Page 34 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

9

The next day, Talula had shut the blinds and left a Closed For Inventory sign on the door. She sat cross-legged in the center of the café as Simon paced like a fluffy general. In front of her were four bowls—one filled with water, another filled with soil and rocks, another that held kindling, one that was empty—and an ancient book.

“A sorceress is a living embodiment of the universe’s magical forces,” Simon lectured. “We begin with elemental abilities because they put you in tune with the earth itself through the in-between spiritual forces that bring the physical and magical world together. While this skill is something better suited for magical children to learn, we can’t turn back time.” Simon sighed despairingly.

“I mean, why couldn’t we turn back time?” Talula teased. “Magically?”

“WHAT?” Simon snarled, staring at Talula like she’d just suggested slitting the Easter Bunny’s throat during a Sunday school egg hunt. “Our first lesson and you already want to disintegrate the fabric of reality? Time magic is rare for a reason. Not even your mother, not even I can manipulate time, and even if we could—”

“Sorry, sorry!” Talula cut him off, hands up in surrender. “I was just joking.”

Simon took several deep breaths, shook out his fur, and continued with a foreboding hrmph. “Your mother tells me you have the most affinity with fire. Meditate on the meaning of fire, its heat, its power to give life and take it away. Think of raging wildfires, the searing burn of the sun—”

“Excuse me?” Talula raised her hand like a schoolkid. “That’s not really how I do it.”

Simon reared back. “Am I or am I not the master sorcerer who read the secret history of the constellations in the dregs of stardust? Who brought an age of justice to a world under the thumb of chaos and blood? Who tamed the haunted wildebeest of the sacred mung bean fields?”

“You are…?”

“Precisely.” Simon puffed up his chest. “So do as I say. You’ll make fire, like Prometheus’s own kin!”

Do it for the Magical Destiny. Talula focused.

Meanwhile, Simon continued his litany. “Think of the way fire roars in a pyre, how it crackles and devours. Think of flames towering around you like you were in the pits of hell itself…”

Talula tried to connect his words with her power, tried to use Simon’s descriptiveness to tap into her inner fire, but it was like striking dull rocks together, hoping to see sparks. Finally, Talula squeezed out a flicker of flame.

Simon frowned. “That’s disappointing.”

“You saw me create flames when Kiki was here,” Talula reminded him. “Let me try it my way. I know I can do more than this.”

“Your way is questionable. You need discipline. Here, look at this.” Simon moved the ancient book closer to Talula, scooting it with his snout. “Turn to page twenty-four. Read it out loud.”

Talula obliged, carefully handling the thin pages covered in curling calligraphy. “ ‘Lo, yonge sorcerer, if thou seken to master the capricious flame fixen thy mind on its nature and thee shall eek mastery forthwith…’ ” Talula stopped reading. “This is almost word for word what you’ve been telling me to do. Give or take, like, a thousand years of linguistic evolution.”

Simon nodded enthusiastically. “This is how sorcerers have been mastering magic for generations.”

“There has to be more than one way to master magic,” Talula insisted.

Simon’s ears pressed against his skull. “Then show me your way.”

Talula inhaled deeply and shook out her shoulders, trying to loosen the grip of the day’s frustrations. She opened her hand and imagined it was a burner. Heat gathered in the center of her palm. Rainbow-hued flames flickered in a tiny ball over the intersection of the heart and fate lines on her hand. Talula enjoyed a brief, smug smirk.

“Now make it bigger,” Simon ordered coolly.

Talula pressed her will to the fire, imagining it unfurling like a rose. It grew a few centimeters, then sputtered. Sweat pearled on Talula’s forehead as she concentrated. The flame shrunk to a meager blue. Then, it vanished.

“Here’s the problem.” The judgment in Simon’s black eyes was unrelenting. “You know you can do things, but you don’t know how. You’re fumbling around in the dark.”

“You’re the one using textbooks from the actual Dark Ages!” Talula snapped.

“Do I need to remind you again with whom you’re dealing?” Simon growled. A faint buzz of magical energy stirred, emanating darkly from the dog. His eyes became deep, hypnotic voids. Phantom shadows stretched and crawled over the walls and ceiling, crowding the air out of the room. Talula could smell burning and brimstone.

“I get it.” She gritted her teeth.

“Good.” Simon barked a word, and the illusions vanished. “Now focus.”

So Talula focused on elemental magic. But her witchfire was barely a flicker. She could hardly manipulate a drop of water. The wind she summoned had less force than a sneeze. Talula thought she’d shifted the earth a bit, but it was actually just a big truck driving by.