Destruction: The December People, Book One

by Sharon Bayliss

  “September really is the opposite of March.”

  “Opposite maybe, but not that different. It’s the other equinox. Equinox wizards sometimes have trouble learning magic because their magic is too complex, light and dark in equal measure. But once they figure it out, they can be the best ones. The most versatile. They’re more moderate, less overwhelmed by extremes, so they can be more precise. At least, this is what my mother told me to make me feel better when I couldn’t do spells.”

  She stayed in his arms. Her lips glittered.

  “Everyone in your family is winter,” she said.

  “You’ve tasted them?” he asked.

  She giggled. “Well, not like this. The closer a wizard is to the solstice, the more obvious it is. You’re complicated. I had to get really close. The others aren’t so complex.”

  Their foreheads touched.

  “They’re close to the solstice then?” he asked. “The darkest wizards?”

  “I think so. I’m not good enough to pinpoint dates. But I would say they are all either December or January. Some of them could be November, or February, perhaps. I’ve only really checked Emmy and Jude. She’s a January. He’s a December.”

  He couldn’t help but picture her ‘checking’ Jude and wanted to punch him in the stomach for about the millionth time in his life.

  “But you all shouldn’t be so concerned about being dark. Darkness doesn’t mean bad. Winter isn’t bad. It’s just a season. The Earth needs winter just as much as summer. And Texas could probably use a lot more of it.”

  She giggled at her joke. He caught her parted lips in a kiss. He had kissed two other girls before and didn’t think it had gone well, but this went differently. She placed his bottom lip between hers and parted his mouth more. She gently dragged the tip of her tongue along the side of his. He had never felt less wintery.

  One of David’s earliest memories was about Christmas. Lately, he had run the memory through his head over and over, wishing he could make it ‘sticky’ so he could live it again. With so much missing, this memory of his childhood felt like a nugget of gold in his brain.

  The Vandergraffs didn’t celebrate Christmas. As a child, he would have at least known why. They would have celebrated the Solstice, instead. Although, of course, he didn’t remember any of that. He just remembered the absence of Christmas and how much he hated his parents for not letting him have Christmas like all the other kids. Even as an adult, he never forgave them for this, especially since, as an adult with no understanding of wizardry, he had seen this as an arbitrary cruelty, a child abuse in its own right, one of the many things that had made Amanda’s job of gently removing the Vandergraffs from David’s life easy. As she had said, she had removed only memories of the actual physical abuse. David still had plenty left in his mind about his parents to piss him off, and no Christmas topped the list.

  In first grade, right before Christmas break, all the kids talked on and on about Santa Claus. David remembered asking his teacher, Miss Atwood, why Santa Claus didn’t visit his house and if that meant he was naughty. He remembered this in part, because Miss Atwood cried when he said this, and he hadn’t seen many grown-ups cry. She had seemed old to him at the time, but David guessed Miss Atwood had just graduated college, in her early twenties. She had very curly blonde hair and wore glasses.

  She told him, “No. It doesn’t mean that you’re naughty. You’re a very good boy. Santa tries very hard to visit every child, but sometimes even Santa makes mistakes. Sometimes he will spill milk on parts of his list or he will accidentally leave pages at home. He has a very hard job, you see, and he’s very old.”

  The next day, she pulled him aside before recess and said, “I called Santa, and he wanted you to know he’s very sorry for missing your house. He said one of his reindeer ate some pages of his list. The missing pages were from the Nice List, and you were on it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He wants to make sure he doesn’t miss you this year. So he wants you to write him a letter telling him what you want for Christmas. He said to give the letter to me, and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

  David rushed home that day and told four-year-old James all about how Santa Claus had missed them by mistake and would come this year. They just had to write him a letter. James opened his eyes wide and ran to find David a piece of paper and a marker. David carefully wrote two letters, one for him and one for James, starting with Dear Santa and followed by a list of toys. When he couldn’t write the words, he drew pictures. He signed their names. James leaned over him and watched carefully to make sure he got it right.

