Page 34 of Jingle Spells

Nate swooped in to separate the two. “Okaay, let’s not pursue this. Ma’am, why don’t you join the other . . . uh . . . audience members in the back. Okay? Del, please don’t kill the out-of-towners. C’mon, come sit with Scar and me.”

Grumpily, Delilah slid into a seat beside her sister, wishing that Jasper were here to see all this. Not that she missed him or anything. She just . . . appreciated his academic perspective. On history. Nothing else.

“Order! Order!” Conrad’s voice cracked as he tried to maintain control. “Now, before we begin, I must remind everyone that we have some, ah, visitors joining us this evening . . .”

“Visitors, my eye!” Polly called out. “More like colonial cosplayers with boundary issues.”

A tourist in the back raised his hand. “Excuse me, is this authentic colonial sass?”

“Silence from the peanut gallery please! As I was saying,” Conrad soldiered on, “we need to discuss certain . . . community concerns . . . while being mindful of our audience.”

Delilah watched her mother exchange meaningful glances with the other elders. How exactly were they supposed to discuss the magician problem with half the room treating this like a Renaissance faire?

“I would like to speak.” Belinda Chatterjee stood, straightening her shoulders like a general preparing for battle. “It seems clear that our first—and for that matter, second, third, and fourth—order of business should be the upcoming holiday pageant. After all, we’ve been planning this for months.”

Of course. Delilah groaned inwardly. Trust Belinda Chatterjee to prioritize her precious pageant over an actual crisis.

“Yes, about that.” Scarlett rose, and Delilah felt her stomach clench. Here we go. “Given the current situation with . . . uh, our new neighbors, shall we say, maybe we should consider postponing the pageant? Along with the rest of the holiday festivities?”

The horrified gasp from the witches made the tourists lean forward eagerly, no doubt hoping for some authentic witch-versus-witch drama.

“Cancel Christmas?” Mrs. Chatterjee pressed one hand to her chest like Scarlett had suggested canceling oxygen.

“No no, not cancel. Postpone. Why don’t we deal with our neighbor issue first, and then we can really focus on celebrating. It’ll be better, actually, because we won’t be under threat and we can really enjoy ourselves.”

“Scarlett Melrose, what on earth is wrong with you,” Polly called out. (This wasn’t framed as a question. Ever since Nate had chosen Scarlett over her, Polly always seemed very clear that there was quite a bit wrong with Scarlett.) “We haven’t missed a celebration since the founding of Oak Haven! Not through war, not through plague, never!”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. But Scarlett wasn’t moved. “I know, the timing sucks. But we have intelligence suggesting that the magicians—er, I mean, our neighbors—are planning something big. Likely tomorrow. And if we’re all powerl— if we’re all indisposed⁠—”

“You have intelligence, you say?” If dubiousness were an Olympic sport, Polly would’ve been covered in medals. “And where exactly did you get this intelligence, Scarlett? The same place you got the brilliant idea to handle the last crisis? How did that work out for you? Refresh my memory—how many months did you spend as a bird?”

Delilah felt something hot and fierce surge in her chest. How dare they? How dare they throw that in her sister’s face? Yes, Scarlett had made mistakes. But she’d been trying to protect Oak Haven, and her plan had worked, by the way. Which was more than could be said for people who just wanted to stick their heads in the red-and-green sand and pretend everything was fine.

Before she knew what she was doing, Delilah was on her feet. “You know what? My sister’s right.”

Dozens of pairs of witchy eyebrows shot upward. Delilah never made a scene at town meetings. That had always been Scarlett’s thing, jumping up to share opinions nobody asked for. Delilah was the sensible one. The reliable one. The one who—oh gods, am I really doing this?

Apparently, she was.

“Yes, mistakes were made in the past.” The words felt strange in her mouth, like she was tasting them for the first time. “But at least Scarlett was trying to protect Oak Haven. Which is more than I can say for people who just want to focus on their precious pageant while our entire town is being turned into some kind of . . . I dunno, magical Disneyworld!”

A tourist raised his hand. “Is this part of the show?”

“Oh shut up.” Delilah turned her fiery gaze on the audience. “We’re not your dinner theater, we’re not your living history museum, and we’re definitely not going to sit here planning party games while our enemies try to destroy us. Now, ladies, I’ve made a discovery about their plan that I really think you all ought to hear about. If you could just⁠—”

Jerusha rose, her face flushed. “Now see here, young lady. Some of us understand the value of tradition. Of doing things the proper way, in the proper order. Our rituals have protected Oak Haven for centuries!”

“Protected us,” Delilah continued, “or just made us comfortable? Maybe that’s our whole problem. We’re so caught up in our traditions that we can’t see when they’re being used against us.”

“Ooh, this is so good!” the fanny-pack woman was stage-whispering excitedly. “If only Claudia Winkleman were here to host this episode!”

Delilah tried to ignore her, but her forbidden wand lay heavily in her coat. I could shut that woman up for good with one stroke. But her better angels prevailed, and she pressed on with her argument. “Please, all of you. Give me a moment to explain my theory about the forgetting spell.”

“Silence, child! Remember you are in company!” Jerusha waved her arms. “We don’t air our laundry in public.”

“I apologize, Jerusha, you’re right.” Her mind raced, trying to sort out how to explain how the magicians wanted to destroy the forgetting spell without using the words magicians, forgetting, or spell. “It has become very clear to me today that our . . . neighbors . . . intend to use our greatest strength against us. I’m sure you’ve noticed the . . . inaccuracies . . . being repeated by our visitors. I believe this is no accident. We need to understand the impact of⁠—”

“Enough!” Up on the platform, Mama abruptly stood and silenced her daughter with one sharp clap of her hands. “Delilah, I agree that we have good reason to be concerned with regard to our neighbors. However, you are overlooking something important. We will be without certain abilities for the next few days. And given that, we are not currently in a strong position to pick a fight. Not with our neighbors or anyone.”