Have Yourself a Faerie Little Christmas

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Fortunately, Diane and Troy were back from their honeymoon, so they could help when he called. And Lanie would be there, so she could use her telekinesis in a pinch.

  "I'm turning into a dang administrator, telling everybody else what to do."

  Holly woke up and started her day, and Maurice returned to his body, sitting in front of the Wishing Ball. All his effort and discomfort was for Holly, and that made every sacrifice worthwhile.

  * * * *

  "So your final analysis is that there's hope, just because I can see and sense magic." Bethany settled back in the sofa in her father's living room. "But you haven't found a way to get past the block that my Fae blood and my guardian blood seem to be creating for each other."

  "Just because I haven't found a way yet doesn't mean there isn't a way. Right." Harry closed the Ether Lexicon with a snap and raised his hands, to give it that little toss that would send it back into the ether.

  "Could I?" she asked, catching his wrist and stopping him. She muffled a weary giggle when Harry gave her a confused look. Bethany loved his confused look. It was so innocent, so Poindexter-ish. When it lasted more than a heartbeat, he blushed delightfully, shifting through an entire rainbow until he got his temperature under control.

  "Sure." Harry held out the book to her. "Might work this time. You've spent enough time touching the pages."

  "And getting my fingers bitten." She wrinkled up her nose in distaste, making him laugh.

  "But not so bad, the last dozen times. It's finally used to you. And I think that's a good sign, too. Most people can't even see the Lexicon, much less touch it. It's getting used to you."

  "Let's test. And then let's go for a long walk and get some fresh air." And maybe I'll take you to the gazebo and trick you into kissing me under the mistletoe, she added, as she held her breath and waited for Harry to slide the Ether Lexicon onto her flattened palms.

  All that mistletoe woven into the roof of the gazebo, a literal ceiling of the leaves and berries, golden balls, tinsel, and weather-proof ribbons had to have some effect. Harry had explained the magical properties of mistletoe, how it opened the senses to other realms and sometimes persuaded stubborn dimensional slits to loosen up and be pliable for manipulation and travel. Bethany was just hoping that Harry would be more pliable to the romantic influence of mistletoe, and give her more than a quick kiss, like a shy little boy who didn't want to be teased by his bruiser pals on the tag football team. The last few times he had kissed her, she had felt increased tingles, like carbonation bubbles. But Harry never kissed her long enough for more than a hint.

  "Here we go," he muttered, and set the Lexicon onto her flattened palms, sliding his hands out from under it. "And we have suc--sorry," he sighed, as the book of Fae knowledge sizzled for a heartbeat, then vanished in a burst of psychedelic rainbow sparkles. "At least you had all the weight on your hands this time."

  "Yeah, there's that." Bethany managed a brave smile and popped off the sofa to go find her coat. She wasn't going to pout, and she wasn't going to let herself get depressed. That was progress, after all. The first time Harry had tried to let her hold the book, it had exploded into an angry, snarling red light-and-sound show when her hand was six inches away. At least it didn't snap closed anymore when she read over Harry's shoulder.

  Half an hour later, they had strolled down side streets to reach the gazebo in the center of town. Bethany sighed, content with the world--for now. Harry definitely had to like her, with all the effort he put into finding an answer for her. More than just like. She let her hope grow stronger with every day they spent in research and discussing possibilities with Maurice and Will and Phill. Harry was aiming for the golden ring--to make her a Changeling. And that had to mean he really did want eternity with her. Or at least the Fae equivalent of happily-ever-after.

  It depressed her a little that there were some things about the Fae life she probably wouldn't experience, like Need, which Phill had explained to her during a half hour when Harry and Will had gone to get pizza for them. There were a number of Fae facts of life that women hoping to join the ranks needed to know. Most of them seemed pretty positive, especially for someone in the entertainment industry. Not that Bethany really cared about her career. She would gladly chuck it all to spend the rest of her unnaturally lengthened life with Harry in the Fae realms.

