Page 58 of Jingle Spells

“Is he always this . . . much?” Jasper whispered to Delilah.

“Oh yeah,” she whispered back. “He lived here full-time for a while, about a year ago. Turned out, he was helping his magician buddies try to take over the town.”

“But now he’s . . . entertainment?”

“Mama hired him to keep an eye on him. Keep your enemies close and all that.”

“Hmm.” Jasper frowned.

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

“What do I know, right?”

On stage, Maximillian had moved on to his second trick: pulling seemingly endless colorful scarves from his sleeve while simultaneously delivering terrible puns.

“Watch closely!” he declared. “For nothing is as it seams!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” grumbled Jerusha from the bar.

“I’ve seen better tricks from my five-year-old niece!” someone else called out.

“Ah, but can your niece do . . . this?” Maximillian produced a white rabbit from his hat with a flourish that suggested he’d just invented nuclear fusion.

“Well, yeah,” came a shout from one corner of the room. And: “Of course we can!” from another.

“Not today, you can’t!” Maximillian shot back, surprisingly quick on his feet. “Yo Saturnalia and so on.”

The audience roared with laughter.

“You got us there,” Candace shouted from the bar.

“Indeed! And now—” Maximillian drew himself up to his full height “—for my next spectacular illusion, I shall require a volunteer from the audience!”

Jasper nodded. “Hey, maybe this is a good moment to⁠—”

Before he could even finish, both Delilah and Scarlett delivered swift kicks to his shins.

“Ow!” he yelped. “Dammit!”

“Is that brave gentleman volunteering?” He pointed dramatically at Jasper. “Yes, you sir! The man in pain! Please, join me on stage!”

Jasper straightened his jacket with as much dignity as he could muster and approached the stage. “Actually,” he began, “if Maximillian will indulge me . . . I wanted to take this opportunity to introduce myself. I’m Jasper Hopkins, the chief archivist of this county. I’ve been asked to address some troubling developments . . . literally, real estate developments . . . right outside of Oak Haven.”

But Maximillian wasn’t having it. With the practiced ease of a performer used to handling hecklers, he smoothly cut Jasper off, placing an arm around his shoulders and steering him toward a large box: an upright coffin-like structure painted with mystical symbols.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a most unusual volunteer! A man of history, of documentation. A perfect subject for . . . THE CABINET OF FATE!”

“Yes of course,” Jasper tried again. “But if I could just have a moment to address the crowd⁠—”

“The magnificent Maximillian will make this gentleman vanish before your very eyes!” the magician continued, ignoring Jasper completely. “Prepare to be astounded!”

With a flurry of movements too quick to follow, Maximillian opened the cabinet, showed the audience that it was empty, and then, before Jasper could protest, shoved him inside and slammed the door.

Delilah sat up straighter, and a chill ran down her spine. This wasn’t part of the plan. Jasper was supposed to deliver his warning, not actually take part in some stupid magic trick. She glanced at Scarlett for reassurance, but her sister was staring at the stage.

Maximillian waved his hands over the cabinet, reciting nonsense in that same wandering accent. “Abracadabra! Hocus-pocus! Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!” He paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “That last one was from a movie, but you get the idea.”

He flung open the cabinet door with a dramatic flourish. “Behold! The volunteer has vanished!”