Page 80 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

On Friday morning—five days until the town meeting, eight until Samhain—Pine Hollow woke up eagerly to see what new surprise awaited them. A large black box was set up in the center of the town square. It was about thirty feet tall and wide enough to house a few elephants. Black velvet curtains hung over one side of the box, swaying flirtatiously in the October breeze. The area around the box was sectioned off with red velvet rope. At the top of the structure, old-fashioned Hollywood lights spelled out:

THE MAGIC BOX

“I can’t believe you got that built so fast!” Dahlia exclaimed as she and Talula strolled around the town square. They weren’t alone. Curious Pine Hollow residents had come to take a look. A few teenagers tried to limbo beneath the velvet rope, but a beefy security guard had appeared in the afternoon to dissuade any nosy passersby.

“I know people,” Talula said, shrugging. By her ankle, Simon hrmphed. Probably because he was the one who knew people. Specifically, craftsmen elves, who could build just about anything in the time it took Talula to fry an egg. They were also known as brownies, sometimes known as gremlins. Simon knew them as Dave, Roger, Pete, and Rowan.

“They’ll get it done,” Simon explained. “Just hide the milk before they arrive. It makes them a bit squiffy.”

The week had been a blur of all-day planning sessions, late-night missions, and lots of spicy food. Now the town was abuzz with all the mysterious happenings. Even better? No one had linked it to the Blue Moon. Not as far as Dahlia or Talula could tell. But the true test would come in the days to follow.

After their Friday morning stroll around the Magic Box, Dahlia and Talula split off to get some rest. When Dahlia was out of earshot, Simon said, “I’ll be damned. This might just work.”

“I hope so,” Talula murmured. Simon headed home so he could commune with the Council about their progress. Talula headed to the café, where her own mystery awaited—the cookbook/spellbook written in Jinn.

Between concocting schemes and benevolently vandalizing the town with Halloween decor, Talula picked through the translation away from Simon’s observant eyes. The second recipe proved as baffling as the first.

Near and Far Chicken Sandwiches

Wildflower honey from the comb

Pickles from the back of the cold box

Cabbage from the garden

Secret butter from the baker

Crispy fried chicken from Big Blue Restaurant, Venice, California

Brioche from A Sweet Affair Bakery, Brooklyn, New York

1 wild chili from Pran Buri, Thailand

Fresh mango picked from Belém, Brazil

Mayo

Salt and pepper

The names of the cities were spelled phonetically and had been a bear to translate. But now that the list was complete, the whole thing was an even larger, more complex puzzle for the young sorceress. Pickles and cabbage, Talula could handle. But fried chicken from a restaurant hundreds of miles away? Mangoes from Brazil? The ingredient list was a geographical paradox.

Talula squinted at the hint in the margins. The world is closer than you think. Just knock.

She knew the recipe was about conjuring. But it wasn’t asking her to bend reality to her will or twist the fabric of space around her finger. It was asking her to knock. Knocking implied a door.

At a loss, Talula pictured the door to the Voltlette, where she kept a jar of honeycomb. She pictured the chipped paint of the pantry door, how the top hinge was always a little askew. Focusing on the mental image calmed her. Her shoulders melted down her back; her breath came in slow, meditative pulls. Details filled themselves in. The scuff mark on the floor near the Voltlette’s door. The splintering paint spot. The faint, fresh-snow smell of magic that always clung to the wall. It was such a familiar picture in her mind, she could practically feel the cool metal of the knob in her hand.

Knock knock, she thought.

In her mind, the door opened, tinged with that strange blue of Volta magic. A sprig of dill floated lazily across her vision.

What’s that doing out of the herb drawer? Talula thought to herself. On instinct, she reached for it—

Something feather-light tickled against her palm.

“Yeaaauuughh!” Talula yelped, snapping out of her reverie. Convinced a spider had somehow fallen right into her palm, she shook out her hands and jumped backward. She looked for the spider but instead, found something else.

A bright green frill of dill.