Chapter 35
The first thing Talula noticed was the state of her mouth. It was dry and sour and tasted like something had died in it.
The second was the walls of her bedroom—the house had turned them a stunning morning-glory blue.
The third was that Talula’s bedroom was not empty. It was packed.
Elegba paced by her window. Anna snuggled in Emilio’s lap on an ottoman.
Mrs. Bochart snored in the window seat. Kiki had folded themself into a spare chair.
Even Luis, the fire chief, was reading the paper on top of a kitchen stool.
Simon was on her bed, over Talula’s ankles.
Then she caught a whiff of pomegranate and shea butter on her left.
Talula turned her head. Dahlia was perched on her nightstand, scribbling in a notebook.
She had bags under her eyes, and her hair looked a good deal past its prime wash day.
She was the best thing Talula had ever seen.
“Hi,” Talula said, her voice a wisp.
Dahlia dropped her notebook and screamed, “She’s awake!” before throwing herself into the crook of Talula’s neck. Dahlia sobbed with abandon. Talula felt hands on her shoulders, her knees, her toes.
“Your mother will tan my hide when she comes back; I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid!” Mrs. Bochart scolded.
“Tan your hide? She’s going to turn me into a toy for spoiled mortal children!” Simon whined. He snuggled up to Talula’s free shoulder to mutter, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
“This whole thing was far too dramatic, even for me.” Kiki rolled their eyes.
“I’m so mad at you for saving me!” Dahlia wailed.
“She saved everyone,” Anna said.
“Give the hero some breathing room.” Elegba chuckled.
“What—” Talula coughed on her rusty voice. Dahlia offered her a glass of water, and she sipped gratefully. “What happened? What day is it?”
“It’s Monday,” Elegba said.
“You’ve been out for a few days,” Anna explained. “We’ve all been taking shifts to keep an eye on you. But good news! You saved the town, and everyone got out of the fairgrounds thanks to our fire alarm.”
Talula could have melted with relief. Before Damien arrived at the café, Talula had decided that telling a few trusted people the truth was better than letting the whole town explode.
So she’d sent a message to a group chat with Emilio, Anna, and Dahlia.
The message explained that Talula was a sorceress and needed them to create a false fire alarm to evacuate the town and save them all from evildoers.
“If I’d gotten that text from anyone else, I would have thought it was a Halloween prank.” Emilio shook his head. “But then Simon started bossing us around, and I thought, ‘Yup, that tracks.’ ”
Simon covered his face with a bashful paw.
“We had to loop in Luis, though, because…well, we had to do a tiny bit of arson to make the fire alarm convincing.” Anna gave a sardonic smile to the retired fire chief. “Safe, supervised arson.”
“I always suspected the Blue Moon was a little more than it seemed.” Luis shrugged. “Muriel suspects, too, by the way.”
“That librarian is a busybody,” Mrs. Bochart grumbled.
“Bad news, sweetie.” Anna squeezed Talula’s hand. “Turns out we did need the fire alarm.”
“What happened? Did anyone get hurt?” Talula tried to sit up but couldn’t quite manage it until Dahlia gently hoisted her up.
“Everyone’s fine. But you broke all the protections on an ancient well of raw magical power. There were consequences.” Simon looked down. “The Blue Moon didn’t make it.”
“How bad is it?” Talula croaked. Dahlia pulled out her phone and showed an image to Talula.
Only a pile of rubble and bricks remained where the Blue Moon had once stood in all its strange, wonderful, loving glory. Talula felt a sob catch in her throat.
“We found you half-buried in the detritus,” Kiki said quietly. “Dahlia told us what happened in the Volta. You should have died.”
“You almost did!” Simon raged. “Next time when you try not to die, try harder.”
Elegba flicked Simon’s ear impatiently, then said to Talula, “I don’t understand how you weren’t consumed like a feather in a firestorm.”
Talula took an unsteady breath. “I was.”
“Then how did you survive?” Dahlia asked.
Talula looked within herself. Her magical core still had all the colors she’d seen before, but they flickered with a familiar cerulean. Talula summoned her magic. Her limbs scintillated with sparkling blue power. She raised her fingers, watching as the light danced around her knuckles.
“You…merged with the Volta.” Simon looked awestruck.
“Ah, that explains it.” Emilio nodded. Talula raised an eyebrow. He elaborated, “For a while, you were doing this cool blue fiery glowing thing.”
“The Volta tore me apart,” Talula whispered. “But I talked to something, someone, and then…”
They all watched the dancing flickers of magic playing along Talula’s skin.
“What about the people who used the Volta on Samhain?” Talula asked, letting the magic subside.
