Page 82 of Jingle Spells

Delilah had known Aphra their whole lives and never heard her curse this much. A troubling sign, no doubt. “When does Saturnalia end, so we can fix this mess?”

“That’s the thing, Saturnalia should’ve ended days ago! Del, tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Can you imagine, Christmas arriving at last, and we’re still stuck in the middle of this shit? Trouble is, the magicians erected wards around the grove, like the ones protecting their casino, but stronger. We can’t get through.” Aphra’s voice cracked slightly. “And without access to the grove . . .”

“We can’t end Saturnalia and get our magic back,” Delilah finished grimly. “Well, I’ll go take a look at the wards. Maybe if Scarlett and I put our heads together, maybe we can⁠—”

“No! Belinda already tried that with her exploding gnomes, and we haven’t seen her since. Same with a few others who confronted the magicians. They vanish.”

“Just like Mama.”

Aphra nodded. “Scarlett’s organized what resistance she can. They meet in the basement of the Stargazer. Rather, what used to be the Stargazer. It’s called Hex Marks the Spot now.”

“Yuck. And you? What’s with the get-up? You working for the magicians?” Delilah couldn’t quite keep the edge out of her voice.

“No! Not the way you mean. Everyone who resists too openly gets ‘disappeared,’ Del. The rest of us are just playing along while we try to figure something out. And I need to get back. I’m leading the ‘Enchanted Yarn Experience’ at two, and if I’m late, they get suspicious. She jammed the pointy hat back on her head, her eyes hard with resolve. “Go to the inn. Basement entrance through the old coal chute. The password is ‘Quentin.’ Don’t ask, it was Scarlett’s idea.” With that, she swept past them, transforming back into a hunched crone as she returned to the street, cackling dramatically for the benefit of passersby.

Delilah and Jasper exchanged looks. “Should we head over to the inn?” he asked.

“I have a different idea, actually. Tell me what you think of this. Louise clearly sent us back so we could run into Agnes. Right? Which means . . . ?” She paused, to let Jasper catch up. But he just looked confused. “Which means . . . she can send us wherever she likes. So! If she sends us back to right before Saturnalia, I can warn everyone about what’s coming. And I can convince the witches not to give up their magic in the first place. Then, we won’t be helpless.”

“Decent plan, but shouldn’t we really be focused on how I can get my hands on the spell Agnes talked about?”

Delilah knew what that plan would mean: Jasper leaving town. Her entire being revolted against the idea.

“If I can get back in time to stop us from giving up our power, we won’t need it. But first, I seriously need caffeine,” Delilah said, rubbing her temples. “My brain feels like a ricer, trying to process the three hundred years we just skipped over.”

The only coffee shop in town, Hexpresso Yourself, was near the town green and, fortunately, mostly empty at the moment. Out-of-towners apparently preferred exploring the more obviously “witchy” attractions to sitting down for a latte. Managing barista duties was Milo, who’d been doling out coffee drinks since the Melrose sisters were in high school. They cracked a relieved smile upon seeing Delilah. “Heyyyy,” Milo sang out, “a familiar face at last! And one not wearing a pointy hat. What can I get you kids? The usual?”

“Please. And whatever he’d like too.” She nodded toward Jasper.

“Just black coffee,” Jasper said, then added, “You know, in Rome, they considered coffee drinkers suspicious.” At Delilah’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “I figured historically relevant coffee trivia was fair game.”

Despite everything, she found herself smiling. “Valid. Grab us that table in the corner while I pay?”

Milo shook their head. “Melroses don’t pay, come on. Go sit, I’ll bring it right over.”

Once Delilah and Jasper had settled into their seats—as far as possible from the handful of tourists taking selfies with their “Magic Mocha Potions”—she pulled out her phone for the first time since they’d returned.

“Melroses don’t pay,” Jasper repeated, eyes twinkling. “Gosh, I keep forgetting I’m running around with a town celebrity.”

“Oh hush, Milo’s just—” She gasped suddenly. Her eyes went wide staring at her screen. “Holy hellfire. Thirty-seven missed calls from Scarlett, sixteen voicemails, and . . . oh no.”

“What?” Jasper leaned forward, concern etching his features.

“Look.” She turned her phone toward him, displaying her social media notifications. The tiny red bubble showed a number so high the app had given up counting and simply displayed “999+.”

“That can’t be good,” Jasper said, pulling out his own phone.

“Oh my gods . . .”

The hashtag #OakHavenWitches was trending, accompanied by #MemoryTown and #WitchTok. Delilah’s fingers hovered over the screen, a morbid curiosity compelling her to tap on the first video. It was a teenage girl with perfect winged eyeliner and a pentagram drawn on her forehead.

“So I just got back from the COOLEST place, you guys!” The girl’s enthusiastic chirping hurt Delilah’s ears. “It’s this little town called Oak Haven where ACTUAL WITCHES live! And like, they TOTALLY do magic but only if you catch them before noon because that’s when their powers are strongest due to the lunar cycles!”

“What in the holy hells is she talking about . . .”

“So I, like, bought this AUTHENTIC witch potion—” the girl held up a small bottle filled with what looked suspiciously like maple syrup with glitter in it “—and the witch who sold it to me said it was made with herbs picked under a full moon and can make your crush text you back! I’m going to try it tonight, so like follow for an update!”

“Who is selling fake love potions around town?” Delilah closed the app with a pained expression. “Jerusha would never.”