“Does someone want to explain this to me?” Terry asked.
“It’s snowing,” Clove replied.
“I know it’s snowing, Clove,” Terry said. “It’s snowing all over town. Do you want to know the interesting thing, though? It’s only snowing here in our town. The other towns around us are still dry. What do you make of that?”
Clove shot Terry an impish grin and shrugged. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“I’ll bet,” Terry said, turning his attention to me. “Is this part of saving Christmas?”
“It’s a step in the right direction,” I replied, refusing to let his stern face dampen my fun.
“You can’t just … make it snow,” Terry said. He was aware of our witchy gifts, even though he pretended to be in the dark. He couldn’t explain them so he opted to ignore them. “People are going to talk. This could make national headlines, Mrs. Winchester.”
“So what?”
“So … what will people say?”
“If you’re worried they’re going to scream ‘witch’ and try to burn me at the stake, don’t,” I said. “No one can prove anything.”
“You did do this, though, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Like Clove said, it’s a Christmas miracle.”
“It’s the best miracle ever,” Bay said, beaming as she appeared at Terry’s side. “Now all we need is a puppy.”
“You’re not getting a puppy.”
Bay ignored my pronouncement, instead dumping a handful of snow down the front of Terry’s coat. For a moment I worried he was too flummoxed by the snow to handle a little girl’s happiness. I should never underestimate him.
“You’d better start running now,” Terry warned. “Your mothers and I are going to challenge you little ones and Aunt Tillie to a snowball fight. You’d better start building your fort now or I’m going to crush you.”
Bay giggled. “What do we get if we win?”
“What do you want?”
“A second serving of chocolate cake.”
Winnie sighed. “Fine. If you guys win, we’ll finish off the cake. We can bake another one tomorrow.”
Bay squealed, delighted. “I think Christmas is going to be saved after all.”
“I’ve been telling you that for two days! When will anyone in this family start believing me?”
“I’ll believe you if we win the snowball fight,” Bay said.
“Of course we’re going to win the snowball fight,” I replied. “If you think I’m letting someone else eat my cake, you’re crazy. Come on, girls. It’s time to prepare for war.” I stopped in front of Terry before joining the girls on the side of the house. “May the Goddess have mercy on your poor soul.”
“Bring it on,” Terry said, smiling despite himself. “Christmas is coming early and you’re going down for a change.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Seven
“How did you get stuck with us two days in a row?” Thistle asked, watching as I mixed herbs in a bowl the next afternoon. “I thought you would be everyone’s favorite person after the snow thing.”
Funny. I thought so, too. “Maybe I volunteered to take you,” I suggested. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Nope.”
That kid is too smart for her own good. “Your mothers have a few things to do,” I said. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. They’re running out of time.”
“Are they off getting our puppy?” Bay asked.
“I’m going to cast a spell and make you allergic to dogs if I hear about that puppy one more time,” I threatened. “How does that sound?”
“Can’t you just make us allergic to you?” Thistle asked. “I think we’d all be happy then.”
I stopped mixing long enough to stare her down. “Thistle, in a few years you’re going to be one of the all-time greatest snot-nosed teenagers to ever walk the face of the Earth,” I said. “When that happens, I’m going to laugh at your mother because she earned all the trouble you’re going to bestow upon her, and then I’m going to move to another house. Does that make you happy?”
“Geez, I was just joking,” Thistle said, rolling her eyes. “There’s no need to blow a basket.”
“Gasket,” Bay automatically corrected as she came into the kitchen.
Thistle made a face. “What’s a gasket? How do you blow one?”
That was a pretty good question.
“How do you blow a basket?” Bay shot back.
That was an even better question. “You two need to stop squabbling,” I ordered. “Santa doesn’t like fresh-mouthed little girls.”
“You like us, though, and you’re better than Santa,” Clove said, her eyes sparkling.
I leaned down so we were eye to eye. “I think you’re even more manipulative than your two cousins put together,” I said. “At least they’re upfront about what they do. You sneak in behind them and wreak havoc when you think no one is looking.”
Clove blanched. “I do not.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” I pointed out. “The three of you all have special gifts. You’re all different, but when you work together the sky is the limit on what you can accomplish. I can’t wait until you’re teenagers and you decide to work as a unit against your mothers.”
“Why?” Bay asked.
“Because when your mothers were teenagers they made my hair go gray,” I replied, pointing to my mostly ashy hair. It was once dark and lush like Marnie and Clove’s, but time caught up with it years ago and I don’t have the energy to dye it. “My hair used to look just like Clove’s. Your mothers turned it this way.”
“How did they do that?”
“By doing the things you guys are going to do in a few years,” I said, measuring some hemlock and dumping it into the bowl.
“I can’t wait to be a teenager,” Thistle said. “That means we’ll get to stay out as late as we want.”
“And no naps,” Bay added.
“And we’ll get to date boys,” Clove said, giggling.
