Page 17 of Jingle Spells

But Jasper had stopped listening. Two women were coming down the street, and one of them . . .

Oh, Jasper thought. Oh dear.

She moved like a lightning storm trapped in a human body, all barely contained power and imminent destruction. Her dark hair was cut in a sharp bob that managed to look both elegant and vaguely dangerous, like a switchblade at a garden party. She wore a blazer that probably cost more than Jasper’s car, but she walked like someone spoiling for a fight.

Jasper suddenly realized he’d forgotten to breathe.

“Delilah!” called Nine. “Welcome home, stranger!”

The old men all called out warm hellos, but the woman—Delilah—barely acknowledged their greeting. Her attention was fixed on the casino tower with an expression that suggested she was calculating how to disassemble it, one brick at a time. And something about her presence suggested she’d probably succeed.

Her companion touched her arm. “Del, wait. The hardware store is the perfect place for you to learn what’s been happening.”

“Learn what, exactly?” Delilah’s voice crackled with irritation. “Listen, Scarlett, unless they’re selling industrial-grade wrecking balls, I don’t see how⁠—”

Nine cleared his throat. “Ladies? Perhaps I could introduce our friend Jasper? He’s the county archivist.”

“Delightful,” Delilah said flatly. “Fascinating. But right now, I’m focused on that monstrosity up there.”

“About that,” said Twelve, grinning. “Hold that thought. Company’s coming.”

The sound hit them first: the distinctive wheeze of air brakes presaged the arrival of the most garish tour bus Jasper had ever seen. Its sides were painted with dancing rabbits emerging from top hats, accompanied by the words “HAVEN OF HORRORS TOUR: WHERE EVIL NEVER DIES!” in a font that appeared to be bleeding glitter.

A woman’s voice crackled through speakers mounted on the bus’s exterior: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now entering the heart of darkness itself—Oak Haven! Imagine, if you dare, a town where the infamous Salem witches might still practice their dark arts . . . if our brave forefathers hadn’t put a stop to their reign of terror!”

Delilah gasped. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Steady on,” Scarlett said quietly.

“That’s right, folks,” the guide continued as the bus slowed to a crawl. “Every ‘resident’ you see is actually a trained actor, helping us recreate the spine-chilling atmosphere of colonial witch hysteria!”

The bus lurched to a stop, wheezing like an asthmatic dragon. A woman emerged from the bus, wearing a top hat, tails, and round reflective sunglasses that made her look like a steampunk John Lennon. A small group of tourists filed out behind their guide.

“And here we have one of our most popular photo opportunities,” she announced with a theatrical flourish. “The authentic colonial hardware store, still operated by the same family of . . .retired pirates! Note the inappropriate Christmas decorations, showing how the witches corrupted even the most sacred of holidays, mocking our ancestors with their pagan ways! C’mon, folks, say hello to the witches and their pirate companions—if you dare!”

The tourists swarmed the porch, firing questions at the group. Jasper glanced around and could see that the two women looked ready to murder the visitors with their bare hands. The Earls, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of their very long lives.

“Is it true pirates and witches were allies?” someone asked.

“Oh sure.” Nine nodded sagely. “Who do you think gave Blackbeard his famous beard? Magical hair tonic, that was.”

“Did you really make people walk the plank?”

“Only on Tuesdays,” replied Ten. “Wednesdays were for keelhauling, and Thursdays we just threw people to the kraken.”

“You don’t look like a real witch,” a young boy called out to Scarlett.

“I am a real witch,” Scarlett replied. “And not a ‘reenactor,’ no matter what your guide says.”

The boy’s mother smiled happily. “That’s exactly what a good reenactor would say. Always staying in character! Very good.”

“Is it true that witches can’t cross moving water?” called out a man in a HORROR HAVEN T-shirt.

“I think that’s vampires,” Scarlett replied.

“Can you turn people into newts?”

“Why would we want to?”