“What do we do now?” I asked Mom.
“Think of light,” she said. “Think of those you love.”
A warm current of energy passed through my body as a low hum rose from the crowd. It grew in timbre and depth until the night air itself played the notes of a universal chord. The ground around the Mother Tree began to glow as one after another, tiny balls of light rose into the branches of the majestic oak.
“Jinksy,” Tori whispered, “look!”
From over the rooftops the ranks of the fairy guard came flying on the night air, their iridescent wings flashing beneath the rays of the full moon. They dove in perfect formation toward the canopy of the Mother Tree releasing cascades of shimmering fairy dust that covered the leaves and branches until the Oak stood outlined in the glittering facets of a million prisms.
A cheer rose from the crowd as cries of “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Solstice,” and “Blessed Yule” sounded around us.
I lost track of all the hugs and well wishes that followed, but after several minutes, I felt a hand on my back. When I looked, I found Lucas standing just behind me.
“Would you like to see the Mother Tree from up there?” he asked, pointing at the top of the wall the encircles the city. “It’s pretty spectacular.”
“Sure,” I said, straining to make myself heard over the noise. “To tell you the truth, I need out of this crowd for a few minutes.”
Taking the hand he offered, I allowed myself to be led through the milling throng, across the street, and up a stone staircase.
The sounds of the fair receded and the night air felt refreshingly cool on my face after the press of well-wishers. When we moved into an arched, open balcony overlooking the square, I gasped. From this vantage point, the Mother Tree sparkled as if she had been painted in diamonds.
“Oh, Lucas,” I said. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She is,” he said, gazing lovingly at the tree, “and a more gentle old soul I’ve never known. Being in service to the Mother Tree is a great honor.”
I watched his face as he spoke. “You love her, don’t you?” I asked.
He nodded. “When she called me to work among her protectors, my life assumed a new purpose.”
“And before that?” I asked curiously.
Instantly the trademark rakish grin settled back in place. “There was less purpose,” he said. “But you must know what I mean. Your life has been set on a new course these last few months, too.”
“It has,” I admitted, “one that doesn’t always come with a road map.”
When Lucas moved to put his arm around me, I edged away. For a moment, I thought I’d offended him, but instead, he leaned comfortably against the wall and said quietly, “Have I been reading this all wrong? I don’t want to be a clueless idiot here.”
Keeping my eyes on the square, I said carefully, “You haven’t read anything wrong.”
“Then what’s going on?” he asked. “You have to know I’m interested in you, Jinx. Talk to me.”
Okay. So, we were going to do this thing.
“Lucas,” I said lamely, “we work together.”
“We do,” he agreed. “And?”
“Chase and I worked together, too, and having a relationship didn’t go so well with him,” I blurted out.
“Ah,” Lucas said, “well, I’m not a werecat. Certified, taboo-free water elf at your service.”
He actually bowed when he said that last part. Damn it. Why did he have to go and be charming? I tried again.
“The breakup is still pretty fresh.”
The teasing humor disappeared from his face. “That I get,” he said. “Do you still have feelings for Chase?”
“Oh, so we’re putting everything out on the table.”
“I generally find that works best,” he said. “I have a lot of faults, Jinx, but I don’t go stomping around in another guy’s relationship, even an insufferable do-gooder like Chase McGregor.”
“He’s not that bad,” I said.
“Yes, he is,” Lucas grinned, “and you know it.”
Okay. Fine. I knew it. I just wasn’t going to say it, but I liked the way Lucas was dealing with the whole situation — open and frank.
“I don’t know if I have feelings for him,” I admitted. “The breakup was his idea. It came out of nowhere on the same day we lost Myrtle. There’s been a lot going on since then.”
Lucas let his eyes drift back toward the Mother Oak. “We have all mourned the transition of the aos si,” he said. “I know that was especially hard for you.”
“It was,” I agreed, my eyes on the glimmering Tree as well. “I just wish I could talk to her, but the Oak won’t let me.”
“Try again,” Lucas advised. “The Mother Tree is not insensitive. If she feels your pain, she will not let it go unanswered.”
My eyes flicked back to his face. “Really?” I asked hopefully.
“Really,” he said, taking a step toward me. This time, I didn’t step away.
“I’m not a pushy man,” Lucas said, “so I’m going to make a suggestion, which you can accept or reject. Okay?”
Feeling my heart take an odd little leap in my chest, I said, “Okay, what is it?”
He pointed over us. When I followed the direction of his finger, I saw mistletoe decorating the archway. Great.
“Do you know the story?” he asked. “Of the mistletoe?”
I shook my head.
“Baldur, the grandson of Thor, woke up one day to find that every living thing on earth, including the plants, wanted to kill him. While he cowered, terrified in his room, his wife and mother went to each animal and plant begging their kindness toward Baldur, but they forgot to speak with the mistletoe.”
“Bad plan?” I asked.
“Very bad plan,” Lucas said. “Just as Baldur began to celebrate his freedom from fear, a mistletoe arrow struck him dead. Moral of the story? Never forget the mistletoe.”