  But the question was whether she had enough magic in her to be awakened, so she could become a Changeling. Would they reach a point in this search when Harry would have to throw his hands up in the air and give up?

  "What are you thinking?" Harry said, as they reached the gazebo. He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes widened, and Bethany muffled a giggle.

  So all these years growing up, she wasn't imagining it when she stepped into the gazebo and felt the shiver of power and possibilities in the air. He felt it, too.

  "I'm thinking... I wish it could be Christmas all the time, that we could freeze this moment, this season, with all the magic and possibilities and dreams and...there's just so much life and joy in the air at this time of the year. Even if it's dang freezing," she added, earning a chuckle from him.

  "There's enough magic gathered here right now to get a good start on that kind of wish," he said, glancing upward again at the green and gold and red and white ceiling.

  "Is it Fae rules, or Human rules, that you have to make the wish and seal it with a kiss?"

  "Ah..." Harry looked down at her, and blinked several times. "Huh?" When she giggled, he blushed a little, shifting from red to purple to blue, before it faded away. "Kind of dizzying. It's..." He frowned, just as he went semi-transparent from the top of his head down below his shoulders.

  Harry closed his eyes and held his breath, and a moment later became solid again.

  "It's messing with your anti-invisibility spell, isn't it?" Bethany didn't know whether to pity him or laugh. "We should probably get out of here." She licked her lips from pure nervousness, and was encouraged when Harry's eyes looked dazed again and he stared at her mouth. "But after I get my wish and kiss?"

  "Your wish is my command." Harry's voice ended on a rasp.

  To her delight, he put his arms around her, instead of just clasping her shoulders like he had the last few times they kissed. Bethany swore she could feel his heart racing against hers, through the thickness of their coats. She slid her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes as Harry bent his head down to her level. Just as she closed her eyes, he went entirely invisible. She ignored it.

  Buzzes and prickles and fizzing sensations washed over her, lifting her hair under her hat. Bethany ignored it for the wonderful dizzy, warm sensation of Harry kissing her, soft and sweet and deep. And counted the heartbeats as he kept his mouth pressed against hers.

  Three. Four. Five. His arms tightened enough she found it hard to breathe. Not that she was trying to breathe.

  Six. Seven. Eight. The fizzing, carbonated bubbles sensation faded, leaving a light feeling all over her skin as if a gentle breeze enclosed her, coming between her and her clothes. It was odd, pleasant, but just strong enough to make her aware of it. And it didn't fade.

  She kept her eyes closed, even when Harry's lips left hers and he lifted his head.

  "Bethany."

  That groan in his voice didn't sound good. She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her with growing dismay.

  "What?"

  "You're...invisible."

  "What?" She leaped out of his arms and turned around, looking down at herself.

  Or tried to.

  Her first thought was gratitude that it wasn't like some of those ridiculous Invisible Man movies, where the flesh was invisible but not the clothes--necessitating running around in the all-together to make effective use of said invisibility. Her clothes were invisible, too, and still on her body.

  Bethany kept turning around, trying to see something, some glimmer, trying to will herself into at least semi-visibility. She kept hoping it was just temporary, that
it was just an illusion, that she really was visible but some magic spell had gone wonky--as Phill had called it--and she just thought she was invisible.

  Then she saw the snow her constantly turning footsteps packed flat. She didn't think optical illusions would let her see what was under her feet so...clearly.

  "What happened?"

  "Well..." Harry reached out, brushed against her arm, caught hold of it, and felt down her arm until he got hold of her hand. He led her over to the bench outside the gazebo. "I'll need to do some research, but my theory is that between the wonkiness of my invisibility spell, and all that magic coming from the mistletoe overhead, and the fact that you do indeed have magic...my wonky spell transferred over to you."

  "Okay. Makes sense. I guess." Bethany supposed if it made sense, maybe she had picked up the basic rules of magic--which seemed to consist of what a beginner should not do, when starting to learn to use magic. "How do we get it off me, or un-wonk it, or whatever?"

