to become a kitschy tourist trap. Due to the stereotypes of my profession, it was difficult to be taken seriously. There were so many fly by night operations within this country that I was forced to operate here solely. The people who lived here were required to be licensed by the city, and licensing was not an easy process to go through. If you were a charlatan, you’d be found out and most likely disposed of within minutes of approaching the licensing board. No one quite knew what the “disposing” consisted of, but those who came in and were found wanting were usually never seen again. The optimist in me hoped this meant they were just kicked out of town. The realist in me knew it was something a wee bit more sinister than that.

  I'd undergone the process several years ago and was terrified my secret would leak out to the people in this town, but when I got into the room, there was a friendly lawyer and a whole stack of paperwork waiting for me. It took me hours to go through everything, but it was the most straightforward legal document I'd ever seen. They would not release any of my information, nor reveal my paranormal class, and I would agree to never speak about the licensing process or anything I saw during the time I was there.

  Easy enough. I signed on the dotted line and spent the next two hours in a grueling meeting which felt more like an FBI interrogation than an interview process. I had to prove multiple times I could act as a Jinn and provide whatever the interviewer wanted. By the end of my time there, the room was full of well-oiled pool boys, dozens of cupcakes, a pony, a box of one hundred dollar bills neatly folded into origami swans equaling one million dollars, and a bottle of discontinued perfume.

  I left the room perplexed and pissed off, but with a license to practice with the ink still wet on it. The good thing about living here though was once you got your license, you didn't have to renew it. Provided you could pay for the damn thing in the first place. The price was outrageous and the whole thing felt like making a deal with the devil.

  However, I'd gone through it. I'd won my license and my right to have a business here, and I was happy. For the most part. If men never existed, I'd be delirious with happiness. But alas, they did and I had to deal with the betrayal until hopefully one day it didn't hurt when my thoughts drifted to my relationships of the last few years.

  I pushed open the door to my office and the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle incense hit me full in the face. I took a deep breath and felt my shoulders fall with a release of tension.

  This was my favorite place to be. I hoped one day my house would be, but right now it was in shambles, so this had to do. The walls were painted a pretty lavender and in the middle of the ceiling a chandelier with dangling crystals hung. In the middle of the room sat a white desk with a deep purple covering over it. On top of it was my incense burner, a lighter, a stack of tarot cards and a bottle of white sage spray made by the Comey sisters, the most powerful witches in the town.

  It was an odd combination if you weren't used to it, but those were all the tools I needed to make the best determination on whether to move forward with a request. The incense burner was used to put me into a meditative state. The lighter was obvious, though sometimes when someone super annoying came in I would fantasize about lighting the customer's hair on fire. The stack of tarot helped me see the possible results of the wish if granted, and added as an extra boost to my already substantial power. And the white sage helped clear any negative energies from my space. I used it before every session and sometimes during a session if someone brought particularly weird energy with them. That happened more often than not these days. This town had some pretty weird folks moving in lately.

  When I designed this office I'd wanted to make it comfortable, yet welcoming to my customers. The floor was polished hardwood, but a massive brightly colored rug took up a lot of it. Two comfortable lavender chairs sat in front of my desk, but there was also a white couch sitting off to the left if someone wanted to really get comfortable. Behind the desk loomed a massive built in bookcase, stuffed to the brim with books and trinkets I'd brought from home or been given. Some of them had magical significance, such as the bottle belonging to one of my aunts who passed away after refusing a wish from a very bad person.

  The thing about Jinns which wasn't so fun was the requirement we retreat to our bottles once a quarter to recharge our magic. We were at our most vulnerable there, and every time I had to go in, I always became nervous about it. Like maybe I'd wake up and find myself in a different country or something because someone had stolen it. All Jinns were nervous about forced servitude. I had a nifty hiding spot tucked underneath my bed in my master suite. It was a loose floorboard but it seamed perfectly together with the rest of the floor. It was also under a relatively strong locking spell. Someone would have to know my personal keyword to access the bottle. I had never told a soul about it. Of course, my family knew of the quarterly limitations because they were subjected to it, but few of us ever relinquished the secret locations of our bottles.

  However, since my aunt was no longer here, I now had possession of it. To a normal person it was just a pretty, decorative bottle, similar to the kinds you usually saw during a craft or shopping show. Cheap and disposable and a very convenient gift. The problem with those was occasionally, one of our bottles got mixed up in there due to bad luck and bad timing, and it was damn near impossible to figure out which one it was without shaking it and causing a whole bunch of drama. Most humans were not equipped with a strong enough heart to see someone exit a one inch hole.

  I sighed, kicked off my sandals, and sat down in the comfortable office chair behind my desk. With a quick whispered word, the glamour I wore dropped off. For just a little while. I'd have to restore most of it before my first customer came in, but it wasn't exactly comfortable to wear. I had been contemplating hiring the Comey sisters to come and see if they could install a spell at the doorstep of my shop that would wipe the memory of my face from my customer's mind and replace it with the face I wore as a glamour. That way I wouldn't have to be so secretive with my comings and goings. It would be similar to the spell I used on Jeff, but it would need a lot more juice. I could see someone as myself but as soon as they stepped over the threshold to leave, they would remember everything about their session, but they would believe I was a short and petite blonde haired woman with dark brown eyes.

  It would no doubt be outrageously expensive to have a spell like that done, but...I was tired. I needed a break. I leaned back in my chair, shook my hair out, and spent the next 45 minutes in deep meditation to ensure I was ready for the busy day of magic ahead of me. I usually left work each day totally wrung out, but it was even worse lately because I had to make up for all of the time I missed while depressed on my couch.

  When the soft music I'd put on died down and my bell timer sent out a soft chime, I opened my eyes, exhaled, and whispered the words to return my glamour. After a quick glance in the mirror showing me all was right with my new features, I stood and walked out to open the doors to my shop.

  I stared at the woman like she
was a strange dog who just pooped on my carpet. Granted, I'd seen some weird shit doing this job, but after all this time people still managed to surprise me. This time it was a relatively young, attractive woman who, from the outside, seemed to have her life together. She was well put together, clothing wise. Her hair was styled neatly, her makeup flawless. She wore a bright silver watch, didn't fidget with nervousness, and her nail polish was smooth and unblemished. Her name was Sarah. She owned The Book Bitches in the middle of town, so I assumed she was well-read and educated, but she was a complete and total freak, and my fingers were itching to hit the panic button under my desk because she was totally weirding me out.

  It started out completely normal. In fact, I'd breathed a sigh of relief when I saw her walk in because she looked completely normal. This, of course, should have been my first clue. The most normal of people can sometimes be the worst closet freaks you'd ever met.

  Sarah had met someone online through the only competitor the town's dating agency had. Almost no one used the app, so I was already apprehensive before she finished the story. The man was polyamorous, which I didn't know what that meant and I had to look it up discreetly while she spoke. Being non-monogamous was fine. I tried not to judge. I didn't know anyone's stories so I took everything with a grain of salt.

  But then came the doozie. The man requested a public orgy in the middle of town but everyone was required to be dipped in liquid latex first. She didn't seem bothered by the request. At all. So instead of interrupting her, I let her continue because now I was morbidly curious about where this was going.

  Because an orgy just wasn’t enough for this dude.

  The public sex was to be followed by a wedding performed by a werewolf stripper in half beast form wearing a bikini, and the reception was to be staged with mermaid strippers.