Page 91 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

And if they’re close to Pine Hollow…Fear bolted through Talula’s heart as she thought of her mom. “Simon, my mom—”

“Your mother is more magic than person. She can handle anything.” Simon scratched at the earth thoughtfully. “But you’re right. We need to reinforce the ward line. Until the threat is nullified. I’ll reach out to the Council, get some much-needed help.”

“And the wildlings?” Talula asked.

“Hopefully the Council seers will find them and send out a rescue party.” Simon stared out over the miles of landscape before them. “The wildlings chose to come through the woodlands, where they’re at their most powerful. Maybe it was enough.”

But Simon’s eyes were troubled, finishing the horrible thought neither of them could voice. But maybe not.

“We’ve done all we can here.” Simon sighed, his ears low. “You need to translate the next recipe. Fast.”

Back at the café, Talula lit a few scented candles to try to ease her nerves, then began her translation work. The room was tense, the wildlings’ disappearance weighing heavy on Talula and Simon.

Which is why Talula tried to have patience for her mentor, who was supervising her every move.

“Are you sure about that word?”

Talula smiled with gritted teeth. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Well, double-check.” Simon huffed. “You know, I’m very adept at languages.”

“What happened to self-guided magical education?” Talula reminded him gently as she flipped to a page in her Jinn dictionary. Frowning, she switched to the Persian cuneiform textbook.

“If you decided to let me guide you, it would technically be self-guided,” Simon pointed out.

Talula rubbed her temples. “Simon, I know that we’re both worried about the trophy hunters and the wildlings, but you need to give me a little bit of space to work, okay?”

Simon considered this for a moment. Then he whined. “Could I just look?”

Talula muffled a tired sigh. “Fine.”

In a single (magically enhanced) leap, Simon had all four paws on the countertop.

“Simon, get down! This is a restaurant.”

Simon ignored her. “You know, with my vast knowledge, I could translate this entire book in moments. But this is your learning quest. So, I won’t.”

Simon was avoiding eye contact in a very specific way. On a hunch, Talula wrote a word out phonetically in the language of the cookbook. She showed it to Simon. “Do you know what this says?”

“Naturally!”

Talula tapped her finger on the word. “Would you do me a favor and translate it for me?”

Simon read it with a pinched look. “Sarcophagus.”

“Nope.”

“Scurvy?”

“No.”

“Spoon. It’s definitely spoon.”

Talula wrote the translation under the Jinn word, capitalizing every letter.

“S-I-M-O— Oh. It’s…it’s Simon.” Simon looked at Talula, chagrined. “Alright, my common Jinn is rudimentary, and this dialect is far beyond my comprehension.”

“How about I keep self-guiding myself through this translation?”