by Tegan Maher
“You an angel?” One eye opened just a slit.
“I'm not.” Nor likely to become one. Witches don’t get to be angels.
The eye closed again. “More’n I deserve, anyway,” he wheezed, “I wish—”
Eight reindeer inhaled and waited. The silence drew out.
“Can you tell me your name?”
He licked his lips, “Call me Bub.”
“I’m Lexi. Is there anyone—”
Bub shook his head. “I left home a long time ago. Lost touch.”
Behind me, a flurry of motion signaled the arrival of Terra. To my surprise, she’d brought Santa, though I guessed I could probably call him Kris. After all I’d done for him, we should be on a first name basis.
Terra knelt at Bub’s side, gently nudged me away, and laid a hand on his forehead.
“You an angel?” Bub blinked up at her.
“Sorry, but no,” she answered quietly.
“Look like one.”
Terra smiled down at him. “Thank you.”
When she stepped back out into the wind, I followed and didn’t even notice how it cut through my clothes. “Isn’t there anything you can do to help?”
There are things in life you just trust without knowing how or why. Like gravity. We don’t question whether gravity works, we just walk this earth sure in the knowledge we won’t fly off into space. In that same, sure way, I knew there was something we needed to do for Bub, I just didn’t know what that something might be.
I couldn’t read the look on Terra’s face, or understand why she kept her gaze pinned on Kris.
“There’s nothing I can do.” I was too upset to notice the faint emphasis she placed on I, but I remembered it later.
At that point, Cupid bugled a sound halfway between a reindeer bark and a growl. “Poor Bub. No one should die alone, and so far from home.” I returned to his side.
“I’m here, Bub. You’re not alone. Don’t be scared.”
“Ain’t scared of dying. Just wish I could go back home.”
The world stopped. This time there was no mistaking that something happened, and even if I wasn’t sensitive enough to notice, Kris crowding in beside me would have done the trick.
“Syllabub? Is that you?”
“Kris?” It took a visible effort, but the dying man peeled back an eyelid. “How?”
“Ah, Bub. The boys have been granting Christmas wishes left and right tonight. I should have known Cupid would find you.”
“You know each other?”
Kris merely nodded.
“You’re too late, Kris. I’m done for.”
“If we’d have only found Cupid first, we might have been in time,” I said, and tried to apologize to him with my eyes. To my surprise, the sorrow I’d seen—and yes, all animals can show sorrow—was gone.
“Oh, I think we’re in time,” Kris patted my hand.
“I don’t understand.”
And he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he pulled off his gloves and handed them to me while I ran through every Santa Claus myth I could remember to see if I could figure out what he might do next.
Plucking one of his whiskers and rubbing it between his fingers until it turned to dust was not on the list.
Kris removed my jacket from Bub’s body, and bared the old man’s chest, turned his hand over. The whisker dust picked up light as fell toward wrinkled skin.
“Hey, take it easy with that stuff or I’ll end up in diapers again.”
I didn’t recognize the voice, but when the brightness cleared, the newly, youthened Bub sat up, ran hands over himself and grinned.
Kris held out a hand for his gloves, and I passed them back. “Keep that in mind the next time you take the notion to run off and join the circus. Christmas elves belong at the North Pole.”
Back at the house, while Soleil heated the water Evian had poured into the basin Terra created out of stone, I watched the reindeer drag the newly-repaired sleigh into the sky.
"I wish I had my magic," I sent my own Christmas wish into the sky. For a few seconds, the whole world stood still.
If you enjoyed meeting Lexi Balefire and want to read more about her, you can find her here.
About the Author
ReGina Welling lives in the boonies and can often be found writing books with her daughter, Erin Lynn.
Follow ReGina Welling and Erin Lynn online at:
The Wild Goat Chase: A Hillcrest Witch Christmas Special
Amorette Anderson
The Wild Goat Chase: A Hillcrest Witch Christmas Special
It’s holiday season in the little town of Hillcrest, Colorado. Amateur witch Penny Banks and her knitting friends want to try out a little Christmas Magic -- but what if they run out of time? A goat goes missing from the local craft fair, and the donut truck driver might be the only witness to the crime. Can they find the goat before the tree lighting ceremony?
