by Tegan Maher
Evangeline smiled politely at the young man. “Right.”
“Thank you, Aaron. Can you round everyone up for me?” I asked.
Glancing at me, her sculpted brows lifted, Evangeline muttered, “Sounds like he could join Adam’s I love math club.”
Suppressing a giggle, I raised my gloved hands and beckoned toward the other volunteers as they circled back toward the trailer. “That’s a wrap, everyone! It looks amazing. Thank you so much for all of your help.”
A whoop of excitement rang out and the volunteers took a moment to survey their handiwork. It was impressive what we’d accomplished in the past few hours. Swags of fresh-cut garland hung in sashes from each streetlamp, breaking only for the main four-way intersection in the center of town. Evangeline and I had volunteered to make the swag, using clippings from the woods behind the Beechwood Manor. The project had taken days, even with the help of magic to string the branches together, but the effect was well worth the effort.
Tearing my eyes off our handiwork, I pointed the crowd of volunteers over to the gazebo. Two blue-haired ladies on the city council stood, each holding a clipboard as they surveyed the two teenagers working to frame the opening with colorful lights while another helper followed behind, hanging plastic candy canes from the eaves once they were lighted. “If you see Mrs. Miller and Ms. Voss, they’ll have your next assignments. Looks like the gazebo still needs some work. Or, if you’re ready for a break, Cassie has free cookies and cocoa for you at Siren’s Song.”
“Thanks, Holly!” a few called as they dispersed.
“Days like this make me wish we could just fess up and tell the humans we have magic,” Evangeline said, coming to stand beside me. “Honestly, we could have had all this garland up like that!” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
Smiling, I nodded. Logically, we knew that revealing magic to the greater human population would end in disaster, but there were moments it was nearly impossible to resist busting it out.
“Think Santa Claus will approve?” I asked, changing the subject.
Evangeline grinned. “Absolutely! If he’s looking for the magic of Christmas, he’ll find it here.”
“I think so, too.” I linked my arm through hers and we strolled down the street, taking it all in. “And imagine it all with a dusting of snow!”
“It’s going to be postcard worthy, for sure. I think I’ll call my photographer and have her reschedule my shoot. I want to wait for the snow, now that I know it’s guaranteed to come!”
“I didn’t know you were having a photo shoot,” I said, my brow furrowed as I glanced at her.
“Oh, I do it every year. I have Christmas cards made up to send to any fans that mail me a letter throughout the year.”
Once upon a time, Evangeline had starred in a paranormal soap opera and was a bona fide TV star in the haven world. When she’d left the Los Angeles Haven and come to live in Beechwood Harbor, she’d left her acting days behind—well, aside from an impromptu part in the community center’s production of Our Town last summer—but a segment of her fanbase remained devoted and often sent gifts and letters and requested signed photos.
“I just think it will look better in the snow,” she continued. “Don’t you? My royal blue coat will really pop with the white background.”
“I wonder if Adam and I should do something like that,” I mused to myself. Christmas cards weren’t something I was in the habit of doing as a single person, but now that I was in a serious relationship, maybe it was time to change that. “Then again, I have no idea who I’d send them to, other than maybe Anastasia. It’s not like anyone in my family would be interested.”
Evangeline looked like she wanted to say something but came up empty. She squeezed my arm before unthreading hers from mine.
“Speaking of Adam, where is he?” I pushed back the sleeve of my puffy white coat to glance at my watch. “It’s half past three. I’d have thought he’d be back by now, not-so-subtly hinting about going to get something to eat.”
Evangeline laughed. “Are you sure he hasn’t been hunkered down at Siren’s Song, sweet talking Cassie into giving him extra cookies?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed along with her. “I’d say there’s a ninety-nine percent chance you’re right.”
We headed toward the small strip of shops where Siren’s Song stood lit up like a warm beacon. The huge windows revealed the bustle of activity inside. As we neared the front door, a tall, lanky man in a red flannel shirt stepped outside, sending a waft of rich espresso swirling toward us.
