Spells and Jinglebells

by ReGina Welling

  “Oh, sure. You just had to mention that, didn’t you? You couldn’t just say you had to get to work, could you? You had to add the words the Oracle and drive me crazy.” She switched tactics, batting her eyelashes like a child. “Please, Mommy, please tell me what you’re doing.”

  Elizabeth patted her shoulder. “Sorry. I won’t mention the Oracle again.”

  Back in her office, she locked the door. She trusted Chicory—but she still felt she needed to do it.

  Her eye fell on the green plant in the pot on the windowsill. It looked a little wilty and she felt guilty for neglecting it. She poured some water in from her bottle and could see it starting to perk up immediately. Her mother had given her this plant before she died, so it had special meaning to her.

  She turned toward her workshop in the large alcove where the safe was tucked—and invisible to humans and most supernaturals because of the concealment spell.

  She undid the spell and, after the safe appeared, she spun the magical tumblers and opened it. Her important papers were sitting there, where they’d been yesterday.

  But the Oracle’s Fruitcake of Youth was gone.

  Panic hit her, and she shuffled things around. Surely it was here. She’d locked it in and put the spell on it herself. Only another witch with similar powers to her own could have opened it, assuming they even knew it was there. But, as far as she knew, there was no other witch in Moonchuckle Bay with similar powers to hers. But someone had taken it. Stolen the fruitcake.

  She went through the safe again, then closed the door. No point in putting another concealment spell on it now. The horse was already out of the barn. The fruitcake was on the loose.

  She leaned against the wall, head spinning. Holy heck. She was in so much trouble.

  Stumbling back into her office on wobbly legs, she sank into her desk chair.

  How could the fruitcake possibly be missing when supposedly no one even knew it was here in her shop? The Oracle wouldn’t have told anyone, right? Not if she wanted Elizabeth to keep it secret as well.

  Was it a customer who’d come into the shop on opening day? Over fifty had come in to check out the shop, half of them tourists excited to buy lotions with witchy names—Eye of Newt cream and Wrinkles Be Gone—bottled in stereotypical Halloween-style bottles. The other half had come in and actually purchased some of the magical items she kept behind the counter.

  Which of them could it have been?

  She hadn’t seen anyone with a malevolent aura, and she would have noticed.

  And then she realized. She hadn’t been in the shop earlier today. The thief could have come in while she was out with Daniel. Chicory was a strong witch, but she couldn’t read auras like Elizabeth could.

  Could Daniel have something to do with it?

  She needed to talk with Chicory but she didn’t want her friend to read the expression on her face. That meant calling her from the back room, which was weird, but not unheard of.

  “Hey, girl,” Chicory said when she answered. “Do you need me to come back and help with the Oracle’s task? Because you know I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m just that helpful a friend.”

  Elizabeth fought to keep her voice light, but didn’t quite succeed. “Was there anyone who came in while I was gone with Daniel?”

  “Heck, yeah. There were probably twelve customers. You’re doing a landmark business.”

  “Did anyone seem ... off to you?”

  “Off how?”

  “With a dark aura, maybe?”

  “Not that I noticed, but you know I don’t sense them as well as you.”

  “No one did anything weird?”

  “No. We had three people ask to use the bathroom, but that’s not really weird. Though, now that you mention it, one lady took long enough in there I was about to ask her if she was okay, but then she came out and left the store without looking at anything else. That’s kind of weird, maybe.”

  Bingo. A lead, at least. Her mouth dry, she asked, “Can you describe her?”

  “Maybe thirty-five or forty, though we both know that doesn’t mean anything in this town.”

  Elizabeth didn’t even ask if the woman was magical, because a human could never have found the safe, much less gotten inside it without leaving a trace.

  Chicory paused, and then said, “She was wearing a Christmas-green shirt and black slacks. Dark hair cut short and spiky.”

