Page 68 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

They kept talking and walking, sipping cinnamon whiskey as midnight ticked past. The trail turned into paved paths, turned into sidewalk. Finally, Dahlia caught on.

“Wait a fucking minute!” she cried, looking around. “This is your neighborhood! You took us in a circle!”

Talula, warm and tired from laughter and liquor, nodded.

“But what about these eggs!”

“Scramble them?” Talula’s smile widened into a yawn. A sudden whirl of wind tugged Talula’s hair into her eyes. “You know this was more fun anyway.”

“You’re right.” Dahlia stepped closer, letting her finger catch a loose tendril. “This is better.” She drew it slowly across Talula’s face and behind the curve of her ear. Dahlia’s breath was an addictive warmth on Talula’s face, her fingers still caught in Talula’s hair.

“We should get to bed,” Talula whispered.

“Yours or mine?” Dahlia gave her a look that sent heat searing through Talula’s whole body.

Again, Talula was uncertain, undone, adolescent. She felt flustered, lost in a tidal wave of feelings she couldn’t control. “I, I um…that would. I mean—”

“Ah, sorry, that was…over-the-top.” Dahlia held her hands up, stepping back rapidly. “Bad joke. Too much. Sorry.”

Talula didn’t want Dahlia to be sorry. She wanted her strange magical life to be less complicated so she could ask Dahlia if she really was just joking. But before she could think to say anything, Dahlia spoke. “You’re right. We should get some sleep.” She stuck out her hand, a funny formal pose after this strange, close night. “It was a pleasure almost doing revenge with you.”

Talula, dazed, took Dahlia’s hand and gave it an absurd shake. “Likewise.” Why did Dahlia’s hand feel so good, so warm and smooth? But also like Talula had stuck her hand in an outlet during a thunderstorm?

Dahlia stared intently into Talula’s face, her eyes deep and serious. Like there was something there she wanted Talula to see while she was holding her hand. She swept a thumb over Talula’s skin, as gentle as the brush of a moth wing.

Then, with a quiet sigh Talula almost didn’t hear, Dahlia let go.

“I hope you get your vengeance soon,” Dahlia said. She turned and walked away, into the strange, dark morning. And Talula stood there, colder and more confused than ever.

Talula woke early but stayed in bed for a while, just staring at the ceiling. She thought about the vengeance plan she had shared with Dahlia. There was something about that image that perplexed her. She peered at the fantasy in her head, turning it over and over again.

Then, she found it.

In this picture of vengeance, everyone was smiling, from marketgoers to vendors (except for Kristen, of course). There were no anti-Samhain signs. No grimaces or averted eyes. There was warmth and community. Something that, thanks to the petition, Talula and the Blue Moon were sorely lacking.

Talula thought about the petition, and how it drew attention to the café in all the wrong ways. Even if Sara waved her magic wand, animosity for the Blue Moon had been kindled like it never had before. Kristen’s vitriolic visit was proof of that. Being the town’s most-avoided café had served the Blue Moon’s magical purpose. But being the town’s most hated small business was far more dangerous.

They needed to do something. They needed to do something now.

They needed Dahlia.

Resolutely, Talula stormed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“There you are.” Simon, at his usual kitchen stool, perked up. “I want French toast.”

“I want Dahlia to help us.”

“This again?” Simon rolled his eyes. “I told you, Sara—”

“Mom is tracking down potential murderers. Don’t you think we should let her focus on that?”

“That…is an excellent point.” Simon peered up at Talula. “But what about your training?”

“We can do both.” Talula pulled up a chair next to her teacher. “You have to understand that the town hall meeting means our community, our human community, is turning against us. Before, everyone just kind of laughed and ignored us, which was what we wanted. Now people are actively hating us and wanting us gone. That brings more attention to the Blue Moon, which is bad for everyone who needs to find safe haven through the Volta. A few city council members is one thing, but Mom can’t just magically change the whole town’s minds. And even if she could, she shouldn’t. We have to change public opinion in a real way before the town hall meeting.”

“You make a strong argument. But I have one question.” Simon furrowed his fuzzy brow. “What on Gaia’s green earth is a ‘town hall meeting’?”

“You never knew what a town hall was?” Exasperated, Talula took a deep breath. “Okay. I can explain.”