That got a laugh out of me. “If you’re trying to tell me that if I don’t kiss you, an arrow is going to come flying out of nowhere and kill me, that may be the worst pick-up line ever.”
Cupping my face in his hand, he said, “It’s not a line. I do want to kiss you. And if you find the experience forgettable, then we go right on being friends who shared a really nice first Christmas together.”
“And if it’s unforgettable?” I whispered.
“Then you quit throwing up walls and let us get to know each other.”
I started to say something smart aleck, argue the terms of the bargain, but he was so close I could feel the warmth of his body. The lights from the Mother Tree highlighted his features in light and shadow, and the soft strains of music drifting up from the square gave the whole scene a surreal quality. I kissed him. It was anything but forgettable.
7
“Did you see what I saw tonight on the wall?” Moira asked, resting her head on Barnaby’s shoulder.
His fingers intertwined with hers. “I assume you mean my granddaughter kissing Lucas Grayson,” he said gruffly.
Moira laughed, lifting her head and turning his face toward her. “You were a young man once, too, Barnaby Shevington,” she said, kissing him softly.
Returning the kiss, he grumbled, “Do not count my aged carcass out quite yet. Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay the night?”
“I’m sure,” Moira said, “and I really must be going. It’s past one in the morning. You should get some sleep as well, my love. Everyone else has long since given themselves over to Morpheus.”
“You know my relationship with the God of Sleep is tenuous at best,” he sighed. “Let me at least walk you home.”
“Not tonight, darling,” she said, “I feel the pull of the Mother Oak. She wishes to speak with me.”
“Very well,” he said, sitting up, “but first you must open your gift. Excuse me while I retrieve it.”
He disappeared into his office and returned with a slender package, which he offered to her
.
As Moira began to unwrap the paper, she said, “After all these years, it grows harder and harder to find something . . . ”
The words died in her throat as she drew out an oval smokey quartz mounded in rose gold on an intricate chain. “Barnaby,” she breathed, “this is the Stone of Skye.”
“It is,” he said, taking the necklace from her and opening the clasp. “The Druidic stone of power and protection.” As he draped the chain around her neck, the quartz began to vibrate. “You see?” he said. “It recognizes you. Now I will know that you are safe, even when I am not there myself to protect you.”
Moira took his hand, holding it against her heart. “You are fearful of what lies ahead,” she said. “Do not be. You will not lose me as you lost Adeline.”
Resting his forehead against hers, Barnaby said, “No, I will not, for never again will I hesitate to do what is required of me.”
There wasn’t a chance that I was going to get any sleep that night. Not after all the excitement of the fair, not with the sensation of Lucas Grayson’s kiss fresh on my lips, and certainly not with the memory of Chase McGregor’s expression when I came back down those stone steps.
He was standing at a stall on the corner, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. I didn’t have to look up at the wall to know he’d seen us standing on the balcony. It never even occurred to me to draw Lucas into the shadows. Most people had been too preoccupied with the celebration to be worried about what we were doing, but Chase had an uncanny way of finding me in any crowd.
He took a step toward me and stopped when I mouthed, “Don’t.” I knew we’d have to talk about it ultimately, but tonight was not the night.
After we were all settled back at the mayor’s house, I waited until well after 2 o’clock to go downstairs because I suspected Barnaby and Moira were still talking.
In front of all of us, he’d reiterated his invitation for her to spend the night, making a point of saying Innis had an extra guest room ready. It was so doggone cute I could hardly stand it.
Moira declined with a tolerant smile, and we’d all taken the cue to say our goodnights so the two of them could be alone for awhile.
I paused on the landing to listen for the rise and fall of voices. When I didn’t hear anything, I peeked cautiously through the parlor door and found Barnaby sitting in his dressing gown by the fire reading a book. He looked up at the sound of my footstep.
“Granddad,” I said with surprise, “what are you still doing up?”
“Too much excitement,” he said, closing the volume in his lap. “My home is filled with family for the first time in centuries. Come sit with me. Tell me how you enjoyed the fair.”
Taking the chair opposite his, I described my evening, leaving out the time on the top of the wall with Lucas and the near encounter with Chase. I finished with, “Why didn’t you prepare me for the lighting of the Mother Tree. I didn’t expect it to be such a moving experience.”
“There are no words to describe the event,” he said, taking a pipe out of his pocket and raising his eyebrows in question. I nodded for him to go ahead. “The joining of our magic and the lighting of the tree is a thing that must be lived,” he went on as he packed tobacco in the pipe’s bowl. “Have you spoken with the Oak since you’ve been here?”
Again with this question?
“No,” I admitted, “and you’re the third person who has asked me that.”
“Who were the others?” he said, striking a match against the hearth and igniting his pipe.
“My mother and Lucas,” I replied.
He puffed contemplatively and then said, “Why are you avoiding the Tree?”
“I’m not . . .”
Then I stopped. I was totally avoiding the Tree.
“I don’t like the answers she’s been giving me here lately,” I said, regretting the words the instant I heard them because they made me sound like a spoiled three-year-old.
Barnaby smiled, his lips curving around the pipe stem. “I cannot tell you how many times the tree has failed to give me the answer I most desired to hear,” he said. “What is it you wish the Oak to grant?”
