by Tegan Maher
"What's the caroling tradition all about?" I asked Mrs. Claus as she watched her husband hobble along.
"Well, I must admit it is pretty special. Every year at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, we all gather around the big Christmas tree with our candlesticks, friends, and family, and sing carols."
"Oh, that does sound lovely," I turned to Michael and thought, and the perfect opportunity to curse an entire town.
Chapter Four
The minutes ticked by until it got closer and closer to eight o’clock. Michael and I kept our eye on Vicki, watching her in a new light as she continued to sell wreaths for the PTO, knowing full-well now how much she despised it.
Finally, a few minutes before eight, people began to gather around the Christmas tree. White tapers were passed out with cardboard bobèches to catch the dripping wax. Everyone stood shoulder to shoulder as the flame was passed from neighbor to neighbor.
A hush fell over the crowd as Sandy stood on a little wooden platform in front of the Christmas tree with his own candle lit. "Welcome one and all to the fifty-fifth annual carols by the tree! We're so happy to have you here with us on this magical night. Now, we're going to kick things off with jingle bells, and then after that, feel free to call out your own requests. Ready?" Sandy looked over to the choir who had gathered on the side. I recognized them as the carolers who had been traipsing down Main Street. Sandy counted them off, and soon their voices filled the nighttime air, with everyone else joining in.
Michael and I had planned to stay back and observe, that way we could jump in when and where we were needed, and keep on eye on the festivities in case I was wrong about Vicki. But what we hadn't planned on was how large, and quickly the crowd would grow as soon as the singing began. It seemed everyone in attendance was now standing around the tree, singing and swaying to the music. It made it incredibly difficult to walk through the crowd and keep an eye on things.
It was the second chorus of We Wish You a Merry Christmas when a green fog appeared. It started out thin, hovering close to the ground, and it grew thicker as it steadily rose in the air. Everyone was singing about pudding and good cheer, except for Vicki. Her lips were moving, but even from afar, I could tell that she wasn't singing the lyrics. No, she was casting a spell.
I felt we needed to act that instant before the curse could take hold. Unable to physically reach Vicki, I reached into my arsenal of spells and called forth the power of the wind.
Wind rise up and aid me.
Clear this fog that I may see.
As I will it so mote it be.
Christmas lights swayed on the trees as the wind steadily picked up. Gusts blew back carolers scarves and tourists stocking caps, but the area was large, and the fog was thick. It would take more than a bit of wind to rid us of the curse. We needed to take Vicki out, but I didn't want to send a bolt of electricity her way, not in a crowd this size. I could easily miss and hit a child.
The wind spell still whipped about. I was about to turn to Michael and ask what spell he thought we should try next when he took his hand in mind. His power amplified the spell already cast. A massive gust of wind rose up and tore through the crowd, taking the fog and scattering it up to the heavens. The wind hit Vicki in the chest, knocking her flat on her back.
"Well, I say, where did that wind come from?" Sandy said to the crowd. "Is everyone okay?" He looked out from his wooden perch to survey the scene. Convinced that Vicki and everyone else was okay, Sandy struck up the music once more, and Michael and I moved in to make our arrest.
The man I dubbed Mr. Halloween was helping Vicki up, and they looked ready to make a run for it when Michael and I caught up with them and their daughter as they were leaving the party.
"Off so fast?" I asked, placing my hand on Vicki's shoulder.
"As a matter of fact, we are. If you'll excuse us." Vicki nudged my hand off her shoulder.
"Not so fast. We need to have a talk," Michael stepped in. I took out my badge and flashed it to the trio. I knew Michael would have loved to do the same if he wasn't entirely out of his jurisdiction.
"Excuse me? What is this about?" Mr. Halloween snapped back.
I looked around to make sure no one was listening. Just because I could alter memories, didn't mean I wanted to walk around doing it all night. "The curse you were just casting," I said as a matter of factly to Vicki.
"What? That's ridiculous. I wasn't cursing anyone. Who had ever heard of anything so stupid?”
