Page 40 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“A sorceress should be prepared for anything,” Simon scolded. The illusion rippled. The cobra vanished, and a fawn appeared in its place, brown fur marked with white spots.

“There. Is this acceptable?” Simon asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes.” Talula reached out a hand to the illusion. The fawn sniffed her palm. “I can feel her breath!”

The fawn butted her hand playfully. Talula marveled at its touch. “But you’re not doing this, right? My brain fills in the pieces for my body to experience. Like a placebo effect.”

“Indeed,” Simon said with what might have been an illusion of approval. “It helps when the illusioned person wants to believe the illusion is real. It really sells the thing.”

Talula stroked the fawn’s soft fur. “You’re so cute. I just want to hug you.”

Oh, wait, Talula thought. I can. So she did. Amongst the morning’s bleakness, the illusory baby animal hug eased a little of Talula’s hurt. Something occurred to her. “Simon, if that snake had bitten me, would I have bled?”

“That depends.” Simon pondered. “Powerful illusions can convince the systems of the body to react to illusions as though they’re real. You may feel the bite and see blood, even if there isn’t any. Your body may believe so thoroughly that you had lethal cobra venom in your system, you may exhibit symptoms of the snakebite and die.”

Talula’s mouth fell open in horrified shock. “You started with a cobra?”

“Hmm.” Simon’s fuzzy brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I suppose that might have been overzealous of me. But as soon as I lift the illusion or show your mind beyond a reasonable doubt that it was an illusion, the effects are negated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example…” Simon wrinkled his brow at the illusion.

“I’m an illusion, Talula,” the fawn said.

“It’s like being in a nightmare,” Simon explained. “As soon as you realize you’re dreaming, your brain stops reacting as if what you’re dreaming about is real. You wake up.”

Talula reached a hand out to the fawn. Instead of fur, her fingers passed through air. “That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” said the illusion.

“That’s why illusions need to be convincing. It’s meticulous work that requires absolute focus,” Simon said.

A series of quick, sudden knocks at the café door made them both jolt, and the illusion shuddered into nothing.

“Talula? I’m sorry, I know you’re closed today, but I saw your bike outside. Are you here? Can I come in?”

“What’s she doing here?” Simon muttered.

“She knows what my bike looks like,” Talula said dreamily.

“Focus!”

“I saw the stupid signs at the farmers’ market,” Dahlia shouted through the door, sounding a little out of breath. “Is everything alright?”

“What happened at the market?” Simon asked.

Talula crossed her arms over herself, squeezing a bit for comfort. “There’s a bunch of people in town who want to cancel Samhain. A lot of people.”

Simon peered at her, his fuzzy brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘cancel’?”

“Are you okay?” Dahlia called, knocking at the door again.

“Enough distractions!” Simon shook out his fur irritably. “Tell her to come back later.”

Talula jumped to her feet. “Sure thing. I’ll go out and talk to her.”

“Don’t dillydally! Or ogle!”