  “Would you recognize her again if you saw her?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up and pondered. Should she send Chicory out to search for this woman? Or should Elizabeth go out and look and send pictures to Chicory if she saw someone?

  No, this was a task the Oracle had given Elizabeth. She’d lost the fruitcake. She had to get it back.

  At least she hadn’t gotten killed for it—unless the Oracle killed her for losing it.

  It was quite the Catch-22—she had to get the fruitcake back because the Oracle didn’t mess around, but she couldn’t tell anyone about it so she couldn’t ask people if they’d seen a missing fruitcake. This was an impossible task.

  How could she find it if she couldn’t mention it to anyone?

  And then she remembered Jingle mentioning both fruitcake and holly as flavors in their snow cones and saying they went together. Could Jingle possibly already know about the fruitcake somehow? What were her powers, anyway?

  Pushing to her feet, she retrieved her jacket and purse.

  She’d talk to her. After all, if she already knew about the fruitcake, then Elizabeth wouldn’t be breaking her promise to the Oracle if they discussed it.

  Right?

  Can She Keep a Secret?

  The breeze picked up as Elizabeth crossed the street into Town Square, past the gigantic Christmas tree where three carolers sang to a few people. The cold and dinner hour had most tourists scurrying off toward restaurants or other warm places.

  She couldn’t shake a niggling sense of doom—as in she’d be doomed if she couldn’t figure this out. And right now, she had two possible leads. Two women—Jingle and the mysterious woman in green. She knew where Jingle likely was, and she watched for the woman in green as she walked.

  Today Jingle was alone, and there wasn’t the usual line. The snow pixie smiled at her. “Back for another snow cone?”

  “No, but thank you.” Elizabeth placed a hand on the counter. “Jingle, you gave us some very interesting flavor combinations before. I know you have a ton of people come through here every day, but do you happen to remember what our snow cone flavors were?”

  “Sure. Fruitcake and holly.”

  Wow. What a memory. And that gave her a slight glimmer of hope. “You get impressions about people, right? That’s how you do your snow magic?”

  Jingle nodded. “Yes.”

  “Would you be willing to share the impressions you had about me before?” She held out her hand. “Or would you be willing to read me again?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s really important and I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but I really need your help.”

  “Okay,” Jingle said. “I’ll help as much as I can. I had a definite sense that the man you were with—Daniel—is connected to you somehow.”

  Did that mean he might have stolen the fruitcake? “Connected how? In a good or bad way?”

  Jingle sighed. “Hold out your hand again.”

  Elizabeth did and Jingle took it and closed her eyes. This time she looked more focused, as if she were going deeper than she had before.

  After a couple of minutes, Jingle squeezed her fingers and let go, opening her eyes, which had a light shining in them that wasn’t quite normal.

  Elizabeth felt a tingling in her hand as she lowered it. She could hardly handle the suspense. “What did you feel?”

  “In a good way,” Jingle said. “He’s connected to you in a positive way. Somehow his destiny is intertwined with yours. And I’m not even sure how to say this because it sounds kind of crazy
, but there’s a fruitcake connecting you.”

  “Does he have the fruitcake?”

  Jingle shook her head. “No. I don’t think he even knows about it, though there was some sort of connection. It’s more that I got the feeling he has the key to finding the holly you need, though I don’t know why I know that. And the holly will help you find the fruitcake you seek.”

  “You’re good. I am seeking a fruitcake. But it’s supposed to be a secret.”

  “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  Since Jingle had brought up the fruitcake, would it be okay if Elizabeth asked a few more questions about it? She sincerely hoped so—and that the Oracle would agree. “Can you tell where the fruitcake is right now?”

  “I got a sense of the Oracle somewhere. Maybe she has it. Though...” Jingle shook her head. “No, there’s another fruitcake, a much smaller one, that you are searching for.”

  “You’re really good at this.”

  Jingle’s eyes widened. “Are you involved with the Oracle?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Oh, frostbite!” she exclaimed. “That can’t be good.”

