Chapter 23
It was still dark the morning after the Magic Box’s first performance when an impatient four-legged wizard scratched at Talula’s door.
“Breakfast, quickly! We have to meet the wildlings.”
Oh, right. With the Magic Box premiere, Damien, and her cookbook confessions, Talula had forgotten about the magical beings her mother had told them to expect at the café. “Calm down! Mom said they’re taking the forest path. That could take a while.”
The forest route was the long way to the café.
Rolling hills and state parks sprawled between Pine Hollow and the nearby cities for several miles, limiting the ways into town (which was ideal for keeping the Blue Moon operations under wraps).
While most refuge-seekers took the few paved roads into Pine Hollow, some felt safer going through the woods, especially if they didn’t pass as human.
“Yes, but wildlings are notorious for being early birds. Sometimes literally. Hurry!”
But when Simon and Talula arrived at the café, the wildlings weren’t there.
While they waited for the wildlings, Talula started working on her next cookbook translation.
Simon paced, huffed, and kept his head on a swivel to the café door.
With each lap around the coffee shop, Talula went from slightly amused to concerned.
“They should be here by now, shouldn’t they? ”
“Yes,” he growled. “They’re late, and I don’t like it.”
“Could they have gotten lost?”
Simon shook out his fur. “It’s a possibility.” But he didn’t look convinced. An hour and several check-ins with the Council later, neither was Talula.
“According to the Council, the wildlings had checked in yesterday to say they were within county lines. Now they’ve vanished and the Council has called its seers to look for them.” Simon growled. “Something is badly amiss. We must check the wards around the town. Immediately.”
“Check them for what?” Talula grabbed her coat.
“If we’re lucky, the wildlings. If not, weakness in the ward line, or worse, tampering.” Simon moved as fast as his short legs would take him. “Come, we’ll take the Volta.”
Talula followed, matching his anxious pace.
Pine Hollow was protected by a complex warding spell rooted in the land itself.
It created a protective dome over the town, so that any magical activity that took place within the ward line was hidden from any who wished to seek it.
The protection was drawn along the town limits, creating an invisible barrier.
Talula had walked that ward line with her mother hundreds of times, strolling through sparse cul-de-sacs and rich woodland as Sara checked on the enchantment.
But never had she done it trying to look for lost refuge-seekers.
The Volta had dropped them in a copse of oak trees far off from the nearest hiking trails. Talula sent a mental thanks as the blue portal faded into air and magical miasma. Simon got straight to business.
“Hopefully we’ll find some sign of the wildlings. But if not, we should look for damage to the ward line.”
“What does damage look like?”
“Places where the color in the barrier is faint, or, if someone’s tampered with the enchantment, possibly discolored.”
Talula looked around. “I can’t see the barrier.”
Simon gave an agonized groan. “You haven’t opened your fifth eye yet?”
Talula pointed at her hazel irises. “These are all I’ve got.”
“Yet another inadequacy in your magical education.” Simon sighed. “The third eye is for seeing the future, the fourth is for seeing ghosts, the fifth for seeing enchantments, the sixth is for seeing smells—”
“Can we focus on just seeing what I need to see right now?” Talula cut him off with a pained smile.
Simon rolled his eyes, then barked a strange word that made the oak leaves shiver.
Suddenly, Talula could see it. Like a blue-tinged aurora borealis shimmering and rising from the earth, reaching up and up and up.
She reached out a hand to touch the ward and felt familiar warmth.
The Volta’s power sung through the barrier enchantment and against Talula’s skin.
“Onward, young pupil,” Simon called, strutting along the magical barrier with his nose in the air.
It was still early in the morning; dew clung to the grasses, mist to the trees.
Talula shivered. But as they walked, she warmed up quickly, the sun burning off October’s chill.
According to Simon’s magical eyes and canine nose, there hadn’t been a hint of any magical malfeasance to the barrier.
Nor had there been any sign of the wildlings.
Simon and Talula caught their breath at an outcropping of sandstone looking over more quiet wilderness.
Confusion and panic hooked into Talula’s chest. “Simon, does this mean the trophy hunters are here?”
Simon shook his head. “I refuse to believe that. These ward spells are as powerful as the first day they were wrought. Whatever tricks those fiends have up their sleeves, not a drop of magic can be detected within city limits.”
