Chapter 8 #2
“Thank you. And, I wanted to ask…could I order a grilled cheese?” Dahlia drummed her fingers on the countertop nervously. “I don’t want to be one of those annoying, overbearing customers that thinks they’re cool with the barista and can ask for special favors.”
“I would never think that about you,” Talula said resolutely. “Grilled cheese sandwiches are what friends are for, right?”
“Of course! Friends!” Dahlia said very brightly, though her smile seemed slightly strained. “Good. I want to be friends if you want to be friends. Friends are good.”
“I do.” Talula smiled. “And also, it’s breakfast time.”
“So?” Dahlia asked, still with that funny smile.
“So I can do better than grilled cheese.” Talula dramatically exited through the Employees Only door, Dahlia’s laughter buoying her straight to the Voltlette. She heard the prim footsteps of an obnoxious magical being behind her.
“What was that?”
Talula set a pan on the electric cooktop. “What was what?”
“Are you really giving up a whole day of training just so you can ogle that human?”
“I’m not ogling anyone,” Talula protested.
“I’m an ancient sorcerer who has passed between the fibers of reality like water through a sieve. I’ve watched stars give birth to gods and monsters. My mind is like a living archive of the Library of Alexandria,” Simon said in a deep, all-knowing sorcerer voice. “I know ogling when I see it.”
“Fine. I may do a tiny bit of very respectful ogling” Talula switched on the toaster oven. “But Dahlia’s our only usual customer, and she’s my friend.”
Simon rolled his beady dog eyes. “Yes, I heard.”
“And she’s…really special.”
“Of course she is,” Simon said sarcastically.
“Yes.” Anger sparked in Talula, wildfire hot. Her voice was a warning growl. “She is.”
Simon’s ears flicked back and forth, but he didn’t disagree. Instead, he said, “She’s human.”
“I’m half human.”
“That’s not the half that the magical world needs right now.
” Simon sat down with a beleaguered sigh.
“There are people out there whose lives will depend on your magical skills, not your sandwiches. People who, right now, are being hunted by insidious forces while your mother risks her safety trying to track them down.”
At the thought of her mother and the hunters, Talula felt her anger at Simon cool. Instead, a horrible never-enoughness rose up in Talula’s chest. She turned back to her breakfast sandwich ingredients, laying thick-cut bacon strips on the hot pan.
“I’m sure your mother will succeed in her mission. But imagine if you’d mastered your sorcery; think of all you could be doing to help as we navigated this unprecedented danger,” Simon persisted, not unkindly. “Do you understand what your priorities need to be right now?”
Talula’s voice was small. “I do.”
“If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to make adjustments to Dahlia’s memory in order to protect the Blue Moon.” Simon’s threat burned into Talula’s brain.
It’s not fair, Talula thought. But she said, “I understand.”
“Good.” Simon sat down on the floor, looking a little relieved. “We’ll finish out the day, and you’ll tell Dahlia that the café will be closed tomorrow. For…”
“Inventory?” Talula suggested glumly. Great. More lies.
“And tell her that you’ll be cutting back the operating hours of the café. It won’t be unusual. You’re on your own without your mother to share the work, not to mention Samhain is on its way. We’ll train here in case someone needs the Volta.”
Talula let out a breath. “I don’t like lying. To anyone.”
“If anything, this should be more incentive for you to focus on your sorcery. The sooner you master it, the sooner you can go back to oogling and making…whatever it is you’re making.”
“A breakfast sandwich,” Talula said. “With buttered brioche, sharp cheddar, hot pepper jam, egg, and applewood smoked bacon.”
“Ah.”
“Do you want one?”
“No.” Simon waddled away. He paused and looked at Talula from over his shoulder. “Unless you have extra?”
Whether it was the delicious breakfast sandwich or Talula’s earnest apologies for changing things last minute, Dahlia had been extremely understanding about the café’s shortened hours. Especially when Talula attributed her adjusted schedule to Samhain prep.
“What’s ‘sow-hen’?” Dahlia asked.
“Sow-wen,” Talula said, pronouncing it slowly. “It’s basically the big Halloween festival we put on for the town every year.”
Dahlia nearly dropped her half-demolished breakfast sandwich. “Wait, that’s a Blue Moon thing? Are you kidding me?”
Talula laughed, pleased by Dahlia’s excitement. “Yeah, the café’s been doing it for years. Since before I was born.”
“My parents love that festival! I honestly think it’s why they bought a house in Pine Hollow.” Dahlia practically danced in her seat. “I could never get away from work to see it. Envy almost killed me.” She slid her plate to the side. “You need to tell me everything.”
Talula spent the rest of the day entertaining Dahlia with tales of Samhains past as Simon grumbled intermittently throughout.
Maybe, Talula thought, she could do this. Maybe a new kind of magical training would finally let her become the sorceress she was meant to be. And maybe she’d be able to be good enough for her Magical Destiny and this extraordinary, dazzling person.
Those hopes were short-lived.