  “I’ve got to find that piece of fruitcake. I had it yesterday, but it was stolen from my safe. Maybe by a woman in a green shirt and black slacks.”

  “I haven’t seen a green shirt today, just a lot of coats and jackets.”

  “What am I going to do?” Elizabeth muttered to herself.

  “Maybe you should ask Daniel,” Jingle said. “About the holly.”

  She reached out and took Jingle’s hand again. “Thank you so very much. You may have saved my life.”

  Jingle squeezed her hand again. “Glad I could help. If you need anything else, come back and we’ll talk some more. After you talk with Daniel.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  As she walked back past the tree, she paused. The carolers had disbanded.

  She could lose everything if the Oracle learned she’d said anything. Not to Jingle, maybe, because Jingle had told her about the fruitcake and the Oracle being involved, not the other way around. But if she told Daniel. And she couldn’t really talk to Daniel without telling him, could she?

  Maybe. If she just asked about the holly and learned what he knew.

  Because she couldn’t ask the Oracle for help without getting in trouble, which Elizabeth wanted to avoid, plus the Oracle wouldn’t give her a straight answer anyway.

  The Oracle had given her two tasks and extracted two promises—Elizabeth had to keep the fruitcake and save Christmas with it, and she was also supposed to keep the fruitcake a secret.

  But she couldn’t keep the first promise now without breaking the second.

  She pulled out her phone and dialed Daniel’s number.

  Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth spotted Daniel through the window of her shop and turned to Chicory. “Thanks for closing up. I’ll be back if I can.”

  “Good luck on your secret mission.”

  Elizabeth nodded, noting the three customers hadn’t been paying attention, but were still chuckling over the witchy signs she’d arranged along the non-countered wall.

  She stepped outside, pulling on her coat. The wind had picked up again, and there was a feeling of snow in the air.

  Daniel caught up with her. “Where did you want to go?”

  “Somewhere we won’t be overheard.”

  “In my car?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  When he took her hand, she wasn’t surprised, but she did experience some melting, which she was beginning to recognize as her normal state around Daniel Grant, the most handsome warlock she’d ever met.

  As they walked, he lifted her hand to take it with his other hand, and then wrapped an arm around her shoulder to keep her more shielded from the wind. “Thanks.”

  They crossed the street, walked past city hall, the library, and the council office, the sheriff’s department, and into the parking lot.

  He opened the passenger door of his gleaming, metallic-blue sports car and got her seated, then jogged around and climbed in himself. He turned the key and the engine gave a throaty purr, and he turned up the heater.

  “A Trans Am?”

  He grinned. “Not just any Trans Am. This one has 1,000 hp. Magically enhanced.”

  “You like speed?”

  “Let’s just say I like being able to pass when I need to. It makes things safer.”

  She chuckled. “I bet it does.”

  He took her hand again. “What did you need to ask me about?”

  She sighed, not sure how to begin. The Oracle’s warning to say nothing kept her silent for a long minute, but she had to talk. She didn’t have any other choice. “Remember the two flavors of snow cones we had yesterday?”

  “Of course. I remembered because they were so unique. Fruitcake and holly.”

  “Do those two words mean anything to you?”

  “You mean besides my mother?”

  Not sure she’d heard him correctly, she blinked.

  “And no, my mother’s not a fruitcake.” He smiled at her. “But her name is Holly.”

  The Oracle had said she’d need holly to save Christmas with the fruitcake. She’d assumed the flower, but maybe it was Daniel’s mother. Maybe the Oracle had meant she’d need Holly, with a capital H. Cautiously, she said, “I may need to talk with your mother. Does fruitcake mean anything to you?”

  “It does, actually. The legend of the fruitcake. It was gone long before I was born, and I only know part of it, so I really need to let her tell you. It’s why she’s sick.”

  “Fruitcake made your mother sick?”

  “The lack of fruitcake, but not just any fruitcake.”

  She cocked a brow. “A 1000-hp fruitcake, by any chance?”

