Page 61 of Jingle Spells

“No, my God!”

“Simmer down, sis,” Delilah said. “He’s just trying to help.” She nudged Jasper and said, “Luna doesn’t have a phone. She’s probably the last holdout on Earth. Scar, last time I talked to her, she mentioned New York. Some mind-reading coven in the subway tunnels. Why don’t you start asking around? Some witch in Oak Haven has got to know some witch in New York.”

“Okay.” Scarlett nodded anxiously. “Okay, sure. Sorry, Jasper. You two double-check that Mama isn’t trapped here somewhere. I’m gonna find our kid sister.” She nodded once more, as if convincing herself, then marched out of the banquet hall with purpose, calling out to anyone in earshot. “Who here has contacts in the Big Apple?”

Delilah was already moving to the back of the banquet hall. “Let’s start with the kitchen. Maybe Zahir saw or heard something. He has an uncanny ability to know what’s happening at the inn even when he’s elbow-deep in béchamel.”

The kitchen was a study in suspended animation. Several dishes sat mid-preparation on counters, as if their makers had simply walked away mid-task. A pot of something rich and aromatic bubbled unattended on the stove. The contrast between the cheerful feast preparations and the current crisis created a dissonance that made Jasper’s skin prickle.

“Zahir?” Delilah called out, scanning the room. “Are you in here?”

A muffled thump came from the walk-in freezer, followed by a string of creative curses. The heavy metal door swung open, and Zahir emerged, clutching a tray of what appeared to be elaborately molded ice sculptures in the shape of various woodland creatures.

“There you are,” he announced, as if Delilah was the one who’d gone missing. “Would someone please explain why half my kitchen staff just abandoned their stations? I’ve got crème brûlées waiting to be torched, a sauce that needs constant attention or it’ll separate, and—” He finally registered their expressions. “What? What the hell happened?”

“The magicians took Mama,” Delilah said, the words still feeling unreal as they left her mouth.

Zahir’s face went slack. The tray of ice sculptures tilted dangerously before he caught himself. “What? How? When?”

“Just now,” Jasper explained. “During Maximillian’s performance. A woman in burgundy appeared and⁠—”

“The one from the casino,” Delilah interjected. “She shoved Mama into that magic cabinet and then both of them disappeared.”

Zahir set the tray down with deliberate care. “What are we doing about it?”

“Scarlett’s trying to locate Luna, bring her back to help,” Delilah said. “We’re checking the inn to make sure Mama isn’t still here somewhere. You know, like Jasper was in the library.”

“Sorry, what?” Zahir’s eyes narrowed. “The library?”

“Yeah, Maximillian put me in the box first,” Jasper explained, “and somehow zapped me to the other side of the building. So maybe . . .”

“Got it,” Zahir said, already untying his apron. “I’ll check the basement and the wine cellar. There are some storage areas down there that nobody’s been in for decades.” Zahir squeezed Delilah’s arm gently. “We’ll find her, Del.”

Delilah turned to Jasper. “Let’s check the guest rooms.”

The upstairs hallways were eerily quiet; most guests were still milling around the banquet hall, trying to make sense of what had happened. Del and Jasper methodically checked each vacant room, calling Kelly’s name, peeking in closets and bathrooms.

“Listen,” Jasper began. “I feel like I should tell you something. When I was in the library? I saw that portrait of Agnes Bartlett.”

“Who? Ohh, the hatchet-faced Puritan chick above the fireplace. Sure, yeah, she’s some kind of distant relative of ours.” Delilah shuddered. “We used to avoid the library as kids because of that face. Why does it matter?”

“Because,” Jasper said urgently, “her portrait also hangs in my office. I pass it every day but I had no idea who she really was.”

“So what?”

“So what?! A witch from Oak Haven held an official position in the outside world. Maybe she used her role to hide any official record of Oak Haven’s existence.”

Under different circumstances, Delilah might have found his enthusiasm endearing. At the moment, though, he may as well have been telling her the weather in Melbourne. “But how does that help me right now?” she demanded, her voice tight with fear and anger.

“No, you’re right.” Jasper deflated slightly. “I don’t know what it means, just that it seems significant. A connection between Oak Haven and the county going back to the beginning.”

They continued their search in silence, moving from room to room with increasing urgency. On the third floor, they ran into Ruth Injabere and her grandchildren, who had just heard the news.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Ruth said, her calm demeanor now taut with concern. “Is it true about Kelly?”

Delilah nodded, unable to find words that wouldn’t break her apart to speak them.

“What can we do?” Ruth asked, already rolling up her sleeves metaphorically.