Chapter 11
Later that night after another dismal training session, Talula sat on her bed, nervously chewing her lip and checking her watch every other second.
Sara had finally replied to Talula’s SOS text, and the two agreed on a meeting time.
But that time had come and gone. Sure, Sara was always late (she asserted it was part of her cultural identity), but never this late.
Worry sent Talula’s imagination into overdrive, worst-case scenarios crowding her mind.
There was still so much they didn’t know about the mysterious organization of magical trophy hunters and how they caught their dangerous prey.
Simon’s warnings rang clear in Talula’s head as another minute went by without a word from Sara.
Her bedroom walls absorbed her concern, turning into a dark slate.
Just as Talula was considering calling the Council for an emergency magical search party, the air began to shimmer, and Sara’s astral projection appeared.
Talula shouted with relief. “Mom!”
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Sara smiled, clasping her hands over her heart. “It’s so good to see you, my darling girl.”
“Is everything okay? I was worried—”
“Just a little caught up with my work, as usual.” Sara smiled forcefully. “Now, tell me everything.”
Talula felt tension humming from her mother; her usual poise felt taut as a violin string. “You sure? It seems like something’s on your mind.”
“Sorry, my love.” Sara’s shoulders melted down, her face relaxing just a fraction of an inch. “I’m waiting for a contact to reach me with some information about the hunters. She should be here in the next hour or so. Let’s make the most of our time together. Tell me what’s going on with Samhain.”
Her nerves only a little assuaged, Talula explained the anti-Samhain petition. The more she talked, the more tension left her body. As the house tuned in to Talula’s emotions, a hopeful buttery yellow started to peek through the gray walls.
Finally, when explanations were over, Talula let out a long breath. “I’m so worried that Samhain will get banned. I mean, yeah, it’s a great festival, but it’s the only time of year so many people get to see their friends and family. Plus, these hunters—”
“Don’t worry.” Sara spoke confidently. “I promise you, the petition means nothing. Even if it does get enough signatures, the petitioners would have to take the matter to a town meeting with Pine Hollow City Council in order to take away our permits. It won’t get that far, and if it does, I’ll handle the city council members with a little mind magic.
Our community will get their time with the Volta. Everything will be fine.”
Talula bit her lip. It was an easy solution, but it didn’t sit well in her gut.
She knew sometimes, in emergency situations, a human’s memory had to be adjusted to protect the magical community’s secrets.
But bewitching city council members for Samhain wasn’t quite the same thing.
Talula wanted to change the naysayers’ hearts and minds in a real way—to show them that the Blue Moon was a worthwhile part of Pine Hollow.
That she was a worthwhile part of Pine Hollow.
She thought of saying so to Sara. But as she examined her mother’s astral projection, she could see more and more signs of tension lingering in Sara’s eyes and posture.
Talula let those thoughts go for now. “How’s the hunt for the hunters? ”
“Frustrating.” Sara’s astral projection began to pace Talula’s bedroom.
“Every time I think I’ve tracked them to their base, I lose the trail.
It’s like they know I’m coming and move on before I can get there.
” Sara chewed at her bottom lip—the nervous habit they shared.
“The only thing I’ve gotten so far is a name: Orion Hunts Incorporated.
But it’s a shell company. The Council’s forensic accountants have been trying to track down its affiliates, but so far, it’s all very cloak-and-dagger.
I’m hoping to find out more tonight from an old friend. ”
“Wait, the Council has forensic accountants?” Talula asked, surprised and a little delighted.
“Absolutely. They’re magicians with numbers.” Sara cocked her head wryly. “They’re also actual magicians.”
“Of course they are.”
“But tell me about you! How’s training going?” Sara “sat” across from Talula on her desk chair.
Talula slumped. “It’s been rough. Simon’s—”
“Who?”
“My new teacher. The sorcerer in a tiny dog’s body? I call him Simon,” Talula explained. “Apparently, I don’t have the right mystical vocal cords to pronounce his real name.”
Finally, the last of the tension released from Sara’s body as she chuckled. “I promise, you can pronounce his true name.”
Talula sat up straight. “Really? Who is he?”
“If he didn’t tell you, then I shouldn’t.”
Even though her mother was an astral projection, Talula could spot a Sara secret from a mile away. “What do you know, Mom?”
“I don’t know anything!” Sara said unconvincingly.