Chapter One
“It is chilly out here!” I say, pulling my knit scarf up so that it covers my nose. Wind whips around me, tugging at my shoulder-length brown hair and threatening to pull my hat right off of my head. “Let’s hurry up and get inside,” I say to my best friend, Marley, who is walking next to me.
Up ahead of us, I see the side entrance to the Hillcrest Church. The red double doors promise coziness, warmth, and shelter from the cold wind. Plus, in the basement, we’re going to find oodles of crafts for sale. That’s a good thing, too, because it’s Christmas Eve and I haven't bought any Christmas presents yet. I guess that’s because I was hoping I’d feel inspired to conjure some up. However, the inspiration still has not struck.
Yes, I did say “conjure,” as in to make something appear by using magic.
I’m Penny Banks, and I’m a witch in training. My knitting circle friends -- Cora, Annie, and Marley -- and I started studying the craft a year ago. I use magic to do some pretty amazing things, but unfortunately, making Christmas presents has not been one of them. So I’d better get to shopping.
“Hang on,” Marley says, veering away from the walkway that leads up to church entryway. “We have to go to the front and check out the Nativity scene!”
I shiver and eye the doors longingly. “Right now?” I say. “How about we go in and warm up for a while first and then --”
Marley is already cutting across the snowy yard, stomping through a foot of fluffy Colorado snow on her way to the church’s front lawn and the Nativity scene that’s on display there.
I follow reluctantly behind her, hopping from one of her boot prints to the next. Skili, Marley’s great white owl familiar, soars through the air above us. Turkey, my own familiar, is wrapped up in a fleece blanket in my messenger bag. Each time I leap through the snow, my bag thuds against my thigh.
Turkey pokes his head out of my bag. “Do you have to jump around so much?” he transmits to me telepathically. “I was taking a nice nap.”
“Sorry to disturb your slumber, your highness,” I say. “But Marley takes big footsteps. I have to leap. Besides, it’s fun, and it’s actually warming me up.”
“It is nippy out in this wind,” Turkey says. With that, he disappears back into the shelter of my bag.
As we approach from the side yard, all I can see of the display is the back of the wooden structure that serves as a manger for the scene. In front of the manger, about thirty people are gathered. Thankfully, it’s warmer in the front of the church than it was off to the shadowy side. The sun hits my face, and the wind dies down.
“Must be a good display this year!” Marley says brightly, as we both eye the crowd. “Look at all these people!”
It’s true. I’ve never seen a crowd this big in front of the Nativity scene, and I’ve been coming to this church craft fair my whole life -- twenty-eight years running. Not only are there more people clustered around the display than usual, but they’re all smiling and laughing.
“Wonder what they’re laughing at?” I say. Curiosity overrides my desire to keep my feet wa
rm and dry, so I start breaking through the snow without waiting for Marley to lead the way.
“I hear Meredith didn’t put it together this year,” Marley says from behind me.
“Oh, no?” I say. “That’s big news. She does it every year.”
“She had to give up her spot because she sprained her wrist, and she didn’t think she could manage the task due to her activity restrictions. Katie Knap took over. Did you know Katie’s little girl Phoebe just turned three?”
“No way!” I say. “I feel like it was just yesterday that Katie was pregnant. Man, time flies.”
“Time’s not the only thing that flies!” Marley says.
Thump! I feel a snowball hitting me in the back. Some of it poofs up to my collar and settles at the edge. It’s not much snow, but it’s just enough to give me a little jolt of cold.
I whirl around to give Marley the evil eye. “I was trying to stay dry!” I say.
She laughs. “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”
I lean down, scoop up some snow, and toss it in her direction. She turns, and it hits her in the shoulder. I know she’s going to retaliate, so I take off running. Since I’m not stepping carefully anymore, I feel snow piling into the top of my boots, making my wool socks sopping wet. I’m having too much fun to care.
