Page 47 of Jingle Spells

“Indeed.” The woman gestured expansively, as if presenting them with a magnificent gift. “We propose that the witches of Oak Haven allow us unfettered access to the magical powers of the oak grove. In exchange, we’ll allow you to continue living in your little town. We’ll even extend casino privileges. We know how rarely Oak Haven witches get out, after all. You’ll probably find it quite exciting.”

Delilah blinked several times. “Let me get this straight. You want us to hand over the source of all our power, and in return, you’ll . . . what? Allow us to exist? Toss us the occasional comped drink at the nickel slots?”

“You misunderstand,” the woman said, though her tone suggested she understood perfectly well that Delilah understood perfectly well. “This is a question of sharing resources. Everyone wins.”

“That’s not sharing,” Scarlett’s voice was tight. “That’s surrender.”

“It’s not a real offer,” Delilah said. “It’s Don Corleone’s version of an offer.”

Cold laughter echoed through the chamber. “Perhaps it is.” A new voice from the shadows, deeper than the others and somehow older. “As they say, it’s a nice town you have here . . . shame if something happened to it.”

More mocking laughter drifted down. The burgundy woman added, “Like it or not, you have two choices. Share the grove willingly, or we destroy your little town and leave you with nothing.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Something moved in Delilah’s peripheral vision, but when she turned to look, there was nothing there. Just shadows playing tricks. Or shadows playing for real.

“Actually,” Delilah said, surprising even herself with how steady her voice sounded, “there’s a third option. We could just send you all packing. Like we’ve done every other time magicians have tried to take Oak Haven.”

The burgundy woman’s laughter sounded like icicles breaking. “Oh, child. You think this is like those other times? We were just toying with you then. This is the big one.”

“What do you even want our grove for?!” Delilah exclaimed. “Back when we thought you were just a bunch of sideshow entertainers, your obsession with us at least made a little sense. But look at this place! Look at you guys, with your burgundy robes, skittering around in the shadows like a bunch of Walmart Voldemorts. You built a fifty-story casino overnight! Surely you don’t need the grove’s power, not really. So what’s it all for?”

“It is our obligation,” the burgundy woman intoned. “We seek justice long denied.”

“What are you talking about?” Delilah turned to her sister. “Scar, can you make that one make sense?”

“You’re the ones who won’t leave us alone,” Scarlett pointed out. “You dummies want justice?! What about justice for Oak Haven? Or hell, justice for me personally? You kept me in a birdcage for a year—remember that bit?”

“This discussion is at an end,” intoned the lead magician. “Take our offer back to your coven. Let all the witches discuss it. I suspect there are wiser ones than you. For your sake, I hope that there are.”

“We’re not giving you our grove.”

“Then,” said the deep voice from the darkness, “we take it. You have until sundown to accept our terms.”

A single blink, and the sisters were standing outside the casino entrance, squinting in the sudden bright lights and noise. No smoke, no dramatic exit; just there one moment and here the next.

“Wow,” Scarlett breathed. “Del, we’re in deep shit.”

“I know.” Delilah scanned the surroundings for any sign of Jasper and Nate. “And honestly? I felt better when I thought this was about stealing our oak grove. I do not care for whatever honoring their ancestors might entail.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty dark. What does that even mean?”

“No clue. Do you see the guys? We should grab them and get out of here.”

Whatever power these magicians had, it wasn’t penny-ante stage tricks. This was old magic. The kind of magic that made Louise Demain seem downright stable by comparison. And Delilah had just told them, essentially, to go fuck themselves.

I suppose Tiny Tim said it best, she thought grimly, God bless us, every one.

As the quartet trudged back toward home, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The morning air was crisp and extremely cold, the kind that made your lungs feel scrubbed from the inside out. The casino’s garish lights receded behind them like a bad hangover.

Jasper walked slightly behind the others, still trying to make sense of the incredibly vivid dream he’d had. Flashing lights and strange people . . . some sort of game show . . . an evil council meeting? His subconscious really had outdone itself this time.

I’m returning that Brandon Sanderson novel to the library, he thought, the first chance I get. But as he studied the backs of his three companions, he had another, different thought: What am I doing here?

The last thing he remembered with any certainty was . . . what? The county clerk’s office. Right. And then there was that liquor license with the impossible address. And . . . after that, things got fuzzy. Like someone had smudged the ink on his mental ledger. Through the haze, a crystal-clear memory flashed through his mind: Delilah turning her whiteboard around to reveal the exact same opinion about the Dewey decimal system that he held. The synchronicity made his chest tighten.

Ahead of him, Scarlett and Nate were whispering intensely, their heads close together. Something about a “bullshit offer” and how “Mama was going to lose her mind.”

Delilah hung back a bit, eventually falling into step beside him. She looked exhausted.