“Looks like they might have gone back for a second load,” Evangeline said, gesturing toward a parking spot across the lot that was piled with fresh-cut trees. At the mouth of the lot, a red truck with the words Lester’s Tires and Brakes painted on the side idled, waiting to turn onto the main road that would lead back up the hill, toward the Beechwood Manor.
“Yikes,” I said with a cringe. “How many of these things are we going to have to decorate?”
Evangeline grabbed my shoulders and steered me to Siren’s Song’s door. “Enough to justify getting extra-large mochas with piles of peppermint whipped cream on top.”
I didn’t argue.
We emerged from the coffee house an hour later, buzzing with a second wind of energy, largely thanks to half a dozen sugar cookies and two mochas. The cut trees we’d seen outside were now propped up in deep wooden planter boxes—four flanked the arched opening of the gazebo, creating the illusion of a forest for what would be staged as Santa’s workshop. A quartet of high school girls strung lights on the trees, laughing and teasing each other as they worked to unwind the long strings of lights. A boy in a letterman jacket raced up and sprayed them with a long blast from a can of faux snow. The girls shrieked and screamed after him, their pretty Christmas sweaters coated in white.
Oh, to be young again.
With a subtle twinkle of my fingers, I sent a wave of magic toward the girls, slicking away the fake snow as though their sweaters were made of Teflon. The girls inspected each other and when Mrs. Miller passed by, cradling her Pomeranian, they snapped back to work lighting the trees.
“Lester’s truck is still gone,” Evangeline said, seemingly oblivious to the trials of the young ladies across the street. “Why aren’t they back yet? It’s going to start getting dark soon.”
I glanced up at the sky. We’d lucked out with a sunny—though cold—afternoon, but it appeared our luck was rapidly changing as grey clouds rolled into view. Dusk was on its way and from the look of those clouds, so was a sprinkle.
“Maybe they got turned around?” Evangeline suggested hesitantly.
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not possible. Adam knows those woods inside and out. Plus, he’d already scouted out which trees to cut weeks ago when he went out for a run. It wouldn’t have taken him long to get them all cut down, even if he was by himself, and he had help. He should be back by now.”
A finger of worry twisted its way up my spine. We’d had plenty of experiences in the woods behind the Beechwood Manor—though they were rarely good ones. While Adam and I had shared some tender moments and deep heart-to-hearts walking through the woods, more often than not, we’d been in the woods running into or away from danger.
Something wasn’t right.
“We need to go find them,” I said abruptly. “I’m going to go tell Mrs. Miller we’re leaving.”
Evangeline thumbed at the coffee shop. “Should I go see if anyone wants to come with us? We could fan out?”
My gut said no and I started shaking my head before I fully knew why. “I think we’d better go, just the two of us, and see what’s going on. If we need to use magic, we can’t have any witnesses.”
Evangeline didn’t argue.
We trooped across the street, caught up with Mrs. Miller, who could outpace just about anyone in town even in her seventies, and let her know we were going to check on the guys. Before she let us leave, she insisted on checking her phon
e to see if Lester had tried to phone her. When she confirmed there were no messages from him, she glanced up, worry pinching her lined brow as she glanced up at the sky. “You’d better hurry. It looks like it might rain.”
It took minutes to hustle up the hill to the manor, where we spotted Lester’s cherry-red truck sitting idly in the driveway. Four six-foot trees sat in the bed and the tailgate was still dropped open, as if they planned to load up a few more. We looked around and called out for Adam and Lester, but no one replied.
I dialed Adam’s cell phone number but the call went straight to voicemail. With a disappointed sigh, I clicked off the call without leaving a message and shoved the phone back into my pocket. “Voicemail,” I said to Evangeline. “If they’re deep in there, he probably doesn’t have reception.”
“Probably not.” Evangeline removed a glove and placed her bare hand on the hood of the truck. “It’s still warm. They couldn’t have gone too far.”