"Let's look at the facts, shall we? You're a witch, you hate Christmas, a mysterious green fog appeared while you were singing," I used air quotes around the word, "and the minute we took you out, the spell was broken."
Vicki opened and closed her mouth in protest, but nothing came out.
"When I said kiss Christmas goodbye, I meant going to the Maldives on vacation, not wiping the holiday off the map," Mr. Halloween replied to Vicki. Disgust apparent on his face.
"Don't look at me like that. I didn't do this. Just because I hate Christmas, doesn't mean everyone else has to. And if you must know, I didn’t know the words to the song. That’s why I wasn’t singing,” Vicki said the last part to me.
"Save it for the judge," Michael replied.
"Excuse me," Vicki's daughter Jessica piped up.
"Don't tell me you had something to do with this," Vicki replied.
"Really, mom? You think I'm that powerful enough to curse the entire town?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "If I were going to curse anything, it wouldn't be Christmas. I love it."
The look on Vicki's face was priceless.
Before Jessica could continue her thought, the green fog started to fill the sky once more. "What in the world?" I asked.
"Come on, I'll show you," Jessica said.
The four of us followed Jessica, and I was at a loss as to who the culprit was and why.
We marched on down the sidewalk, which was much easier to do now that everyone was singing around the Christmas tree. I almost ran right into the back of Jessica when she came to a stop in front of Mrs. Claus's bakery.
"After you," she said, holding the door open for us.
Inside, the smell of sugar and buttercream made my tummy rumble. It smelled delicious. The shop was set up so customers could watch the bakers' work while they shopped. Inside the front cases were festive cut-outs, rolled yule log cakes, candy cane cookies, miniature mince pies, chunks of chocolate fudge, rum balls, stollen bread, and a full selection of fruit cakes. Mrs. Claus had been busy, and it looked like she still was. Only I didn't recognize her at first. She was still sporting the red velvet dress, but she had removed her bonnet, revealing not only dark brown locks but a glowing halo.
She worked, lost in her own world. Tears fell down her cheeks as she rolled out the dough and stamped out cookies. Behind her, a steady stream of green fog rolled out of the oven and out the open window into the nighttime air. It's the cookies. Mrs. Claus cursed the cookies!
"Mrs. Claus," I said gently over the glass partitioner.
"Oh, I didn't hear anyone come in." Mrs. Claus looked up in surprise. "Don't mind me. I'm such a mess. Just a little Christmas cry, that's all." Mrs. Claus tried to dismiss away her emotions.
I left the group behind me and walked behind the counter. "You don't have to pretend. I see how sad you are," I said as gently as possible. I rubbed her shoulder with my hand.
Mrs. Claus broke down and buried her face in her hands. "Every year, it gets worse and worse. I used to love Christmas so much, but now it just brings stress and worry. I hate what it's doing to Sandy. I'm afraid it's going to kill him. I just wish it would all go away," Mrs. Claus confessed and then cried harder. "How awful is that?" she looked up at me to see what I'd say.
Honestly, I thought it was pretty bad that she'd curse the entire town to get rid of Christmas, but I could also see why she did it. "I understand why you're upset, and you have my sympathy, but cursing Holliday isn't the answer," I replied.
"What? What in the world a
re you talking about?" Mrs. Claus looked genuinely shocked.
"You didn't do it on purpose," I said out loud as my mind pieced things together.
"What are you talking about, dear?" Mrs. Claus asked.
"You're cursing the whole town, Ilene," Vicki called over without an ounce of tack.
"I'm what?" Mrs. Claus replied.
I motioned to the fog rolling out of her oven. "You baked your Christmas wish into your cookies and now Christmas is going to disappear.”
Mrs. Claus looked horrified. "I love Christmas, I really do. I don't want to ruin it for everyone. I just wish Sandy would calm things down a bit. What do I do now?"
"Let me think. We need to reverse this spell." And then it hit me. "How much dough do you have left?"
