Page 111 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“We have no time for oohing and aahing over mysterious exits,” Simon said. He leapt down from the bed. “We need to go.”

“Go where?” Talula moved the breakfast tray off her lap and swung her legs to the side of the bed. She noticed that her soreness was subsiding. She suspected Elegba had put a little extra magic in the tea to fix her up.

“We need to find Dahlia, now.”

“Why?”

“Because the town hall meeting is tomorrow, and your mother won’t be here to save Samhain,” Simon explained. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

27

After a quick text to Dahlia, Talula and Simon ran to the café. Mid-run, Talula turned breathlessly to Simon. “Question. Why aren’t you offering to magic the town’s city council members before they vote?”

“Because I don’t want to give anyone brain damage.”

Talula stopped mid-stride. “What do you mean brain damage?”

“Keep up, and I’ll tell you.” Simon accelerated into a speedy trot. “What do you know about your mother’s mind magic in these situations?”

Talula thought back. “Mom kind of…tweaked people’s mood. She said it was like catching them at the perfect moment, putting them in the best mindset to have a conversation. But that’s not brain-damaging, is it?”

“No. It’s a very subtle and complex enchantment that can leave residue in the mind. If I disturb what’s there…” Simon shook his head. “Not worth the risk. We must do this the old-fashioned way.”

Talula nodded, reassured. Even though the stakes were higher now that Sara wasn’t here, in her gut, Talula knew this was the right way to handle the town meeting. She had known it all along. It would be difficult to pull off, and Talula was terrified of failing. But maybe, if they played this right, Sara wouldn’t have to bewitch anyone in Pine Hollow ever again.

That thought buoyed Talula as she unlocked the café. A few minutes later, the little bell above the door rang abruptly as Dahlia burst in. Judging by her sweat-streaked hair and matching purple sports bra and workout pants, Dahlia had been jogging when she got Talula’s message. A very noticeable stretch of torso pulled Talula’s eyes downward, skimming over Dahlia’s ribs, stomach, and the iridescent gemstone winking from her belly button.

Hecate, Bast, and Azarizad. Talula gulped, forcing her eyes up to Dahlia’s face. I’m in trouble.

“I’m so sorry about your mom’s delays!” Dahlia dumped a backpack on the floor and plopped herself by Talula on the café’s couch. “Do you know when she might be back?”

“Definitely not in time for the town hall.” Talula sunk into the couch cushions, not making eye contact with Dahlia. When she sent the text to Dahlia, she’d said her mom had significant travel delays (technically true) and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days (hopefully). Talula didn’t know how many more not-quite truths she could stomach.

“It’ll be okay.” Talula tried to sound calm, giving Dahlia one of her barista smiles.

“Yes, it will be.” Dahlia laid a hand on Talula’s cheek. “But it’s also okay to feel overwhelmed.”

The tenderness of the gesture broke Talula open. Suddenly, her bone-deep fear for her mother, her worry about Samhain, her ever-present self-doubt, and the shame of her lies to Dahlia were a cacophonous roar in her head and heart. Talula took a slow, deep breath as tears slipped down her face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Dahlia pulled Talula into a hug. Which, somehow, only made Talula cry harder.

She wanted her mother—and every hunted magical creature—to be home safe. She wanted the town not to be turning against her. She wanted to tell Dahlia the truth about everything—the magic, the Blue Moon, how Talula was falling for her like a penny dropped from the endless cliffs of infinity. She wanted to be good enough—as a sorceress, as a daughter, as a person—to make everything okay. But she could only wait out her tears as Dahlia made soothing noises and held her tight. Talula didn’t feel like she deserved the comfort Dahlia was offering, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so vulnerable and yet so cherished. Eventually Dahlia’s soft words, the feel of her sweat-flecked skin, her warmth, helped bring Talula back to herself.

“We don’t have to work on the town hall stuff right now,” Dahlia said, after Talula’s breaths became more even. “We can just take a minute so you can feel your feelings and eat brownies.”

Talula chuckled weakly, her heart lightening. Suddenly, she could picture it. Nights on Dahlia’s couch, curled up in her arms when she needed comforting; Dahlia kissing brownie crumbs from her face. Then she saw herself tucking a big fluffy blanket around Dahlia, handing her a steaming cup of cocoa, and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead. How natural it would be, to care for each other when things were hard. I want that, Talula realized, aching. She wanted Dahlia nearby when things were hard and when things were good. And she wanted to be there for Dahlia in kind. Despite all the things she wasn’t sure about—her Magical Destiny, her dreams for the future—amongst all this mess, she had at least gleaned one true thing about herself.

But right now, there was work to be done.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from Dahlia, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you. But I’m ready to save Samhain.”

“That’s the spirit. Let’s start with— Oh my god, breakfast,” Dahlia gasped, finally noticing the coffee table laden with fruit, pastries, and breakfast sandwiches. Steam floated dreamily from the largest teapot Talula could find.

“Cocoa?” Dahlia lifted the teapot lid and took an eager sniff. Then she thrust her nose into her elbow to sneeze eight times.

“The spiciest chai I could brew.” Talula grinned.

“I love the way you think.” Dahlia kissed Talula’s cheek. There it was again, that sense of deep warmth and cherishing, just from the press of Dahlia’s lips. Talula stared at her with a dopey smile before remembering to pour the tea.