Nodding, I rounded the truck and went to the edge of the woods. The Beechwood Manor sat atop a bluff overlooking the harbor and the sound of the ocean carried up to the historic home. Along with the oceanic chill. Shivering, I rubbed my hands together, realizing I’d left my gloves on the counter at the coffee shop when we’d been chatting with Cassie. “Let’s see if we can find some footprints,” I said, considering the mucky ground. It had rained the night before and the earth hadn’t completely dried out, making it perfect to spot boot prints.
Especially with the help of a little magic.
Following our last adventure-slash-nightmare in the woods, I’d spent hours honing my tracking spell skills. Normally, a tracking spell required a sample from the person you were tracking—a hair was usually the easiest thing to obtain—but there were other types of tracking. For thousands of years, witches and wizards had used spells to aid in hunting for food or looking for other lost items.
Murmuring a spell, I cast out a pulse of magic. The silvery and purple sparks twirled together in an enthralling swirl as they sped ahead. The magic landed on each boot print and some of the sparks lingered, outlining the markings the footsteps left in the ground before the magic hopped to the next print.
“That was a nifty little piece of spellwork,” Evangeline commented, admiring the sparks and glow of magic.
“Thanks,” I panted. “I figured it would come in handy.”
“Knowing us…” she replied with a laugh.
“Exactly.”
She left me just long enough to go swap the stilettos for a pair of rubber boots she kept near the back door of the house, and then we chased the spell into the woods. Each print was aglow, giving us a clear path to follow, even among the pine needles and other debris that covered the forest floor. There were two sets of them going into the forest and then two leading out.
“Stars, how far out did they go?” I huffed when we came to a stop in a small clearing. The deeper we went, the darker it got, the overcast sky crowded out by the ancient pines. “These aren’t even the right kind of trees for Christmas.”
“Seriously. What did Adam do, start his own Christmas tree farm out here or something?” Evangeline tossed a bit of her own magic into the sky and an orb of light appeared.
“I don’t know.” I stopped running and looked around. My stomach gave a sick lurch as a realization hit me like a punch in the gut. “Wait. Evangeline, stop.”
She stopped and pivoted back to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
Gesturing at the magically lit tracks, I frowned. “There should be three sets. They came into the woods, that’s this first set, but then they left, hauling out the first batch of trees. See these grooves? That has to be from wagon wheels. One of those hand-pulled trailer things. There should be a third set of prints if they wound up coming back this way to get the rest.”
Evangeline exhaled, her breath a frosty puff of white. “Rats. You’re right.”
We looked around the woods. It was getting darker and colder. A lot colder.
“Let me call for Flurry. Maybe he saw something.”
I paused on the trail, catching my breath, as Evangeline closed her eyes and tipped her head back. A hawk screeched in the near distance and Evangeline opened her eyes, smiling. “There he is. I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
A huge hawk swooped into view, gracefully dodging the pine trees before coming to rest on a low-hanging branch a few feet ahead of us. He cocked his head and stared at Evangeline with curiosity. “It’s good to see you, too, pal. What have you been up to? Ruining Thanksgiving for a family of field mice, I suppose.”
Flurry screeched and flapped his wings as if to say hey, bird’s gotta eat.
The hawk was Evangeline’s unconventional familiar. I wasn’t quite sure how the pair first met, but they shared a strong bond and could communicate the same way I could with Boots. Possibly even more so, as Flurry acted on Evangeline’s instructions instantly. Or perhaps it was just that Flurry was more compliant than my chunky orange tabby cat.
That sounded about right.
“We’re looking for Adam. Have you seen him?” Evangeline asked the majestic bird.
He screeched in reply, followed by a series of chirp-like noises. I looked at Evangeline, waiting for the translation. She nodded but her lips quirked to one side and a stress line appeared between her brows. “Thanks anyway, Flurry.”
“No such luck?” I said.