Vicki and her husband left, as they clearly weren't the ones to help fix this mess, but their daughter, Jessica stayed behind. The four of us quickly worked on baking as many cookies filled with Christmas love and magic as possible. The minute they came out of the oven and cooled, we packaged them up and handed them out to anyone who would take one. Mrs. Claus even set platters out on the table in front of the bakery along with fresh coffee and hot chocolate. Jessica kept an eye on things out front while Michael and I helped Mrs. Claus in the kitchen.
"I can't thank you enough," she said as the last batch of cookies went in.
"Absolutely. I'm just glad we figured out what was going on before it was too late," I replied.
“And I'm just glad there were cookies involved," Michael commented with his mouthful.
"Do you want us to talk to Sandy?" I offered.
"No, I will. I'm going to tell him the Ghost of Christmas Future paid me a visit, and we're not taking any chances!"
"Well, good luck with that. I hope for your sake, and his, Sandy listens," I said. "Ready to get going, Mr. Cooper."
"One more cookie," Michael replied, snatching a fresh one cooling on the counter.
We said goodbye to Mrs. Claus and to Jessica on our way out. Across the street, the caroling was coming to a close as they began to sing Silent Night. The hymn was the perfect song to wrap up the case. Under a blanket of stars, Michael went in for a kiss.
"Hey, I didn't see any mistletoe," I joked.
"No, but I did leave a wreath around here somewhere," Michael replied.
And that answer was good enough for me.
Want to read more of Vee and her time-traveling adventures? Check out book one in the series, Better Witch Next Time: My Book
About Stephanie Damore
About the Author
I'm a mystery author with a soft spot for romance and humor, too. I love being on the beach, I have a strong affinity for the color pink (especially in diamonds and champagne), and, not to brag, but chocolate and I are in a pretty serious relationship.
Follow Stephanie Damore online at:
The Christmas Crisis
An Enchanted Coast Holiday Mystery
Tegan Maher
The Christmas Crisis
Christmas is witch Destiny Maganti’s favorite time of year, but when Santa shows up at the magical beach resort where she works and declares he’s retired, she has no idea what to do. Christmas spirit starts to flag, people get testy, and the financial world starts to sag.
It’s not until Mrs. Claus and the rest of the North Pole crew are taken captive by an evil elf that he decides maybe he’s meant to be Santa after all, but his magic’s already waned. Can he regain it in time to save Christmas and the people he loves?
Chapter One
I love Christmas. It's my absolute favorite time of the year. My cousins tease me because I usually spend it at the Enchanted Coast, the tropical resort where I work and live, and put up my Christmas trees—yes, multiple ones—in shorts and a tank top, but there's just something about the season that brings out the best in people no matter the weather.
Since, as a waitress at a tropical tiki bar, I depend on the generosity of guests to pay my bills, it's only fair to say upfront that I benefit financially from the whole "goodwill toward all" thing, but that doesn't have anything to do with my passion.
Maybe it's because, just for a little while, magic touches everybody, not just those who are blessed with it year 'round.
Whatever the reason, I love it. That's why the story I'm about to tell you was one of the most terrifying events of my entire life. Don't worry, though. It is, after all, a Christmas story, and I wouldn't tell one that didn't have a happy ending.
"I love the enthusiasm, but do you really think we need lights on the beer taps?" Bob, our Bigfoot bartender and one of my closest friends, asked as I twined the mini-snowflake LEDs around the pull-handles.
"Yes, Bob," I replied, stepping back to survey my work. "We need lights on the beer taps. Look how festive they are. I special ordered these since there's no plug-in on this side of the bar."
He sighed. "I don't get your obsession with Christmas. I mean, I'm no Scrooge, but it's just another holiday meant to suck money out of our pockets in order to keep the kids happy. Every year, I end up buying generic gifts for people I don't even like just because I would be a Scrooge for not participating in the Secret Santa. It's borderline extortion."