  David took the letters to Miss Atwood so she could give them to Santa. On Christmas Eve, he started to get nervous. They didn’t have a fireplace for him to come down. They didn’t have a tree or stockings where Santa could put presents. He should have warned Santa in the letter. Maybe that’s the real reason Santa had never come. He saw their house and thought they didn’t believe in him.

  But lo and behold, Santa came right before dinner on Christmas Eve. Since they didn’t have a chimney, Santa rang the doorbell. David remembered a blast of fear and happiness at once when his father opened the door and saw Santa Claus, complete with the red suit, white beard, and bag of toys. He wished Santa had known to come at night while his parents slept, as he did for the other kids.

  This bizarre appearance probably baffled David’s father so much that he forgot to be angry right away. He said, “I think you have the wrong house.”

  “Is this the house of David and James Vandergraff?” Santa asked in a deep, authoritative voice.

  “How do you know my sons’ names?”

  “I’m Santa Claus,” Santa said, and then he winked at David’s father. Grown-up David couldn’t help but laugh at this ridiculous act.

  “We didn’t ask for this,” his father said. “You need to leave.”

  “Just take the presents,” Santa said, in a less Santa-like voice. He took a wrapped package out of his bag. “James, this one’s for you.”

  James approached Santa like a squirrel trying to take a piece of food out of someone’s hand. Then Santa gave a gift to David.

  “Merry Christmas,” Santa said and then left quickly.

  David feared his father would take away his present. He looked at his brother and said, “Run.”

  They ran out the back door before their parents could react and into the wooded area behind their house. They ran until they had to stop and catch their breath. He had worn only socks, and his feet hurt from running across the rocky ground, but he didn’t care. He and James sat down on the ground and opened their presents. David got a Lego set, and James got a toy car. They played with their toys in the middle of the woods until their hands got stiff with cold. David didn’t remember what happened after that.

  The grown-up David figured that memory had stuck with him for a reason. A far more important memory than his little self would have ever guessed. It would have shown little dark wizard David that good magic existed, too. Because if Santa Claus wasn’t an example of a good wizard, he didn’t know what was.

  David had reeled this memory though his mind so much that week before Christmas that he wondered if he had summoned Santa by accidental magic. Santa Claus, played by his brother James, came to the door unexpectedly that Friday. Of course, this Santa Claus dressed in a black V-neck sweater and jeans and didn’t have a bag of toys.

  “It looks like Christmas threw up on your house,” he said.

  “Hey, James. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I was in town,” he said.

  “Are you checking up on me?”

  “I can’t visit my brother and my nieces and nephews on Christmas? Besides, I believe I have two more to meet. I brought them gifts.”

  “Where?”

  James didn’t have a thing with him. David guessed that meant he didn’t plan to stay.

  Emmy and Evangeline came down the stairs to see the visitor.

  “G
ift cards,” James said. With a flourish, five gift cards appeared in his hand, splayed like playing cards. David wanted to ask him to do it again so he could watch more carefully. A common parlor trick or… not?

  “Thanks, Uncle James,” Emmy said.

  She reached for the cards, and he held them out of reach.

  “Have you been nice this year?” he asked.

  She stood there with her mouth slightly open and looked stumped.

  “I’m just kidding,” James said. “You can have one anyway.”

  She smiled and took one.

  “You too,” he said to Evangeline. “Come on.”

  “This is my brother, James,” David explained. “It’s okay.”

  Evangeline approached him slowly and took a card. She examined it with a puzzled look. David would have to explain the concept of gift cards later.

  “Attagirl,” James said.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” David asked.

  “Sure.”

  His brother followed him into the kitchen, and David handed him a Saint Arnold.

  “Emmy’s gotten pretty,” James said. “You should lock her in a tower until her twenty-first birthday.”

  “We considered something like that.”

  “Ha. Sounds like Amanda. She here?”

