Spells and Jinglebells

by ReGina Welling

  Merry glanced out the window. Outside, there was a snowy clearing surrounded by a vast and endless forest. The sun worked to make its mark, but the world was too gray, too caught up in the depths of winter.

  Upstairs, there was another crash. This time, it was so loud that Merry dropped the fairy on the table and dashed to front door. As she turned the knob, she stopped herself. If there was someone in the house with her - or something - and it was bent on destroying the holiday as Aunt Dora said, she had to stop it. She raced back for the Oak Crown.

  She lunged for it, but there was another crash upstairs and the crown dropped to the floor, rolling under the table. By now, the stench was so strong that she thought she might get sick. She could almost hear the Click Click Click of claws on the roof!

  “Sorry, Auntie” Merry said, running full speed to the door, not bothering to close it behind her.

  Chapter Four

  The globe fizzled and the snow melted on the ground. Dora had lost the vision. She flicked the globe in frustration, trying to will it back alive, but it was no use.

  In the last image, Merry had lost the crown beneath the harvest table. Dora had crossed that path a handful of times already, but for good measure she returned to the dining room, pulling out chairs and looking more carefully. But the crown of oak leaves was still missing.

  “It can’t be far,” Dora said to herself. Unless…

  What had caused those crashing sounds, and the strange smell? The scent was mostly gone now, though there was a hint that lingered. Dora wouldn’t have noticed it had she not experienced it in the globe first. Now, it was just an annoyance, a restrained suggestion that something wasn’t quite right in Harvest Home.

  Dora returned to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of tea. After a few thoughtful sips, she refocused on the globe, her hands quivering with both fear and excitement. She was rusty from Sasha’s ‘Magick Moratorium’ over the last few years, but it was all coming back to her now.

  “Winter frost and jingle bells. Show me where the Oak Crown dwells.”

  Dora wriggled her fingers over the globe, then blew on the glass. As before, the snow swirled inside the glass sphere. When it settled, Dora was greeted by the image of her youngest niece, Eve. She was sitting at a work station covered in glass bottles, vials, silver bowls and candles. There was even a small black cauldron.

  It took Dora a moment to recognize Eve’s location. The attic. The life-sized, porcelain dolls that smiled in the background had been denizens of the upper floor longer than Dora had occupied this house. But why was Eve there?

  Dora relaxed her eyes, letting the tea and the magickal globe do their work once again.

  Eve sat at the small work table she had cobbled together in her aunt’s attic. It wasn’t much more than a slab of wood, a few bottles, and some spoons, but it was hers, a place where she could practice her spells and charms away from the critical eyes of her mother. Sasha didn’t set much stock in incantations that evoked beauty or even love, not when ’there were more pressing issues in the world.’ But Eve wondered, what could be more important than beauty or love? Even if she was too young to have a boyfriend, someday she might, and she’d need these essential skills to make sure they didn’t run off like her mother’s men all had.

  But love was for another day. Today, she was helping her beloved Aunt Dora prepare for the Solstice feast and the turning of winter.

  Eve lit several large candles and laid out the handwritten note her aunt had pressed into her hand. Aunt Dora had charged her with ‘dressing the candles.’ It was an easy task, in theory. She would anoint the red, gold, and silver candles with frankincense and myrrh oils, then roll them in cinnamon, ginger, peppermint, and a handful of other ingredients. This was to ensure health, wealth and posterity for the coming months.

  Eve inspected all the items filched from their mother’s business - Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe. It all glittered and glowed beneath the flickering candles, as enticing as Christmas candy. She blew into her hands and lifted a red candle from its waxed paper, then doused it in myrrh oil. The scent was bitter, and much more powerful than she had anticipated, and she quickly covered her nose. Was it supposed to be that strong?

  She attended to the other candles, coating them in frankincense and cedar oils, rolling them in dragon’s blood resin or crushed holly leaves. They smelled better, but their look wasn’t quite right.