  "I don't know yet. But look on the bright side." He brought her hand to his face and pressed it against his cheek. "I think your inborn magic just took the upper hand in the battle with the guardian talents."

  "Yeah, but is that a good thing?" she muttered.

  Saturday, December 22

  Jeri and Jon-Tom's wedding went off without a hitch. Maurice rode on Holly's shoulder and sniffled a few times, until he caught Angela watching him from the corner of her eye and shaking her head. Well, why shouldn't he be happy? He liked them. They were good people. And they had almost as much standing in their way as he and Holly faced. Barriers from their pasts, people using and hurting them, and distrust that should have kept them far apart.

  Jeri should have been the type of woman Jon-Tom despised, but she had bucked her heritage and training, and had chosen to be sweet and giving and simple at heart. She deserved her prince, and from everything Maurice had seen, Jon-Tom was a real prince. He was proud to have been part of Holly's decorating team, even if her waking mind had no idea what he had done. Every single decoration they talked about in her dreams came out, down to the final detail. Maurice had mentioned to Diane and Angela and Lanie what Holly had said about designing weddings on the side. All three had taken her aside at one time or another and given her encouragement and support. Of course, Holly had reacted as if the thought had never entered her conscious mind--which it hadn't, of course--but she loved the idea.

  The topper on everything was that Lanie's friend, Felicity, who had been engaged two years now, had finally set a date. She immediately turned to Holly to ask her to organize her wedding, and handed her a check. If that didn't urge Holly to take herself seriously and see that she could make good money doing something she loved, nothing could.

  "Yeah, kid," he whispered, "you and me, we're a great team, huh?"

  Just a few more days and he would have his day of being full-size and visible to the world. He would work hard to impress on Holly that they would indeed make a great team. Someday. When he could be in her life every day instead of four times a year.

  Had old Asmondius and the other members of the Fae Disciplinary Council planned on anything like this happening, when they sentence him to two years of reduced size and magic at Divine's Emporium? Maurice knew they were strict, but they weren't cruel. Well, most of them weren't. He could guess that they hoped something would happen to shake him up and make him act more responsibly, with more consideration for others' feelings.

  What would their reactions be when they found out he planned on staying in the Human realms? If he could figure out a way to make sure he and Holly could be together longer than the allotted Human years.

  Right now, he thought that if he had to sacrifice his magic, it might be worth it.

  Pastor Rocky said his final words, his big face nearly splitting with his delighted grin. Jon-Tom and Jeri went into a clinch that Maurice swore turned up the heat in the church about ten degrees, while all their friends clapped, laughed, and shouted approval. When they finally separated to walk down the aisle, Jon-Tom swept Jeri up in his arms and hurried out of the church amid more laughter.

  "I could do that. You think Holly would think that's romantic?" Maurice asked Angela, who sat next to Holly near the front of the church.

  I think anything you do to please Holly will be romantic, Angela responded in his mind.

  "Great wedding, huh?" Phill said, when she joined them after everyone had gone through the reception line and the guests had trooped down the hallway to the church's gymnasium, which Holly had decorated to look like a playground.

  The refreshments were picnic fare, and the guests, who had been warned to dress casually, sat on blankets on the floor or on benches or swings hung from the basketball backstops, or on the bleachers pulled out from the wall. Maurice thought it was great.

  "Taking notes?" Angela asked. She looked around. "Where's Will? I assume the two of you finally worked things out."

  "We're still working things out, but at least we know we want to be together. It's just all the big details, like assuring my family that I'm not dying and assuring his family he's not making a big mistake and... Well, there are some issues that sort of stood in our way all this time."

  Maurice felt sorry for Holly, who knew Will and Phill from their infrequent visits to Divine's, but didn't have the slightest idea--in her waking mind, anyway--of the forces trying to keep the two lifelong friends apart. At least they were able to do something, even if magical forces and interfering relatives tried to get in their way.