  “Work. Where’s Justin?”

  “He already left for his parents’ house for Christmas.”

  “You mean you don’t spend Christmas together?”

  He shrugged. “Nah, it’s easier this way. Fewer questions from his relatives.”

  “I didn’t know you were always alone on Christmas. Why didn’t you tell me? You could have been coming here.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I have friends.”

  “But you visit me this Christmas. Is that a coincidence? I mean… it’s nice to see you and all.”

  James peeled the label off his beer. “So I can’t check up on you?”

  “I told you, you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”

  “There’s magic in this house,” James said matter-of-factly.

  “It’s the kids. We can’t keep them from doing it. We’re trying.”

  “I’ve just been thinking. If you don’t remember magic, then you don’t remember why you shouldn’t do it.” James continued to stare at his bottle while he created a pile of shredded label on the counter.

  “Trust me, I have Amanda for that. I’m not planning on practicing magic. At least… not dark magic.”

  James winced. “It doesn’t work like that. Dark wizards can’t do good magic.”

  “As Amanda tells me again and again,” David said. “But I’m not sure if I believe that. Being evil is a choice. No one is born that way.”

  “I read about the wildfire in the news. That was your development it wiped out, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I can’t believe you noticed that.”

  “Did you do that?”

  David huffed. “Did I set that fire and destroy my company? No, of course not.”

  “Then maybe Amanda, or one of your kids.”

  “You’re accusing them of arson? That’s out of line. Besides, no matter how much they hate me, none of them wants to be poor.” As he said it, he couldn’t help but think about what Xavier had said when he took him shopping. Wizards shouldn’t care about material things.

  “Wizards don’t need a match.”

  “It’s a drought year, James. The wildfire was caused by a jackass with a cigarette butt or something like that.”

  “Can I tell you something in confidence?” James asked. He looked up at David for the first time in the conversation.

  “Sure.”

  “Five years ago, I cast a spell. I don’t practice… but I thought it was a special case. Justin was really unhappy. He had this horrible job. He worked fourteen hours a day and on weekends and his boss treated him like shit. We never saw each other and when we did, he was so tired and stressed, he was an ass. I thought it was going to break us up. So, I cast a spell. I should have known better than to do one so complicated. Even Mom and Dad didn’t do this one. It was a catalyst spell. It’s supposed to change your circumstances. I cast it around Justin’s job, with the goal of positive change, to either make his current job better or find him a new one. The thing about a catalyst spell is that you can only define the consequences, not how they will be achieved. Humans don’t have the depth to understand how magic works and can’t change the moving parts. They can only push go. But if you do it right, you can get the change you want, one way or another.”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “It did.”

  “Oh, God…” David put two and two together without James having to explain. He didn’t know much about James and Justin’s daily life, but he did know about this. The story had even aired on the news in Houston.

  “The next day, when Justin was out of the office running errands for his boss, a motherfucking tornado touched down right on top of his office. It was a stormy day, but a tornado didn’t touch down anywhere else in the whole goddamn town. Fifteen people died inside that office, including his asshole boss, but also including… fourteen innocent, random people.”

  James leaned over on the counter and stared at the granite.

  “James, you can’t…”

  “It fucking worked. It took him six months to find another job, but he did. A better one. He’s much happier now.” James raised his beer bottle in a highly ironic ‘cheers’.

  “Does he know?”

  “That I murdered fifteen people to cheer him up? No, it’s never come up. Thankfully, Justin isn’t a wizard, so he wouldn’t even begin to suspect I had anything to do with it.” He sighed. “I’ve never told anyone about that spell.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Those people would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

  “It could be a coincidence.”

  James laughed darkly. “No.”

  “I’m sorry, James.”

  “Listen, I’m not saying for sure that’s what happened to your business. I just want you to know: it doesn’t matter what your intentions are. Magic sucks.”

  n the afternoon of December 21st, Amanda returned from shopping all frizzy and sweaty. She put a loaded paper grocery bag onto the kitchen counter and said, “Fine. Here you go.”

