Chapter 27
After a quick text to Dahlia, Talula and Simon ran to the café. Mid-run, Talula turned breathlessly to Simon. “Question. Why aren’t you offering to magic the town’s city council members before they vote?”
“Because I don’t want to give anyone brain damage.”
Talula stopped mid-stride. “What do you mean brain damage?”
“Keep up, and I’ll tell you.” Simon accelerated into a speedy trot. “What do you know about your mother’s mind magic in these situations?”
Talula thought back. “Mom kind of…tweaked people’s mood. She said it was like catching them at the perfect moment, putting them in the best mindset to have a conversation. But that’s not brain-damaging, is it?”
“No. It’s a very subtle and complex enchantment that can leave residue in the mind. If I disturb what’s there…” Simon shook his head. “Not worth the risk. We must do this the old-fashioned way.”
Talula nodded, reassured. Even though the stakes were higher now that Sara wasn’t here, in her gut, Talula knew this was the right way to handle the town meeting.
She had known it all along. It would be difficult to pull off, and Talula was terrified of failing.
But maybe, if they played this right, Sara wouldn’t have to bewitch anyone in Pine Hollow ever again.
That thought buoyed Talula as she unlocked the café.
A few minutes later, the little bell above the door rang abruptly as Dahlia burst in.
Judging by her sweat-streaked hair and matching purple sports bra and workout pants, Dahlia had been jogging when she got Talula’s message.
A very noticeable stretch of torso pulled Talula’s eyes downward, skimming over Dahlia’s ribs, stomach, and the iridescent gemstone winking from her belly button.
Hecate, Bast, and Azarizad. Talula gulped, forcing her eyes up to Dahlia’s face. I’m in trouble.
“I’m so sorry about your mom’s delays!” Dahlia dumped a backpack on the floor and plopped herself by Talula on the café’s couch. “Do you know when she might be back?”
“Definitely not in time for the town hall.” Talula sunk into the couch cushions, not making eye contact with Dahlia.
When she sent the text to Dahlia, she’d said her mom had significant travel delays (technically true) and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days (hopefully).
Talula didn’t know how many more not-quite truths she could stomach.
“It’ll be okay.” Talula tried to sound calm, giving Dahlia one of her barista smiles.
“Yes, it will be.” Dahlia laid a hand on Talula’s cheek. “But it’s also okay to feel overwhelmed.”
The tenderness of the gesture broke Talula open. Suddenly, her bone-deep fear for her mother, her worry about Samhain, her ever-present self-doubt, and the shame of her lies to Dahlia were a cacophonous roar in her head and heart. Talula took a slow, deep breath as tears slipped down her face.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Dahlia pulled Talula into a hug. Which, somehow, only made Talula cry harder.
She wanted her mother—and every hunted magical creature—to be home safe.
She wanted the town not to be turning against her.
She wanted to tell Dahlia the truth about everything—the magic, the Blue Moon, how Talula was falling for her like a penny dropped from the endless cliffs of infinity.
She wanted to be good enough—as a sorceress, as a daughter, as a person—to make everything okay.
But she could only wait out her tears as Dahlia made soothing noises and held her tight.
Talula didn’t feel like she deserved the comfort Dahlia was offering, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so vulnerable and yet so cherished.
Eventually Dahlia’s soft words, the feel of her sweat-flecked skin, her warmth, helped bring Talula back to herself.
“We don’t have to work on the town hall stuff right now,” Dahlia said, after Talula’s breaths became more even. “We can just take a minute so you can feel your feelings and eat brownies.”
Talula chuckled weakly, her heart lightening.
Suddenly, she could picture it. Nights on Dahlia’s couch, curled up in her arms when she needed comforting; Dahlia kissing brownie crumbs from her face.
Then she saw herself tucking a big fluffy blanket around Dahlia, handing her a steaming cup of cocoa, and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead.
How natural it would be, to care for each other when things were hard.
I want that, Talula realized, aching. She wanted Dahlia nearby when things were hard and when things were good.
And she wanted to be there for Dahlia in kind.
Despite all the things she wasn’t sure about—her Magical Destiny, her dreams for the future—amongst all this mess, she had at least gleaned one true thing about herself.
But right now, there was work to be done.
Reluctantly, she pulled away from Dahlia, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you. But I’m ready to save Samhain.”