I fixed her with a dubious look. “You’re going to be boy crazy. I can already tell.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Your mother was boy crazy, too,” I answered. “In fact, all of your mothers were boy crazy when they were younger.”
“Now they’re just crazy about one boy,” Bay said. “Officer Terry makes them all go bonkers.”
I studied her for a moment, worried she was building up some great romance in her head. For a girl who wants a father, Terry is an awfully appealing figure. “Your mothers like to compete for Terry’s affection because they always want to win,” I explained. “I taught them that. What they do when Terry is around is more about them than him. You understand that, right?”
“I’m not sure,” Bay admitted. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t like Officer Terry?”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “In fact, the more you like him, the better. If you’re ever in trouble, Bay, don’t hesitate to go to him. He’ll move heaven and earth to keep you safe and protected.”
“So … what are you saying?”
“Terry is not your father,” I said, opting for bluntness. “You have a father. You all have fathers. Terry is not going to swoop in and fill that hole in your hearts. I don’t want you to think he is, because that’s not a reasonable assumption.”
“I know he’s not my dad,” Bay said. “I … he’s fun, though. He always makes me laugh.”
“I have a feeling Terry will always be there for you, Bay,” I said. “Don’t worry about that.”
“That’s good,” Thistle said. “As long as he’s in charge of the police we know we’ll never be arrested. We can make him do what we want if we cry.”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. Seriously, it’s like looking in a mirror sometimes when I watch that kid. “I’m all for manipulating people to get what you want,” I said. “What you need to remember is that if you do it too often, it will come back to bite you.”
“What will?”
“Karma.”
“That’s what you were talking to Lila about,” Bay said. “When is karma going to get her?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as I can free up some time in my schedule,” I said, mixing the rest of the herbs together and sealing the concoction into a large baggie. “Okay, we’re ready. Everyone, get your coats, and don’t forget your hats and mittens. I do not want any of you getting sick.”
“Because it will ruin Christmas for us?” Clove asked.
“Because I’ll get yelled at by your mothers,” I shot back. “Everyone, move your butts and head for the car. We’ve got a Christmas to finish saving.”
“I DON’T understand what you’re doing,” Bay said, watching as I sprinkled my spell ingredients on Bernard’s front porch. “Are you trying to make him come back here or are we going to go to him?”
Sometimes the way Bay’s mind works is astonishing. I never considered trying to make Bernard come to us. That would’ve have been much easier to do. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll try to make him come to us,” I replied. “Right now, we’re trying to find out where he is.”
“What if he’s dead in a ditch?” Thistle asked.
“Why does your mind always go there? Is there a reason you’re so morbid?”
“HBO.”
I should have seen that coming. “Well, I’m going to make sure you don’t watch HBO again,” I threatened. “Not everyone who wanders away ends up dead in a ditch.”
“Do some of them?” Clove asked.
“Only flaming asshats,” I replied. “Okay, step back.”
The girls did as instructed, keenly watching me. Magic is the one realm in which they opt for safety and never put up a fight when I order them to do something.
I pressed my hands together, muttered a short incantation – mostly because I didn’t want prying ears to pick it up and repeat it in front of their mothers – and smiled as the ingredients flared to life and formed a magical blue line.
The line led away from Bernard’s house.
“Are we going to follow the line?” Thistle asked.
I nodded.
“Will it lead us to Mr. Hill?”
“It should,” I said. I didn’t add that I hoped the line would lead us to Bernard still living and breathing. If it led us to a body, Christmas was officially going to be ruined – in more ways than one.
“Should we walk the line or drive?” Bay asked, her mind always hopping to the next task that needed to be solved. I’ve never been organized enough to think like that. She is going to make an interesting adult.
“We’re going to drive,” I said. “There’s snow on the sidewalks and that will make walking hard.”
“Thanks to you,” Thistle said, grinning.
I returned the smile. “Also, I don’t feel like walking,” I said. “If Bernard isn’t nearby we’re going to have to walk back and get the car and … well … nobody wants that.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Bay said, racing toward my car. “The faster we find Mr. Hill, the faster we save Christmas.”
“And get our puppy,” Clove said.
I flicked her ear, causing her to grab it and yelp. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not getting a puppy?”
“Just because you don’t like dogs doesn’t mean we don’t like dogs.”
“I never said I didn’t like dogs,” I argued. “I said our house already has too many people and you guys are too young to care for a dog.”
“You don’t know that,” Thistle protested. “We would be excellent pet owners.”
“You’ll never know unless you let us prove ourselves to you,” Clove added.
She had a point. Still, I didn’t want a dog. “You’re going to have to get used to the fact that you are not getting a dog for Christmas.”
“Bah humbug,” Thistle muttered.
“And don’t you forget it.”
“WELL, he came downtown after he left his house,” I said, wrinkling my nose as I studied the path. Luckily for us, only witches could see the magical line. Downtown bustled with activity, and explaining a glowing trail that popped up out of nowhere wasn’t something I looked forward to tackling.
