Page 70 of Jingle Spells

Jasper was the first to speak. “Time,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“What?” Delilah turned to look at him, still hyper-aware of his arm around her waist, the heat of his body against hers.

“Time,” he repeated. His eyes were bright with that spark of revelation she was beginning to recognize. “We’ve been thinking about this all wrong. If she’s trapped between portals, she’s trapped between moments. It’s not a space problem. It’s a time problem.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Did you not hear what I just said? It’s impossible⁠—”

“Delilah,” Jasper continued, ignoring him. “Didn’t you say you had a time witch in town?”

“Louise? Ohh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I’m just saying, if anyone would understand the problem of existing between moments, it would be her. Seems like someone worth consulting, no?”

Zahir took a step forward. “Dude, people who ‘consult’ with Louise have been known to get their brains scrambled.”

“No no, Jasper’s right,” Scarlett said, perking up. “Louise is exactly who we need. She’s been studying the nature of time since . . . well, since time was invented, if you believe the hype.”

“Which we don’t,” Delilah added quickly for Jasper’s benefit. “But she does know more about temporal magic than anyone else in town.”

“Maybe she can help us understand what’s happening to your mother,” Jasper said, his eyes never leaving Delilah’s. “And if we understand it, maybe we can undo it.”

Max groaned dramatically. “Are you even listening to me? There’s no undoing anything. Your mother is trapped in a pocket dimension between realities until they decide to release her.” He set down his glass with exaggerated care. “Now, can we please focus on what’s really important here? My rabbit? Quentin? Remember him?”

The witches began dispersing, their weapons lowered but their expressions still grim. Belinda carefully set her gnome down, murmuring soothing words as she tried to remember whether to disarm him with the blue wire or the red one.

“Jasper, listen.” Scarlett stepped closer to him and Delilah. “Louise is a great idea. But Zahir isn’t wrong, either— it’s risky and she’s unpredictable. But it’s the best idea we’ve got at the moment. Del, you go with him. I’ll deal with Max and make sure Belinda doesn’t accidentally level the town with her gnomes. Just don’t let Louise pitch you her timeshare scheme. It’s not a real estate opportunity.”

Jasper looked puzzled. “What is it, then?”

“She’s trying to get people to literally share time with her. She’ll take years off your life and add them to her own; it’s a whole thing.”

“Ohhhhkay. Right.” From the sound of it, Jasper was starting to regret his super-clever idea.

As Scarlett continued lecturing Jasper on the dos and don’ts of dealing with time witches, Delilah found herself scanning the room. Something felt off. The witches were disbanding, their weapons reluctantly set aside, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before.

That’s when she spotted the movement in the far corner of the banquet hall. A hip-looking young woman with pink hair—definitely not a witch, judging by her wide-eyed expression. She was edging her way toward the exit. In her hand was a phone, its screen still glowing.

Delilah felt her blood turn to ice. “Hey!” she called, already moving toward the stranger. “What are you doing?”

The young woman froze, stared at Delilah for a split second, then bolted for the door.

“You get back here!” Delilah shouted.

The tourist disappeared through the banquet hall doors, but Delilah was right behind her, heart pounding with a new kind of fear. “Stop! Stop right there!”

As she raced after the fleeing figure, one thought kept flashing through her mind: The forgetting spell was failing.

If that little influencer left Oak Haven with video? The magicians might not need to destroy Oak Haven after all. TikTok would do it for them.

Chapter 20

You’re a Mean One, Ms. Demain

As Jasper and Delilah walked hand in hand through town, it struck him that the festive atmosphere had taken a subtle turn for the worse. What had been kitschy and fun now seemed tense, bordering on militant. The decorations themselves were fine: magical garlands chased each other around lampposts; enchanted snowflakes fell in perfect geometric patterns; a quartet of gingerbread men performed holiday harmonies on the corner. But there was something forced about the level of cheer, something false. Like it had all been generated by a holiday-obsessed AI.

Beneath the surface, a sense of melancholy was everywhere.

“It’s the magic,” Delilah explained, catching his gaze as it followed an ornament that had detached itself from a tree to chase a squirrel. “Something’s wrong, and even the enchantments feel it.”