“Then why wouldn’t he tell me who he really is?”
“I suspect he’s a bit embarrassed.” Sara tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“Let’s just say that when…Simon decided to become one with the magical energies of the universe and leave behind his mortal shell, he may have forgotten a few things about life on earth.
It’s a pretty indescribable experience. You see things as they are on a more cosmic level.
I tried it for a bit after the Peloponnesian War, and when I came back to corporeal form, I forgot how to do all these living organism things, like eating and dressing myself and having two legs instead of six—”
The pieces clicked together for Talula. “You don’t think he meant to turn into a dog?”
Sara covered her mouth with her hands. “I said too much!”
Talula flopped back on her bed, giggling madly.
“That’s not very kind!” Sara scolded.
“He was…he was such a big sorcerer,” Talula gasped through laughter. “Now he’s such a little dog! Everywhere he goes, he waddles with his fluffy butt!”
Sara’s voice turned glacial. “Talula Esmerelda Xanadu Sahar Beatrice Morgan Smith. Stop laughing right now.”
Talula Esmerelda Xanadu Sahar Beatrice Morgan Smith immediately stopped laughing. Sara hardly ever used her stern mom voice and all of Talula’s names at once. All color retreated from Talula’s bedroom walls, leaving behind a chastened dove gray.
Sara’s astral projection stood up from Talula’s desk chair. “Simon gave up floating in ethereal bliss to teach you. He’s one of the best sorcerers that’s ever lived. You will be kind, you will be respectful, and you will be attentive in his lessons.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Talula squeaked.
After a moment, Sara sat down beside Talula. The silence crept on for a few more seconds, until Sara spoke again. “But it is a little funny.”
Mother and daughter burst into giggles. A swath of golden peach color bubbled up along the walls to match their laughter.
“I know he’s not the easiest teacher,” Sara finally said, when they could speak without toppling over with chuckles.
“But this is an amazing opportunity for you. His methods might be just the thing to unlock your limitless potential and ascend to the next chapter in your glorious Magical Destiny, especially in these uncertain times.”
Talula felt her stomach churn.
Sara laid a transparent hand on her daughter’s knee. “Just promise me you’ll try your best?”
Talula looked at her mom, her earnest eyes full of love and pride. After all, it wasn’t like her magical prowess could get worse, right? “I promise.”
For the entire weekend, Talula did try. She attempted to create illusions as Simon barked orders—like “Force the world we see to bend to your will!” and “Project your power outward, from the magical pupil of your mind’s eye!
”—all of which were taken nearly verbatim from the pages of Simon’s beloved textbook.
Still, no matter how long Talula worked at it, she didn’t get illusions.
The only thing that kept up Talula’s spirits was the buzz of her phone.
Dahlia had meant it when she said she’d text Talula morale-boosting memes and jokes throughout the weekend.
Whenever she heard the telltale vibration of a Dahlia text, Talula would feel a small burst of joy in her chest. But after a dozen or so texts, it looked like Simon was about to burst into a fireball of rage.
“You might make more progress if you shut that thing up,” Simon finally growled. “I can smell your distraction from here.”
Abashed, Talula turned the phone off, and they resumed training. But by Sunday evening, Talula didn’t know who looked more tired—her or her four-legged mentor.
“I may have to consult some oracles.” Simon frowned. “It shouldn’t be taking you this long to grasp these concepts, especially with your mother’s bloodline. Maybe we’ll need a focusing tool, like a wand or a quartz of some kind.”
A hesitant voice called out from the outside of the café. “Hello there?”
Talula peeked through the blinds. Standing there was a short man in his forties, wearing a lot of tweed. His tiny spectacles were perched on the end of his wide-set nose. A bowler hat sat at an odd angle on his head.
“May I come in? My name is Michail. I’m looking for…” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. “One caramel macchiato, four shots of espresso—that’s two decaffeinated, two caffeinated—and a drizzle of…raspberry syrup. No whipped cream, please.”
“Ah yes, I’m happy to see you made it,” Simon said. “The Council said to expect you.”
Talula opened the café door for the newcomer. “Come on in, Michail.”
“Thank you.” Tentatively, Michail ambled through the doorway, his footsteps oddly heavy against the floor.
“I’m Talula; this is Simon.”
Michail gave a tidy little bow. “Pleased to meet you both.”