Page 129 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Hellos and names were passed around. Talula watched everyone introduce themselves and hoped nobody would ask too many questions about the elves’ pointy ears, or that they would at least assume they were early Halloween costumes. She didn’t have to worry. The humans were too rapt as the elves took them on a tour of the play structure, pointing out trapdoors that dropped the unsuspecting into ball pits, five slides, a crow’s nest, and a zipline.

“Talula!” Nathan called from the designated pumpkin patch area a ways away. “Are these pumpkins…up to code?”

They set out to find Nathan. Dahlia bumped Talula’s hip with her own. “ ‘The Pumpkin Code.’ That could be my next book idea.”

“I love it.” Talula bumped her back. “By the way, how did that book call go?”

Before Dahlia could answer, they came face-to-face with the source of Nathan’s question.

Scores of pumpkins spilled out over the northwest corner of the fairgrounds. Fields of orange and white gourds stretched on and on, in every size imaginable. Dahlia gawked at a pumpkin that would have comfortably fit Cinderella, her animal friends, Prince Charming, and a host of additional fairy-tale dignitaries.

“There’s more here than you ordered,” Nathan said, flipping through the receipts. “Approximately…ten times more.”

“Those pumpkins were pitiful. Improvements were necessary,” someone said with a bored sigh.

Behind the giant Cinderella pumpkin, a woman sprawled out over a series of gourds as if they were a lounge chair. Her bronzed skin was tinged with a hint of green, her long black hair tumbling down over her back like a waterfall.

Talula studied her face. “Have we met?”

“You’ve met my sister,” the wood nymph said with an easy smile. “I’m Lucia. I told Dimitra to take her fig and to not wait up for me. I wanted to get revenge on the soybean farm that took our orchard.”

(Behind Talula, Dahlia and Nathan shared a befuddled What the hell does that mean? look.)

Talula, cognizant of maintaining some level of secrecy as her worlds collided, whispered, “Where’s your tree?”

“Back at the hotel,” the woman whispered comically. “That shit is heavy.”

“You know what else is heavy?” Talula gestured around them. “Giant pumpkins.”

“Yeah, but look at that wow factor.” Lucia gazed lovingly at the gourds. “See? Wow.”

Talula raised an eyebrow. “Wow, wouldn’t it be nice if the entity who generously gave us these pumpkins helped arrange them aesthetically throughout this large and spacious festival?”

“I suppose.” Lucia rolled her eyes and sinuously got to her feet.

More of Talula’s magical community arrived throughout the day. Sara’s old buddies showed up with their usual vendor’s booths for teaching smudging and Wiccan altar-building workshops. The sacred beekeepers brought mead, honey cakes, and gossip. Descendants of Enkidu brought an extensive petting zoo. They all came excited to help and meet the new mortal contingent of the Samhain team. Kanishka’s aunties appeared again with more lunch than Talula had ever seen, a law of magic and love unto themselves. They fussed over Talula as Dahlia presented her for their inspection.

“Your father would’ve loved her,” Sita Auntie said, lightly slapping Talula’s cheeks with approval.

“Yeah,” Dahlia agreed, squeezing Talula’s hand. “He would have.”

In his first-ever expression of physical affection toward Dahlia, Simon leaned his furry weight against Dahlia’s calf.

Dahlia looked down, then back up at Talula, then back down again. “Is this really happening?”

“Hrmph,” Simon conceded.

“Do you think he’ll let me put that bow tie on him?”

Simon grumbled, but notably did not protest.

The whole day, as humans and magical beings brought the festival to life, Talula thought of her mother. Her constant worry for her, yes, but also something else. A deep wish that Sara could see what Talula’s two worlds could achieve, together. Talula thought, When she comes home—because she will come home—we’ll talk. About the Blue Moon. About the secrets. Everything.

And for the first time, the thought of being honest with her mom didn’t scare her.

At sunset, Talula surveyed the festival grounds from the top of a hay bale tower. Pumpkins conquered walkways, their thick green stalks marking avenues of the festival. The craftsman elves had finished constructing an elaborate stage area, bleachers, a more secure pen for the Enkidu descendants’ petting zoo (there’d been an incident with the emus; Wei had handled it), and two more play areas. Carnival rides lit up the horizon as Kanishka and Lucia test-drove the scariest roller coaster.

“It’s like Halloween Land.” Dahlia leaned her head on Talula’s shoulder. “Not to be culturally insensitive or anything.”