  “What?” David asked.

  “You get your wish. As long as it’s just observances, and no significant magic. And if someone calls the fire department, you get to explain why we thought we’d light our backyard on fire. Now help me get the wood from the back of the truck.”

  “We’re going to celebrate the solstice?”

  “You said you didn’t want to ignore a holiday like your parents did. And the kids want to, so I didn’t want to be the bad guy all by myself. I figure it doesn’t hurt anything to light some candles and have a fire. As long as there is no real magic.”

  Samantha and Evangeline’s voices uncharacteristically lit up the dinner conversation. Apparently, Emmy didn’t have a monopoly on the practice of speech. The family had just been having conversations that didn’t interest Samantha and Evangeline, until now.

  “You don’t have to feel bad,” Evangeline said to David. “You’re already celebrating the solstice. You have lights all over the house. That’s what you do. You light lamps or candles or use Christmas lights. It’s for the triumph of light over darkness.”

  “And you can see our house from space,” Patrick added.

  “You have a tree,” Samantha said. “We always have a tree. We put white lights on it and drape herbs and fruits on it. An evergreen tree is about life surviving through the winter. Technically, wizards are supposed to have an evergreen wreath, not a tree. The circle represents the cycle of the seasons. But we have a tree to blend in with the neighbors.”

  “We didn’t have a tree when I was growing up,” David said. “Maybe a wreath… I don’t know.”

  “I think a lot of wizards celebrate it differently,” Samant
ha said. “We do a bell ceremony where we honor each of the four seasons with a different bell. They sound nice alone but beautiful together. It’s about harmony, you know. A lot of wizards give gifts to each other to make it more like Christmas, and so do we, but the most important thing is you’re supposed to give gifts to nature.”

  “What do you buy for nature?” Patrick said.

  Samantha laughed. “It’s stuff like grains and seeds for the animals.”

  “We didn’t have a tree either,” Evangeline said to David. “We had a bonfire.”

  “We always have a party,” Samantha said. “With lots and lots of food and wine. You’re supposed to celebrate and be with the people you love. The louder and happier you are, the better you can stave off the darkness. Also, you’re supposed to celebrate to welcome the sun. We stay up all night and then do a ritual at sunrise to celebrate the end of the darkness.”

  “No,” Evangeline said. “You’re not supposed to be loud and happy. You’re supposed to be quiet and contemplative. It’s a time of darkness and meditation. We’d have to be quiet for hours before the fire was lit.”

  “That doesn’t sound like fun,” Samantha said.

  “It’s not supposed to be fun,” Evangeline said. “It’s the darkest day of the year. But, it is kind of fun after the fire is lit. We would throw in herbs and seeds representing the trials of the previous year. The fire would spark and spit with all these crazy colors and smells. Then you use the ashes from the fire in potions and spells. They’re good luck.”

  “We’re just going to do a simple light ceremony,” Amanda said. “You’ll get a chance to be sad and happy, okay? Everybody wins. I’m the matriarch of this house. I get to decide.”

  Samantha and Evangeline nodded.

  “Could we do it the real way?” Samantha asked quietly. “Please? It’s a simple spell… frivolous,” she added.

  “One spell,” Amanda said. “Just the light one.”

  David and his family plus Samantha stood in a circle around a small pile of unlit firewood in the backyard. They stood arranged by age: David, Amanda, Jude, Patrick, Xavier, Samantha, Emmy, Evangeline, and then of course, David again, all twice as thick with jackets and scarves. The air felt hard with cold, a determined cold that seeped through all of David’s layers. They held candles—but no matches—in their gloved hands. The family had gone through the house, turning off lights. All of the lights. They even turned off the red lights glowing on electronics. They had unplugged the entire house. However, David could easily see. An orange haze of light peeked up from the trees. Millions of lights lit up the world all around them. Darkness didn’t exist in the middle of Houston.