Page 38 of Jingle Spells

All this reverence made Scarlett’s barely contained excitement all the more conspicuous as she bounded up behind them. She was practically vibrating with energy, and it wasn’t the Saturnalia kind. “There you guys are!” She grabbed Jasper’s arm, her voice far too loud for the solemn mood. “Hey, Jas. Ready for our casino adventure?”

Before he could answer, she raised her hands. “Wait. Hey, Nate, get your butt over here.” She positioned her partner beside Jasper. Jasper turned to Nate, confused, but Nate’s shrug indicated this was standard behavior where Scarlett was concerned.

“Last spell before the ritual,” she said with a wink. She closed her eyes and raised both arms, her palms flat and fingers splayed. Golden light shimmered around both Jasper and Nate, and suddenly they were wearing perfectly tailored tuxedos.

“Can’t have you boys looking like a coupla local yokel hobo types when we hit the poker tables.”

“Um, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with—” Jasper started, but then caught his reflection in a frozen puddle. “Oh. Actually, that’s . . . huh.”

“Not bad, right?” Scarlett circled him appraisingly. “I was worried you’d look like Ichabod Crane on prom night, but no. Very Frank and Dino at the Sands. Jasper, congratulations: you clean up surprisingly well for someone so spindly.”

“I am not spindly!”

“Dude.” Nate clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re like an after-photo of Benedict Cumberbatch on hunger strike.”

“Totally,” Scarlett agreed. “You have ‘haunted Victorian radiator’ energy.”

Jasper had to laugh. “Are you guys about finished?”

“Shhhh!” Several witches shot them disapproving looks, and Jasper felt himself flush. Right. Solemn ritual.

Ahead, a woman stood slightly apart from the others, her arms wrapped around herself despite the black velvet coat that pooled around her feet like ink. Even in the gathering darkness, Jasper could see there was something deliberate, even guarded, in her posture. Unlike Delilah and Scarlett, who treated their magic as casually as an old handbag, this woman carried her power with a kind of deliberate grace—something not casually given nor casually maintained.

Nate and Zahir immediately moved to join her, and the three friends embraced.

“This is Aphra,” Scarlett said, her voice finally dropping to match the hushed atmosphere. “She owns the yarn store, Sometimes a Great Notion. We all grew up together. Come on, let me introduce you.”

Zahir had wrapped Aphra in a bear hug. “You’ve got this,” he was saying. “Just like every year.”

“I know, I know.” She managed a wobbly smile. “It’s just . . . it’s different for me, you know?”

“Sure.” Nate squeezed her shoulder. “Of course we do. Oh hey, Aphra, this is Jasper Hopkins. He’s um . . . he’s applying for the job of town scarecrow.”

“Oh good,” Jasper chuckled. “I’m so glad that’s continuing. Hello.” He reached out to shake Aphra’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same.” Aphra took Jasper’s hand with both of hers. “This is quite a night for you to visit our little town. Hey, Scarlett.” She reached out and the women hugged. “I guess we should get this over with, huh?”

“You’re gonna be fine, my girl,” Scarlett assured her.

Jasper tilted his head. “Everything okay?”

Scarlett and the guys all glanced at one another, unsure how to answer. But Aphra just laughed. “Oh, everybody is so polite round these parts, it’s adorable. Jasper, they’re all tiptoeing because when we were growing up together, I was raised as a boy. It was only later I came to know my true self. Which is all well and good, but on Saturnalia, when we give up our powers? Well, when you spend the first part of your life hiding what you can do . . . The act of choosing to give everything up, even temporarily . . .” She shrugged. “It hits different—let’s put it that way.”

“But you’re your true self now,” Nate said quietly. “That’s not going away just because of a few days without magic.”

“He’s right.” Zahir squeezed her shoulders. “Powers or no powers, you’re still our Aphra.”

Something clicked in Jasper’s mind; his historian’s instinct suddenly scattered facts into a pattern. He thought about all those historical records he’d encountered in all his studies; all the people who’d had to hide who they were for one reason for another. And it struck him suddenly how some of them might have found sanctuary here, in this strange little town that didn’t appear on any map.

“Okay,” Aphra said boldly. “C’mon, Scar. Let’s get this done.”

Scarlett wrapped her arm around Aphra’s. “I got you. See you boys after.”

The witches began arranging themselves in a loose circle around the grove’s largest oak, its massive trunk wider than three people standing together. The oak trees seemed to be reaching toward each other overhead, their bare limbs intertwining like clasped hands. One by one, the witches moved forward to touch the oak. Each contact produced a subtle shimmer in the air, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. Threads of light began to weave between the women’s hands, a web of golden energy that pulsed in time with some rhythm Jasper couldn’t hear but somehow felt in his bones.

His eyes found Delilah in the crowd without trying; his vision seemed to have developed its own magnetic north where she was concerned. The golden light from the oak caught in her dark hair, making her look otherworldly, untouchable. She looked like just the sort of creature a man gives up everything for.

This is dangerous, he told himself firmly. Never forget, this isn’t your world.