  “Sort of.” He laughed. “A magical fruitcake. Again, I’ll let her tell you.”

  “I definitely need to talk with your mother. Can she keep a secret?”

  “Sure.” He raised an eyebrow. “And so can I.”

  “Good. That might be what keeps me alive a little longer.”

  Someone With a Good Fortune-Telling Ability

  Daniel led Elizabeth into his house. In the family room, his mother sat in a large, comfy-looking recliner, wrapped in blankets. She seemed to be cold all the time but refused to turn up the thermostat because she didn’t want him to be too warm.

  As he walked past, he bumped it up a couple of degrees.

  “I saw that, Daniel. You put it right back.”

  “I will, Mom. After you’ve warmed up.”

  He also turned up the space heater next to her recliner.

  “Who is this beautiful lady?” His mother smiled. She was still pretty, but the curse had taken its toll — her dark hair was full of gray and she was far too thin. She’d been vibrant before, but now she was frail.

  “Mom, this is my new friend, Elizabeth Lee. Elizabeth, this is my mother, Holly Grant.”

  His mother put out her frail hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Ms. Lee.”

  “Oh, please,” Elizabeth said, taking her hand gently. “Call me Elizabeth. And I’m glad to meet you, as well. Did the pain potion help?”

  “Was that your potion?” His mother sighed. “It has made everything much more bearable. Thank you, dear.”

  “Elizabeth owns the shop where I bought the potion, Mom. Drops of Magic.”

  “It helped the instant I took it. You’re a gifted potion maker.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said, still holding his mother’s hand, and the sight made him like her even more.

  “Here,” he said, motioning toward the couch. “Let’s sit here.”

  He and Elizabeth sat close together, and his mother looked from one to the other, and gave a faint smile. Could she feel the Lifemate thing he felt? That almost embarrassed him.

  “Mom, Elizabeth has some questions I told her you could answer.”

  “Of course,” his mother said.

  “It has to do with fruitcake,”
he said, meaningfully. “And the family legend.”

  “Oh. The legend.” His mother sighed and slumped back in the recliner. “I haven’t talked about the legend for a long time.”

  “You hardly mentioned it to me, and I’m your son.”

  His mother studied Elizabeth. “I don’t tell this story lightly.”

  “I don’t ask lightly.”

  After a moment, his mother nodded. “All right. What harm is there in telling? The Fruitcake of Youth has been gone for years now. The starter is gone and so is the actual fruitcake. Our family had one of the original three.”

  “That’s what—” Elizabeth paused. “That’s what I was told—that there were three originals. What does that mean?”

  “Back in the year 700 BC, a misguided housewife kitchen witch named Aquilina made three fruitcakes of youth. They were meant to last forever, and have healing, regenerative powers.”

  “But no one actually eats fruitcake,” Daniel said, lightly teasing, “so she needn’t have bothered.”

  His mother frowned at him. He shut up. She went on.

  “It is rumored that only one of the three may still be in existence, but I have nothing to back that up. It’s just a rumor and a wish, I believe.”

  Elizabeth flicked her eyes down to her hands. Interesting.

  His mother said, “We wouldn’t need the fruitcake as much if our family had not also experienced a curse. An evil warlock wanted to heal his sick wife, but Aquilina refused to share the fruitcakes. She knew what he could do with that kind of power. He cursed our women to die at the age of fifty-five — the age his wife was when she died — unless they didn’t have the fruitcake.”

  “Mom turns fifty-five on Christmas Day,” Daniel told Elizabeth, no longer feeling light-hearted.

  She raised her eyes to his and then to his mother. “Isn’t there a way for you to find the fruitcake?”

  “Yes. We have the ability to sense it when it’s near, but since they no longer exist, that’s not helpful.”

  “We can feel it?” Daniel asked. “Why wasn’t I ever told about this?”

  His mother sighed. “With no fruitcake left to sense, there was no need to tell you.”