Page 154 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Talula turned away to give them a moment. When time would not allow for any more mercy, she cleared her throat. “We have one more thing to do, sir, if you’d like to see some more magic.”

“Better than grand-theft poultry?” Dr. Jones joked, his cheeks damp.

“Much better.”

“I’d like that.”

They went to the Joneses’ backyard, to Dr. Jones’s at-home archaeological dig site. Talula called her earth affinity, pulling back the layers of ground by the peppercorn tree. Then, she pulled out a leather-bound tome. It was a book she had recognized immediately at a Paris bookstand. But this version had been filled with blank pages. Until Talula had started writing in it.

“What language is that written in?” Dr. Jones watched, his side glued to Dahlia’s.

“Jinn. Sort of.” Talula winked at Dahlia. She called her time magic.

The book began to age. Pages wrinkled, the cover ossified, the lettering thinning until Talula held something ancient in her hands—an artifact and a piece of the future.

She bundled up the book in archaeologist’s-daughter-approved wrapping to keep it safe. Using her air affinity, Talula gently lowered the book into the ground. She pulled the soil over the book, locking in place the snag in the fabric of time and space. In a few months, Dr. Jones would uncover his most confounding find. He’d place it reverently in the hallowed halls of Jones Junk, counting down the days until he could show it to his daughter.

Then it was time to go.

At the entryway, Dr. Jones snacked on one of Talula’s memory cookies. He hugged his daughter for the last time, giving her a big kiss on each cheek.

“Thank you for everything,” Dahlia said.

“No, sweetheart, don’t thank me.” Dr. Jones’s voice broke. “The best thing I ever did or could ever do in this lifetime is be your dad. Thank you.”

Dahlia let out another sob.

“Come on, none of that,” Dr. Jones hushed his daughter. “This is a gift. All time is a gift.”

He locked gazes with Talula, who was standing awkward and mostly fatherless in the corner. He raised an arm and, without hesitation, Talula leaned into the best dad hug of her life.

“Thank you for taking care of my daughter,” he said. “You both take care of each other, hold on to the love, and everything will work out just fine.”

“Yes, sir.” Talula hiccuped, crying wholeheartedly herself.

“Call me Sully.” Dr. Jones ruffled her hair. “Now go on. Have beautiful, magical, loving lives. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Okay, Dr. Jones,” Talula said through tears. “Sully.”

Talula held Dahlia’s hand, standing side by side so Dahlia could spend every single possible second looking at her dad. He waved, smudging his glasses as he wiped away tears. Blue magic limned the women, sparkling as time and space began to bend. Dr. Jones watched, awed and proud.

“I love you, Dahlia,” he said. “And tell that Simon he needs to relax.”

Dr. Jones and his daughter laughed, an assortment of damp broken chuckles.

Then, Talula and Dahlia were gone.

Then, they were back.

Talula and Dahlia curled up on the couch in the Blue Moon basement. When their tears finally ran dry, Dahlia tucked herself snugly into Talula’s side.

“I remember he called me out of the blue that day,” she murmured. “He was in such a good mood, saying how proud of me he was. We talked for hours. I never knew why. But I was so glad he did.”

Talula kissed whatever she could of Dahlia as another round of sobs overtook her. Finally, Dahlia asked, “So, who’s going to tell him?”

“Tell who what?”

“Tell Simon that my dad says he needs to relax.”