Spells and Jinglebells Read online

  Her nieces might not believe he was real, nor even her magickly gifted sister, Sasha, but Dora knew. Dora kept the old ways, and Dora knew.

  It was warm inside the charming kitchen, with pies cooling on the wood-fired stove and a kettle of tea still warming on a burner. A bowl of potpourri crafted of pinecones, orange peels, and cinnamon sticks sat on the counter, inviting health, longevity and abundance into the home. The combined aromas made her stomach growl and she scolded it. “Just a few hours more and we’ll be feasting!” she promised. But there was still much to do.

  Dora checked the pies and gathered the silver, going over her mental to-do list. It was only then that she noticed how quiet the house was. When she’d left for town that morning, Harvest Home had bustled with the sounds of her nieces, but now all was silent. She hurried into the living room and looked around. An evergreen had been cut and decorated in her absence, and the house was a little less clean than when she’d left it, but nothing else seemed out of place.

  Nothing she could see anyway.

  Dora sniffed the air. Something was wrong. She stood very still and listened. Was that a bell she heard on the wind? Her eyes widened, yet she held her position, sensing the energy around her. Her nieces were fine; she was sure of it. But the unease didn’t go away.

  She kept sniffing as she walked around the house. There was a strange, bitter odor in the air. She passed the hearth with its burning Yule log, and an end table, decorated with gold and red candles. Everything still seemed to be in its proper place.

  Then, Dora knew. She felt it in her bones as strongly as she felt the bursitis in her hip.

  She hurriedly limped into the dining room, where the table was mostly set for the evening meal. Gleaming crystal glasses and silver serving utensils sparkled among a dozen unlit candles. The table was set with the finest bone china, dishes Dora used only once a year.

  But the centerpiece - the crown, crafted from golden leaves and meant as a gift to the Oak King - was gone!

  And Dora knew for certain that if she couldn’t find it, winter would never end.

  The woman fell into her overstuffed chair, fanning her face with her hands. “Calm down ol’ girl,” she said, breathing through her nose. Just because the Oak Crown was missing didn’t mean there was foul play involved. Perhaps one of the girls had taken it for safekeeping. After all, she had drilled the importance of the Oak Crown into them that very morning.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ll be gone most o’ the day, girls,” Dora said before setting off for town. “Ya’ll have yer tasks to keep ya busy, and t’night we’ll celebrate the endin’ of the darker half o’ the year, when the Oak King regains his power o’er the Holly King. If we can keep Krampus at bay, that is.”

  “Uh – who’s Krampus?” her oldest niece, Ruth Anne, asked.

  “An imp who wants ta ruin Christmas! Jus’ like the Holly King, he doesn’t want winter ta end. But the Holly King wants it out o’ love fer the winter. Krampus jus’ likes ta keep things cold so folks stay miserable. He’s always watchin’ and will always find a way in, whether through attic windows or down the chimney!”

  “Like Santa Claus?” Eve, her youngest niece, asked.

  “Nay, nay! Not like Santa. Santa brings cheer! Krampus brings coal! He wants ta ruin the holidays because he hates cheer.”

  “Sounds like the Grinch,” fair-haired Merry said, putting her finger to her chin thoughtfully.

  “The Grinch is a fairy godmother next ta Krampus!” Dora said.

  By now, Dora had worked up quite a sweat and was pacing about the kitchen. Though she had never seen Krampus herself, she knew he was out there. Her mother had said so. And her mother before that.

  “Dora…” Her sister Sasha said, stopping her by pulling her wrist on her next pass. “Perhaps we should talk of this some other time.”

  Dora pointed to the window, with its early indigo sky. “It’s the Solstice. They need ta know!”

  Sasha rolled her eyes but let go of her sister and stepped towards the counter, pouring herself a cup of Yule tea while Dora continued.

  “The beast is covered in matted brown fur. He can walk on two legs, or four, or e'en on his terrible claws!” Dora raised her hands and crooked her fingers, and monster hooks appeared as shadows on the wall. “Click. Click. Click. His claws scrape against the wooden floors as he creeps about, looking fer mischief.”

