Chapter 2
The golden bell above the café door rang out as Talula entered, her arms full of her remaining market purchases.
“Hello, my heart!” Sara called from the counter. “Ready for portal practice?”
“Oh.” Talula’s stomach churned, sick with dread and self-consciousness. “Sure. After I put some stuff away.”
Talula headed to the back area of the café, where she kept the ingredients for her recipe experiments—her magical walk-in fridge pocket dimension.
It’d been an unexpected side effect from one of her Volta training sessions.
She’d gotten distracted thinking about cleaning out the fridge, which resulted in a few loud bangs, some mysterious fog, then voilà: Talula was the bewildered owner of a pocket dimension.
She called it the Voltlette. Sara had magically shoved the thing into a pantry in the back of the café.
Somehow, time stood still in the Voltlette, so summer peaches stayed perpetually sweet, and the slice of cake from Talula’s last birthday was still perfectly moist. The only problem was the organizational system.
Talula had watched tons of International Space Station videos to figure out how to use a space where gravity was a suggestion at best. The key was sandbagged bookcases and a lot of Velcro.
Her salvaged market purchases safely stashed away, Talula turned to find her mother practically bouncing on her toes with excitement.
“Come, my extraordinary, one-and-only progeny. Your glorious Magical Destiny awaits in the basement!”
After the events of the morning and her recent magical mess-ups, the last thing Talula wanted to do was more, bigger magic. But her mother was looking at her with her enormous so-proud-of-my-baby-sorceress eyes.
Out of habit, Talula grabbed her blue pin-striped apron. “Let’s do this.”
The basement of the Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium looked like any other coffee shop basement.
It contained plenty of dust, a mop bucket, a shelf of dry goods and cleaning supplies, an old couch, and a rickety safe tucked away in the corner.
There was also a ten-foot-tall portal of glowing blue light that sparked and crackled with raw power.
As her mother led a series of focused meditative stretching exercises, Talula stalled. “How was the café this morning?”
“We actually had a human visitor!” Sara reached her arms over her head. “That sweet young woman from yesterday came in here asking for cocoa. I told her we have those little packets you add to water, but she said no thanks and left.”
“Oh.” Talula’s heart stilled in her chest. “Well, sometimes I do a little something extra with the cocoa. Just for fun. That’s okay, right?”
“Of course, my dear,” Sara said. “An occasional local popping by is good. It keeps us a part of the community. But let me know if she starts visiting more regularly. I’ll make sure she starts to feel disinterested in the café.
” She wiggled her fingers, which was Sara code for general magical chicanery.
Talula bit her lip nervously—Dahlia had been a consistent regular for weeks now.
But Talula didn’t want Sara to enchant Dahlia away from the café.
Not when she was the best part of Talula’s day.
So she omitted some truth and instead offered a different explanation for Dahlia’s visits.
“I think she just likes the occasional cocoa.”
“She was raving about it!” Sara chuckled, finishing a complicated stretch. “That cocoa must be something special.”
Despite everything, Talula felt a little flutter of happiness. “I can make it for you now! It took a while to develop the right blend—”
But Sara shook her head. “That’s so sweet of you, but let’s get some portal practice in while we’re here. It’s going to be so much fun working on your magic!”
“Okay,” Talula replied, trying to hide her disappointment.
She knew Sara meant well, but it still felt like a door slammed in her face.
Sara wasn’t a foodie. Or interested in food, cuisine, or the culinary arts, unless they were right in front of her face.
How could she be? If she wanted to, Sara could subsist off the light of the full moon, the energy of the universe, and whatever other intangible food groups immortal beings consumed.
Finally, the two turned to face the Volta. It was time for magic.
Sara’s eyes gleamed like obsidian. “Let’s focus on something small. Do you remember that peach orchard off the highway?”
Talula nodded, hands already clammy.
“Bring me a peach from that orchard.” Sara’s voice deepened, going into full-sorceress mode. “Tap into your magical core. Feel the energies of the world twist to your desires and reap the fruit of your divine essence!”
“Um, Mom?” Talula said quietly. “Peaches aren’t in season anymore. Could I pluck something else?”
Talula’s mother blinked, her epic demeanor wavering. “A peach…blossom?”
Talula shook her head. Sara’s mouth formed a firm, dissatisfied line. Sara liked things to be appropriately mystical during sorceress training.
