A Slice of Christmas Magic

by A. G. Mayes

  Flora, Lena, and Mr. Barnes, more affectionately known as the Morning Pie Crew, rushed in the minute there was a lull. Flora’s bookshop was kitty corner from the pie shop, and I sometimes wondered how much of her day was spent peering in our windows. She always seemed to have a pretty good handle on what was happening in the pie shop.

  Lena’s white hair was piled on top of her head in its usual bun, but her ever-smiling face was creased with worry. Flora’s big brown eyes scanned us up and down as though searching for injuries. Mr. Barnes was wearing his usual matching fedora and vest. He put his hands on my and Aunt Erma’s shoulders. I immediately felt some of my anxiety slip away. Mr. Barnes was a yoga teacher, and he specialized in calming magic.

  “Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?” Their voices filled the shop as they anxiously turned from Aunt Erma to me and back again.

  “Yes, we’re fine.” Aunt Erma waved them away and started pulling plates out so she could serve them pie.

  “How did you guys even know that Brenda was here?” I asked.

  “Violet called me to ask if I’d seen anything,” Flora explained, fiddling with the sparkly white flower pin on her sweater. “I didn’t. I can’t believe I wasn’t watching.”

  “Sit, and we’ll have our pie,” Aunt Erma demanded. I could tell some of her confidence was an act by the way she aggressively cut into the pies and scooped them out onto their plates. She didn’t like to be vulnerable.

  I carefully took the plates from her and set them on the table.

  “How’s everyone doing today?” I asked, giving them each a meaningful look.

  They took the hint and struck up a conversation about today’s Ask Elodie, an advice column in the local paper. Today’s column was about a husband who was going to miss the birth of his first child.

  I was one of two people in town who knew that Henry was actually Elodie. He liked to keep that secret because he didn’t want people hounding him when they didn’t agree with his advice. Plus, I think the mystery made people more intrigued by the column.

  Flora couldn’t help herself for long though.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I heard her quietly ask Aunt Erma while Mr. Barnes and Lena argued about what constituted a good excuse for missing the birth of your child.

  “We’ll get the spices back and everything will be fine,” Aunt Erma said.

  She’d no sooner gotten the words out when Violet rushed in, her usually slicked-down hair now stuck out in a messy halo around her head.

  “Come with me. It’s already happening,” she said urgently.

  Aunt Erma jumped up and the rest of us followed suit.

  “Since you all already know about Brenda and the stolen spices, you might as well make yourselves useful,” Violet said, a hint of her sternness returning. She turned to Flora. “Can we use your basement?”

  The bookstore had a basement? I’d been there several times, but I’d only seen stairs going up to Flora’s apartment. Never a set going down.

  “Of course,” Flora said. We left our half-eaten slices of pie and filed out the door. I reached back in to hang the “Back in ten minutes” sign before locking up.

  Like soldiers getting ready for battle, we marched across the street to Flora’s. She led us to a small door in the back of the shop. Everyone but Flora had to crouch down to get through it.

  We went down a dark narrow staircase to a room below. It was warm and cozy with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with old volumes. There was a quiet anxiousness in the room as Violet strode over to a computer with a large screen that sat on a deep mahogany desk. While we waited, Mr. Barnes cleaned his thick-rimmed glasses on the corner of his bright blue shirt. Lena reached over and patted down a stray chunk of his white hair that was sticking straight up on his head after he’d taken his hat off.

  “Sit,” Violet demanded. We gathered chairs from around the room and pulled them up to the computer screen. I wasn’t sure what we were about to see. I smiled at Lena, hoping for reassurance, and she flashed a quick smile back at me. Her bright blue eyes lacked their usual twinkle. Violet stuck a thumb drive in the computer, and a black and white video started playing. It was taken from a high angle, looking down at a crowd walking along the street. A cloud descended on the group. It was hard to see exactly what it was in the grainy picture, but suddenly the people were taking slow, even steps. Some of them turned so they were all heading in the same direction. I shivered a little at the sight. Then suddenly everyone stopped walking. People looked around as though confused, and the crowd dispersed.

  “They must be having trouble making the effects last very long,” Mr. Barnes said.

  “But they’re going to make progress more quickly now that they have more spices to work with,” Aunt Erma said.

  The video skipped ahead, and Stan’s parents popped up on the screen. Even in the fuzzy footage, I could recognize them. They were walking along, stopped, and looked straight into the camera.

  “That’s strange,” Flora said, her brown eyes narrowed. “They know the camera is there. Why don’t they hide themselves better? They could have erased the footage if they really wanted to.”

  “I thought so too,” Violet said. “The only conclusion I could come to is they wanted us to find them. That can only mean one thing. They’re trying to draw you out, Erma.”

  All of our heads turned towards Aunt Erma. Her eyebrows were pinched together with worry, but she quickly rearranged her features into a brave face.

  “If they want me, they’ll get me,” she said with a determined edge to her voice.