  The gymnasium was large, but the guests came close to straining the maximum capacity. Maurice wondered if they would use up all the oxygen before Jeri and Jon-Tom cut their cake.

  He had a good time flitting from group to group, eavesdropping and trying to get clues to what hopeful couples he should try to match up in the coming year. Playing Cupid--without the indignity of the diaper and tiny arrows, thanks very much--was kind of fun. He had some ideas for people to put together, even interfere a little with their lives. With Angela's approval and advice, of course. Maurice considered trying to give Lanie and her boss, Daniel, a good hard shove, but he suspected Lanie would recognize his hand in it and retaliate. In a funny, slightly uncomfortable or even embarrassing way, granted, but still retaliate.

  Maybe he could level the playing field by putting Daniel in a wheelchair and making him and Lanie spend some time literally seeing eye-to-eye? Maurice liked the idea. He was on his way to Angela to ask what she thought of it, when Jerry, Jon-tom's best man, got hold of the microphone and announced it was time to toss the bouquet and the garter.

  Later Maurice wasn't sure how it happened, but despite all his protests, Will got pushed to the front of the group of bachelors waiting to catch the garter. Jon-Tom shot it like a slingshot off two fingers. Everyone had their hands in the air, including a good dozen boys who couldn't have been in middle school yet, much less old enough to understand the significance and folklore associated with catching the garter. They were there because they loved Jeri, who volunteered at the schools and took them on adventure walks in the park, and they had heard whoever caught the garter got to kiss the bride.

  They were wrong, of course. But that didn't matter, because the garter sailed into Will's hands as if guided on a string. Maurice knew he was the most likely to be accused of that trick, but when he turned to Angela to protest his innocence, she had an interesting little smirk on her lips. She never even looked at him. So he kept quiet.

  Jerry next asked all the unmarried women to gather to catch the bouquet. Phill backed up toward the door in response.

  "If I did it, you have to do it," Will declared.

  "This is ridiculous. It's worse than the running of the bulls," she protested, laughing, while Will and Lanie's two brothers pushed and dragged her over to the huge group of hopeful women.

  "We can use all the help we can get," Will told her, as he gave her a final shove into the center of the group and made a strategic getaway before he was crushed
or trapped.

  "Even if it worked centuries ago, that doesn't mean..." Phill's laughter faded to a thoughtful look, then a scowl.

  Maurice followed her line of sight and zeroed in on several dozen young women who all looked at Will with the intensity of sharks following a trail of blood in water. Will stood there with the garter pushed up securely on his upper arm. Maurice gave Phill a mental high-five for realizing that all those women recognized Will as their hopeful kissing target in the next five minutes--and she was jealous.

  Phill had no reason to be jealous, but the other girls' interest was definitely good motivation for her to participate in the ritual. It might have lost its prognostication powers through the centuries because the other wedding rituals added to it diluted the process. Still, Maurice firmly believed the garter and bouquet tosses at weddings had some magical zing left in them.

  And Will was right. He and Phill could use all the help they could get.

  So Maurice held his breath and closed his eyes and wished and kept his magic firmly wrapped around himself so he couldn't be accused of interfering. Jeri turned her back on the crowd of women, swung the bouquet of daisies and ribbons up and down in front of her a few times, as if pumping up for speed, and let it fly over her shoulder.

  "Perfect," Angela murmured, as a roar went up from the guests. "You can open your eyes now, Maurice. Holly didn't catch it."

  "That wasn't what I was--" He gave up and opened his eyes. "Yes!" He leaped up three feet in the air without the help of his wings, when he saw Phill standing there, her mouth hanging open, clutching Jeri's bridal bouquet to her chest.

  A good dozen girls scampered away with tears in their eyes, but it looked like everyone else gathered around to laugh and pat her shoulder and congratulate her. That was part of the oldest magic: everyone had to wish the catcher well, not ill.