Page 2 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“Excuse me.”

Talula’s eyes snapped into focus to take in the newcomer. The sun-blocking outfit gave her away—a long black coat, its hood pulled low over her forehead, flowery parasol, sunglasses, gloves, and sleek black boots so shiny they hurt to look at. The vampire lifted her chin to reveal the sharp angles of her immortal face and spoke. “One caramel macchiato, four shots of espresso, two decaf, two caf, and a drizzle of raspberry syrup. No whip.”

Talula’s eyes darted to Dahlia—completely engrossed in her typing—then back to the vampire. After a nervous swallow, Talula gave the counter phrase, “We’re out of raspberry syrup, but someone will bring it soon. Would you like to take a seat while you wait?”

“Alright.” The vampire’s lip curled, revealing long canines. “I’ll wait.”

Talula discreetly tapped out an SOS text to her mom, watching as the vampire settled into the armchair opposite Dahlia. Nervous sweat prickled at the back of Talula’s neck. The vampire had said the code phrase. When travelers said the code phrase, they were promised fresh identities and safe passage to their new lives as long as they didn’t cause harm. Those were the laws of the Blue Moon. Talula’s mother had written them herself. But how did those laws hold up when a hungry vampire came across a tasty human snack? It’d be up to Talula—and her mediocre sorceress skills—to enforce them.

If Talula could ensorcell as well as she could make cocoa, she wouldn’t be worried. But Talula’s magical skills were about as advanced as a cup of Swiss Miss.

Maybe, Talula thought desperately, I won’t need to do anything.

Maybe the vampire would follow the rules, Talula’s mom would show up to take care of things, Dahlia would be none the wiser, and everything would be fine.

Then Talula watched the vampire lean toward Dahlia and take a long, audible sniff.

Or maybe not.

Talula’s hands turned into clammy fists (like they always did when she tried any sorcery). She sent a quick prayer to Mithra, Hecate, and any nearby deity who might be in a good mood. Because the only magic that could stop a vampire in their tracks was witchfire. Talula focused her power, picturing searing heat, scorching flames, and wild infernos. But no glove of magical fire enveloped her fingers. They did feel warmer, though—kind of?

With predatory grace, the vampire moved out of her seat and took quiet, sure steps toward Dahlia.

Kind of warmer would have to do.

Talula straightened her spine and strode out from behind the counter, focusing on the slight increase of warmth in her palms. But then the vampire spoke.

“Excuse me, what are you drinking?” the vampire asked Dahlia politely. She sat down on the couch next to Dahlia’s armchair, her features softening with a smile. “It smells so good!”

“It’s the best cocoa in town.” Dahlia held the mug out to the vampire as if to show her.

“Oh,” the vampire said, slumping a little. “That’s too bad. I’m vegan.”

“You’re vegan?” Talula blurted out.

Vampire and human turned their heads to see Talula standing with fists clenched and shoulders tensed. Dahlia raised a curious eyebrow. Immediately, Talula relaxed her grip, her warm hands cooling (but still clammy).

“It’s true. Supplements and plant-based substitutes are my lifeblood…so to speak.” The vampire smirked at Talula.

Talula wilted, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. We just don’t get too many, uh, vegans.”

“I understand.” The vampire scooted to the edge of her seat to lean closer to Talula. “But you must tell me what’s in this recipe.”

“I can do better than that.” Talula brightened, tightening her blue pin-striped apron. “One vegan cocoa, coming up.”

As she grabbed the oat milk from the fridge, Talula asked, “By the way, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Mina.” The vampire giggled. Talula—who’d paid attention in her college Gothic Lit class—rolled her eyes.

“What brings you to Pine Hollow?” Dahlia asked.

“I’m passing through, looking to move out of the city.”

“Oh, hey! I actually just moved here from the city.”

The two eased into comfortable conversation.

(“The commute was murder, but the night scene was fun!”