  Eve worked on a dozen candles and none of them seemed fit to present to her aunt. Tossing them in a wastebasket beneath her table, she frowned as she noticed that her materials were growing thin. She looked over her shoulder at the solitary attic window, and realized the day was getting on. Soon it would be dark, and the last thing Eve wanted was to be alone in the attic with all the creepy dolls after dusk.

  With a dramatic sigh, Eve poured the remaining contents of her oils into a large silver bowl and stirred. The bitter aroma was enough to make her gag and take a step back. She knocked her chair over in her effort to get away. Still covering her nose, she threw the holly leaves, some mistletoe, and a handful of sage leaves into the bowl.

  “Frankincense. Myrrh and holly, too. Let’s put you all in, and see what you do. I’ll add some mistletoe for love. And sage to clear the air above.”

  The bowl hissed, then smoked! This couldn’t be good!

  “Uh-oh!” Eve said, as large, belching bubbles rose up to the surface. By now, the stench was so bad her eyes watered. She went to the small window and opened it, but there was no reprieve. The attic smelled like burning rubber, wet towels, and a cat that had been outdoors too long. She had to get out of here. In a hurry.

  She ran for the door, knocking over dolls on the way. She could only hope she was alone in the house, and her deed wouldn’t be discovered before she could get back and clean it up. If she were lucky, the smell would be gone before her aunt came home.

  As she scampered down the stairs, she wondered what she to do about the candles she still hadn’t properly dressed. She knew that Aunt Dora had some in a drawer in the dining room. If she grabbed a few of those, and begged for Merry’s help, she might be okay.

  Eve reached the landing and noticed that Merry’s scarf was on the floor. She dashed through the house, calling for her sister, hoping to enlist her help before Aunt Dora or their mother arrived. The front door was wide open but the house was empty. In the dining room, she noticed that the glue on the Yule Fairy’s wings were still wet.

  Eve spotted the Oak Crown beneath the long table. She picked it up and went to the window, to let air in before the smell coming down from the attic permeated the entire house.

  Outside, the air was frigid and the snow was falling hard. Eve would have closed the window again, smell or no smell, were it not for the strange form she saw back near the edge of the woods.

  She gripped the crown and peered through the snow. Sure enough, something was approaching from the woods! It was a furred creature with a bowed back, dragging a hurt leg through the snow. And were those horns on its head?

  It lumbered towards the house, its brown fur ruffling out around it its diminutive shape.

  Aunt Dora was right!

  Eve slammed the window shut, nearly catching her finger in the process. She ran for the front door, but as soon as her foot hit the porch, a strong gust of wind yanked the crown from her hand and sent it sailing.

  Towards the woods.

  Towards the creature!

  Eve stopped a moment, turning her head towards the forest, and then towards the path leading home.

  “Sorry, Auntie,” Eve said, following Merry’s fading footprints away from the house.

  Chapter Five

  Was Eve okay? Dora licked her index finger and held it to the air, moving it in the direction Eve had run. Yes, her niece was fine. She breathed a sigh of relief as she poured her third cup of tea.

  What of the crown? Dora wondered.

  And that creature in the yard…

  She wished she had gotten a closer l
ook, but the whole scene had passed too quickly. She couldn’t blame Eve for running. If she’d seen that thing in the woods, she’d probably have run, too.

  Once again, Dora wiggled her fingers above the globe.

  “We reap the seeds that we have sown. Show me where the crown was blown.”

  The crystal ball was slowly coaxed by Dora’s words, and the snow rose up once more, momentarily obscuring the image within. When the snowflakes settled, this time Dora was shown the image of the porch and open front door.

  She tapped on the thick rounded glass and pulled her fingers apart, stretching the image. Soon, the entire front side of Harvest Home came into view. The porch railing was decorated with a festive garland and the porch had a soft dusting of white powder. Dora spotted the crown, half buried in the snow not far from the doorway. She clapped her hands in gratitude. The crown hadn’t been lost after all! It was merely buried beneath the thickly falling snow. She was about to go dig it out, when she noticed something in the globe near the edge of the woods - a furry creature, hunched over and nursing a hurt leg, limping towards Harvest Home.

