by N. M. Howell
“Cool,” I whispered.
After a few minutes of furious mixing and measuring, Mrs. Brody held out a vial of clear purple liquid.
“This should do the trick,” she said. She handed me the vial, and I ran over towards Jordan. I then stopped and turned and ran towards the couple instead, knowing full well that they needed it more than he did. It was a hard decision, but the right one.
“Just a drop will do, dear,” Mrs. Brody said.
I tilted the woman’s chin up and spilled a small amount of the liquid into her throat. Within seconds she was coughing frantically and rolled onto her side panting. I beamed up at Mrs. Brody who nodded and went to join the spirits watching us from the other side of the room.
I gave some of the antidote to the man, and he joined his partner in a fit of coughs. They were alive, which was the good part, but they didn’t look to be too healthy. And they would likely need some serious counseling, I imagined.
“Can any of you go call for help, now? There’s no reception here,” I asked. “I have a feeling the sheriff might need a hand when this is all said and done.”
Rory nodded. “I’ll drive down the road until we can get reception. Be back shortly.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jane said.
The two girls left the mill, and I heard the car drive away. With any luck, the local police would arrive and deal with the mess on their own.
When I was sure the couple would be alright, I ran towards Jordan and dumped some of the liquid down his throat.
He sputtered and coughed immediately, and looked up me and smiled when he finally caught his breath.
“Welcome back,” I said to him. He tried to say something, but couldn’t quite make out the words through his coughing.
I kissed his cheek and went to Brett next. Bailey was sitting next to him and held his hand as he regained consciousness. He looked confused at the fact that she had his hands in hers, but he just smiled up at her and let her hold him.
I then revived the sheriff and his officers, and after a few minutes, everyone was up and breathing normally.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked.
Nearly everyone looked confused and distraught, but at least they were alive. I gave Jordan a hug and helped pull him to his feet.
Sheriff Reese pushed himself up as well and ran over to the kid on the floor.
The teenager had rolled onto his back and was glaring up at the ceiling.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, kid,” the sheriff said angrily to him. “You’re not going to see the light of day some time.”
It didn’t take long for Jane and Rory to come back, followed by the flashing lights of two cop cars.
Three state police officers stormed in but stopped abruptly when they noticed the strange Christmassy scene in front of them.
“What’s going on here?” one particularly rough-looking officer demanded.
I walked up to them and began explaining the situation, everything from Jordan’s invitation, to the teenager who met the couple at the mill. I left out the bits about the ghosts and the magic, in case they weren’t familiar with that sort of thing. I needed them to believe us to be sane, and flaunting strange magic to non-magic people often ended poorly.
Fortunately, one of the officers stepped forward and looked up at the spreading mistletoe on a beam above him.
He grinned. “Magic?”
I nodded slowly, waiting for him to add more.
“It’s okay,” he said. “My brother’s wife is a witch. We’re familiar with that sort of thing. Deal with it a lot at work.”
I smiled. “Oh good, then I’ve got more to tell you.”
The three officers listened intently to my story, and Sheriff Reese chimed in when necessary. He seemed more than happy to pass off this case to someone else, and once we had finished explaining everything to the officers, they re-cuffed the kid with their own handcuffs and took him away.
We watched as the teenager was dragged from the mill, and I let out a deep breath I hadn’t notice I was holding.
“Kid’s a witch,” Sheriff Reese said to the officer with the witch sister-in-law. “Better get in some extra help in that regard, if you need it.”
The officer hung back and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Thanks for your hard work, sheriff. We’ll take it from here.”
“Oh wait,” I said. “You’ll want these. They belong to him.” I collected the newspaper clippings and things from the ground and placed them back in the bag and handed it to the officer. He smiled and nodded and turned to the couple who were standing quietly apart from the group.
“You two should come with me,” he said softly. “We’ll get you looked at. I’m sure we’ll have some questions for you, as well.”
Bernie and Jules nodded and followed the officer out the door.
We all stood in silence a moment, unsure what to do next. I glanced around the room at the spirits and the explosion of holiday spirit everywhere. Days like this didn’t happen to just anyone.
“Well, that’s that,” Jordan said as the outer doors shut. Rory held the inner door open so we wouldn’t get locked in again.
I shook my head. “What do we do about all the ghosts?” The spirits had gathered near the center of the room, watching us curiously. They no longer seemed scared, and a few had even struck up a conversation with Mrs. Brody.
When we had all collected our things and gotten ready to leave, two young-looking spirits approached me.
“Did Sarah and Peter find you?” the woman asked. “I used to work with Peter, and Sarah and I were friends from way back.”
I smiled at her and nodded. “Yes, they did. They’re the reason we came.”
The male spirit smiled back at me. “That’s fortunate. You guys saved those two people, today. Thank you.”
“I only wish we could have done more,” I answered. “What are you going to do now?”
The couple looked at each other and then back at me. “Can we come with you to see Sarah and Peter?”
I thought for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I’m not sure how you’ll get there. I’m afraid I don’t know too much about spirit travel.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.”
I told them our address and explained how to find the house, and they seemed content with that and left to rejoin the other spirits in the middle of the room.
I turned to Mrs. Brody who had wandered over to where I stood. “Can you reverse the spell he cast on this place?”
“Of course, I can, dear,” she answered. Mrs. Brody then scrunched up her face and muttered an incantation, and the walls of the mill wavered for a moment. I could feel a tension I hadn’t even noticed in the room disappear.
“You can all leave now,” Mrs. Brody called to the room. “Go find your peace, dears.”
The spirits were reluctant, but after the first couple passed through the door without any problem, the rest followed suit.
