Page 19 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“To me, marriage is documentation for an institution that doesn’t have people’s best interests at heart. It’s pretty words disguising property and ownership.” Sara had shuddered. “In my experience, marriage and true partnership rarely coincide.”

“Oh.” Talula had swung her legs out from the porch swing thoughtfully. “But do you think you’ll ever find someone to love?”

“I’ve had many loves in my life.” Sara had gotten a faraway look on her face just then, a strange smile Talula had never seen softening her celestial features.

“But what about one person to love, forever?”

“That would be you, my darling girl.” Sara had slung an arm around Talula’s shoulder and pulled her into her side. “Here’s how I see the topic of romance. It’s about priorities. I have only these two: you and the work I do serving our magical community. These are the pillars of my world, my reason for living. Though I have the occasional lust-driven excursion with a worthy individual or two or twelve—”

“Ew, Mom!”

“—which is fine and healthy and one day you’ll have them, too! But those trysts are never meant to last. Because no love is more important than you or my magical responsibilities. That’s a promise.”

Sara had sealed the oath with a kiss on her daughter’s temple. But Talula’s head had spun.

She’d thought of her current crush, a girl in her Spanish class with braces and a penchant for doodling anime characters in the margins of her notes. If Talula’s mother, her magical, extraordinary mother, in all her power and glory, was sacrificing the pursuit of romantic love for their greater mission, how could Talula have the audacity to dream of holding hands while walking down the hall or stealing kisses at lockers? Was Talula selfish for even thinking about that beautiful doodling girl? What about friendship bracelets and sleepovers? Was she allowed to have that, too? She had been too afraid to ask. She hadn’t wanted to disappoint her mother—her best friend, her moral compass, her absolute hero—with something so small and insignificant as a middle school crush.

It was a moment that had stuck in Talula’s still-cooking adolescent mind, reinforced by years of Sara’s dedication to her daughter and Council work with only the occasional hedonistic escapade to remind Talula her mother still had the capacity for intimacy. Following her mother’s example, Talula had kept her romances short and her friendships at arm’s length, telling herself she could have more when she could serve her magical community like her mother could.

But now there was Dahlia. And those questions seemed more pressing than ever.

“But if I did…” Talula started nervously. “If I did want something…”

“Like an orgy?”

“I don’t know if I’m an orgy person,” Talula said. “I was thinking, like a friendship or…a date. That’d be okay, right?”

“You have no reason to be hesitant about your sexual expression, my dear.” Sara smiled, gently stepping over an exposed root on the trail. “I would just ask that you prioritize yourself and your magical responsibilities, first and foremost.”

It wasn’t quite enough of an answer for the young sorceress. Talula bit her lip, pondering whether she should ask the question she really wanted answered: Can I deserve a chance with Dahlia if I’m not good enough for my Magical Destiny?

But she stayed quiet, eyes on the trail ahead.

They walked in silence for a while, taking in the wild world around them. Fall had begun to burnish the leaves, reds and golds rustling like ball gowns at an autumnal fairy ball. Eventually, they crested the ridge. Below them, mist-shrouded hills rolled on and on. For a moment, mother and daughter looked out. It was quiet and beautiful but—with her mother’s impending departure to hunt the hunters—a little bittersweet. They watched a lone bird rise up from the tree line below, wings aloft. Invisible currents carried it fast and far, until it was barely a speck on the horizon.

Talula let her head fall onto Sara’s shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will.” Sara ran a hand over her daughter’s mist-frizzed hair and kissed the top of Talula’s head. “My wonderful girl. My true-blue miracle. I love you more than you can ever know.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

And if Talula didn’t know anything else in the world, she at least knew that.

5

When Talula opened up the shop on Wednesday morning—three days after Sara set off to track down the hunters—her mysterious teacher was still a no-show. She’d spent the in-between time chatting with Dahlia, attempting to improve her sorcery on her own (with zero results), stress cooking, and trying not to worry about her mom.

Talula sighed as she flicked on the lights in the café. Though it was sometimes nice to have the house to herself, being alone reminded Talula of her nonexistent social life. After spending four years at college—away from her so-called Magical Destiny—she’d felt that she needed to accomplish some magical mastery before she could devote time to friends and romance. Now, after two years of being a certified magical dud, Talula’s scant social circle included her mom, her favorite farmers’ market vendors, and Muriel, the boss librarian who always texted when new romance novels or cookbooks came in. And nowadays, Dahlia.

A strange noise broke Talula out of her musings. She glanced around. The noise—a scratching sound at the door—came again. Louder. She peeked through the window and gasped. Her visitor was a fluffy yet dignified dog. He was one of those posh breeds that monarchs and animes liked, with a long body, short legs, and a white-and-tan coat.

Talula opened the front door. The dog trotted in, nose in the air.

“Why, come in, sir,” Talula joked with a mock bow.

The dog inspected the place with a few snobbish sniffs. Talula didn’t see a collar around his neck, but the animal seemed extremely tame. She poked her head outside. Although the Blue Moon was on the outskirts of town near the fairgrounds, people often walked their dogs on nearby forest trails.

“Did someone lose their dog?” she hollered. But Talula heard no response or panicked cries of “Here, boy!”