“I want to talk to Myrtle,” I said.
He nodded. “And what has the Oak said in response to that?”
“That Myrtle hasn’t healed enough to speak to me.”
“And you don’t believe her?” he prodded.
“I don’t,” I said stubbornly. “When I’m at the base of the tree, I can feel that Myrtle is there like she’s just out of my reach listening to everything we’re saying.”
Barnaby didn’t answer me at first. I’m not sure if it was the comforting quality of his company, the crackling of the fire, or the redolent fragrance of the pipe smoke, but I began to relax. Sleepiness tugged at the edges of my consciousness. I’d almost dropped off when my grandfather finally spoke.
“You understand that you are the Witch of the Oak?” he asked.
Blinking myself back awake, I said, “I understand that people keep calling me that.”
“Your relationship to the Mother Tree is not one of subservience,” Barnaby said. “You are destined to stand beside her, not to work in her employ.”
That surprised me. “Does she know that?” I asked.
Barnaby chuckled. “As we mature in our magic, Jinx, we must pass many tests along the way. Yours come at you in rapid succession because you are in what I believe the humans would call ‘catch up’ mode.”
Like it was my fault I’d skipped several grades in magic school?
“What are you saying, Granddad?”
“The Tree is pushing you, granddaughter. Push back.”
“I’m allowed to do that?” I asked incredulously.
Leaning forward to tap out the ash from his pipe into the grate, Barnaby said, “You are expected to do that. Now, morning will be upon us soon. Let us both turn in for the night.”
He walked me to the door of my bedroom, kissing me on the forehead before we said good night, careful not to wake the others.
When I climbed into bed, I sank into the softness of the feather pillows and the warmth of the thick comforter. My last conscious memory was of the sky beyond my window and a single falling star. For the second time in my life, I fell asleep with a wish on my lips.
No, I’m not going to tell you. Just keep reading.
8
The next morning, squeals of happy laughter awakened us early. Tori called out, “Jinksy, come watch.” Pulling on my robe, I padded toward the bedroom she shared with her mom, just as my parents emerged from their room.
“What on earth is going on, Norma Jean?” Dad asked, yawning. “Who’s doing all that hollering?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out,” I said. “Come on.”
They followed me into Gemma and Tori’s room where mother and daughter were standing at the window looking out into the garden. “Get a load of this,” Gemma said, adding, “morning Kel, nice bed head, Jeff.”
Dad scrubbed at his unruly hair and muttered, “At least it’s all still there.”
Wedging in beside Tori, I looked down just as Rodney pushed off from the top of a steep snowdrift. His feet were strapped into polished wooden skis, and he was wearing a bright red snow suit.
“Aw,” Mom said, “isn’t he just adorable?”
“Check out the way he’s flying on those skis!” Dad said, looking over our shoulders. “I wasn’t sure if the wax was right or not.”
What can I say, not all parents are lucky enough to have a grand-rat.
As we watched, Rodney skidded to a stop at the bottom of the drift. Darby ran out and helped him out of the skis. They exchanged a triumphant high five.
From the top of the makeshift “mountain” Glory called out, “Here I come!”
She was dressed from head to toe in pink, right down to the skis strapped to her feet. Pushing off with the poles in her hands, she flew down the slope, executing a perfect stop at the bottom complete with a little plume o
f snow.
“This is one for the record books,” I said. “They actually came up with a hare-brained scheme that worked.”
A discreet knock at the doorway pulled our attention away from the yard. Innis stood behind us with a silver coffee tray in her hands. “Breakfast will be ready in half an hour,” she said, a rare smile softening her stern features, “and Merry Christmas to the lot of you.”
The caffeine jump-started us all into getting dressed for the day. Tori and I were the first ones down the stairs, or so we thought until we walked into the dining room to find Beau feeding bacon to Duke.
“He’s solid enough to eat that?” Tori asked, reaching for a plate.
“Indeed he is,” Beau replied. “The Valley has a most salubrious effect on the non-corporeal. I believe Duke has ingested something close to a pound’s worth of bacon already.”
“Beau!” Tori said. “What about the rest of us?”
The Colonel reached for the silver lid covering the server and lifted it, revealing the most enormous mound of fried pork fat goodness I’d ever seen. “Shall I request that Innis prepare more?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“I don’t know,” Tori said, eagerly filling her plate. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”
The front bell rang, and I heard Aunt Fiona’s voice in the foyer. “Are we too early?” she trilled. “I just couldn’t wait to see everyone. We didn’t get a chance to talk at the fair because that nasty Hester McElroy made me work in the Horticulture Society booth all night.”
“Now, Fiona,” a deep voice soothed. “You promised you weren’t going to go on about that.”
Stepping out into the hallway, I said, “Good luck with that, Stan.”
The Sasquatch’s furry face split into a delighted grin. “Jinx!” he said, reaching to hug me and lifting my feet off the ground in the process. “Merry Christmas!”
“Stanley,” Aunt Fiona scolded, “put her down so I can get my hug.”
Christmas in the Valley: A Jinx Hamilton / Shevington Novella Page 5