Chapter 10
That Saturday flaunted a perfect October morning, the sun bright, the sky clear, the air chilled by a hint of autumn wind.
Errant leaves crunched satisfyingly under Talula’s bike wheels as she rode to the market.
She’d left a grumpy Simon at home, agreeing to meet at the café after her market trip.
She was glad she did. The brisk bike ride helped Talula unwind and forget about her continued magical shortcomings, gigantic crush, and worry for her mother’s hunt for the hunters.
By the time Talula arrived at Navarro’s Organics, it was like she didn’t even have a Magical Destiny to live up to at all.
To her delight, Emilio was back at the market, arranging produce while Anna ran the cash box. But Anna’s concerned glance worried Talula.
“Just one quick sec,” Anna told her customers with a pink-cheeked smile. She grabbed Talula’s hand and squeezed it. “Sweetie, can you wait here until I’ve helped these people?”
Confused, Talula nodded. At that, Anna left Talula and went back to helping her other customers.
Emilio stepped closer to Talula, arms crossed. Despite his five-foot-two-inch stature, the produce man cut an imposing figure.
“I hear your surgery went well,” Talula said. “Congratulations!”
Emilio’s steely exterior cracked with a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Anna told me about your jam aspirations. I’m sure you’ll top the other jam makers here soon.”
Emilio’s brown eyes twinkled. “I like to stay abreast of new culinary experiments.”
“Anyone who doesn’t love your jam would be a total boob.”
“Too on the nose, Talula.” Emilio shook his head, but he was grinning. “Or should I say, on the nipple?”
“Please don’t encourage him,” Anna groaned. She turned to Talula. “Before I tell you what I need to tell you, there’s something I want you to know.”
“Okay?” Talula swallowed nervously.
Anna continued, “Even though we’ve had a very warm and respectful vendor-client relationship these last few years, we think of you as our friend.”
Talula flushed, pleased. “You guys—”
Anna cut her off. “Which is why I want to be the one to tell you what’s happening today. There’s a petition going around.”
“Petition?” Talula repeated, searching Anna’s and Emilio’s worried faces for clarity.
“To cancel the Blue Moon’s Samhain festival,” Emilio said gently.
Time slowed for Talula as her brain absorbed the words.
Cancel the Samhain festival? Her Samhain festival?
This could be a disaster. For decades, her fellow magical beings came to Pine Hollow to use the Volta to visit loved ones without fear of discovery or persecution.
It was a vital service the Blue Moon provided.
But without the smoke screen of the Samhain festival…
“I-I don’t understand,” Talula stuttered. “Why would someone want to cancel Samhain?”
“There’s some talk of Samhain not being aligned with the town’s ‘values.’ ” Anna scowled.
“Which is a hot pile of bullshit,” Emilio growled.
“There are people here trying to get support for the petition. Some vendors have joined the organizers.” Anna glanced beyond Talula’s shoulder.
Talula followed Anna’s gaze. For the most part, the Saturday market looked the same as it had last week. Then she saw it. Several vendors had new signage.
Keep Pine Hollow Family Friendly! Say No to Samhain!
Make Halloween Wholesome Again! Boycott the Blue Moon!
Devil Worship? Not in My Town!
Talula looked around at the market, what had once been her safe haven, where her self-consciousness fell away and she could be herself. Now she felt like she’d been punched. “But…Samhain is basically a big Halloween party for the town.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.” Anna watched her worriedly.
“We hire so many local vendors,” Talula continued, hurt and confused. “Half of the market sells stuff at the festival!”
“I’ve asked around,” Anna said. “Most of your usual hires will be there. But some might back out.”
Talula knew that she’d never be voted Miss Pine Hollow or mayor or whatever. But this was her home. She volunteered at the local food bank, handed out cocoa during the winter bazaar, and she never missed the annual creek cleanup. She loved Pine Hollow.
But apparently Pine Hollow didn’t love her back.
Tears burned Talula’s eyes. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” Emilio pleaded. “Don’t let them chase you out of here.”
“Look,” Anna said, pulling a box from under the table. “We packed this, just for you. Best of everything.”
“Extra jam,” Emilio added.
“So much jam,” Anna echoed with a worried smile. “On the house.”
Talula took the box with numb hands.
“You’re both…” Talula swallowed. “Wonderful.”
Feeling the eyes of the market on her, Talula gingerly loaded her produce box into the crate on her bike. She pedaled away in a fog. She knew she should call her mom. Tell Sara what was going on. But the same barbed thoughts kept swirling in her head.
She wasn’t a good enough sorceress for her mom or Simon or the Volta. She wasn’t a good enough human for her town. What, or who, was she good enough for?
So far, nothing and no one.
Talula wiped her eyes with her sleeve and kept pedaling.
At the café, Talula sat on the floor in a gloom, her chest achy. As soon as she’d gotten back from the market, she’d sent an SOS text to her mother, but there was no response. Meanwhile Simon paced and lectured.
“Glamoring, or creating illusions, is an essential skill,” he said.
“It’s a subtle yet powerful act of sorcery wherein you create a psychic field around yourself or an object of your choosing.
This psychic field convinces the minds of those around you to perceive things as you want them to be perceived.
Once you trick the mind, you’ve tricked the body. Like so.”
Simon focused on the space in front of Talula. Out of nowhere, a seven-foot-tall cobra appeared. Talula screamed.
“It’s an illusion,” Simon said impatiently.
“I know,” Talula snapped. “But I wasn’t prepared for a giant snake!”
“A sorceress should be prepared for anything,” Simon scolded. The illusion rippled. The cobra vanished, and a fawn appeared in its place, brown fur marked with white spots.