We’re both out of breath as we round the Nativity scene. It only takes a second or two to realize what the crowd is enamored by. In the front of the manger set-up, which is complete with life-size cutouts of Joseph, Mary, Angel Gabriel, the Three Wise men, and an empty cradle for Jesus, there’s a live baby goat.
He’s tied to a rope that’s looped around a lamppost right next to the manger. He’s white, and he’s wearing a little red jacket.
The rope he’s tied to is long and gives him plenty of leeway to move about; he’s trampling around on a bunch of hay that’s spread out in front of the manger. There are a few stumps and boards set up, and he looks so joyful as he jumps up onto the various surfaces.
He runs toward a stump, gets all four feet up on it, and then leaps into the air while jutting his back legs out to the side.
“Wow!” I say. Instinctively, I start clapping. This little guy deserves applause. Others are cheering and clapping, too.
Jim, our town postmaster, is right next to me. “Penny!” he says, greeting me with a warm smile. “Merry Christmas Eve! Can you believe this display? It’s Katie’s goat. Name’s Blaze.”
“He is super cute,” I say, chucking.
Jim laughs along with me. “I think this is the best show in town!” He turns back to the “show.” The little goat is now prancing across a board that’s set up like a balance beam. I focus my thoughts on my familiar and tune into our telepathic channel. “Turkey! You’ve got to see this. This baby goat is so cute!”
“I thought we were going to go inside and warm up,” Turkey transmits. Then he pokes his head out of my bag and catches sight of the goat. “Oh, my!” he says. “He is adorable. No wonder videos of baby goats playing tend to go viral on the internet. That being said, I do feel that videos of cats are more popular by far. It’s hard to beat the cuteness factor of a feline face.”
Before I can respond to Turkey, a woman standing at the edge of the crowd catches my eye: Meredith Kipp. She’s an anomaly in the sea of smiling faces, which is why she captures my attention. While everyone else is amused and enamored with Blaze, she clearly is not.
Not only is she not smiling -- but she’s actually frowning. Her brows are scrunched together. Her arms are folded across her chest. She looks like she’s practicing for the role of Scrooge in a production of A Christmas Carol. Though she’s in a cheerful outfit -- a silver jacket and bright pink scarf -- she looks dark and brooding.
I nudge Marley. “Meredith doesn’t look too happy about any of this,” I say.
Marley glances in Meredith’s direction and then whispers to me. “She’s probably just jealous that Katie’s getting so much attention. Meredith’s displays never drew in a crowd like this.”
I look around for Katie and spot her just a few paces away from Marley and me. Katie has her little girl Phoebe on her shoulders. Mother and child are beaming at the goat, and seem to be having a wonderful time.
A gust of wind sweeps through the crowd, and I shiver again. Yes, the front yard is warmer than the side, but now that I have snow down my back and in my boots, I’d rather be inside out of the wind.
I hug myself and say to Marley, “Come on! Let’s go see Annie.”
Marley tears her eyes from the goat and gives me a nod. “I can’t wait to give her the gift I brought!”
“I thought we were going to wait to exchange gifts tonight, right before the tree lighting at six?” I say. We reach the front steps, and I start jogging up them. I can’t wait to get inside. I pull the door open and hold it for Marley. I see Skili has landed in a high branch of a nearby tree, where she’ll wait for us while we’re inside.
Marley steps in. “Oh, yeah. We are,” she says. “But I have two gifts for Annie. So I’m going to give her one now, and one later.”
“Two?” I repeat. Oh boy. Marley is making me feel bad. She has two gifts for Annie, while I have zero -- for Annie or anyone else.
“Just little things,” Marley says.
We cross the lobby of the church and head for the stairs that lead to the basement. I can hear the hum of the crowd below. I pull off my hat and my mittens as we descend the staircase. When I open my bag to tuck them inside, Turkey leaps out. He runs down the stairs ahead of Marley and me.