I had no idea where they were all going to do, but I imagined it would be a relief to finally be let out of the place where you had been killed. What a horrible thing to have happen, and to have to stay in the location of your murder after you die and witness more innocent people meet the same fate? I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
“Shall we go home?” I asked Mrs. Brody.
She nodded. “Yes, dear. Let’s go home.
We all piled into the cars we had come in, with the exception of Brett who insisted on driving his own car back. He seemed none too impressed that they had hijacked his car, although given the events of the evening he didn’t actually seem too angry about it. Bailey rode shotgun with Brett, and Mrs. Brody and Jane went with Rory.
Sheriff Reese and his officers took their car and the sheriff insisted I meet with him in the next few days to go over what had happened. For just then, though, he was content going home to some peace and quiet for a while.
I couldn’t think of anything I wanted m
ore.
I drove home with Jordan, and I held his hand most of the way. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how scared I was that he might have died. Oh, sure, the stupid holiday spirit helped keep my spirits up - pun intended - but deep down I knew how devastated I would have been if I had lost him.
He seemed to read my emotions without me having to say anything, though, and he just kept squeezing my hand as he drove us home.
We arrived back at the house about an hour later, and we all gathered around the fire in the living room to unwind from the craziness of the day.
Sarah and Peter were hanging around by the tree when we arrived, watching the cats play in front of the warmth from the fire. Momma’s new little kitten was beyond adorable, and it chased Agnes around in circles as we all watched.
“We found friends of yours,” I finally said to Sarah and Peter as everyone settled.
Sarah looked excitedly at me, but then her expression turned dark. “Oh. As ghosts, you mean?”
“Yes. I’m sorry,” I said. “But they said they would come by and see you.”
Sarah smiled. “Oh, that’s nice. Something to look forward to.”
Bailey, Rory, and Jane began singing Christmas carols again, and I snuggled into the couch next to Jordan, content just to listen in silence for a while. Brett sat on the other end of the couch, and Soot jumped up on his lap and curled up. He smiled and pet the cat, and I realized I would have revisit my opinion of him. Bailey kept looking over at him with big puppy-dog eyes, and I had a feeling we would be seeing quite a lot of Brett in the following weeks.
I supposed he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Everyone had bad days, right?
After about the third song the girls sang, curiosity got the better of me. “Mrs. Brody. What’s going to happen to the holiday spirit?”
She smirked but said nothing.
“No, really,” I insisted. “Will it just disappear?”
Mrs. Brody shook her head. “You can’t get rid of holiday spirit, dear. Spirit is contagious if you haven’t noticed.” She motioned around the room, and I saw how happy and joyful everyone looked.
“I suppose,” I said. “But what does that mean for the mill?”
Mrs. Brody considered a moment. “I imagine it will just keep getting stronger and growing.”
My mouth fell open. “Forever?”
Mrs. Brody shrugged. “Well, I should expect so, yes.”
I laughed and tried to imagine someone visiting the mill in the middle of summer, only to be met by Christmas carols, mistletoe, and the smell of fresh-baked Christmas cookies.
What a strange and wonderful world we lived in.
“I’m sorry you lost your spell,” I finally said.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear. It’s not gone. Look around us.”
I looked around the room and didn’t see anything at first. But after a moment I could faintly hear the sleigh bells and could feel my heart warm with the same strange feeling I had felt earlier.
“See? You can’t escape holiday spirit. It can only just grow and grow.”
A smirk spread across my face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. That woman had a knack for making the ordinary extraordinary.
We all relaxed for an hour or two, and eventually, everyone bid each other goodnight. Brett said his goodbyes, exchanged phone numbers with Bailey, and left to drive back to Boston. Mrs. Brody insisted he stay, but he was eager to leave. The events of the day would have been a lot to handle for him, I imagined.
Jordan decided to go home, too, so he could get some sleep and then go visit his parents first thing in the morning.
I walked him outside to say goodbye, away from prying eyes.
He took my hand and led be to the back of the house, where we had first really connected a few months before.
Snow had begun to fall again, and the Christmas lights on the lighthouse way out in the bay were reflecting across the water in beautiful shimmery bands of red and green.
I noticed the smell of baking cookies and laughed as I realized there was no escaping Mrs. Brody’s Christmas spirit.
“Do you know how to do any holiday normally?” Jordan asked me.
I shook my head. “Apparently not since moving here. I think next year I’ll just go to Mexico.”
Jordan laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
He squeezed my hands in his and I gazed into his ice blue eyes and finally felt a moment of the perfect peace and quiet I had hoped for over the holidays.
We both looked up as we noticed a bough of mistletoe spreading on the roof above us.
I looked back into Jordan’s eyes, and he kissed me.
“Merry Christmas, River.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my lips.
What a strange and awful yet glorious holiday this had been.
“Merry Christmas.”
* * *
End.
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About the Author
N.M. Howell is an author, publisher, and all-around nerd from the West Coast of Canada. She has an obsession with coffee, spicy food, and the rain, and she absolutely hates sleeves! (Seriously, they’re like little fabric prisons.) When not working on her latest book - or latest ten books, more realistically - she spends her time working on her Master’s Thesis and fighting with her micro-wolf pup over who gets the best spot on the couch. Hint: the dog usually wins.
To find N.M. Howell online:
@nikk0marie
nmhowellbooks
www.nmhowell.com
[email protected]
Also by N.M. Howell
Marked by Dragon’s Blood
Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen
Brimstone Bay Mysteries:
Murder Any Witch Way
Witch Way to Hallows’ Bay
Bewitch You a Merry Christmas
Witch Souls to Save