Finally, she snapped her fingers excitedly. “A twig! To symbolize your burgeoning powers.”
(Ouch, Talula thought.)
“Pluck me a twig from a peach tree.” Sara swept to the side, giving Talula a full view of the Volta. “It can be the talisman from which your abilities bloom!”
Then it was just the Volta and Talula.
Talula stepped toward the portal, heart ricocheting in her chest. As she reached for the Volta with her magic, cascades of power tumbled over her.
Magic electrified her nerves, tugging at her hair like an excited toddler.
The Volta’s magic was wild, playful, reckless, and endless.
It swamped her with waves of power and mischievous little vibrations that seemed to say, Where have you been? I’ve missed you!
Talula loved the Volta like she loved the ocean. With awe, wonder, and a healthy dose of fear.
She gave the Volta a shaky smile. She imagined the orchard, putting her will behind it.
The dusty smell of the gravel road that led to the farm.
The rows of trees and splayed branches, heavy with bright fruit.
A strange hum buzzed over Talula’s skin.
The glowing blue archway began to swirl with power.
Watching the Volta change locations was like watching a blue-tinged television screen while someone was flipping through channels at the speed of magic.
Images blurred and bustled, smeared by a blue membrane that separated (and concealed) the sorceress from what was on the other side of the portal.
Talula felt a heave of motion sickness, but it was working, it was actually working!
Finally, the images stilled. Through the strange magical blue veil, Talula saw the orchard, the leaves beginning to blush with autumn. Talula pumped a fist triumphantly. Behind her, Sara shouted encouragement.
Grinning, Talula guided the Volta through the trees, unseen by workers, songbirds, and the occasional gopher.
Through her magical connection with the Volta, Talula opened a window into the world.
She reached through it triumphantly, stretching toward a nearby branch.
Even though she was thrilled, she couldn’t help but think of the orchard in summer.
Distractedly, she wished she could go back in time and pluck a sun-warmed peach right from the branch.
Before Talula could snag a twig, the world around her quivered. Power heaved and rolled as the Volta began to travel. Talula wasn’t in the orchard anymore. Panic took over Talula’s brain—she fought to regain command of herself, her magic, and the Volta.
Go back! GO BACK.
(“You can do it, sweetie!” her mother called cheerily, still sticking to her “sink or swim” magical training approach.)
But distraction had led to a lapse in control.
As Talula struggled, the Volta continued to propel her through a sickening rush of places.
Finally, she forced herself to breathe. The images slowed.
She saw trees again. They looked a little different, sure, and there weren’t as many of them in the wide expanse of prairie the Volta had arrived in. But trees were trees, right?
I must have gotten thrown off course, Talula reasoned. But where am I?
The scene surrounding her started to tremble.
The Volta was getting ready to jump again.
Pulse skyrocketing, Talula reached for the nearest tree, but it was too far.
Talula expanded the Volta’s window into a door to give her more room.
She blindly grabbed for a twig and tore it with so much force, she stumbled backward away from the portal.
The image of the prairie dissolved in the Volta’s archway as Talula gasped for air.
“Honey!” Sara cried. “Are you okay?”
“I brought”—Talula gasped, holding up her prize with a sweaty grin—“the twig.”
“You brought a little more than that.” Bemusedly, Sara gestured at Talula’s feet.
Talula looked around and yelped with alarm.
Dozens of rabbits blinked up at Talula with black, accusing eyes. They were tawny and wild-looking, with black tufted tails and strong legs. Some had the strangest ears Talula had ever seen.
Wait. She blinked. Are those antlers?
One glaring rabbit lowered its head and charged. Pain blossomed on Talula’s shin.
“Ow!” Talula toppled backward, landing hard on her tailbone. The rabbits scattered in an angry halo around her. The aggressive one squinted menacingly from a few feet away.
“Jackalopes?” Talula sputtered, too stunned to be offended by the antlered rodent.
“Jackalopes!” Sara clapped her hands delightedly. “I haven’t seen these in years. What were they doing in the orchard?”
“I wound up in the wrong orchard.” Talula’s face grew hot with embarrassment. “But I was in the right one for a little while!”
“Darling, that’s wonderful.” Sara knelt near a cluster of jackalopes and conjured a carrot from nothing. The jackalopes flocked to her immediately. “But we should put them back where you found them.”