Page 30 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

In the bleary minutes before her morning alarm went off, Talula was awoken by a hrmph. She opened her eyes—a cantankerous dog stared disapprovingly a few inches away from her face. Talula jolted upright.

“About time.” Simon’s front paws were propped up on the mattress to peer eye to eye with Talula. “You slept for an eternity.”

Talula checked the time—it was a quarter till six in the morning. She last remembered rereading Dahlia’s text messages around midnight. “I barely slept five hours.”

“That’s far too long.” Simon tsked.

“Actually, it’s not. Human adults are supposed to get seven to nine hours every night for maximum health benefits. Otherwise, we…” Talula searched her groggy brain for the right word. “Explode.”

“You explode?” Simon asked, aghast.

“Well, we can get sick and die.” Talula shrugged. “But we do need lots of sleep.”

“I don’t remember sleeping that much.” Simon’s ears flicked back. Talula detected a hint of self-doubt in his voice.

“Humans spend almost a third of their lives asleep.” Talula yawned. Belatedly, the implication of Simon’s words registered in her brain. Suddenly, she was much more awake. “Wait! You used to be human?”

“Yes, before I learned the secrets of the universe and grew tired of my physical form.”

Talula cocked her head. “How’s this one working out for you?”

Simon scowled. “Not as I’d hoped.”

“Then why’d you choose it?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Simon barked. “Get out of bed. We must discuss your training regimen.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen. I have to do human things now.”

“Like what?”

“Like urinate.”

Simon considered this. “Fine. But don’t take too long!”

After Talula had finished her morning routine, she traipsed down the stairs. Thankfully, Sara had tidied up the kitchen before she left, so the Talula Zone’s borders had grown enormously. It made Talula smile to see how much kitchen space she could now safely use. But the sour look on Simon’s face from his perch on the kitchen table dampened the effect.

“How’d you get up there?” Talula opened the fridge and grabbed ingredients.

“Magic. Obviously. What are you doing in that metal box?”

“I’m making breakfast.”

“You’re eating? Again?” Simon’s outrage was several sizes too large for his small, fluffy body.

“We have to do this several times a day.” Talula sliced off a pat of butter. “Three full meals and snacks in between.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“How long has it been since you were human?” Talula tossed the butter into the pan, then flicked on the burner. While the pan warmed, she cracked a few eggs into a small bowl and whisked them up.

“Difficult to say. Time passes differently when you’re an amorphous congregation of magical particles.”

“Do you remember anything about being human?” Talula asked, as the decadent aroma of melting butter wafted heavily through the kitchen.

“I remember plows being a pretty big deal at one point.”

Talula pulled out her phone for a quick Internet search. She whistled. Simon was at least fifteen hundred years old, even if he’d just been magical essence for the last millennia. Sorcerers typically lived over a century, their magic extending their lifespan. Simon must have been quite powerful in his previous era to have lived so long. Though he wasn’t nearly as old as Sara, but then again, nobody was as old as Sara.