“No, I’m not local. I’m just here for the party, and I need to…” Jackie started to turn away.
Fanning her face, Mag declared, “Oh my goodness! I’m feeling faint.” She clutched onto Jackie’s arm like a limpet. “Be a dear, won’t you, and help me outside. It’s so warm in here.” When Jackie made a move to say no, Mag poured it on even harder, sagged at the knee, and nearly swooned. There was nothing else the young woman could do, she sighed and gave in to the need to help.
Keeping the smirk to herself as much as she could, Clara followed Mag and her unwitting captive toward the door. The second it closed behind them, Clara touched Mag’s arm and disappeared the trio into thin air.
Back at the house, Hagatha’s eyes widened as three women toppled to the floor at the foot of Evergreen’s bed. She sprang into action as Jackie Frost shrieked and lunged for the door—as much as a woman with a walker can spring, that is. Hagatha let out a holler of her own and dropped a magic dampening spell right before two streaks of fur raced up the stairs, whirred into a man and a woman, and blocked Jackie’s passage.
“Pye, Jinx! Your timing is exquisite. Get her over to that chair, quickly.”
Jinx held Jackie’s arms at her sides while Mag patted the woman down quickly and with an air of a police officer simply going about her duties, as though she frisked people for weapons every day.
“Ah ha!” Mag exclaimed, pulling a baseball-sized object from deep within the folds of Jackie’s skirt. Crystal clear water magnified the red and green-clad figures encased in the glass ball set into a simple pedestal of polished ebony until a flurry of snow obscured them from view. Elven spirit glittered and glimmered among the flakes.
Panic-stricken, Jackie went wild, struggling against her captors, “Give that back, it’s mine!” She shrieked at a pitch that should have shattered the snow globe she was trying so hard to reclaim and lurched with enough gusto to break free of Jinx’s hold.
Mag tucked the globe into the crook of her arm like a football, shifted from one foot to the other in a little hop-skip and then waited for Jackie to take the bait before lobbing the thing over her head to her sister. Clara, recalling her monkey-in-the-middle skills from when she and Mag were children, caught it deftly in one hand and prepared for Jackie to change course.
What she wasn’t prepared for was a barrel roll of Donkey Kong proportions. Jackie plowed into Clara’s knees, knocking her off balance, and the globe went flying into the air. In slow motion, everyone, including old Haggie, leaped to catch the coveted object, but they were all too late. Clara watched as it hit the wood plank floor and shattered into a million pieces.
“No!” Jackie screamed, her face contorted into one of pain rather than anger, and she used the moment of confusion to, with a mournful glance backward, whoosh through the door and down the stairs.
“Look,” Clara drew the room’s attention back to the floor, where a swirling ball of sparkling motes had begun to zing through the air toward Evergreen’s translucent form.
The essence of holiday magic enveloped him in a ball of snow, lifting him off the bed and into the air where he spun around in a miniature blizzard that chilled the room to near-freezing. Pye and Jinx took their leave in a similar fashion to the first time they laid eyes on Evergreen, opting to chase after Jackie instead.
Evergreen’s eyes popped open as the full force of his Christmas spirit was restored, and he sprung into action with newfound vigor.
“She’s getting away. That wily little minx somehow escaped Santa’s workshop. I suspect there’s a traitor in our midst because she was locked up tight as a jack-in-the-box.”
“I guess someone turned her crank,” Hagatha dissolved into giggles of glee. The woman really did have the oddest sense of humor.
“Somewhere, someone is running around with a giant butterfly net, looking for that woman,” Mag muttered under her breath to her sister, who nodded in agreement.
“Respect your elders, Margaret, or you’ll receive nothing but a bundle of coal in your stocking this year.” Evergreen chided. “Jackie Frost must be contained. She was the mastermind behind her twin brother, Jack Frost’s plan to steal Christmas. We managed to foil him last year and capture her, and she’s been held at the North Pole ever since. We were hoping to use her as bait for her brother, and the clock is ticking. Santa Claus is probably having a conniption right about now.”