  Chapter 2

  Dear Elodie,

  Last week my cousin and her two young daughters were over at my house. I fed them a meal and snacks and drinks and made sure they had games to play with. When they left, I found my favorite porcelain duck statue in pieces and stuffed behind the sofa cushion. I called my cousin to confront her about it, and she denies that her daughters did anything wrong. No one else has been at my house lately. I’m blown away. I wasn’t looking for any monetary reimbursement, but I did expect an apology. I’m so mad right now, I don’t ever want them in my house again. How do I get past my anger if they won’t apologize?

  Sincerely,

  Decapitated Duck

  Dear Decapitated Duck,

  One word in your letter stuck out to me – confront. You called your cousin to confront her? Were you aggressive right off the bat? Sometimes when people feel attacked they respond with hostility. Yes, they should have admitted their wrongdoing, but maybe you should also re-examine how you handled their mistakes. Work toward forgiveness because your anger is hurting you more than anyone else.

  Ask and I’ll Answer,

  Elodie

  The room erupted as everyone protested at once.

  “I’m going with her,” I yelled over the noise.

  “Neither of you is going anywhere until we figure out if this is a trap or not.” Flora pulled out her stern librarian voice that made me shrink back a little.

  “I have to go,” Aunt Erma said, almost matching Flora’s firm tone. “I’m best suited for the job since it’s my magic they’re altering. You know how dangerous it could be if they’re successful. For everyone.”

  “We’ve been looking for them for months,” Violet added. “Now we’ve seen them twice in one day? They must be gearing up for something.”

  Everyone was silent for a minute.

  “Susie, I’m not sure you should go, though,” Lena said. “I think I should go along with Erma.”

  I bristled a little at her slightly condescending tone. I might be new to this magic thing, but I knew I could be helpful. I had taken karate for three years when I was in elementary school, and kickboxing for four years in college. There were some problems magic couldn’t solve and I was ready to face them.

  “We should all go,” Mr. Barnes chimed in.

  “That might draw too much attention,” Violet said.

  “Susie will come with me,” A
unt Erma said firmly. “We’ll go and see what’s happening and report back.” Everyone nodded. I noticed that when Aunt Erma talked, people tended to agree with her.

  “And I’ll keep an eye on you through the security cameras,” Violet said, pointing at the computer screen. She had paused the image on Dennis and Brenda, and I glared at them, trying to build up my confidence. If I could keep myself from being afraid of their image, then I could definitely take them on in person. I tried not to think about Brenda’s eyes.

  “I’m going to need a little time to get ready,” Aunt Erma said. I saw calculating curiosity in Violet’s eyes.

  “Fine,” she said with one curt nod. “But hurry.”

  We emerged from the basement and headed our separate ways. Something about the way Flora hugged me before I left made my stomach clench. How dangerous was this going to be?

  “Come with me.” Aunt Erma grabbed my hand and led me to her car.

  “Are we going now?” I asked, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “No,” she said. “There’s something I want to show you.” I got in the car.

  “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Aunt Erma ran to the pie shop. She only seemed to have one speed: fast. A minute later she appeared with her dog, Mitzy, close at her heels. Mitzy was a brown ball of fluff with boundless energy. Her large, expressive brown eyes reacted when you talked to her, showing a level of understanding that I often found unsettling.

  Aunt Erma opened the back door and Mitzy hopped in. Her tail was wagging so hard I thought she might take flight.

  “Mitzy loves a good car ride,” Aunt Erma explained. The dog heard her name and somehow took it as an invitation to leap from the back seat into my lap.

  “Hi, Mitzy,” I said flatly. I loved Mitzy, really, but I was still getting used to this furry licking creature who lived life as if she did a shot of espresso every hour.

  Aunt Erma drove through Hocus Hills, which currently looked as though Father Christmas had thrown up on every street corner. Lights twinkled on every tree and bush and along the front of every shop. I didn’t see a single door without a wreath and a very elaborate winter wonderland had been set up in the town square complete with nine reindeer, several elves, and Christmas fairies. There were also banners all over town advertising the upcoming snowman-building contest. “Erma’s Pies” was one of the sponsors, and Aunt Erma had been making me practice my snowman-building skills for the last two weeks.

  We drove out of town and hit the highway.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. The old, light blue car was finally warm, and I sank back into the brown velvet seats. Mitzy had settled down in my lap. Her previous excitement seemed to be wearing off.

  “You’ll see,” Aunt Erma said. She turned up the volume on the radio and Christmas songs filled the car. She sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” at the top of her lungs. I’d learned how to sing from her – off key, but enthusiastic. Her energy was infectious and soon I was singing too. Mitzy groaned disapprovingly and moved to the back seat of the car. I would have to remember to sing loudly next time she was bugging me.

  We exited the highway and turned down a narrow, wooded road. The dark green pine trees contrasted beautifully with the white snow and silver bark of the birch trees. The trees got thicker and we turned down an even more narrow dirt road. The tires crunched against the gravel and I bit my tongue, trying to resist the urge to ask where we were going again. Finally Aunt Erma pulled over as far as she could, which wasn’t far on this skinny stretch, and put the car in park.

  “Is this it?” I asked, looking around expecting to see something more than trees and snow.

  “Yes. Follow me.” She got out of the car, and Mitzy flew over the seat to follow her. I opened the door and wrapped my red coat tighter around my body. I shivered against the cold air.