“They’re safe and sound,” Simon said.
“What did you do with the hunters?”
“They’re being dealt with by the Council. Thanks to some very terrified blabbermouth hunters, we’ve dismantled the entire organization. Orion Hunts is no more,” Elegba said. “I found Damien in a void between worlds. But whatever you did to him, I can’t undo.”
The orisha looked positively giddy.
“Good,” Kiki and Dahlia said at the same time.
“I don’t think unhexing him is a priority right now,” Simon said lightly. “In fact, it might not be a priority for, oh, say, the next millennium?”
“At least,” Kiki agreed, their eyes flame-bright.
“What about my mom?” Talula asked.
“Still off the grid, but another bird said she’ll be home soon,” Dahlia said, stroking Talula’s hair.
“Great. I’ll have time to fake my death and start a new life,” Mrs. Bochart grumbled. Laughter filled the room.
Talula looked around at the people in her home. They’d all saved her, saved one another. Tears of gratitude trickled down her face.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you all.”
“That’s enough of that! You don’t have the energy for this mushy stuff.” Simon grabbed a chunk of blanket with his teeth and dragged it up to her chin. “Rest, you magnificent twit.”
“There’s just one more thing.” Dahlia stared into Talula’s eyes seriously.
“What?”
Dahlia leaned down, capturing Talula’s mouth and kissing her deeply, voraciously. If Talula hadn’t already been lying down, she’d have fallen over. Finally, Dahlia moved away and let her face hover an inch above Talula’s.
“I love you,” Dahlia said. “I love you so fucking much. But if you pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you and taking your cocoa recipe with me. Got it?”
“I love you, too, and you can have it!” Laughing, Talula pulled Dahlia down for another kiss. They were interrupted by the boom of a magically busted-open door reverberating through the house.
“Talula, my sweet girl, are you here?” came a voice from downstairs.
Talula felt a fresh sob rise in her throat. “Mom!”
Sara flew—literally flew—through the bedroom door.
The sorceress was disheveled, her hair tangled under its usual veil, the lines around her eyes more pronounced than they’d ever been.
She hovered to a stop, taking in the scene around her, mortal neighbors and magical allies crowded around her daughter attentively.
“Oh.” Sara floated daintily toward the ground. “Hello. Everyone.”
“Hi, Sara.” Mrs. Bochart smoothed her hair awkwardly. The baker’s ears turned pink.
Sara came to Talula’s bedside, hugged her around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head a dozen times. “Looks like I missed quite a bit.”
“You have no idea,” Simon groaned. More sincerely, he added, “But you should be very proud of your daughter. For her sorcery and her humanity.”
Talula felt those words tattoo themselves onto her heart. She gave Simon a grateful smile. Then she looked over to see Dahlia, a little ways away, leaning against the wall like she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to swallow her or not.
“Mom, before we catch you up on everything, there’s just one thing I need to do.” Talula looked up at her mother, joy plain on her face. “There’s someone special I want you to meet.”
Talula reached for Dahlia.
Days after, when Talula could finally get out of bed without (much) help, she shooed Simon away and ambled down to the kitchen.
Winded, Talula took a break, leaning against the doorway.
She smiled at the sight. The countertops were full of books and scrolls, ingredients and half-cooked elixirs.
Amidst it all was Sara, flitting around from page to potion and back again, muttering spellwork under her breath.
It was so familiar, so wrapped in the comfort of her childhood memories. But it was time to make new ones.
Talula eased herself into the sole open chair. “Hey, Mom. Can we talk?”
“My love!” Sara whirled and rushed over to Talula, fussing immediately. “Why didn’t you call me to help? You’re still healing, you need to be gentle with yourself. Can I make you some tea? Or a soothing unguent?”
Talula nodded to the nearby almost-empty chair. “You can sit and talk with me.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Sara swept up the magical doodads and scooted close to her daughter.
“What shall we talk about? Your burgeoning Volta powers? How the Council is currently deciding how many medals to give you? What new title you should go by? I like ‘The Cerulean Paladin.’ That uppity wizard on the Council suggested ‘Assistant to the Magical Portal Manager,’ which I vetoed. It’s diminutive, frankly, and does not encompass even a tenth of your extraordinary feats. ”
Talula hesitated. She looked into her mother’s face, the ageless beauty, the depthless love for her only daughter. She took a breath. “Do I have to have a Magical Destiny?”
Sara blinked, her face’s beatific serenity slipping. “What?”
“I mean…” Talula chewed her lip. “Growing up, it seemed like a foregone conclusion. That I would take over the Blue Moon and the Volta and follow in your footsteps.”