  “This guy is Krampus-ing my style,” Ruth Anne said, nervously coughing into her fist as her aunt continued.

  “His horns are sharp, ready to gore. His eyes are red slits. Ya’ll know he’s comin’ by the jingle of the bell draped around his neck, a bell he must wear ta warn children.”

  Maggie, who usually kept to herself, pulled on the ends of her coarse red ponytail. She looked around nervously, as if fearing he was close by. “How do we keep him out?”

  “Even if ya could keep him out o’ the house, which ya can’t, he’d still find ya in the woods. But once the Oak King takes the crown, winter will start ta thaw and Krampus will be gone, too.”

  At that, Dora walked through the vast living room and into the dining room, motioning for her nieces and Sasha to follow. She pointed to a polished silver platter and Ruth Anne removed the lid. Inside was a magnificent crown, crafted of oak leaves and twigs. A collective gasp sounded around the room, followed by a heavy sigh from Sasha, who just folded her arms and let her sister continue.

  Dora pointed to two paintings that the girls hadn’t seen before, now adorning the dining room wall near the head of the formal table. “The Holly King and the Oak King,” she announced. The Holly King looked rather like Santa Claus, the girls thought, with his rosy cheeks, fur coat, bushy beard and a wreath of holly around his head. The Oak King, on the other hand, looked like a Tree Man. Between the two paintings was a wheel, with arrows inside that moved like the hands on a clock.

  Sasha lifted a finger and stepped forward. “Normally, I approve of your history lessons, Dora, but not today. Spring will come whether the Oak King takes his crown or not. It is the wheel of life, children, and those hands move on their own. We must not get stuck in the old ways.”

  “The old ways have gotten us this far,” Dora said, tossing pretend salt over her shoulder. “But yer mother’s right. Enough o’ that! Today is the party! Do ya all have your tasks? I’ll need everyone’s help ta make this a Solstice feast ta remember!”

  “I’ll see to it everything is done,” Sasha said, then turned to her daughters. “If you have no further questions, you may be excused.”

  The girls ran off, nearly tripping over each other in a fit of giggles as Ruth Anne pretended to be Krampus, charging at them with her hands up like horns.

  “Don’t go filling their heads with too much nonsense,” Sasha said, once the room had cleared. “Samhain is the time for mischief. Yule is the time for renewal.” Sasha looked around the room and noticed that the Yule Fairy, the one that graced Dora’s tree every year, was on a high shelf. She pointed a finger at it, and the fairy gracefully floated down, complete with softly flapping wings. “This is the one Merry is to mend, correct?” Sasha said, noting the tear in the blue dress.

  “Aye. But I thought ya didn’t like squandering’ yer magick,” Dora said, regarding her sister with one eye closed.

  “It is the Solstice,” Sasha said. “But don’t let it get around.” With that, Sasha took her fur coat from the coatrack and waved a hasty goodbye. “I’ll be working on the cider back at my house. The girls and I will see you at the feast tonight.”

  That was the last time Dora had seen the Oak Crown.

  Dora looked at the clock. Evening would come in no time! She hefted herself out of the chair and returned to the dining room, hoping that she had simply overlooked it. The platter was still there, with the lid sitting next to it, but the crown was gone. Bits of leaves had been left behind on the table, and Dora noticed that some of them had also fallen to the floor. Though her back wasn’t what it used to be, she hunched
forward and followed them, all the way to the front door, where all traces disappeared in the snow. Dora took a step outside and was met with a blast of freezing wind that set her teeth to chattering. She looked up and around as she folded her arms across her chest, but there was no sign of the missing crown.

  “Girls!” She cupped her mouth with her hands and called into the wind, but there was no response. She went back inside, wringing her hands all the way into the kitchen as she wondered what to do. She had less than a handful of hours to find the crown and place it on the forest altar, or else the world would be trapped in winter for another year!

  She should call her sister, Sasha.

  But what would Sasha say? Even if she didn’t outright berate her, she’d quietly point out her superstitious nonsense. But Sasha hadn’t been charged with keeping the tradition - Dora had.

