Page 142 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

The magic outside of the Volta’s walls blurred. Images rushed along the blue-tinged barriers. When it finally stilled, gasps broke out through the crowd. On the other side of the Volta’s blue membrane was a tropical landscape populated by impossibly huge reptiles. One gorged itself on the corpse of a triceratops. Talula could hear the sick snap of connective tissues as the larger reptile tore into its kill.

“Bullshit—this is an illusion!” one genius in the back shouted.

“Volta, sweetheart?” Dahlia cooed. “Could you drop the curtain a bit?”

(Talula got the sense that the Volta was absolutely undone by Dahlia’s sweet talk.)

The Volta let a section of blue wall open up. Hot, humid air wafted through. The fetid scent of earth and blood flooded Talula’s nose. Abruptly, the Tyrannosaurus rex—an actual T. rex—swung its head from its dinner to stare at them all, flinging chunks of meat through the Volta’s opening. The dinosaur opened its jaws and began to charge.

“That’s enough.” Dahlia, unbothered, continued, “Let’s fast-forward, shall we?”

Taking the hint, the membrane restored itself, and the T. rex disappeared. With a jolt, the Volta traveled to an Italian metropolis on the verge of volcanic doom. Ash fell and lava rushed around the Volta’s walls.

“Enough!” called one of the hunters. “What do you want?”

“Toss your weapons over here, now,” Talula demanded.

The men clustered away from Damien, unholstering their guns, tasers, and other arms and kicking them over to Talula’s witchfire circle. With a strained grunt, Talula let her witchfire lap over the weapons, melting them into an ugly mess. The hunters held up their hands in surrender. Except Damien.

Furious, he pointed his gun at the hunters. “You cowards, you’re going to let these stupid bitches destroy our business?”

With an effort, Talula threw her illusion magic at the gun in Damien’s hand. In a blink, he was holding a bright pink dildo.

In answer, the hunters tackled Damien and zip-tied his hands together as he bombarded them with insults.

Talula took a relieved breath. The ordeal was almost over, but it was getting harder and harder to stay standing.

“Hold on,” Dahlia whispered, squeezing Talula’s hand.

Talula, her blood burning with the Volta’s power, reached for her magic again. The walls around them changed to reveal a space lined with shelves that floated a little off the ground—Talula’s Voltlette.

“What is this place?” the man who tied up Damien asked.

“A pocket dimension,” Talula panted. Her body felt as if she’d been running uphill while carrying sandbags. “You’ll be safe. Go. Now.”

The Volta created a doorway into the Voltlette. A few men eagerly pushed others out of the way to get out. Talula dropped the witchfire ring—she couldn’t maintain it and withstand the Volta’s power anymore. She slumped against Dahlia.

“Hang on,” Dahlia murmured, watching the hunters file out of the Volta. “Almost there.”

Damien was the last in line—he’d shaken off the hunters who’d held him and walked on his own. It was just Damien, Dahlia, and Talula in the Volta’s eye. Suddenly, there was a muffled pop.

Free from his ties, Damien threw himself at Dahlia with a roar as Talula collapsed to the ground. The Volta’s barriers closed back up, locking the other hunters in the Voltlette.

Damien stood, an arm wrapped around Dahlia’s throat, something horrible pressed to her temple.

Talula had missed a gun.

“Thumb dislocation,” Damien said. Pain hitched his breath, but his smirk was back. “You never want to have to use that trick, but, hey. It works.”

“Let her go,” Talula growled. “Or else—”

“Or else what? Looks like you’re all out of magic tricks, and I have the best thing that’s ever happened to my business.”

Talula, drained and dumb with exhaustion, stared.

“You.” A gleeful chuckle rumbled through Damien’s chest. “I can sell tickets to dinosaur hunts now. Mammoths. Saber-toothed tigers. Anything we want to hunt, any time we want to hunt it.”

“No.” Talula ground the words out. “I won’t.”