Chapter 22
People started crowding the town square in front of the Magic Box as early as four in the afternoon.
“I count fifty-four heads. Not including pets,” Dahlia’s voice buzzed in Talula’s earbuds.
“We were hoping for more,” Talula murmured back anxiously.
“It’s still early. Trust me.”
Above them, the clouds changed into a smear of molten hues. Slowly, night crept in as more attendees found their spots on the grass. When the sky had gone nearly black, lights flickered on in the Magic Box.
Simon bumped his hip into Talula’s calf. “Here we go!”
Talula grinned, heart jumpy with nerves and excitement. “Let’s make some magic.”
The crowd hushed as the box’s velvet curtains drew back, revealing a stage. Fifteen figures and strange shapes stood upon it, veiled in shadow. Another beat went by, the audience holding its collective breath. One voice sang out into the night.
“Though I’ve tried before to tell her
Of the feelings I have for her in my heart…”
As the last word was sung, a light show blazed onstage, and music exploded into the night.
A brass band, fifteen strong, all in Halloween costumes, blasted into “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” The singer worked the stage with the star power of a Vegas headliner, coaxing the audience into dancing.
As the last note of the song fell, the band ripped right into another tune, working their way through hits like “Superstition,” “Abracadabra,” and “Witchcraft.”
The brassy covers of these magical hits brought almost every audience member to their feet.
Couples danced, kids bounced, and even the farthest, most sidelined audience members bopped along with delighted smiles.
Dahlia spun through the crowd and took pictures of everything, occasionally howling along with the lyrics.
Even Talula swayed with the music, eyes stuck on Dahlia’s shifting hips.
Needing a distraction, Talula glanced down at Simon and chuckled—her mentor was bobbing his head in time to the music.
The band played for an hour, finishing off with “Do You Believe in Magic” and a standing ovation. When the curtains closed, a banner dropped from the top of the Magic Box.
SEE YOU TOMORROW FOR MORE MAGIC
Then, another banner unfurled below it—Talula held her breath.
SEVEN NIGHTS UNTIL SAMHAIN
The crowd began to pack up and head out for the night. Talula overheard passersby making plans, promising to bring more blankets or chairs, hypothesizing what the next act would be, their voices alight with the promise of tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
“That certainly was its own kind of magic, wasn’t it?” Simon said.
“It really was.” Talula felt aglow with pride. “I just hope it works.”
Now that the Magic Box performance and magical happenings around town were clearly connected to Samhain and the Blue Moon, there was no telling what tomorrow’s performance would bring. But just as Talula began to worry, warm arms wound around her waist.
“That was amazing!” Dahlia screamed, lifting Talula off her feet. Talula was taller than Dahlia, so the movement was really an enthusiastic jostling.
“Put me down, put me down!” Talula laughed.
Dahlia attempted to spin the captive Talula, but instead toppled them both, laughing, into the grass.
Dahlia’s arm still slung easily over Talula.
They were so close, almost nose-to-nose.
Talula could feel Dahlia’s chest heave against her own with every burst of laughter.
“You did this. You made all of this happen,” Talula said breathlessly.
“You’re the magic one.” Dahlia’s toothy smile beamed in the dark October night. “I just do the organizing.”
The words soared through Talula, bright as starlight. Talula’s gaze fell to Dahlia’s mouth. She watched the way Dahlia’s lips softened, parting just so, before a cold nose interjected between the two of them. Simon had thrust his snout between their faces, breaking the spell.
“Hi, Simon—feeling left out?” Dahlia laughed, sitting up cross-legged. She scritched Simon under his chin. “By the way, what happened to you today? I thought you were going to come by and go over the new vendor list with me this afternoon.”
The incident with Damien flashed into Talula’s mind, and ice chilled her veins. She swallowed. She’d been playing dangerously close to the truth these days with Dahlia. But she couldn’t keep this from her.
“Kiki’s ex came into the café looking for them.” Talula hugged her arms around herself, eyes locked on a damp spot on her jeans. “He…was not nice about it.”
The scintillating air of victory evaporated between them. Dahlia set a warm hand on Talula’s knee. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Talula filled Dahlia in (without mentioning any magical recipes). When she was through, Dahlia scooted closer. “How do you feel?”
Huh. Talula realized no one had asked her that. After the full, action-packed Saturday, she suddenly felt hollowed out. “Tired. Mad at myself.”
“Why?” Dahlia asked gently.
“I said ‘I’m sorry.’ ” Talula covered her face with her hands. “To get him out, I said, ‘I’m sorry, you have to leave.’ Why did I have to apologize? Why did I have to make myself smaller?”
“Don’t you dare, Talula.” She cupped Talula’s face, holding her gaze with an intensity that sent shivers all over Talula’s skin.
“Don’t you dare feel bad for saying what you needed to say to protect a friend and get out of there safely.
He’s the one who should be ashamed. He’s the one who hurt Kiki and tried to make you afraid.
He’s the biggest piece of shit that ever shot out of an ass. ”
Talula let out a half laugh. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yes, he is. But you’re wonderful.” She pulled Talula into a hug and whispered into her hair, “Thank goodness for mangoes.”
Talula could’ve let Dahlia hold her all night, but Simon grumbled pointedly.
“Thanks.” Talula drew away from Dahlia slowly.
“You going to be okay tonight?”
“Yeah, I’ve got my fierce protector.” Talula jutted her head toward Simon, who puffed out his chest with a proud hrmph.
“Good.” Dahlia got to her feet, then offered her hand to Talula. “Do me a favor? Make your bodyguard a big steak for biting the guy?”
“Absolutely.” Talula let Dahlia pull her up.
“Beautiful.” Dahlia’s deep eyes were locked on Talula’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, witchy woman. And don’t you suffer any fools!”
“Don’t suffer any fools?” Talula questioned with a wry smile.
“I don’t know, I read it on a meme or something.” Dahlia started to jog away backward. “But it sounds epic. Like you!”
Talula waved until the night swallowed Dahlia up and she and Simon were alone with the stars, the green, and the Magic Box. They started to walk home in silence. Talula replayed Dahlia’s touches and words over and over again in her head, clinging to the residual warmth of her hug.
After a few blocks, Simon spoke, his voice low and measured. “You never told your mother, did you? About your romantic entanglement?”
Talula shook her head. For a few moments, she listened for Simon’s reply but could only hear the mismatched sounds of their footsteps against the pavement and the wind rustling lazily through dry leaves.
Finally, Simon asked, “Will you tell her in person?”
Asked. Not ordered. Talula chewed on the request, on what she would be risking if she told her mother about Dahlia. She couldn’t imagine her days without Dahlia. But Dahlia didn’t deserve to be treated like a dirty secret. “Yes. I’ll tell her in person.”
“Good,” Simon said. “I’m glad.”
They walked on in silence. But after a minute or two, Talula could have sworn she heard a jaunty hum coming from the magical being trotting by her ankle. It may or may not have been “Love Potion Number Nine.”