  With trembling hands, Dora lifted the mustard-yellow rotary phone hanging in the kitchen. She dialed her sister’s number. “Hello?” she said into the receiver as her free hand kneaded her apron belt. “Sasha?”

  “Dora? Is that you?” Her sister asked. “Is something wrong? You never call.”

  It was true. Dora was the type who would listen to your troubles over the phone for hours, yet rarely initiated a call. If she needed to speak to you directly, she’d walk the distance, no matter how far. But time was short.

  “Are - are the girls with you?” Dora asked, as casually as she could.

  “Not yet. They’re not there with you?”

  “Uh, no.” Dora sucked in her breath, waiting for her chastisement. It didn’t come.

  “I’m sure they’re just finishing up shopping or gift wrapping,” Sasha said calmly. “I wouldn’t worry about them too much in Dark Root. They run this town. Unless Krampus comes, that is. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Sasha chuckled and hung up as Dora tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

  Dora looked up at the clock - a black cat whose eyes moved with each tick - and noted the time. “I’m not a young woman anymore,” Dora said, blowing into her palms and rubbing them together. “But I am still a witch, an’ I got a few tricks up my sleeves yet!”

  Chapter Three

  Tea wasn’t a requirement for scrying, but it certainly helped.

  Dora made a kettle of mugwort and honey tea in order to induce deep meditation, adding in a sprig of cinnamon for luck. She smelled the heady aromas wafting from the kettle, and then finished it off with a pinch of frankincense, for protection. It wouldn’t taste very good, but scrying teas rarely did.

  Next, she retrieved her wand from the laundry room. She tapped it twice against the wastebasket to remove the cobwebs and dust that had settled on it since its last use. “Have I neglected ya fer so long?” She asked the wand, as she felt the old but familiar tingle in her hand. She could almost feel it twitch with excitement as she rinsed it beneath cool running water to cleanse any stagnant energy.

  “Ya’ll get more use this spring,” she promised the wand. “If we get ta spring!”

  Dora looked around the kitchen once more, then nodded to herself - she was ready! She cleared her throat and spun the wand in the air three times - a magical number. Next, she aimed the wand at a high cabinet over the sink where she kept her ‘important things’. After considerable focus, and a bit of strain, the cabinet door opened.

  She was a short woman, no taller than five feet on her best day, and couldn’t see the contents inside very well, but she nonetheless knew exactly where everything was located in her home. Her mind found the heavy crystal globe nestled within a wooden pedestal, and tugged it towards the edge of the shelf. Her telekinetic abilities weren’t as strong as Sasha’s, and even the wand did little to alleviate the globe’s bumps on the ride down from the cabinet, but it landed smoothly on the table, just next to her cup of tea. The cabinet shut itself, having done it so many times in the past that it didn’t need her direct instruction.

  “I feel young again!” Dora said with a laugh that was a borderline cackle. Magick was limited, even in Dark Root, but this was not a waste! Besides, when spring came again, the magick would replenish itself, as it always did.

  Dora drank down her cup of tea in one long draw, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Before even setting the cup back on the table, she felt its hypnotic effects. She was light on her toes, and the world seemed a bit fuzzy and warm. She put on her reading glasses and took her spot at the kitchen table where she conducted all of her business, and peered at the placard on the base of pedestal. It read: Dark Root Memories.

  She tapped the top of the glass ball and snowflakes began to swirl around the perimeter. When they cleared, a floating calendar appeared in the center of the crystal ball, its pages flipped open to the month of December. Dora found the day she was looking for - today - and tapped it again. A new image appeared, fuzzy at first, but taking shape the longer she stared at it. She placed her fingers on either side of the globe. It felt charged. Alive.

  Dora exhaled as the image firmed up. “It’s not nice ta spy on family,” she said to the fairies and house goblins that watched over Harvest Home. “An’ I promise, I wouldn’t if this wasn’t so important.”

  She gave a confirmatory nod, then relaxed her eyes and let the soothing effects of the tea settle over her. Then, she recited the incantation that came into her head.

  “The Oak Crown is missin’ and the culprit is near. Show me just how it disappeared.”

  She tapped the globe with her silver teaspoon three times and the snow inside rose up again. For a moment, there was only a blur and the swirl of the flakes.

