Chapter 30
Friday morning, the day before Samhain, Talula’s phone alarm beeped from Dahlia’s bedside table. She hit the snooze button, and with a sigh, tucked herself back around Dahlia. She’d give herself one snooze to cuddle and replay the last sixteen hours in her mind.
Dahlia wringing pleasure out of Talula against the wall in the hall entryway, before leading a dazed Talula up the stairs and onto her unmade bed.
Talula bracing her hands on Dahlia’s bucking hips, her tongue moving in long, slow strokes.
Dahlia whispering “beautiful, beautiful, beautiful” as her mouth skimmed down Talula’s bare breasts, ribs, the sweet softness of her stomach.
Talula teaching Dahlia how to say “kiss me” in all the languages she could think of. Then, putting it into practice.
Dahlia, naked under the sheets, calling the only pizza place in a twenty-mile radius that would deliver at one in the morning. She kept adding toppings to the order just to watch Talula dissolve into aghast laughter.
Talula, proclaiming it the worst and most expensive and most wonderful pizza she had ever eaten.
Dahlia drawing a bath that smelled like her and asking, “I clearly have no restraint, but can we be girlfriends? And tell people?” Talula, who also had no restraint, screaming, “YES!”
Talula, in a quiet moment, scribbling a message on one of Dahlia’s sticky notes and sending it magically to Simon’s bedroom—I chose my good-looking shepherd. Will be home in the morning.
Now Talula—sleep-deprived, hair matted, teeth aching from too much cake—felt bigger than her body could contain. Like she was a grand house with all the lights on, every window thrown joyously open to let its golden glow spill out.
With a ruthless beep, Talula’s phone alarm went off again. She dragged herself out of bed and began to dress.
“Where are you going?” Dahlia asked sleepily. She tried to swat the jeans out of Talula’s hands. “Stop that, no clothes! My house, my rules.”
There was a pillow crease imprinted on Dahlia’s cheek. Talula kissed the whole crooked line. “Samhain is tomorrow.”
“Will you go with me?”
“I don’t know, that’s moving awfully fast,” Talula teased.
“My god, I hope so,” Dahlia growled, using both hands to pull a laughing Talula back to bed.
A little while later, Talula grabbed her clothes from the floor (again).
“I have to go, beautiful,” Talula said to a much more awake Dahlia. “Samhains don’t set themselves up.”
“Fine.” Dahlia yawned. “Can I come by? Help out?”
“Of course!”
“You won’t get sick of me?” Dahlia asked lightly, but Talula knew better now.
“Never.” Talula twined her fingers with Dahlia’s. “I’ve wasted too much time not doing this sooner. Not being this with you sooner.”
“I know.” Dahlia smirked. “You really should’ve kissed me that day with the rabbit.”
Talula’s jaw dropped. “You knew?”
Dahlia’s eyes glittered mischievously. “I suspected.”
Talula laughed. “You’re so smart, it’s incredibly sexy.”
“Damn straight.”
“When will you be at the café?”
“Probably closer to lunch. It’s my wash day.” Dahlia fluffed her hair. “Plus, I actually have a thing.”
“What kind of thing?” Talula asked, looking around for her socks.
“I’ll tell you if you’ll be my Samhain date.
” Dahlia stretched her naked torso out amongst the rumpled sheets.
She wore only Kiki’s ring on a necklace and her belly button jewelry.
It was a sight so perfect that Talula would have agreed to chew off her own leg for another look (she told Dahlia as much).
Dahlia laughed. She sat up and took a nervous breath. “I’m talking to someone in publishing. Someone my dad knew. She wants to hear more about my book idea.”
Talula was so proud she could scream. “That’s amazing!”
“Yeah, well…” Dahlia tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, not looking at Talula. “I guess writing what I knew made more sense than I realized.”
“Do you want to practice your pitch with me? At the café?”
“Nah, it’s not a formal thing. She’s just a family friend who got back in touch, and I thought, why not see what she thinks?”
“You’re obviously going to crush it.” Talula kissed the top of Dahlia’s head. “Text me if you need anything.”
Dahlia turned her head, slipped a hand at the back of Talula’s neck, and pulled her down for a deeper kiss. When they loosened their grips from each other, Dahlia sighed and made half-hearted shooing motions. “Go before Simon explodes.”
Talula, exhausted and elated, left the house.
Talula’s step was so light on her walk home, she had to double-check several times that she wasn’t accidentally taking flight (a few times, she was).
But after the third time she had to ground herself, Talula caught a flicker of shadow in her peripheral vision.