  Dora’s eyes widened with every step. Click. Click. Click. She could almost hear its fearsome claws. She tried to hurry the image, but the globe took its time. Dora held her breath as the creature approached. When she could finally make it out, she laughed so hard tears formed in the corners of her eyes. The furry creature with the hurt leg was no monster - it was her niece, Maggie! She was wearing one of her mother’s hooded fur coats, dragging a sled laden with kindling for the fireplace.

  “Yer a fool, Dora,” she said, wiping the corners of her eyes before returning to the scene. The image became clearer, and Dora watched as Maggie’s full body came into view. She pulled the sled along, stopping now and again to move a rock or kick a log. It was a long trek back from the woods, laden as she was, and Maggie’s face gleamed with the effort.

  Halfway across the field, Maggie spotted color in the stark white snow. Leaves peeked up at her from the ground, and for a moment Maggie wondered how something was still growing in such frigid ground. Then, she saw that it wasn’t a random plant at all, but her aunt’s Oak Crown!

  “What the…” Maggie’s eyebrows bunched as she picked it up. According to her aunt, this was an important artifact, necessary for restarting the wheel. So why was it out here? She ran the sled the rest of the way home, calling “Merry! Eve? Aunt Dora?” The front door was wide open, which was quite odd, but everything else seemed to be in place.

  She shed the fur just inside the doorway and dropped it to the ground, even though the coat rack was within arm’s reach. Then she took the kindling and the crown to the fireplace, tracking snow the entire way. She sat still a moment, and then let out a long breath. Though she wasn’t a fan of the old holidays in the way that her sisters were, she felt honored at having been asked to tend the Yule log. It had burned for twelve days straight now, and this was its final night. A piece would be saved to light next year’s fire, just as a little piece had been saved from last year to light this one.

  Maggie relaxed, her eyes drifting over the small flame as she tossed twigs and pine needles and evergreen boughs into the hearth, as well as some dried fruit. She loved the feel of the heat on her cheeks and inched closer. Looking around to confirm that she was alone, she concentrated on the flame, imagining it growing in her mind. She broadened it and lengthened it, until it was roaring. She wasn’t surprised that the flame responded, but she was surprised that it molded to her exact image. Maggie was a wilder, and her mother often accused her of having ‘untamed magick.’ A smug smile appeared on the girl’s face as she imagined her mother’s pleasant surprise. But Maggie wouldn’t tell her. She liked to keep things to herself.

  When the fire was roaring suitably, Maggie stood and dusted off her jeans. She still had several hours to play in the woods before she was called to the Midwinter’s Feast. She was keen to get back out in nature, away from the eyes and confinement of her family. But the snow was falling harder now, and Maggie wondered if the boredom of staying at her aunt’s house, with only a rickety old TV to keep her company, might just be worth staying warm. She looked out the window again and determined that the snow couldn’t fall forever. She would wait it out, she decided.

  It was strange being at Harvest Home alone. Her aunt was a staple in the house, as much a part of the decor as the sofa or the old television. Mother said Dora had been quite the socialite in her younger days, but those days were long gone. Dora was mostly homebound now, and when she was away there was a tangible difference in the air. It was as if the whole house waited for her to come home before it breathed again.

  Was it any wonder that her aunt had freaked herself out? Being here alone in the winter, surrounded by nothing but the woods, had to take its emotional toll. Maggie was young, but she wasn’t a fool. Wind chimes could mimic the sounds of Krampus’ bells, and birds roosting in the rafters might make the curious clicking sound of his claws.

  Click. Click. Cliccccckkk!

  Maggie froze, her eyes rolling upwards. The roof!

  Click. Click!

  There it went again. But it wasn’t on the roof, it was at the window!

