by Foley, E. G.
Then they smelled cinnamon. Red gagged and coughed, his golden eyes watering.
“Red, are you all right?” Jake hurried over to his pet in concern. When he reached Red’s side, he realized the spiteful little elf had just flung a handful of cinnamon into the Gryphon’s eyes.
Red sputtered and sneezed, wheezed and coughed, then shook himself, his golden eyes watering and suddenly blazing with indignation, as if to say, That does it!
“Oh, you’ve got it coming now, elf,” Jake vowed, pulling the folded up burlap sack out of his coat. He shook it open, giving Red a meaningful nod. “You shouldn’t have done that, whoever you are!”
“Caw!” Red coughed again, but he was ready to continue hunting their quarry.
“I don’t see him,” Jake whispered after a moment. “Where’d he go? He can’t have got far.”
“Oh, I probably should have mentioned this before.” Gladwin flew alongside Jake’s shoulder. “But Christmas elves can kind of, well, make themselves almost invisible.”
“Oh, great,” Jake muttered.
“It’s a defense mechanism—you know, so children can’t see them around Christmastime. Santa has it, too. But their sparkles still show.”
“Santa has a sparkle-trail?”
“A little bit of one, sometimes. He does have elven blood, you know. How else would he be able to do all he does without the help of magic?”
Jake frowned. He had no particular regard for Santa Claus, but he’d had no idea that Christmas elves could make themselves invisible. Blimey, what else didn’t he know about them? “Can they fly?”
“No, but if they get a running start, they can jump so well that it’s almost like flying—over short distances, anyway.”
Jake growled under his breath, then had to tell himself to quit getting frustrated. He had battled much more formidable foes than one irksome little elf. Gargoyles, giants, Norse gods, a wicked sea witch, and a power-mad uncle, just to name a few. This should be but child’s play for a future Lightrider like him…
He suddenly got an idea.
“Let’s block the exits. If he sees he can’t get out, maybe he’ll give himself up. Gladwin, you hover in front of the lock on the kitchen door and hit him with your fairy dust if he tries to get past you. I’ll guard the window. Red, you block the fireplace in case he tries to get out through the chimney.”
The others agreed. At once, they split up to man their posts, but the elf must have realized their intent, for there was a flash of red-and-green sparkles as he suddenly went wild, rushing around the kitchen, looking for any weakness.
They held fast.
“He’s coming at you, Gladwin!”
She hurled a glob of milk-sopped fairy dust at him. The elf ducked and thus avoided getting hit by its stunning effects, but in the blink of an eye, he tested Jake next.
Jake could barely see the elf, he moved so fast. As the knee-high outline of the small, angry creature came speeding toward him, the sparkle-trail glimmered out behind him like long strands of gift-wrap ribbons stuck to his shoes.
The moonlight streaming in through the window over the sink gave Jake a glimpse of the elf’s wizened face, pointy ears, and remarkably big nose. Rushing out of the darkness, already in motion, the elf started to gather himself to jump over Jake’s head toward the window.
But Jake was not about to let him pass. He threw up his arms to block him, then remembered at the last minute that he could use his telekinesis to bounce him back.
Pah! He flicked his fingers in the charging elf’s direction…
But sometimes, unfortunately, Jake got overexcited in the midst of some adventure, and on such occasions, he tended to use too much strength.
Bam!
The bolt of energy from his telekinesis hit the elf. The little creature yelped, zooming backward through the air. Jake gasped, afraid he had just accidentally killed the little fellow by slamming him too hard against the opposite wall.
Thankfully, Red was already on his way. Mid-pounce, the Gryphon snatched the flying elf in his beak right out of the air, like a big dog catching a ball thrown by his young master.
Rather than being relieved not to have had his neck broken, the elf started kicking and cursing as Red held him up off the ground, dangling him by his little red suspenders.
Jake rushed over, opening the gunnysack wide as he ran; Red dropped the elf into the sack and Jake instantly closed it, knotting up its rough twine ties.
“Got you! Good catch, Red,” Jake said, even as the elf began thrashing about in the sack, unable to escape.