“Well, now that you’re back to your old self, we’ll just leave you to take care of things.” Santa’s problem wasn’t coven business, and Mag saw no need to trouble herself further. She’d done her best by the elf and Clara wanted to be back in Port Harbor to spend the holiday with her granddaughter. So did Mag, for that matter.
Evergreen folded slim arms over his chest, tapped his jingle bell-tipped toe, fixed Mag with a withering stare.
“Do you really want to be the witch who stole Christmas?”
“Look here, you little…”
“Mag.” Clara cut off what was sure to be an entertaining substitution for a nasty name. “We have to help him. Not just because it’s Christmas, but because you know as well as I do where Jackie is going to end up. The party should be over by now, and Gertrude will be home alone. We can’t just turn our backs on a coven member.”
“I suppose.”
“This is just so heartwarming.” Clapping her hands together, Hagatha made it hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
With the promise of assistance, Evergreen turned thoughtful, then flitted around the room muttering things like, “Ugh, artificial tinsel. That won’t hold her. Plastic. This will never do.” He tested most of the decorations and came up with nothing that satisfied his purist’s soul. “Too bad the snow globe is broken, it would have worked a treat. I don’t suppose you could fix it?” After making the rounds, he ended up back in front of Mag who thought about it for half a minute.
“It would be tricky.”
“Pshaw.” Scoffing, Hagatha merely directed a glance at the shards of glass littering the floor, and they whizzed back together good as new.
“Useful spell for someone about to open a shop. You mind teaching it to us sometime?” Clara’s question earned her a wink from Hagatha. Having the old witch around might not be so bad after all.
“Now to turn it into a trap.” This was Mag’s field of expertise. “First we need the bait.” The steady look she laid on Evergreen told him exactly what she was after.
“Okay, but just a little.” Concentrating, he spun a portion of Christmas spirit into a shimmering ball. Mag nodded to Clara who cast the ball into the snow globe with a flick of her wrist.
“And now, we make it sticky.” Seeing the direction her sister was going, Clara pulled a piece of fudge out of her pocket. “Gertrude’s candy cane and white chocolate. I snagged it while we were at the party. I think I might be addicted; it’s so good.” Quick as a wink, she stole a nibble off one corner then sent the candy hovering over the glowing globe. A swish of her wand turned the candy into a shower of sticky, clear liquid that coated the glass. “That should do it. It’s like flypaper for rogue winter imps.”
Clara carried the globe and Mag transported the elf when the two of them skimmed to Gertrude’s house where the front door hung askew on its hinges. Crashing and banging noises provided more evidence that something was wrong inside.
“She’s here all right.” Evergreen’s words slurred slightly. “This much spirit in one place is intoxicating.”
“You stay out here, then. Can’t have you falling down drunk in the middle of a sting operation.” Clara shoved Evergreen into the midst of the plastic elves decorating the lawn. “No one will notice you there. I’m going in. Mag, you keep watch out here, if she tries to get away, blast her back inside.”
Clara grasped the snow globe and vaulted onto the porch. Mag would only have slowed her down. She sidled along the wall to peer inside, and, happy with what she saw, gave her sister the high sign before disappearing through the door.
I
nside, Jackie was rifling Gertrude’s cabinets, tossing bottle after bottle of Christmas spirit into a bag. Clara crouched behind the sofa and gently, ever so gently, magicked the snow globe a little closer each time Jackie turned her back. Soon enough, she managed to settle the trap in place. Now it was a matter of waiting until her quarry took the bait.
Scanning the room Jackie’s eyes alighted upon the trinket, and her hand closed over the glass globe at the precise instant she realized the object shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
She let out a howl and tried to shake it free of her hand, but the fudge-coated exterior refused to budge. A clamor of hooves from the ceiling two stories above preceded the muffled slide of a robust belly rocketing down the chimney, and Jackie spouted a slew of profanities at Santa before being sucked into the globe with a pop and a thud.