  Dora tightened her shawl and leaned forward. A scene began to take shape. A pretty young girl with flaxen hair carried an armload full of art supplies to the dining room table. The girl was her niece, Merry. Halfway to the table the girl stopped and looked around uneasily, and shivered. There was something in the house with her. Dora sensed it too, even through the barrier of time.

  What was it? Dora’s nose was nearly pressed to the glass, as she willed the image to further come alive.

  And it did.

  It was only for a moment that Merry thought she sensed another presence in the house. Soon, the moment passed and Merry chided herself for being silly. She was the most responsible of all the girls, and if she gave in to superstitions and fears, what example would that set for younger Maggie and Eve?

  “There’s no one in the house with me,” Merry said resolutely, continuing her trek towards the dining table. “I’m absolutely sure of that.”

  Merry carefully set all the art supplies on the table. She had markers and scissors, glitter and glue, all ready to bedeck and bedazzle Aunt Dora’s ancient Yule Fairy into something beautiful.

  She lifted the fairy. It was a beautiful doll in a pale blue dress, with hair the same white-blond as Merry’s, and wings that spanned two feet. Tonight, it would sit atop the Yule tree for the first time in years, and it was Merry’s job to get her ready.

  “Be creative,” the note her Aunt Dora left her had said. “And take your time. This fairy represents the light of the world. Make her shine.”

  Merry carefully scanned her supplies as she decided on her best course of action. She thought the fairy’s dress should be red or green, to match the colors of the season, but color-changing magick that was beyond her capabilities at the moment. Besides, if Aunt Dora had wanted the fairy to have a red dress, she would have said so.

  Her eyes darted around the dining room, searching for a muse. The Yule log popped pleasantly in the fireplace. Dozens of large candles were set in holly rings about the room, waiting for the evening meal when they would be lit. It was a warm and festive feeling, and Merry decided to use that as her inspiration. She lined the doll’s wings with gold glitter. Then she pasted on soft blue snowflakes she had cut from felt. She combed the fairy’s long hair until it gleamed. Finally, she kissed the doll’s head and the fairy immediately regained pink in her porcelain cheeks. Even the subtle crack in her
chin had sealed up. The doll looked almost new. Merry’s magick was subtle, but it effective.

  But the fairy still had a small tear in its dress. Merry looked around the room, wondering how she would repair it. She hadn’t brought her sewing kit and she knew her aunt’s was upstairs. Her eyes raised to the floor above her. She could go upstairs and retrieve it, but… she still couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling.

  Merry had never been one to fear her Aunt Dora’s home. She had practically been raised here. But after all that talk of… what was the creature’s name? Krimpus? Krampus! After all that talk of him, Merry felt unsettled. She knew her aunt was superstitious, but sometimes her beliefs could be downright frightening.

  Like the war between the Holly King and the Oak King for instance. She raised her eyes to the pair of portraits hanging on the wall - one of a jolly fat man in furs with rosy cheeks and knowing eyes, and the other of a tall tree-like man who stared somberly ahead. Aunt Dora claimed the two were always fighting for dominion over the seasons. That distressed Merry, but she couldn’t say why. Perhaps because if her aunt was right, the whole world counted on her to deliver the crown to the Oak King. The crown that sat on the silver platter in the middle of the very table she worked at.

  She decided to finish quickly, and either find her sisters or return home to Sister House. She wouldn’t need the sewing kit, if she tried hard enough. She concentrated on the small tear in the gown. Her fingers massaged the fairy’s hands, as if in consolation. After several agonizing seconds, the gown began to mend itself. In another moment, it was as if there had never been a tear at all.

  Merry smiled brightly, wishing someone were around to see her work. She wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, but she did secretly long to be acknowledged. Oh well, it was a good deed and would make her aunt happy. That was all that mattered.

  As she dusted the glitter from the fairy’s wings, a sudden tingle crept up her spine. There was someone else in the house with her! This time, she was sure. She held as still as she could, and listened. A muffled crash sounded from upstairs, followed by the slow stink of something she couldn’t place. Hadn’t her aunt said something about Krampus’ smell? She couldn’t remember.