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself it was just her imagination. Aunt Dora had legions of old monsters she named throughout the year. This was just another one. Still, a shiver tickled her spine and she noticed how dim the room was, even though it was high afternoon and the fire was going strong.

  She swallowed hard and made her way to the window, still holding the Oak Crown. She parted the curtain and peered carefully outside. As she let the drape fall closed, she caught movement to her right. She twisted her neck and looked as far as she could and saw...

  The points of two polished yellow-gray horns, disappearing at the side of the house!

  Maggie leapt towards the door, racing around the house in the direction she’d witnessed the disappearing horns. Krampus might be frightening to her aunt, but Maggie could handle him, just as long as she could see him. It was the unknown monsters that scared her most.

  Snow pelted Maggie’s face. For a moment, she thought she saw the creature’s tracks, and she followed them until they disappeared near the edge of the woods.

  “Krampus!” she called, feeling emboldened yet silly. “You want the crown, come and get it.”

  Whether it was the inherent magick of Dark Root, the fierce winter winds, or Krampus himself, Maggie would never know. But as soon as she had spoken the words, the wreath was blasted from her fingertips. She watched helplessly as it sailed into the shadowy forest.

  And though Maggie felt at home in these woods she had grown up in, she hesitated. If the creature had scared her aunt, perhaps she didn’t need to tangle with it herself? She stared into the trees, wondering what to do. She would tell Merry. Or her mother. Or someone.

  Or, she could pretend that she had never seen the crown at all.

  She looked back. Her own footprints had already been covered by new snow.

  Winter wouldn’t really go on forever if they didn’t give the Oak King his crown, would it?

  She didn’t have time to think. She heard a terrible noise in the forest and was certain she saw another flash of the creature’s sharp horns.

  “Sorry, Auntie,” Maggie said, running back towards the house and then down the lone trail that led her home.

  Chapter Six

  Once again, the image began to break apart and Dora was left staring into clear glass.

  “Not so fast!” she said, blowing on the crystal, as if fanning a flame. The globe responded, pulling up an image as quickly as the last had faded away. There was snow, so much snow, and she was unable to tell if it was from the globe or the wintry landscape. She narrowed her eyes and looked closer, and found the Oak Crown, sailing through the air, winding through the dense trees.

  She followed its path with her eyes, and saw it land softly on an extended evergreen bough.

  But the crown’s peaceful r
est was disturbed by a rumbling like thunder. With each boom, the crown slightly dislodged itself from the bough, until it hung from the tip of the branch, like an old Kleenex ready to be discarded. Boom! The noise sounded again, yet the crown valiantly hung on. What was causing those terrible sounds? It was as if the whole earth had opened up and was pulling everything down with it.

  “Focus,” she said to herself, trying to pan out her view.

  The image expanded, and she noticed that it wasn’t the whole world falling apart, just that one tree.

  “Whew!” Dora said, crossing her chest. When she returned her gaze to the globe, she noticed a small figure at the base of the tree and a glint of silver cutting through the gloom.

  It was her eldest niece, Ruth Anne, who had taken an axe to the small evergreen tree.

  Whack! The sharpened steel split into the tree. Ruth Anne paused a moment to wipe her brow, then resumed her task. She wasn’t a true witch, like her magickal sisters, but she still had a soft spot for nature. Especially trees. Had her own mother asked her to cut one down for the Solstice, she might have argued. But she would never say no to her beloved aunt. Even if it meant a tree had to be taken from the forest.

  Ruth Anne reached into its branches and retrieved two pinecones, stuffing them into her coat pocket. With some attention, along with Merry’s nature magick, two new trees would grow to replace this one.

  After a few more whacks the evergreen fell, scattering the nearby robins and wrens. It wasn’t a very big tree, hardly six feet tall and half as wide, but it had a heavy trunk. Ruth Anne wished she had thought to bring a sled, as Maggie had to collect wood.