“That’s the spirit. Let’s start with— Oh my god, breakfast,” Dahlia gasped, finally noticing the coffee table laden with fruit, pastries, and breakfast sandwiches. Steam floated dreamily from the largest teapot Talula could find.
“Cocoa?” Dahlia lifted the teapot lid and took an eager sniff. Then she thrust her nose into her elbow to sneeze eight times.
“The spiciest chai I could brew.” Talula grinned.
“I love the way you think.” Dahlia kissed Talula’s cheek. There it was again, that sense of deep warmth and cherishing, just from the press of Dahlia’s lips. Talula stared at her with a dopey smile before remembering to pour the tea.
(Simon, watching from his sunbeam on the rug, gave an affectionate sort of hrmph.)
Meanwhile, Dahlia cracked open her laptop. “To be honest, I never stopped prepping for the town hall. I have a slideshow deck. And data. And profit records from the town’s archives.”
Talula’s jaw dropped. “When did you have time to do this?”
Dahlia shrugged. “The Magic Box stuff only took a day. I had extra time to help out here, too, just in case.”
“You’ve done so much, too much.” Talula caught herself as Dahlia seemed to wilt.
She rushed to clarify. “You’re not too much!
You’re perfect in every conceivable way.
You’ve just gone above and beyond. I don’t know how to thank you for giving up all of your time for my Samhain crusade.
Plus, there’s the…” Talula pinked. “Plus the…”
“The horny sapphic elephant in the room?” Dahlia laughed.
Talula shook her head with a smile. “Exactly.”
“Well, the latter is my pleasure, as you know.” Dahlia reached up to adjust her ponytail, elongating her torso (Talula forcibly kept her eyes glued on Dahlia’s face). “And I haven’t spent all of my time on Samhain. I was going to tell you this later, but I’ve been working on a new book idea.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about what you said during your apology brunch. It’s something that’s real to me.”
“A superhero story about a woman saving a beloved pagan holiday?” Talula bumped her knee against Dahlia’s.
Because she could, she let it lie there, and that was almost as hot as their make-out session.
Well, not really, but for where they stood right now, thigh-to-thigh contact was still making Talula’s breath come a little faster.
“Actually, I don’t want to tell you what it’s about. Yet.” Dahlia looked down at her bright blue jogging shoes. “I’ve thrown a lot of ideas at you, but this one feels different. I want to get more of it on the page before you read it.”
“What, you want to impress me?” Talula teased.
“Let’s just say your opinion matters. A lot.” Dahlia smiled sheepishly before turning back to her laptop. “But right now, let’s kick some town hall ass.”
The more Dahlia showed Talula, the more impressed she was—with Dahlia and Samhain.
“Samhain is the highest-yielding source of tourism profits?” Talula stared at Dahlia’s colorful graph.
“I know, right? Nearly every business in town benefits from Samhain. Even library donations go up.”
“The library always does a scary story hour at the festival. The librarians really get into it.” Talula pulled out her phone to show Dahlia pictures of all the librarians dressed as different literary witches. “Muriel does a great cackle. It gave me nightmares as a kid.”
“So cute! We should add that picture to this slide. It’ll look good when you get to the local nonprofit support section.”
Talula swiveled to face Dahlia, confused. “When I get to the local nonprofit support section?”
“What?” Dahlia’s brows puckered. “Do you think we should do the nonprofit section before the small business benefits section? Because, respectfully, we should talk about personal gain before the nonprofit stuff. People are greedy monsters, and capitalism rules our lives.”
Talula ran a hand through her hair. “I thought you were going to do the presentation.”
“Me?” Dahlia blinked, completely taken aback. “This is your town! The people don’t know me. They know you.”
“That’s the problem,” Talula insisted. “I’m Satan’s daughter to them.”
“Not to everyone,” Dahlia reminded her. “You have more friends than you think.”
“I got spat on two days ago.” Talula rubbed her cheek, as if ghost saliva still lingered. “I don’t do so well with confrontation.”
Talula told Dahlia about her shouting match with Mrs. Bochart at the market (the one that didn’t involve stolen butter).
Dahlia closed her laptop. “Why do you think you got so mad?”
Talula flopped on the sofa. “Because it sucks that they’ve decided to put this festival in the same category as serial killers and people who text in movie theaters.”
“Why does that suck?” Dahlia asked.