Page 132 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Talula turned, spotting a big wooden desk at the end of the room. It was covered with Dahlia’s various binders and brainstorms with storyboards tacked to the nearby walls. Talula moved closer and recognized a few stories from Dahlia’s many writing sessions at the café. Talula spotted a poster board more elaborate than the rest, complete with various colors of yarn and dozens of sticky notes all over it. Talula’s eye caught a single word, and her blood went ice cold.

Jackalopes?!

Dread crept into Talula’s heart as she followed the strings of Dahlia’s investigation.

Mina, sharp teeth, super pale, very nice, vegan vampire?

Genie Djinn Jinn = Kiki could be Habiqiq? DM Professor Olomi

Simon def not just a dog

Samhain too important, too big. Possible cover for supernatural event?

Talula’s name was all over it, attached to events Dahlia had pieced together over the last six weeks.

Mango allergy can’t be coincidence. Talula = psychic?

Talula = witch?

Talula = lots of magical secrets

Talula knows something about Dad’s book, can translate it

Then Talula remembered Dahlia’s new story idea, the one Dahlia hadn’t told Talula anything about, only saying, It’s something that’s real to me.

The new story idea was Talula. Her magic. Her secrets. Everything.

Talula shook with rage and shame. She’d taken a chance on her happiness. She’d taken a chance on Dahlia, on trying to be both magical and human, and in doing so, she’d put her entire magical community at risk. She’d hoped against all odds that their secrets would be safe and she could have this little morsel of joy in her life. But here it was, her biggest fear out on display. Possibly on its way to bookstores because Talula had been stupid and naïve and selfish enough to think she—useless, unmagical, never-good-enough Talula—deserved to have something as wonderful as a relationship with Dahlia.

Overwhelmed, Talula couldn’t be here anymore. But this time, she wouldn’t run without giving Dahlia a clear reason. Talula grabbed the poster board of her life and secrets and laid it out on the kitchen counter, where Dahlia could see it. Right next to the breakfast that was going cold.

Then, Talula fled.

Talula burst through the front doors of her house as the sky grayed with predawn light. From his usual kitchen stool, Simon barked, “You’re late! You promised me a fancy breakfast!”

“Dahlia knows,” she panted. “Dahlia knows everything.”

“What?” Simon stumbled off the seat.

Breathlessly, Talula explained the investigative board she’d found.

“She’s known this whole time.” Talula hung her head. “She’s going to use the Blue Moon for a book deal and expose all our secrets, and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I should have stayed away from her.”

“Now hold on,” Simon said.

But she didn’t hear him. Because a horrible thought rammed into Talula’s head. “Oh god, Simon, what if she’s working with the hunters?”

“That’s enough!” Simon declared. “Obviously she’s not working with the hunters, or they’d have been here a long time ago. Now, I’m going to say something you may not like.”

“If it’s ‘I told you so—’ ”

“I don’t think you have the whole picture here.”

That made Talula pause.

“Think about it. All of these strange magical events have been happening just under Dahlia’s nose.” Simon continued, “Inquisitive, curious, diligent Dahlia. It makes sense that she would try to piece together the mystery.”

“But she wants to publish it!” Talula snapped.