“Let me out!”
Jake lifted the sack higher and spoke to it. “Be still, you little pest! You’ve got no business in this bakery. I know it was you who got me thrown out of here today for knocking over the creampuff tree. More importantly, I want to know how you brought those gingerbread folk to life! How’d you do it?”
The thrashing paused. Another smug snicker emerged from inside the burlap sack.
Jake fumed.
“You see how rude he is?” Gladwin exclaimed.
Red, meanwhile, still smelled like cinnamon.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jake grumbled.
Carrying the sack in one hand, he unlocked the kitchen door with the other. As he opened it to let the other two go ahead of him, he glanced over his shoulder with a slight twinge of guilt at the mess they had left in Marie’s formerly tidy kitchen. She’d likely blame Bob for it somehow, based on what he’d seen, Jake thought.
He wondered what had happened between the two bakers.
Just as he and his companions headed for the shop’s front door, Archie opened it and poked his head in, beckoning anxiously. “Hurry! We’ve got company! Night watchman’s coming down the street!”
“Gladwin, can’t you turn off those sparkles?” Jake whispered at once. “What if the bobby sees the light? You’re going to get us caught!”
“I can’t help it! They only stop if I stop flying. Oh, never mind. Just go. I’ll wait in here and hide until the bobby passes. I won’t let him see me. You two go on. I’ll catch up later. Maybe I’ll tidy up the kitchen a bit. I feel rather bad about the mess.”
“Have a look at the gingerbread battle while you’re waiting. There were two cookies that escaped.”
“Jake, hurry!” Archie called in a loud whisper. “He’s coming!”
“Go!” Gladwin urged, shooing them away before hunkering down on a shelf to avoid leaving a sparkle-trail, which would surely draw the bobby’s eye when he came strolling down the street on the night watch.
Red pounced out of the shop and Archie quickly climbed onto his back. Jake pulled the bakery door shut silently, then joined his frantic cousin.
Holding on to Red’s collar with one hand and clutching the gunnysack with the elf in the other, he mumbled that he was ready.
Red took a few graceful running strides down the cobbled lane, and then lifted off with a whoosh of his powerful wings.
It was fortunate that the night was dark enough that the bobby didn’t see them flying away into the starry, black sky.
The curious constable did, however, pause in front of the bakery. He bent down, wondering what sort of dog breed could have left such large paw prints in the snow. Irish wolfhound, perhaps?
“Hmm!” he said to himself before shrugging off the question and moving on with his patrol, continually scanning the darkness.
After all, crime never slept.
CHAPTER SIX
We Have Ways To Make You Talk
After their windy ride through the frigid night skies, Jake was glad when their destination came into view below: the broad, snowy roofs and turrets of Beacon House, crowned by its great lantern glowing in the darkness from inside the center cupola.
The tree-shaped symbol silhouetted in the glass was a signal of safe haven to all magical creatures in the area.
And so it was.
For the old, rambling Tudor mansion beside the River Thames had long been t
he headquarters of the Order of the Yew Tree, a secret alliance sworn to keeping the balance between the magical and non-magical peoples of the earth.
Jake’s parents had been among the Order’s elite agents known as Lightriders, while Archie and Isabelle’s parents, Lord and Lady Bradford, served in a tamer capacity as diplomats.
They were frequently away, sent off to distant corners of the sprawling British Empire to smooth out quarrels between magic and non-magic folk. (Currently they were in the Near East sorting out some sort of misunderstanding with the djinnis.)
That was why Archie and Isabelle were so frequently left in the care of their tutor and governess, Henry and Helena, and overseen by Great-Great Aunt Ramona, who, herself, was an Elder of the Order.
But it was just as well that Lord and Lady Bradford were away, Jake thought. He wasn’t sure what his aunt and uncle would have thought about his dragging Archie along on this mission to break into the bakery and abduct the troublemaker elf.
The little miscreant was still flailing around inside the gunnysack. Jake clutched it tightly in his half-frozen hands while Red glided to a smooth halt on a flat stretch of the old mansion’s roof.
