Page 92 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“Fine.” Simon promptly hopped off the counter onto the floor with a small huff. “But I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Talula said, meaning it. But before she could refocus on her translation, the bell above the door sang out. Dahlia strode in, smelling like the woods and a world holding its breath for the next rain. She held a stack of binders so high, she couldn’t see over the top of it. Talula hurriedly covered her translation work with spare bits of paper and napkins.

“I have such data,” Dahlia announced from behind her armload. She let the binders fall with a loud fwump that made Simon jump. “I have more in the car! I’ll be right back!”

Talula, unsubtly using her torso to hide her books, gave Dahlia a double thumbs-up. When the door thudded closed behind Dahlia, Simon darted over to Talula. “How are you going to hide all of this?”

Panicked, Talula looked at her translation work, the recipe book, and her various (occasionally mystical) dictionaries. “I can put it in the back really quickly.” She started piling everything together.

“Hurry! She’s coming back and looking very observant.”

Talula wished she could just pop these back on her desk at home or drop everything through a quick interdimensional trapdoor—but then she thought of her recent conjuring work. Could she conjure an item to somewhere, instead of from? It’d be a simple switch in perspective, kind of like reverse-searing a steak.

I need a trapdoor in the universe.

Talula’s magic pulsed as she pictured her bedroom. A blue spark appeared on the countertop next to Talula’s Jinn dictionary. It spread, creating a cerulean-tinged window that flickered like candlelight. Through it, Talula had a bird’s-eye view of her desk, exactly as she’d envisioned it.

“What are you doing?” Simon hissed.

But Talula, lost in her magic, couldn’t hear him. She dropped her books gently through the window and watched them land on her desk. She broke off her concentration. The window disappeared, leaving behind a barely visible cerulean film on the counter.

The café door opened as Dahlia made her second entrance. Talula tried to waft away the leftover magical miasma from the counter. Simon’s face had frozen between utter shock and his go-to scowl.

“Town hall approaches!” Dahlia sang out. “It’s time to arm ourselves with colorful graphs and snappy bullet points.”

Talula was still dizzy from emergency experimental sorcery. “What?”

“Unless you already have a presentation, of course.” Dahlia rearranged her binders on the coffee table. “Can I see it? Want me to jazz it up?”

“Oh.” Talula chewed on her lip. “My mom’s handling that. This kind of thing has come up before, and she knows how to make it go away.”

“Is your mom going to blackmail somebody?” Dahlia paused. “If so, no judgment.”

“No, definitely not!” Flummoxed, Talula stuttered. “She’s just very convincing. You’ve met her, you get it!”

“I do. But I love it when you get flustered,” Dahlia teased.

Talula groaned.

“But seriously, do you need any help? Does your mom know how to make different songs play on each slide? Or upload a GIF? Because I do. GIFs are my bitches.”

“I’ll let you know.” Talula breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Well, if I’m not needed—”

“You’re always needed!” Talula blurted out.

Dahlia ran her hands along her body, suddenly sultry. “For more than just eye candy?”

Talula’s neurons did a complicated pinball thing in her brain.

“You’re”—Talula swallowed, eyes following Dahlia’s curves—“excellent eye candy.”

“Talula.” A wicked smile stretched across Dahlia’s face. “You’re blushing.”

Dahlia, you’re killing me.

The wicked smile lingered as Dahlia’s gaze found hers, but whatever she saw in Talula’s eyes (fear, obviously fear) had it slowly morphing into a friendly smile. “I’ve actually got some more stuff to do for tonight. I’ll leave the binders here just in case.”