“Tisk tisk, Jackie Frost, you’ve been a naughty girl this year.” Santa tucked the globe away in the pocket of his velvet suit and turned to face the group assembled before him.
Evergreen leaped into his creator’s arms and explained what had happened in a flurry of excitement.
“Yes, yes, my child, you did a wonderful job,” Santa assured the elf kindly and with a wink over his head for Mag and Clara who were rudely shoved aside by a returning Gertrude.
“What happened?” The late arrival scanned the room with mounting surprise as she took in the assembled group. “Oh. An elf. A real live elf.” She beamed and clapped her hands, but when she got a look at who owned the arms currently cradling the red and green clad figure.
“Santa,” she breathed barely able to take it all in, and then her lips curled into a wicked smile as Mag and Clara sidled toward the freedom waiting outside.
“Oh my Goddess, you’re really here!” Gertrude scurried into action, conjuring enough cookies and cocoa to feed the entire staff of Santa’s workshop. “Please, have a snack before you go. Try the monkey bread and if you don’t mind, I have a few questions.”
Thanks for taking the time to read about Mag and Clara Balefire's Christmas adventure.
To learn more about the Fate Weaver series and the related Psychic Seasons series please visit ReGina Welling's website: http://reginawelling.com
Find more information about Erin Lynn at http://erinlynnwrites.com
Quick and Easy Monkey Bread
3 cans refrigerator biscuits, buttermilk
1 cup sugar
2 tbsp cinnamon
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup raisins (optional)
1/2 cup broken nuts (walnuts or pecans work best)
Add sugar and cinnamon to a gallon sized freezer bag. Cut each biscuit into quarters and add to the sugar and cinnamon a handful at a time, shaking to coat each piece in the sugar and cinnamon mixture. Layer coated biscuits in a Bundt pan, along with raisins and nuts.
Melt butter in a saucepan, add brown sugar and bring to a boil. Pour mixture over the biscuits, raisins, and nuts. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Cool before eating.
This is a pull apart bread, great for holidays.
About the Author
Regina Welling and Erin Lynn are the mother/daughter writing team behind the Fate Weaver series as well as the Ponderosa Pines mysteries. They both enjoy small town life in Maine and have been known to finish each other's sentences. Literally.
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The Fruitcake That Saves Christmas
Moonchuckle Bay Monster Movie Short #3 / MCB #9.5
Heather Horrocks
Summary
Safeguard the Fruitcake of Youth? Say what?!?
When the Oracle of Delphi is the first customer in Elizabeth Lee’s new shop, she thinks it’s a good omen — until she’s given the task of safeguarding the valuable Fruitcake of Youth. And not only is the Oracle dead serious — but somebody’s after that fruitcake! Daniel Grant falls under the spell of the owner of Drop of Magic, the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. He’s either met his lifemate — or he has the flu. When their destinies collide over a piece of fruitcake, almost anything can happen. Danger. Healing. Maybe even love…?
Dedicated to my son, Patrick Fenn
The Worst Food in the History of the World
As Elizabeth Lee flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN on the door of her new shop, a wave of satisfaction flowed over her. This new venture was both scary and exciting. This would be her best Christmas ever, with her shop having opened three days before.
Her best friend, Chicory Connolly, grinned. “You’re really doing it.”
“I know.” She unlocked the door. “Thanks for helping out. I’m glad your mom was okay with you working here instead of at the Bubbling Cauldron. I hope we have some customers today.”
“You will.” Chicory wore her usual gypsy garb—a colorful skirt, ruffled blouse, bangles and hoop earrings—and a matching ribbon barely tamed her riotous curls. “You announced the grand opening online and in the Carpe Noctem News. You’ll have customers.”
“I wonder if they’ll be magical folk or tourists.”