She turned, trying to catch a better look.
But she saw nothing. She still had a long stretch of woods to walk before she was back home, but she only managed a few more steps before the shadow appeared out of the corner of her eye again.
She turned quickly, but there was only empty road. Chilled, Talula picked up her pace.
Then she heard a low whine.
Slowly, she turned. She frowned. Her shadow looked…odd. Like something unseen was casting a shadow right next to her heel. She watched it…wag at her?
Suddenly, that extra bit of shadow deepened, solidfying into the shape of a dog barely out of puppyhood, one of its pointy ears flopped over.
“Oh!” Talula said, surprised and a little nervous. “Hello?”
It looked up at her, and Talula shivered.
Its eyes were no color, just pools of swirling eternity.
Talula knew exactly what had been following her.
It had many names—deathdog, barghest, or, sometimes, hellhound.
These shadowy canines existed invisibly everywhere, only appearing to someone just before their death.
Talula’s lungs felt iced over, her breath caught in a terror-filled chill.
If she was seeing this creature now, did that mean she was going to… ?
But then the deathdog gave a small, pained cry. Talula spotted a bright red streak across the inky black of its neck.
“You’re hurt! I’m so sorry.” She knelt. “Can I help?”
The deathdog—deathpup?—limped toward her.
She scooped it up with care. The deathpup gave a little sigh and rested its head on her clavicle.
Talula could see the wound wasn’t deep. One of the Council’s magical vets could stitch it up, no problem.
Still, the hair on the back of Talula’s neck stood up.
Deathdogs had no natural predators. They were an aspect of death itself, after all.
Talula looked down at the pup. “What happened? Can you tell me?”
The deathpup looked past her and into the brambles. Together, they watched the wind run its fingers through the leaves, dry forest branches creaking. But no answer emerged. Talula shivered again, then turned and walked speedily home.
When Talula arrived at the house, arms full of deathpup, she called out, “Simon! We have a situation!”
“What, what happened?” Simon came skittering down the entry hall. He spotted the deathpup. “Oh! Oh my…”
The deathpup wagged his tail in a puppyish greeting.
Talula explained about their visitor as Simon listened with a wary eye on the deathpup. “We can take him to the Volta and send him to Dr. Hughes. She’s a fair hand with all sorts of magical veterinary emergencies, big and small.”
“But Simon, what could have hurt him?” She swallowed. “Do you think the hunters…?”
“Absolutely not.” Simon shook his head. “The entire town is under a shield. Elegba, as infuriating as he is, enforced the ward line himself and expanded the perimeter. No magic can be detected within its bounds. Even if the hunters had some sort of magic-finding device, it would be useless within a five-kilometer radius of Pine Hollow. This young pup likely got into a scuffle with an opossum. It happens.”
As if set off by the word “opossum,” the deathpup growled ominously.
Relief welled up in Talula. “So I shouldn’t be worried?”
“No, but should I be worried?” Simon looked her up and down. “About you and Dahlia?”
Talula grinned her biggest, goofiest grin, the glow of her morning with Dahlia lighting her up from the inside out.
The house noticed. Suddenly, the walls turned a gold-tinged shade of pink.
Rose petals descended from the ceiling, their romantic aroma suffusing the room.
Talula could swear she heard a harp playing.
“It’s going to be complicated,” Simon pointed out.
“She can handle it,” Talula said, watching petals spiral around them.
“I expect she can.” Simon nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “I expect you both can.”
The deathpup yipped excitedly and tried to bite a falling petal.
A smile tugged at Simon’s lips. “Come. Let’s get this little fellow home.”
The Volta seemed to coo over the tiny spectral dog, teasing it with blue-tinged tendrils.
With Talula’s guidance, it opened a portal to a somewhat chaotic-looking magical vet’s office.
After a quick kiss on the top of his furry head and a stern warning to stay away from opossums, Talula said goodbye to her latest four-legged friend.
It was time to review the Samhain checklist.
In the past, Sara would adjust the magical parameters of the Volta for Samhain’s visitors.
Magical beings would reserve a spot through an online system Talula had set up, arrive at their appointed time, grab one of Sara’s magical medallions, then go through the Volta.
Unlike refuge-seekers—who needed magical help divining their new locale from Sara or Talula—Samhain visitors would just have to think of where they wanted to go, and then ta-dah!
They’d arrive in a blink. The medallions would attach themselves to the visitor, transporting them back to the Blue Moon by midnight.
Sara had handled the magic stuff for Samhain.
All Talula had to do was guide visitors through the Employees Only doors. Until this year.