"You're just bitter because you drew Ed in bookkeeping for Secret Santa," Tempest, my black-and-white arctic fox, said. She was probably right. Ed was a goblin, and while he wasn't a bad guy, he was typical of his species: a little condescending and wrapped up in his work. The guy was richer than Midas and only worked because it was in his goblin nature, so that didn't help, either.
"For the second year in a row," Bob pointed out, twirling his waxed handlebar mustache. "I had him last year, too, and ended up buying him a fountain pen because I couldn't think of anything better."
"Fine, then," I said, adjusting the battery pack on the lights so it wasn't quite so visible. "I'll trade with you. I got Lou from human resources."
He rolled his eyes. "Lou's great, but he's one of those fashion-forward guys who make the rest of us look bad. He'd be even worse to buy for than Ed."
"Does that honestly matter to you, though?" I asked, looking at him over my sunglasses. "I mean, are you gonna buy it yourself, or are you gonna shove it off on Jolene?"
"I don't shove it off on her," he replied, drawing his bushy eyebrows down at me as he wiped off the bar. "She likes Christmas shopping."
"Then why are you even worried about it?" Tempest asked, hopping up onto the bar to take the piece of pineapple Bob offered her from the pile he was slicing. "All you have to do is set whatever she buys for him on the table at the Christmas party."
I flicked my wrist and sent a little stream of magic into the snowflakes so that they twinkled as well as lit up.
"Here, watch out for a minute," he said as he rinsed the pineapple juice from his hands, then dug around in our junk drawer. Fishing out a roll of semi-clean clear tape, he handed it to me. "You do it because tape and hairy hands don't mix too well, but add a piece or two of that so that they don't keep sliding off. The last thing we need is lights that drop off into somebody's beer. I don't feel like doing CPR on anybody. It's exhausting."
I gave a small smile. As much as he grumbles, I know he loves the holiday, too. His current state of crabbiness was most likely brought about by the fact that he hadn't decided on a gift for his wife yet. He agonized over it, but I couldn't blame him. Jolene was a sweetheart—a down-home country girl who'd give you her last dollar if she thought you needed it more than she did. She deserved an awesome gift.
"Have you figured out what you're gettin' Jolene yet?"
He heaved a big sigh. "Not even close. I thought maybe I'd get her those curtains she's been goin' on about."
"You're not buying her curtains for Christmas," I said, shaking my head. "Or at least not just curtains. Figure out something personal. Get her a nice piece of jewelry or something. Surely she's dropped some hints."
He thought for a minute, then shook his head. "Nope. It's football season, so she's
usually too busy complainin' about how she misses all her shows because me and the boys hog the TV."
I rolled my eyes. "Get her a TV for the bedroom or the lanai."
As soon as I said it, he threw his hands in the air. "See, this is why I suck at Christmas. She may as well have dropped an anvil on my head. Why can't she just make a list?"
"Because," Tempest said, with a pointed look. "She's like us. She doesn't want to know what's in a box before she opens it, but she does want to steer you in the right direction so you don’t buy stupid crap. Like curtains."
"Hmm," he said. "She did ooh and ahh a little too much over those fancy UV-light hair-remover things."
As a fashion-conscious Bigfoot woman, I could see where that type of gift would appeal to her.
"See, now you have two gift ideas," Tempest said. "Just quit being a lunkhead and pay attention."
I stepped from behind the bar and walked around to the front of the tiki so I could examine at my handiwork as a whole. It was perfect. Almost a dozen strands of white lights lit up the inside, while I'd used colored ones to frame the outside of the structure. I'd strapped giant lighted candy canes to the support poles on both front corners, then wrapped strands of lights around them and hung wreaths higher up on the poles for good measure.
Finally, on the back tables on either side of the bar, I'd put up cute little three-foot trees complete with decorations and fake gifts.
Anywhere else in the world, I'd have worried a little about having so many lights on the palm-leaf thatched structure since it was uber flammable, but that was one of the many benefits of living on a magical resort: everything was enchanted to be as safe as possible.