“There. Is this acceptable?” Simon asked, rolling his eyes.
“Yes.” Talula reached out a hand to the illusion. The fawn sniffed her palm. “I can feel her breath!”
The fawn butted her hand playfully. Talula marveled at its touch. “But you’re not doing this, right? My brain fills in the pieces for my body to experience. Like a placebo effect.”
“Indeed,” Simon said with what might have been an illusion of approval. “It helps when the illusioned person wants to believe the illusion is real. It really sells the thing.”
Talula stroked the fawn’s soft fur. “You’re so cute. I just want to hug you.”
Oh, wait, Talula thought. I can. So she did. Amongst the morning’s bleakness, the illusory baby animal hug eased a little of Talula’s hurt. Something occurred to her. “Simon, if that snake had bitten me, would I have bled?”
“That depends.” Simon pondered. “Powerful illusions can convince the systems of the body to react to illusions as though they’re real.
You may feel the bite and see blood, even if there isn’t any.
Your body may believe so thoroughly that you had lethal cobra venom in your system, you may exhibit symptoms of the snakebite and die. ”
Talula’s mouth fell open in horrified shock. “You started with a cobra?”
“Hmm.” Simon’s fuzzy brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I suppose that might have been overzealous of me. But as soon as I lift the illusion or show your mind beyond a reasonable doubt that it was an illusion, the effects are negated.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for example…” Simon wrinkled his brow at the illusion.
“I’m an illusion, Talula,” the fawn said.
“It’s like being in a nightmare,” Simon explained. “As soon as you realize you’re dreaming, your brain stops reacting as if what you’re dreaming about is real. You wake up.”
Talula reached a hand out to the fawn. Instead of fur, her fingers passed through air. “That’s really cool.”
“Thanks,” said the illusion.
“That’s why illusions need to be convincing. It’s meticulous work that requires absolute focus,” Simon said.
A series of quick, sudden knocks at the café door made them both jolt, and the illusion shuddered into nothing.
“Talula? I’m sorry, I know you’re closed today, but I saw your bike outside. Are you here? Can I come in?”
“What’s she doing here?” Simon muttered.
“She knows what my bike looks like,” Talula said dreamily.
“Focus!”
“I saw the stupid signs at the farmers’ market,” Dahlia shouted through the door, sounding a little out of breath. “Is everything alright?”
“What happened at the market?” Simon asked.
Talula crossed her arms over herself, squeezing a bit for comfort. “There’s a bunch of people in town who want to cancel Samhain. A lot of people.”
Simon peered at her, his fuzzy brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘cancel’?”
“Are you okay?” Dahlia called, knocking at the door again.
“Enough distractions!” Simon shook out his fur irritably. “Tell her to come back later.”
Talula jumped to her feet. “Sure thing. I’ll go out and talk to her.”
“Don’t dillydally! Or ogle!”
Talula flung herself through the doorway. Dahlia stood on the front steps, hunched over and panting, curls damp against her neck and forehead. She was wearing a sleek running outfit, complete with a brightly colored sports bra that made Talula’s mouth go dry.
“I was on a run.” Dahlia gasped for air. “When I saw…the bullshit.”
“It’ll blow over,” Talula said, putting on her barista smile. “There’ll be a Samhain this year, don’t worry.”
Dahlia looked at Talula like she’d started talking about the mating habits of glowworms. “Talula, I’m not worried about the festival. I’m worried about you.” Dahlia unhunched herself and put a sweaty hand on each of Talula’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Talula felt her barista smile slip. Her throat ached; her chest felt tight. The sorrow and feelings of inadequacy she’d been shoving down came bubbling back up. “I…I…” Talula couldn’t manage the words.
But Dahlia read it all on her face. She pulled Talula in for a hug. “They’re morons, and you’re perfect.”
Talula gave a wheezy kind of laugh. Dahlia smelled so good, like pomegranate shampoo. She found herself leaning into Dahlia’s embrace, taking slow deep breaths to calm her heart. When she’d gotten a bit more of a grip on herself, Talula broke off the hug. “Thank you.”
“You did the same for me, like three days ago.” Dahlia shrugged.
She stuck her hands in her pockets. “Is there anything I can do? Because if you need a distraction or a friend, maybe tonight we could—” But before she could finish the thought, a series of short, stern barks erupted from inside the café.
Talula knew exactly what those barks meant. She shook her head. “I’ve got to get back. We’re doing some…café stuff.”
“Sure.” Dahlia nodded. “I need to finish my run anyway. By walking. I ran here faster than I’ve ever run. I think I broke my spleen.”
“I appreciate your spleen’s sacrifice,” Talula said stoically. She added, “Thanks for checking on me. See you tomorrow?”
“I told my mom I’d visit this weekend. I’ll be back Monday,” Dahlia called as she jogged away. “But in the meantime, I’m going to send you ten million memes and pics of unlikely animal friendships, and you can’t stop me!”
Talula laughed, watching Dahlia go. She ran here to check on me because she knew I’d be upset. The thought made Talula feel sunlit from the inside out. She’s a really good friend.
But when she ducked back into the café, Simon’s ears were twitching with irritation. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”
“It’s a petition that’s going around the town,” Talula explained. “Locals are trying to make sure that Samhain doesn’t happen.”
“Pfff. What can a few measly humans do?” Simon huffed haughtily.
“A lot, actually,” Talula said through gritted teeth.
“I assume you’ve told your mother?”
Talula nodded. “I sent her a message. She hasn’t responded yet.”
“Then there’s nothing more to be done.” Simon blew out a frustrated breath. “Now. May we resume?”
With a grimace, Talula plopped herself in the middle of the café rug, and they began again.