“F-f-finally!” Archie said, his teeth chattering. “M-m-maybe M-M-Mrs. Appleton will make us some n-nice, hot t-t-t-tea.”
The elf must have realized they had come to a halt, for he chose that moment to switch his tactics. “Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” he shouted from inside the sack.
“Not kidnapped—arrested, you dolt,” Jake said. “Stop kicking me!” He swung off his Gryphon after Archie had dismounted and gave the sack a stern shake. “Behave yourself in there! We are not going to hurt you!”
The elf blew raspberries at him in response.
“Charming,” Jake muttered.
“Becaw,” Red said, nodding at his cozy aerie in a sheltered corner of the roof.
Jake nodded. “All right, we’ll call you if we need you, boy. Thanks for your help.”
While Red went to curl up in his nest, Jake carried the gunnysack over to the little door on the center cupola that housed the great lantern. Narrowing his eyes a bit against the light’s golden glow, he opened the door and stepped inside. Archie followed, his spectacles instantly fogging up.
Warmed by the beacon’s glass-enclosed flame, both boys sighed with relief as the welcoming heat infused them. Then they started down the tight spiral stairs that led into the rest of the house.
At the bottom of the stairs, they stepped out of a closet-like door into an upstairs hallway. Not stopping here, they marched on, past the long row of bedchambers, until they reached the top of the grand staircase.
The wide, ornately carved stairway overlooked the foyer and led to the main rooms of the Order’s mansion headquarters.
“Oh, look,” Archie said, pointing into the foyer below them. “They’ve put up a Christmas tree.”
The plump, rosy-cheeked housekeeper must have heard them coming, for she came hurrying out from the vicinity of the kitchens just then. “My dear boys!” she greeted them with a wreath of smiles. “It’s so nice to see you! Oh, but I’m afraid Guardian Stone isn’t here right now. Didn’t he tell you he’s gone to visit his mother for the holidays?”
“Oh, yes, we know, Mrs. Appleton,” Archie said. “We’re not here to see Derek. We’re here on business,” he added proudly.
Jake shot him a glance that warned him not to say too much. “Could we use the library, please?”
“Of course! Make yourselves at home. You young gentlemen are always welcome here.” She beamed as they trudged down the steps. “Such rosy cheeks, and all the shivering! Why, you look like you could do with some tea.”
“Ah, Mrs. Appleton! You must have some house brownie blood in your veins.”
She beamed at the compliment on her housekeeping skills. “Actually, I am one-sixteenth house brownie, on me mother’s side.”
“I thought so,” Archie said sweetly, trying to distract her from the small “Help!” that came from inside the thrashing burlap sack that dangled from Jake’s grasp.
“But, er, what have you got there, young masters?”
“Never you mind, Mrs. Appleton,” Jake drawled. He flashed a breezy grin as they passed her, determined to brazen it out. He might be only twelve, but he was still an earl, after all. No servant in her right mind would ever question a future peer of the realm.
At least he hoped not.
The boys crossed the foyer, trying to look nonchalant, but when they gained the library and shut the door behind them, they exchanged a glance of relief.
Eager to get down to business, they strode into the enchanted library of Beacon House, with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, its rolling ladder, and red velvet drapes. The portrait of Queen Elizabeth in silver armor stared down from above the fireplace with the wreck of the Spanish Armada in the background.
In the far corner, the mysterious lighted globe revealed the locations of the Order’s many Lightriders out on their various missions, and to the left, displayed proudly on its pedestal, the magic harp played Christmas carols softly to itself.
“Would you see if there’s a wand I could borrow over there?” Jake nodded at the large, stately desk to his right.
Archie nodded, drawing off his gloves. While Jake set the gunnysack with his prisoner on one of the brown leather club chairs, his cousin marched over to the desk and started rummaging around amid the brightly colored ribbons and crepe paper left behind from somebody’s gift-wrapping project, probably Mrs. Appleton’s.
