Page 42 of Jingle Spells

“Totally,” Scarlett said. “Ever since we rescued him, Quentin has been living in the back garden, happy as a—oh shit, look over there!” She pointed toward a cluster of intense-looking goths who whispered to one another before disappearing down a dark hallway. “Those have to be council members. Look at how they’re dressed!”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Delilah objected. “Just because a gal wears lingerie as outerwear . . .”

“Yeah babe,” Nate offered. “You’re looking for the magicians’ council but you could end up at a Siouxsie and the Banshees tribute show.”

But her sister was already moving. “It’s them, you guys.” The other three had to hurry to catch up, dodging past a craps table where the dice had been replaced by tiny snow globes and the dealer was dressed as Frosty the Snowman.

The hallway grew darker and quieter with each step, and the casino’s din faded to a distant hum. Scarlett moved like a heat-seeking missile, letting nothing distract her. Meanwhile Delilah kept stealing glances at Jasper, who was taking in their baffling surroundings with an academic’s precision, despite having no clue what he was doing there.

“Fascinating implementation of capitalist Christmas aesthetics,” he murmured, gamely scribbling away in his notebook. “Though the architectural integrity of the structure seems completely⁠—”

“Shh!” Scarlett had stopped in front of a heavy black door. “I think this is it!”

“Why?” Delilah asked, but her sister was already reaching for the handle.

Scarlett pulled on the handle and the door flew open. The quartet found themselves blinking in sudden bright stage lights. They were standing in the wings of what appeared to be a 1970s game show, complete with furniture in avocado and mustard colors, a host in a spangled tuxedo and a studio audience full of people in ugly Christmas sweaters. A Herb Alpert-style theme song burbled away in the background.

“Perfect timing!” The host bounded over. “Our final round of contestants have arrived!”

“Our what?” Delilah managed, but she was already being hustled onto the stage. Somehow she found herself shoved onto a stool beside Jasper while Scarlett and Nate were settled onto stools across from them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host announced, “welcome to the Houdini Casino’s Christmas edition of—” the audience joined in, shouting the answer along with the host “—Made! For! Each Other! That’s right, folks, it’s everybody’s favorite romantic game, Made for Each Other, where we pose telling questions to charming young couples, to see if they are truly destined to last!”

Nate grabbed Scarlett’s arm. “We’re not doing this, are we? Why are we doing this?”

“Just play along,” she said. “Be glad we didn’t end up in a casino that has a live wrestling show. That happens sometimes, you know.”

He made a face. “What do you know about live wrestling shows?”

Meanwhile Delilah squinted into the bright lights and focused on not throwing up. She was on a stage. In front of many strangers. Expected to answer questions about someone who didn’t even remember meeting her.

This was going to be a disaster.

Jasper’s brows were knitted in bafflement. He leaned close and whispered, “What did you say we were researching? Because this is the strangest research trip I’ve ever⁠—”

“First question!” the host’s voice boomed through the excessive sound system. “Players, please write your answers on the provided whiteboards, and then we’ll see how you did. Ready? The first question is, what is your partner’s preferred coffee order?”

Delilah stared at the little whiteboard they’d given her, marker hovering uncertainly. This was ridiculous. She barely knew Jasper, and at the moment he didn’t know her at all. She glanced over at her sister, radiating smug confidence in her superior knowledge of Nate.

Welp, Delilah thought, the truth is what it is. She wrote “Black” in her careful script and turned the board face down on her lap.

“All right, let’s start with our first couple!” The host turned to Scarlett and Nate. “Sir, tell us: what is your lovely partner’s absolute favorite coffee?”

Nate held up his board with a confident flourish: “Grande triple shot soy cappuccino with three and a half pumps of vanilla.”

Scarlett’s face fell as she revealed her answer: “Oat milk latte with cinnamon.”

“Now hang on a sec,” Nate protested. “He said favorite.”

“Yeah, but that mess you wrote is only on holidays, it’s not my daily order. Don’t you know my everyday order by now?”

“Of course I know it! It’s just that . . . Wait, when did you switch to oat milk?”

“Moving on!” the host cut in cheerfully. “Let’s see what our other couple wrote!”

Delilah’s stomach clenched as she turned her board around. Jasper revealed his answer and⁠—

“Black and black!” the host called out gleefully. “We have a match!”