Page 54 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Talula’s heart fell. But in this new era of Simon-Talula collaboration, she decided to take a chance. “Simon, be honest with me. Have you noticed any significant progress in my magic?”

Simon froze, his tongue mid-lick at a crumb he found on the ground. He swallowed. “Your progress is…progressing!”

“Is it?” Talula asked without self-pity. “I know I haven’t gotten any better. This by-the-book stuff doesn’t seem to be working.”

“But we need the book.” Simon’s face pinched with worry.

Finally, it clicked for Talula. Simon might have been a master sorcerer in his day, but he didn’t know much about teaching. And after almost no improvement on Talula’s end, Simon was starting to doubt his methods.

Talula popped down to the floor to be eye level with the sorcerer. “You’re one of the most powerful magic-wielders in existence. Wasn’t it you who tamed the haunted wildebeest of the sacred mung bean fields? And…” Talula scrambled to remember all his other qualifications. “Made accidental improvements to Stonehenge?”

“Of course I am.” Simon straightened his posture like a thoroughbred at a dog show.

“Which begs the question”—Talula paused for dramatic effect—“are you really deferring to a book written by people not nearly as mystical or extraordinary as you?”

Simon’s jaw popped open, but no sound came out. Talula watched him turn over the thought slowly in his mind, examining it from this new angle.

“You have a point,” he said finally. “After all, taming that haunted wildebeest took plenty of cunning.”

“I’m sure it did.”

Simon began to pace. “Let me think about this some more.”

Talula stood up and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s all I could ask.”

Spirits lifted, Talula put on a Halloween playlist and started drafting her apology to Dahlia on an order pad. Suddenly, three loud honks interrupted Simon’s and Talula’s concentration. Talula peeked out the window. A truck carrying a massive horse trailer pulled up in front of the café. All the horses inside the trailer had sparkling, snowy white coats. Talula squinted, confused.

Wait a minute…

“Nimue’s eldritch elbow,” Simon swore. He rose on his hind legs to get a good look through the window. “I forgot the Council was sending the unicorns today.”

Talula turned to him, aghast. “How could you forget unicorns?”

“There’s been quite a bit of, you know, drama around here!”

“Simon!” Talula groaned. “How do we get a herd of unicorns into the café without anyone noticing?”

“I was hoping you’d have a better handle on your illusory skills by now!” Simon snapped.

Talula glared at him.

“Sorry.” Simon’s ears drooped. “It’s fine. I can create an illusion to cover the unicorns. You go down to the portal and set the destination for the Council’s Foula base.”

“What’s Foula?”

“A Scottish island where wild ponies outnumber the human population.”

The driver honked again. A unicorn whinnied.

“WE’RE COMING, LEONARD!” Simon shouted. To Talula, he explained, “Leonard is our unicorn man.”

Of course he is. Talula would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the person who’d just turned the corner onto the café’s street. Talula bit her lip, her pulse quickening into a panicked rhythm. “Someone else is here.”

“What? Who else? I told them not to send the wyverns yet!” Simon braced his forelegs higher on the window ledge to get a better look. Then, he stilled.

A familiar figure drew closer and closer to the café. Dahlia’s dark halo of curls quivered with purpose. She looked mad.

“Oh,” Talula breathed. “Fuck.”