“A little of both, I suspect. You’ll get tourists from Town Square and overflow from the café. Plus my new neighbor asked me about the best place to buy potions in town and so he’ll be coming in today.” She smirked. “Did I mention how handsome he is? Just your type, I think.”
“I don’t have a type.” As Elizabeth looked at her new logo emblazoned on her window, doubts poured in. “Do you really think Drops of Magic is a good name for the shop?”
Chicory put an arm around her shoulder. “Stop worrying. It’s a perfect name for the shop of the best elixir mixer in Moonchuckle Bay. You’re going to do great.”
Through the frosted glass in the top half of the door, they saw someone moving toward the shop, then reaching out for the door handle. They locked eyes and grinned at each other, as they had with every shared adventure since they were kids.
Stepping back, they tried to act nonchalant as the door opened and their first customer walked in. But when she saw who it was, Elizabeth’s breath caught. Surely this was a good omen.
Dressed in a flowing Grecian robe with real gold accents, the woman had a commanding presence and a powerful violet aura that spread out around her. The woman gazed at the Christmas tree set up in the seating area and at the rest of the shop.
What on earth was the Oracle doing here? Not just an oracle, but the Oracle. Of Delphi. As in from ancient times. She looked like a young woman, vibrantly alive—and intimidating as heck.
“Good morning, Ms. Connolly.” The woman nodded her head at Chicory, and then at Elizabeth. “Ms. Lee.”
“Good morning,” they both parroted. Elizabeth’s heart was actually doing a nervous little dance in her chest, but since it would be a good thing to have the Oracle as a customer, she gathered herself and smiled. “Welcome to my shop. What may I do for you today?”
“My business with you today is for your eyes and ears only.” She looked at Chicory. “Would you please step out and allow us privacy?”
“Of course.” Chicory shot Elizabeth a look. “I’ll just step into the Cauldron until you’re done.”
“Thank you.” After Chicory left, the Oracle turned the sign from OPEN back to CLOSED. “Lock the door, please.”
“Of course.” What was going on? Nervous, she did as instructed.
The Oracle moved toward the counter. “I’ll get right to the point, Ms. Lee. I have watched you from afar and been impressed with what I’ve seen and heard.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth stammered, unsure of the protocol when being flattered by the Oracle.
“I had one of my visions last night,” the woman said. “It involved you.”
“Me?” Her heart danced a little faster, now doing the cha-cha.
“Yes.” The woman looked into her eyes. “I have come beari
ng something both valuable and precious.”
“My area of expertise is potions, though I can do an excellent concealment spell when needed. What did you bring?”
She could sense something powerful, but wasn’t sure what.
The Oracle looked down at the small, package wrapped in brown paper she’d set on the counter. She touched it and the paper fell back, revealing ... a piece of fruitcake? A fruitcake was precious and valuable? The Oracle had closed her brand-new shop for this?
Was this a joke? Did the Oracle joke?
“It is your talent for both that brings me here. You’re going to need this fruitcake to create a potion.”
They both stared at the bits of candied fruit embedded in the two-inch cube of Christmas atrocity. Seriously?
Elizabeth hazarded a question. “What type of potion?”
The Oracle looked up and shrugged. “You’ll know when it’s time. But it is extremely valuable. Can you keep it safe until you need it?”
“If you feel I’m the one to do it,” Elizabeth said, unsure.
“I was led here to you.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Do you want it back? Because if I create a potion, I may use it all.”
“I would prefer any unused be returned to me, but I understand if it’s used up in the making.” The Oracle touched the wrapping with a long red nail and said, pensively, “This was cut from the only fruitcake remaining from the original three. This is all I can spare so use it wisely.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I will.”
“It’s a magical fruitcake.” The Oracle looked up and Elizabeth felt like a bug pinned in place. “Do not reveal its presence to anyone. Not even your friend, who is at this moment dying of curiosity in the Bubbling Cauldron.”
Spells and Jinglebells Page 24