I’m sure he’s off to do some browsing of his own. He’ll probably find me in an hour or so with a little list of items he wants me to buy. Seeing as he makes most of the money between the two of us, I won’t protest.
The church basement is a big, open space in the shape of an “L.” Along the perimeter of the room, there are folding tables piled high with craft items of all shapes and sizes. Vendors stand or sit behind the tables while the customers mill around in front of them. In the middle of the room, there’s a big armchair, and a sign announcing that Santa will arrive at 4:30 to pose for pictures and hear Christmas wish lists from local boys and girls. Since it’s only 2:00, the chair is empty, but I know there will be a line leading up to it later. Sitting with Santa is a big deal among the kids in town. I remember -- I used to get such a thrill out of telling him what I hoped to get under the tree in the morning while my mother snapped pictures.
“There’s Annie!” I say, pointing across the room. I wave at our friend, but there’s so much going on in the basement that she doesn’t see us waving at her.
I lead the way across the room, excited to give her a Christmas Eve hug. “What did you get her?” I ask Marley as we weave around little clusters of shoppers.
“It’s just a silly gift,” Marley says. “Reindeer ears, like the ones I have. She always says how much she likes them, so I thought she might want her own. I bet she’ll wear them here. She loves -- oomph!” Marley stops talking abruptly.
I turn around and see that a guy, Allen Miller, has collided with Marley. Apparently he wasn’t watching where he was going because as he bounces off of her and backs away, he says, “I am so sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was watching my kid and --”
“It’s okay,” Marley says.
“Sorry,” Allen says again. “Really.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not having a great day.”
Marley smiles at him. “It’s Christmas Eve!” she says. “Not a day for being upset. No problem, Allen, really.”
His worried expression only intensifies. “Yeah… not a day for being upset, sure,” he says, with a shake of his head. He sighs heavily. Then he looks back at his daughter. “Come on, Willow. Mommy’s waiting outside.”
He holds his hand out to his daughter. She’s a cute little four-year-old with blonde pigtails that swing around as she skips up to Allen. She’s holding a teddy bear in her hands. “Will you hold this for me?” she says as she passes
a shimmery purple piece of fabric to her father. “It’s Precious Bear’s skirt. She doesn’t want to wear it anymore.” Allen stuffs the skirt in his back pocket, a bit impatiently, and takes the girl’s hand.
As the two head away from us, I say, “Allen’s not having a good day, is he?”
Marley shakes her head. We continue to Annie’s booth.
Our friend Annie has short white hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a bright smile. She’s wearing one of her hand-made Christmas sweaters -- of which she has many. This one has a wreath on it, shaped like a heart. It’s an appropriate design, given that Annie has the biggest heart of anyone I know.
“Girls!” she says happily as Marley and I approach the table. “You made it! Here… I have treats for you.” She leans down and begins to pull something from the bins tucked under her table.
As she rummages through the bin, looking for the treats, she says, “It was a slow morning, but it’s picking up this afternoon. I sold three sweaters, four or five sets of hats and mittens, and about two dozen tea-mug cozies. Here we are!” She stands up and holds out two tins -- one in each hand.
The tins have big bows on top, and little tags sticking out of the bows. Annie glances at the tags. “Penny, this one is for you,” she says, wiggling the tray in her right hand. “It’s chocolate fudge, your favorite flavor. And Marley, this one’s for you. Maple walnut!”
“Yay!” Marley says, reaching for her tin. She sets it down on the table and says, “Annie, I have something for you, too!”
I accept my tin in one hand while placing my other hand on my hip. “This is not fair!” I say. “You guys, I thought we were going to do a gift exchange this evening.”
Annie waves a hand at me. “Oh, this is nothing formal, Penny, dear,” she says. She smiles as she receives the wrapped gift that Marley is holding out. “Besides, Christmas isn’t about the gifts, really. It’s about love. It’s about being together.”