While Jake unwound his red scarf from around his neck, grateful for the cheerful fire burning in the hearth, Archie said hello to the Inkbug when it came trundling out of its box to see what was going on.
“Any luck?” Jake asked his cousin.
“Not yet. Is there a wand in here?” Archie asked the furry little caterpillar.
At once, the helpful insect ran across the inkpad to get ink on its many feet. Then it ran back and forth across an open pad of notepaper and printed out the answer: Second drawer.
“Thanks. Ah, here it is!” Archie quickly found the crooked yew wand and nodded his thanks to the creature, then he brought the ordinary-looking twig over to Jake. “What are you going to do to him? You don’t really know that many spells.”
Jake shushed him with a reproachful scowl. “Yes, but he doesn’t know that,” he whispered, barely mouthing the words. It’s called a bluff, you idiot.
Oh, right! Archie mouthed back. Honest to a fault, the boy genius gave him a conspiratorial wink, finally catching on.
Jake shook his head. Good egg, Archie, but the perfect little English gentleman wouldn’t have lasted a day in the rookery. He gripped the wand. “Maybe I should try that spell on him that I used in Wales to turn those living gargoyles back into stone?” Jake suggested loud enough for the elf to hear.
“Oh, not that one, Jake, it’s too terrible!” Archie said in a convincing tone of dread, playing along. Then he addressed their prisoner. “Whoever you are, I’d do as he says, if I were you.”
“I’m not afraid of you two runts!” the elf retorted from inside the brown sack.
Archie frowned. “What a rudesby.”
Jake’s frown deepened. He beckoned his cousin aside for a private word. “We need to question him, but we’ve got to figure out some way to keep him under control before we dare untie the sack. Otherwise, he’ll escape. It was hard enough catching him the first time.”
“Hmm.” Archie glanced around in thought. “Hey! Why don’t we just tie him up with all those gift-wrap ribbons?”
“You are brilliant,” Jake admitted. Archie clapped him on the shoulder and ran over to the desk to get them.
Attempting to bind the elf’s wrists and ankles would have required them to open the sack. That would only have made it easier for the elf to escape. So, instead, the boys simply wrapped the ribbons around and around the elf’s squirmy body, sack and all, piling on layer after layer, as if they were wrap
ping up a Christmas-colored mummy.
Finally, when the elf could do no more than wiggle his toes inside his curly shoes and thrash his head from side to side in angry protest, they untied the knot sealing the gunnysack and peeled it down enough to let their prisoner poke his head out.
The little elf glared at them.
Jake couldn’t help smiling at his disgruntled stare. “Now you’ll answer our questions.”
The harp played on all the while; the elf glanced past the boys, scowling at it, as he took in his surroundings. “What do you want with me, you kidnappers? You’ve got no right abducting me! I have rights!”
“That remains to be seen,” Jake replied. “What were you doing in that bakery?”
“And why did you try to attack us back there?” Archie chimed in. “You could’ve just spoken to us like a civilized person. I had no idea Christmas elves could be so vicious.”
“Christmas!” the elf said in disgust. “Bah! Shoddiest holiday on the calendar. They should do away with it altogether! I’m no Christmas elf. Not anymore. Not ever! Would you please shut that thing up?” The elf glared past them at the magic harp.
“Oh, you don’t like music?” Jake sent Archie a smug glance as they realized their prisoner’s weakness. “I have a better idea.” He leaned closer with a threatening stare. “You explain yourself right now, or I’ll make the harp play louder. Who are you?”
“Humbug!”
“You’d better answer me,” Jake warned.
“I just told you!”
“Humbug is your name?”
“Well, it suits him, to be sure,” Archie muttered.
“What did you do to those gingerbread men? We know it was you who made the displays come alive. How did you manage that?”
“None of your business,” Humbug answered grandly.
“I see,” Jake said. “Harp, play louder, please. Something to get us into the Christmas spirit.”
“No! Not Christmas carols! Anything but that!” Humbug cried.
The harp ignored him, launching into a jaunty rendition of “Good King Wenceslas.”
Jake and Archie sang along just to be annoying.