Page 15 of No Charm Done

“You can hear me, can’t you? Only magical beings can. You’re a long way from home. And looking for something, I’d wager.”

Luna stared at the cow in utter bafflement. This couldn’t be right. The voice was gentle, grandmotherly, with that particular Midwestern lilt that made every sentence sound like an invitation for pie. This was the chain-smoking, foul-mouthed crone from Oak Haven? The one who told visitors to fuck off while mechanical reindeer pranced around her yard?

“Are you . . .” Luna cleared her throat softly and spoke under her breath. “Myrna? From Oak Haven?” She could have sworn she saw the butter cow’s expression shift into an amused smile.

“Oh my stars, you’re familiar with one of my winter aspects! Well, isn’t that delightful. Bit of a grump, isn’t she? It’s all that holiday stress, you understand. Enough to make anyone a little cranky.”

Luna’s brain struggled to reconcile the sweet-as-pie voice with her memories of Myrna screaming obscenities at carolers. “You’re . . . you’re much nicer than I expected.”

“Well now, that’s the sweetest thing! Different seasons, different moods—you know how it goes. Summer’s my restful time. All these kind folks here, happy just to appreciate me. Much more pleasant than December, when every Tom, Dick, and Harry demands a miracle for Christmas.”

Luna took a steadying breath. “I need help getting into the Void. There’s someone trapped there who helped save my mother’s life, and I have to rescue him.”

“Oh my.” The voice maintained its sweet tone, but there was something steel-edged now. “The Void, you say? Well, honey, that’s quite the request.”

“I know, it’s a big ask.” Luna spoke quietly, keenly aware of the families nearby. “But he’s been helping people for decades while being completely alone. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” The word seemed to echo strangely, and butter Kermit’s expression shifted toward the disapproving. “Oh, sweetie, bless your heart. You think cosmic justice runs on fairness? That’s fucking precious.”

Luna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the refrigerated display case. There’s the Myrna she’d expected.

“But,” the voice continued, “I do admire the sentiment. Loyalty’s a fine quality, and sacrifice for others . . . well, that’s downright admirable. Tell me, dear, what exactly are you prepared to offer for such a monumental favor?”

“Offer?” Luna’s stomach sank. She’d been so eager to get here, she’d forgotten Louise’s instructions about an offering. “I . . . I didn’t bring anything.”

“Oh honey.” The disappointment in Myrna’s voice was devastating in that special Midwestern way. “You came to petition a goddess without so much as a casserole? Well, isn’t that just like your generation. All impulse, no preparation.”

“I can get something,” Luna said quickly. “What would you like?”

“Well now. I’ll need a proper offering, something with real meaning behind it. And since this is such an unprecedented request . . .” Then an ominous pause.

“I’ll need you to put something of genuine value into it. Something that costs you dearly.”

Luna’s mind raced. “What kind of something?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about the mechanics, dear.” Myrna’s voice took on a particularly condescending sweetness that made Luna’s teeth ache. “Any carnival prize will do for the vessel. But your real offering to me is not the vessel, it’s what you place inside: a memory. A cherished one. The kind of memory that makes you who you are.”

“A memory . . . of mine?”

“That’s right. Something beautiful and irreplaceable. A moment of true love, perhaps? The last time you saw someone dear to you? Passage to the Void is no minor matter. It requires a sacrifice that actually hurts.”

Luna’s mind immediately went to Papa: his laugh, his terrible jokes, the way he’d made everything seem manageable just by being there.

“Now then,” Myrna continued cheerfully, “you go win yourself a nice prize, pour that precious memory right into it, and we’ll get you sorted out. Easy as pie!”

Easy as pie. Luna wanted to laugh or possibly scream. She headed back toward the midway.

* * *

A precious memory, the cow had said. The kind that made me who I am.

Her instinct shouted that she had to preserve what little she had left of Papa. His final Christmas with them, when he’d insisted on playing Santa despite all the girls being far too old. The way he’d looked at her whenever she mastered a particularly complex spell. “You’re the most talented of them all,” he’d whispered to her one fateful night. “But if you tell Scar and Del I said so, I’ll deny it.”

Those memories were sacred. They were all she had of him.

But then she thought about Elias Shaw, alone in that supernatural waiting room for decades without end. Helping stranger after stranger while never expecting rescue himself. He’d saved her mother, and the other Oak Haven witches, too. Sure, she’d started off on this adventure mainly to get away from the inn. But still, didn’t she owe him something?

By the time she reached the Whack-a-Mole game, Luna had made her decision. Papa’s memories would stay locked away; those were precious and she’d never have any more. But she had something else to give. Something equally precious, but not irreplaceable: the memory of last Christmas, when she and her sisters had worked together to save Oak Haven. More importantly, the memory of feeling like they could accomplish anything if they did it together.