“What was he doing?” Clove asked.
“Do I look omnipotent?”
“I have no idea what that means, but some people think you look like a hobbit,” Clove replied, not missing a beat.
I scowled. “You really are turning into a pain like your cousins.”
“Thank you.”
After parking my car behind the library, I led the girls downtown so I could study the spell. People waved as they passed, ridiculous smiles on their faces as they wished me “merry Christmas” and “happy holidays.” It would be easier if they bought a clue and didn’t’ talk to me.
“The trail leads out of town,” Bay said. “That means he ran away and isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, right?”
“Probably,” I conceded. “We don’t technically know that he ran away, though. Maybe he had a family emergency or something.”
“Just because he ran away out of town, that doesn’t mean he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere,” Thistle said.
“Stop with the ditch!”
The face Thistle made was comical enough to make me smirk. The girl has star quality sometimes.
“Wherever Bernard is, he’s not here,” I said.
“Are we going to go after him?” Bay asked.
I knew what she was really asking. She wanted to know if laziness would stop me from keeping my promise. “We’re going to follow the trail for as long as we can,” I hedged. “If it goes too far, though … .”
“We have to turn around because our moms will have a fit and you’ll be in big trouble,” Bay finished. “I get it.”
“Bay, I’m doing the best I can,” I said. “I … .”
“Uh-oh.” Clove’s singsong warning drew my attention to the other side of the town square, where Poppy Stevens – Lila’s hand clasped tightly in hers as she dragged her along – was heading in my direction. She appeared to have something on her mind. The closer she got, I realized she appeared to still have something on her lip, too – and it was growing.
“Well, girls, today is your lucky day,” I said, straightening. “I think you’re going to get another Christmas present.”
“Are you going to make her strip naked and dance in the town square?” Thistle asked. “That’s what you promised.”
It was an interesting suggestion. Unfortunately, there were too many people hanging around for me to pull it off and slink away without anyone noticing. “We’re saving that one for the summer, when it’s warmer,” I replied. “We want to make her pay, but we don’t want to kill her with frostbite. That’s an important distinction.”
“Hurting bad,” Thistle said, her tone mocking.
“Revenge pretty,” Bay finished, giggling.
I was starting to like them more and more as their evil inclinations got a foothold. By the time Poppy stopped in front of me, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, I was ready for just about anything.
“Mrs. Winchester, it has come to my attention that you threatened my daughter the other day,” Poppy said, her face murderous. “I’m here to tell you that things like that won’t be tolerated.”
Lila was smug as she crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t nearly as adorable on her as it was on me.
“Really? What are you going to do to me if I threaten little Licorice again?”
“Her name is Lila,” Poppy snapped. “If you threaten her again I’ll report you to the police. How do you like that?”
“My word against a ten-year-old terror who has been suspended from school three different times for sticking gum in other kids’ hair? I’m fine with that.”
My response must have thrown Poppy, because it took her a few moments to collect herself. “Mrs. Winchester, I don’
t think you understand the gravity of this situation. My daughter has been plagued by nightmares – she actually thinks you’re going to curse her with a … beauty mark … above her lip – and I don’t think it’s funny to purposely scare children.”
“I didn’t threaten her with a beauty mark,” I shot back. “I threatened her with herpes … like you have.”
“From the mailman,” Thistle added.
“I do not have herpes,” Poppy hissed. “It’s a beauty mark.”
“Whatever,” I said. I don’t have time for this. “We need to be somewhere. Unless you want me to give you a … beauty mark … to match on your bottom lip, you’re going to want to get out of my face.”
“Oh, don’t be crass,” Poppy said. “We all know you’re all talk. You might have everyone in this town fooled into thinking you’re some powerful witch, but I know the truth. You’re nothing but a bitter old woman, and you’re teaching these little … hellions … to be just as obnoxious as you are.”
Well, that did it. You can call me a lot of things, but bitter isn’t one of them. Bitchy? Sure. Bitter? This woman is asking for it. And hellions? Okay, yeah, that fits. I didn’t hesitate, instead gathering a limited supply of power and flinging it in her direction. I didn’t have the ingredients necessary to handle the herpes threat, but I made a mental note to tackle that before bed. It isn’t going to be a merry Christmas in the Stevens household. I can practically guarantee that.
Poppy’s haughty countenance faltered when she felt something breezy whip past her nether regions. She frowned and glanced down, horrified to find a rip in the crotch of her pants and her over-sized cotton underwear on display.
“What the … ?”
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Lila asked, faux concern washing over her features. “I thought you were going to have Mrs. Winchester arrested. That’s what you told me. Do it.”
“Shut up, Lila,” Poppy snapped, dropping Lila’s hand and covering the spot where her thighs met. “I … what just happened here?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “Perhaps your ego got so big it ripped your pants.”
“These are brand new pants!”
“Maybe you’re fat,” Thistle suggested.
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