Page 11 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Sara walked over to plant a kiss on the top of Talula’s head. “I’m really proud of you. This was a fantastic attempt.”

Attempt.

“Thanks, Mom,” Talula said with a smile, but it felt forced.

Sara hurried up the stairs and out of the basement. As Talula resumed jackalope-catching, she thought about what might have gone wrong with working the Volta. The rules of magic were hard. Every spell, every potion, every charm was different. Her mother’s grimoire was full of instructions like “when the moon weeps bloody tears, take ⅞ teaspoon of yarrow to your dominant chakra point and bow Southish to remedy invasive algae issues in your local estuary.” If you didn’t do it right, you had a sentient algae problem on your hands. Or unfortunate things happened to your intestines.

When it came to the Volta—a portal shaped from a deep vein of magical power—there wasn’t even a list of instructions. Just Sara, telling Talula to balance her instinct, will, and power to mold the Volta to her wishes. Otherwise, you’d wind up surrounded by angry jackalopes.

This is why I like cooking, Talula mused to herself, as another jackalope landed with a fwoop on the other side of the Volta. The biggest food disaster she’d had involved way too much yeast in a baking experiment. Yes, it’d been a doughy disaster, but nobody’s insides got pulled out of their ear holes.

Suddenly, Talula heard the distinct, twinkling note of the café’s front-door bell. A familiar voice bellowed:

“HEY, TALULA, ARE YOU HERE? CAN I HAVE SOME COCOA?”

Dahlia was in the café.

Talula was still surrounded by jackalopes.

3

Fuck fuck FUCK, Talula thought. Then she called out, “I’ll be right up!”

She hoped the basement door muffled the panic in her voice.

Knowing Dahlia, if Talula didn’t show up soon, her favorite customer would come looking for her. Talula did some quick calculations. Only a few antlered jackalopes remained; the rest could pass as rabbits. Talula could just lock the door behind her, make cocoa for Dahlia, then say she was doing inventory or something and come back down to finish the job.

Talula gritted her teeth. Lying was a part of maintaining the Blue Moon’s cover, and after years of practice, Talula was pretty good at it. But it always made her feel slimy afterward, no matter how harmless the lie. She still stayed awake some nights feeling guilty for lying to her fifth-grade teacher, who’d asked where Talula’s mom was from. When Talula herself had asked her mother that question, the sorceress had said, “I was born in the eternal flames of Ahura Mazda, baptized by the tears of a three-headed dragon, and heard my true name in the dying whisper of a fallen star.”

Talula had told her teacher “Canada.”

Now Talula turned to the remaining jackalopes. They cowered, blinking their black magical eyes up at her. Talula felt a twinge of guilt. Remembering magical animals were slightly more perceptive than non-magical ones, Talula knelt down to their level. “I’m sorry. This has probably been really traumatic for you. Now you’re scared out of your minds after seeing me and my mom throw you guys through a magical blue hole.”

The jackalopes stared at her.

“If you hang out here for a little while, I’ll get you back home safely.” Then Talula added, “And I’ll get you some lettuce.”

One jackalope with particularly tall antlers gave Talula a slight nod.

“Thank you!” Talula darted up the stairs. She paused at the Employees Only door and fussed. Her hair was a mess, mussed and tousled by the Volta. Her clothes were dusty from her fall, and the fancy lip balm had been smudged away. But she couldn’t keep Dahlia waiting any longer.

Resolutely, Talula opened the door to find Dahlia sitting at a counter stool instead of her usual armchair. Today Dahlia looked like a cottagecore mermaid, one who could lure sailors to their doom with a crinkle of a dimple. She wore a chunky green boatneck sweater with a lacy black bra strap peeking out. Green sea-glass earrings glowed against the gold tones in her skin. She was so stunning that Talula almost didn’t notice the random collection of items Dahlia was shaking out of her bag onto the countertop.

“Hey!” Dahlia said, scraping a few more things from the depths of her satchel.

“Hey yourself.” Talula desperately tried not to think about that lacy black bra strap. “What’s all this?”

“I’m doing a writing prompt that says to take a household object and write a story about it.”

“So you brought…” Talula began to count. “Forty billion household objects.”

Dahlia beamed. “Yup!”

Spread about the counter was a bafflingly random assortment of items. A Magic 8 Ball, a fancy set of salad tongs, what looked like a retainer case, and…Talula squinted. A book. A very old-looking book, written in a language that was somehow familiar. Talula opened her mouth to ask about it, but Dahlia spoke first.

“I have a confession.”

For some reason, Talula thought about that bra strap again. “Okay…what is it?”