Page 99 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“I want to make a butter chicken mac and cheese one day,” Talula said with her mouth full.

“See, here’s what I don’t get.” Dahlia gestured at Talula with her naan. “You’re an incredible chef. But you don’t cook. You supervise a café that doesn’t serve anything besides bad coffee and one awesome cocoa. Is that what you really want?”

Dahlia’s voice was kind, but her words still sent a shard through Talula’s heart. Why did this question seem so hard? Why did the answer seem so buried? She chewed, not meeting Dahlia’s inquisitive gaze. “It’s my family business. I have to support it.”

“You don’t have to want what your mom wants for you,” Dahlia said quietly. “That’s not living your life. That’s living what someone else told you to want.”

Talula stilled. When was the last time she felt like she was living the life she wanted?

“I had this internship my senior year of college,” Talula found herself saying. “I worked part-time at a Michelin-starred restaurant in the city.”

“Really?” Dahlia leaned closer.

“Yeah.” Talula felt her face relax a little. “It was the hardest work I’ve ever done. The visiting chef was just one of those brilliant, crazy people. She did things like roast whole pigs based on an ancient Mesopotamian recipe. One time she brought over a bunch of chickens and just let them hang out on the restaurant patio so she could always have fresh eggs. They wound up on the roof a lot; somebody wrote about it in the Chronicle.”

Talula realized, strangely, that her time at the restaurant was the last time she felt close to her magic. Even if all she could do was summon witchfire, it had never been easier. Until Kiki’s cookbook.

Talula continued, “The chef would invite me to go with her to the farmers’ market at the crack of dawn. She’d chat with the vendors and get so many genius menu ideas from whatever was in season. But she was only there for the summer, then moved on to the next restaurant, the next city. Kyoto that fall, then Florence.” Talula took a breath. “She wanted me to go with her when I graduated. Be her apprentice.”

“But you didn’t go?” Dahlia sounded like she didn’t quite believe the question she was asking.

Talula shook her head.

“What?” Dahlia gasped.

“It’s no big deal,” Talula said, surprised at Dahlia’s reaction. “My mom needed help. I couldn’t be a chef and, um, learn the family business.”

“Did you even tell your mom about this opportunity?” Dahlia asked tensely.

Talula shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because I knew I couldn’t have it!” Talula snapped, though she couldn’t say whom she was angry at. “Just like I can’t have friends or a relationship, because I’ll always be the weird witch kid—”

She clamped her teeth down before the words “with a Magical Destiny” could slip between her lips. Instead, Talula just stared at Dahlia, rage and despair crashing inside her in warring waves.

“Hey,” Dahlia said, getting out of her booth seat to sit next to Talula. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Talula stared down at her plate. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

You’re a grown woman who just threw a temper tantrum, Talula thought miserably.

Another voice in her mind whispered, Maybe you have something to tantrum about.

Dahlia fidgeted, adjusting the satiny decorative pillows between them. “Can I just say one more thing? As someone who wants to see you happy?”

Talula nodded.

“I think you’re afraid of what you want because you’re scared someone will tell you no. So you tell yourself no first. Because it’ll hurt less.”

The truth of it stung.

Dahlia continued, “You have friends who care about you and want to be there for you. But if you don’t tell them what you want, what you need, they can’t help you get it. Look at Emilio and Anna. They didn’t hesitate to help with the Magic Box tonight. And then, you know, there’s me.”

Talula looked at Dahlia then, her depthless brown eyes crinkled at the corners, glitter still winking in the creases.

“I’d do anything for you,” Dahlia said simply. “Okay?”