“But the wildlings weren’t in city limits,” Talula reminded him. “The hunters may not be in Pine Hollow, but they might be close.”
And if they’re close to Pine Hollow…Fear bolted through Talula’s heart as she thought of her mom. “Simon, my mom—”
“Your mother is more magic than person. She can handle anything.” Simon scratched at the earth thoughtfully. “But you’re right. We need to reinforce the ward line. Until the threat is nullified. I’ll reach out to the Council, get some much-needed help.”
“And the wildlings?” Talula asked.
“Hopefully the Council seers will find them and send out a rescue party.” Simon stared out over the miles of landscape before them. “The wildlings chose to come through the woodlands, where they’re at their most powerful. Maybe it was enough.”
But Simon’s eyes were troubled, finishing the horrible thought neither of them could voice. But maybe not.
“We’ve done all we can here.” Simon sighed, his ears low. “You need to translate the next recipe. Fast.”
Back at the café, Talula lit a few scented candles to try to ease her nerves, then began her translation work. The room was tense, the wildlings’ disappearance weighing heavy on Talula and Simon.
Which is why Talula tried to have patience for her mentor, who was supervising her every move.
“Are you sure about that word?”
Talula smiled with gritted teeth. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Well, double-check.” Simon huffed. “You know, I’m very adept at languages.”
“What happened to self-guided magical education?” Talula reminded him gently as she flipped to a page in her Jinn dictionary. Frowning, she switched to the Persian cuneiform textbook.
“If you decided to let me guide you, it would technically be self-guided,” Simon pointed out.
Talula rubbed her temples. “Simon, I know that we’re both worried about the trophy hunters and the wildlings, but you need to give me a little bit of space to work, okay?”
Simon considered this for a moment. Then he whined. “Could I just look?”
Talula muffled a tired sigh. “Fine.”
In a single (magically enhanced) leap, Simon had all four paws on the countertop.
“Simon, get down! This is a restaurant.”
Simon ignored her. “You know, with my vast knowledge, I could translate this entire book in moments. But this is your learning quest. So, I won’t.”
Simon was avoiding eye contact in a very specific way. On a hunch, Talula wrote a word out phonetically in the language of the cookbook. She showed it to Simon. “Do you know what this says?”
“Naturally!”
Talula tapped her finger on the word. “Would you do me a favor and translate it for me?”
Simon read it with a pinched look. “Sarcophagus.”
“Nope.”
“Scurvy?”
“No.”
“Spoon. It’s definitely spoon.”
Talula wrote the translation under the Jinn word, capitalizing every letter.
“S-I-M-O— Oh. It’s…it’s Simon.” Simon looked at Talula, chagrined. “Alright, my common Jinn is rudimentary, and this dialect is far beyond my comprehension.”
“How about I keep self-guiding myself through this translation?”
“Fine.” Simon promptly hopped off the counter onto the floor with a small huff. “But I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Talula said, meaning it. But before she could refocus on her translation, the bell above the door sang out.
Dahlia strode in, smelling like the woods and a world holding its breath for the next rain.
She held a stack of binders so high, she couldn’t see over the top of it.
Talula hurriedly covered her translation work with spare bits of paper and napkins.
“I have such data,” Dahlia announced from behind her armload. She let the binders fall with a loud fwump that made Simon jump. “I have more in the car! I’ll be right back!”
Talula, unsubtly using her torso to hide her books, gave Dahlia a double thumbs-up. When the door thudded closed behind Dahlia, Simon darted over to Talula. “How are you going to hide all of this?”
Panicked, Talula looked at her translation work, the recipe book, and her various (occasionally mystical) dictionaries. “I can put it in the back really quickly.” She started piling everything together.
“Hurry! She’s coming back and looking very observant.”
Talula wished she could just pop these back on her desk at home or drop everything through a quick interdimensional trapdoor—but then she thought of her recent conjuring work.
Could she conjure an item to somewhere, instead of from?
It’d be a simple switch in perspective, kind of like reverse-searing a steak.
I need a trapdoor in the universe.
Talula’s magic pulsed as she pictured her bedroom. A blue spark appeared on the countertop next to Talula’s Jinn dictionary. It spread, creating a cerulean-tinged window that flickered like candlelight. Through it, Talula had a bird’s-eye view of her desk, exactly as she’d envisioned it.
“What are you doing?” Simon hissed.