She shook her head. “He saw them earlier, but then he got hungry and flew off to find a snack.”
“Bat wings.” We’d been following the trail for twenty minutes. It wouldn’t take long to get back to the manor. We could gear up and call Nick and Meryl for help searching. Scarlet Sanderson and her ghost pals were likely available, too.
“Let’s go back to the manor and try calling again. Maybe he’s back to a place with reception.”
“That’s a good—”
A blood-curdling scream broke through the twilight.
Then, a wolf howled.
Chapter Three
Flurry swooped into view before Evangeline and I even set off running toward the sound of the scream and menacing howl. The dark hawk screeched, glanced back to make sure we knew to follow, and then shot through the trees, expertly weaving through the branches. We ran after Flurry as fast as we could. Without a dedicated trail, it was tricky, especially in the still-squishy mud.
Finally, we broke through a thick cluster of evergreens and saw Adam. He’d shifted into his beast form—a hundred-and-sixty-pound dog with a thick black coat—and stood at the base of a pine tree, two massive paws planted on the trunk as he stared up at one of the higher branches. His black lips were curled away from his white fangs, and a low, menacing growl rumbled up through his broad chest.
Even though I knew him and knew he would never hurt me, there was something about stumbling upon him this way that unnerved me.
Evangeline looked to me and I cautiously took a step toward the growling dog. “Adam? What is it?”
He didn’t look at me. His attention was fixated on whatever he’d chased up the tree.
I took another tentative step and looked up the trunk. With a surprised gasp, I spotted a gnome, dressed in head-to-toe green, huddled on a branch, his eyes glowing blood red.
Well, that’s disturbing.
The gnome’s eyes shifted toward me and in a high-pitched voice, he screeched at me in a foreign tongue. Adam growled and snapped his teeth. Did he understand what the gnome was saying? Guess I’d skipped that semester in academy.
“Adam?” I said quietly. “What’s going on? Where is Lester?”
The gnome’s voice wasn’t the right pitch to account for the scream Evangeline and I heard from the edge of the forest. But there was no sign of the mechanic who’d accompanied Adam on the tree-cutting mission.
Adam couldn’t speak while in his beast form. But he could still communicate. At my question, he jerked his muzzle toward a pair of pines.
“Did you shift in front of him? Is that
what scared him?”
Wincing, Adam blinked once.
“Bat wings,” I grumbled. “The SPA is going to have to send a warden to track him down and wipe his memory.”
Even if we could find Lester, there wasn’t anything we could do. At least not legally. Mind magic was forbidden by haven law. The only ones who were able to perform it were highly trained SPA agents and even then, they used it only in dire cases. Lester had seen too much to be left alone. They would have to take care of it. A hit of mind magic and they could unwind the memory and soften it into a shadow of a strange dream, leaving the details and images fuzzy and obscure.
Evangeline came closer and moved her orb of magic light to put the gnome in a spotlight. The small creature screeched at us, shaking his tiny fist and baring small but surprisingly sharp-looking teeth.
Adam growled another warning.
“I’ve never seen a gnome with red eyes,” Evangeline said, concern etched into her face.
Adam dropped his front paws to the ground and turned, exposing a series of slashes on his left flank. The cuts were red and had clearly bled, but it seemed to have stopped. I gasped anyway. “He did that to you?”
“Nasty little bugger,” Evangeline said, cutting a glare up at the still furious gnome. “What do we do now?”
“We can’t leave him out here. Gnomes are definitely not supposed to be running loose around the human world,” I said.
The gnome was about the size of a large house cat. It wasn’t a question of whether the three of us could handle him, it was what to do to contain him until we could call the SPA and get some agents out to deal with him. That was, after all, what the agency was for—to protect supernatural beings from humans and occasionally from each other.
A string of harsh-sounding words rained down on us from the angry gnome and a sting bit into my arm, almost like the pinch of a small crab. “Ouch!” I cried, twisting my arm away.