Page 13 of No Charm Done

Luna rolled up her sleeves. Around the shop, timepieces began ticking with anticipation. She had the impression that they were rooting for her.

Her fingers began to move, weaving a complex spell that combined temporal magic, mechanical empathy, and the harmonic resonance techniques she’d learned in Jaipur. The probability clock shuddered, whirred, then burst into brilliant life. Potential futures, probability percentages, and temporal stress indicators all running smoothly.

Gazing down at her victory, Luna could feel a smile start to bloom. But she quickly bit her lip, stifling her pride. Outsmarting a time witch was risky enough. Dare look smug about it, and she could end up back in a fear hole.

Louise stared at the restored timepiece, then at Luna, then back at the timepiece. “I find myself outmaneuvered.” With an air of resignation, she settled back into her chair. “Very well. Portal magic, as you should know, far exceeds the simple teleportation spells favored by contemporary witches. True portal magic—the kind required to breach the barriers of the Void—has been lost to your kind for centuries.”

“Lost to living witches, you mean,” Luna said. “But last Christmas, my sisters and I used portal magic to relocate an entire casino. So clearly it’s still doable.”

“One parlor trick does not make you a master of interdimensional travel. The Void exists between realities, in the spaces where even thought fears to tread. No living witch possesses the knowledge necessary to navigate such realms safely.”

“No living witch. So you’re saying I need a dead witch.”

“No, meatsack. You need a god.”

Luna blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Myrna.”

Luna burst out laughing. She couldn’t not—the idea was too absurd. “Myrna? You mean Myrna with the crazy overdecorated Christmas house? The little old lady who turns her Victorian mansion into a holiday nightmare every year?”

“Child!” Louise pounded her fist on the table, making several smaller timepieces jump. Her expression could’ve frozen helium. “Your ignorance is exceeded only by your arrogance. The ‘little old lady’ you speak of is merely one manifestation of a power so vast that mortal minds cannot comprehend her true nature.”

“Myrna. Who charges tourists five dollars to look at animatronic reindeer. She’s some kind of cosmic deity in disguise?”

“The Christmas house, as you call it, is not the gaudy tourist attraction you imagine. It is a shrine. Every decoration, every garish ornament, every singing snowman represents an offering from believers. The mortal form you know as Myrna is but the tiniest fragment of a consciousness older than your sun.”

Luna stared at Louise, trying to process this information. “You’re saying she’s like . . . some kind of Lovecraftian Old One, hiding in plain sight?”

“I am saying that the power necessary to breach the Void and return safely requires divine intervention. Myrna, as we may as well call her, since her true name cannot be spoken by human tongues, possesses such power.”

“Okay, assuming I believe any of this . . . How do I find her? It’s May. She’s only seen in Oak Haven during the month of December. I can’t wait that long.”

“The god manifests at various other holy sites throughout the year. Currently, she is most likely to be found at the Iowa State Fair, where she takes the form of an enormous butter sculpture.”

Luna opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “A butter sculpture.”

“The faithful sojourn across the Midwest to make offerings and seek her wisdom. Butter is sacred to her summer aspect—it represents the transformation of humble cream into something greater than itself.”

“This is . . .” Luna shook her head. “This is completely insane.”

“Sanity is a capitalist construct. The question is whether you possess sufficient courage to seek divine audience.”

“Fine.” Luna shrugged. It was hardly the weirdest thing she’d ever done. “How do I get to the Iowa State Fair?”

“Portal travel will suffice. I can provide the coordinates.”

“Great. When does the fair start?”

“Late August,” she said sweetly. “You’ll need to wait approximately three months.”

“Three months?” Her carefully constructed plan was crumbling. “I can’t wait three months! Elias is trapped in interdimensional hell right now!” And dear gods, I need a vacation or I’m going to lose my mind.

“Then you shall have to convince me to send you forward in time to reach the fair season. Despite having just now shamed me for my own travel to the future.”

“Okay, okay,” Luna groaned. “I apologize for that. Will you please send me forward in time to the Iowa State Fair?”

Louise examined her fingernails with elaborate casualness. “I agree.” She stood and began gathering temporal manipulation supplies: crystals that bent light and scrolls covered in equations that hurt to look them. “Let it be known. When petitioning a goddess for favors, it is traditional to bring an offering.”