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” I hurried to keep up with her. She was half a foot shorter than I was and twice my age, but she walked so fast! I was sure her speed was the result of some sort of magic, but when I’d once asked her she’d winked and said, “It’s not magic. It’s yoga.”

  I really had to start going to more of Mr. Barnes’s yoga classes this winter. Or I was going to have to stop walking with Aunt Erma.

  Mitzy was frolicking in the snow but still managed to keep up. I hopped over sticks and tried to step exactly in Aunt Erma’s footprints, so the deep snow didn’t go over the edge of my short boots. We didn’t seem to be following any path, and I couldn’t imagine a building would pop up in these deserted woods. Where in the world could she be taking me? Aunt Erma stopped so abruptly and I was hurrying so fast behind her that I ran into her, unable to stop my momentum.

  “Sorry,” I said, scratching my nose, which had bumped against her tall fuzzy white hat.

  “We’re here,” she said with a satisfied nod.

  “We’re in the middle of the woods,” I said, glancing around, wondering which of us was going nutty.

  “There.” She pointed ahead of us.

  I squinted and saw a small tree, just a few feet taller than me. It had green, red, and silver baubles hanging from the branches. Even in the dead of winter, it still had all its leaves. The leaves were thick and waxy and almost looked fake, and the light brown bark seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. The winding branches danced in the breeze and the baubles tinkled together.

  “What is it?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t just answer with the obvious: “A tree.”

  “It’s a magic tree,” she said, providing an ever so slightly better explanation than I was hoping for.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What’s a magic tree, and why does it have ornaments on it?”

  “I decorated it for Christmas,” she said with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. I nodded. That was a very Aunt Erma thing to do. She carefully touched one of the leaves, and the branches began to rustle a little harder, which was strange, as the wind hadn’t picked up.

  “You’ve probably heard a few murmurings around town about how powerful my spices are,” she began slowly.

  “I’ve heard a thing or two,” I answered. That was definitely an understatement. Aunt Erma’s magic was one of the most talked about “secrets” around town.

  “I’ve always been pretty powerful,” she said. She wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact. “However, I found a way to be even more powerful.” She gestured to the tree with a flourish of her arm. “It came to me in a dream one night. After I saw it, I woke up, got in my car, and somehow, I just knew where to go. I ended up here. This tree contains more magic than I ever even knew existed. You can feel it.”

  She grabbed my hand and put it on the trunk of the tree. I felt the tingling of power course through my body.

  “How does it work?” I asked. I held my hand there even after she took hers away.

  “For some of the spices, I scrape off a little of the bark, and for others, I use the leaves,” she said. “It’s tricky with this much power to get the intention just right. That’s why I keep it simple. You know, promoting feelings of love and happiness. I never do anything big or complicated like the Drakes are trying to do. When magic goes wrong it can get really ugly.” She shuddered a little.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I wanted specifics. I was tired of all of this “things can go bad with magic” stuff. I needed answers now.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you a story.” She thought for a minute. “A while back there was an elf who was running a factory. Well, he was part elf, like we’re part fairy,” she added. “If he was full elf he would look like an elf – pointy ears, the whole bit.”

  I nodded. I began to worry that this was going to be a long-winded story, and it was cold outside. I looked around for Mitzy. She was still frolicking around the trees. Maybe it was because she was enjoying it. Or maybe she was just trying to stay warm.

  “His factory made clothing,” Aunt Erma continued, “and soon greed got the best of him. There are some magical p
eople out there who believe we should be using our magic to exert power over others. He used magic to produce more and more clothing by making his workers move faster and faster until they were collapsing. Then, to make matters worse, the clothes started acting up.”

  “The clothes acted up?” I asked, incredulously.

  “Yes, sweaters were opening and closing closet doors, socks were banging against the side of dressers. It was a disaster. People everywhere were panicking. There was a huge rush on exorcisms.” Aunt Erma shook her head. “The Magic Enforcement Team was busy for months un-enchanting all of the affected clothing and altering people’s memories, so they thought it was all just a strange dream.”

  We filled our pockets with some leaves and a couple twigs from the magic tree.

  “Why don’t you bring a bunch back with us?” I asked. “The more magic we have, the better, right?”

  “It doesn’t quite work that way.” She carefully plucked one more leaf and held it up to me. “These parts of the tree slowly begin to lose magic once they’ve been harvested. If we harvest too much, they’ll just be tree bits by the time we get around to using them.” She carefully tucked the leaf in her pocket next to the others. “Plus it would be dangerous to have too much magic at the pie shop.” She looked up at the tree. “It’s already dangerous with what we have.”

  “Can we go back to the car now?” I was jumping up and down trying to keep my blood from freezing in my veins. I looked down. My feet were still there, but I could no longer feel them. I was trying to process what Aunt Erma told me, but I was pretty sure I’d need to be warm before it would really make sense.

  “Yes, yes, let’s go back to the car,” she said, scooting back through the trees. Mitzy eagerly followed us.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked, a little breathless as I struggled to keep up again.

  “I wanted you to know where this was. In case anything happens to me,” she said, matter-of-factly.