Page 39 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“I-I don’t understand,” Talula stuttered. “Why would someone want to cancel Samhain?”

“There’s some talk of Samhain not being aligned with the town’s ‘values.’ ” Anna scowled.

“Which is a hot pile of bullshit,” Emilio growled.

“There are people here trying to get support for the petition. Some vendors have joined the organizers.” Anna glanced beyond Talula’s shoulder.

Talula followed Anna’s gaze. For the most part, the Saturday market looked the same as it had last week. Then she saw it. Several vendors had new signage.

Keep Pine Hollow Family Friendly! Say No to Samhain!

Make Halloween Wholesome Again! Boycott the Blue Moon!

Devil Worship? Not in My Town!

Talula looked around at the market, what had once been her safe haven, where her self-consciousness fell away and she could be herself. Now she felt like she’d been punched. “But…Samhain is basically a big Halloween party for the town.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.” Anna watched her worriedly.

“We hire so many local vendors,” Talula continued, hurt and confused. “Half of the market sells stuff at the festival!”

“I’ve asked around,” Anna said. “Most of your usual hires will be there. But some might back out.”

Talula knew that she’d never be voted Miss Pine Hollow or mayor or whatever. But this was her home. She volunteered at the local food bank, handed out cocoa during the winter bazaar, and she never missed the annual creek cleanup. She loved Pine Hollow.

But apparently Pine Hollow didn’t love her back.

Tears burned Talula’s eyes. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” Emilio pleaded. “Don’t let them chase you out of here.”

“Look,” Anna said, pulling a box from under the table. “We packed this, just for you. Best of everything.”

“Extra jam,” Emilio added.

“So much jam,” Anna echoed with a worried smile. “On the house.”

Talula took the box with numb hands.

“You’re both…” Talula swallowed. “Wonderful.”

Feeling the eyes of the market on her, Talula gingerly loaded her produce box into the crate on her bike. She pedaled away in a fog. She knew she should call her mom. Tell Sara what was going on. But the same barbed thoughts kept swirling in her head.

She wasn’t a good enough sorceress for her mom or Simon or the Volta. She wasn’t a good enough human for her town. What, or who, was she good enough for?

So far, nothing and no one.

Talula wiped her eyes with her sleeve and kept pedaling.

At the café, Talula sat on the floor in a gloom, her chest achy. As soon as she’d gotten back from the market, she’d sent an SOS text to her mother, but there was no response. Meanwhile Simon paced and lectured.

“Glamoring, or creating illusions, is an essential skill,” he said. “It’s a subtle yet powerful act of sorcery wherein you create a psychic field around yourself or an object of your choosing. This psychic field convinces the minds of those around you to perceive things as you want them to be perceived. Once you trick the mind, you’ve tricked the body. Like so.”

Simon focused on the space in front of Talula. Out of nowhere, a seven-foot-tall cobra appeared. Talula screamed.

“It’s an illusion,” Simon said impatiently.

“I know,” Talula snapped. “But I wasn’t prepared for a giant snake!”