Christmas Witch: A Jagged Grove Short Story Read online

  Christmas Witch: A Jagged Grove Story

  Willow Monroe

  Published by ButtonFly Books, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CHRISTMAS WITCH: A JAGGED GROVE STORY

  First edition. November 29, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Willow Monroe.

  Written by Willow Monroe.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Christmas Witch: A Jagged Grove Story

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  The Jagged Grove Series | The Gemma Stone Mystery Series

  Jagged Grove Xmas

  One

  “Who designs these things? I ask, pointing to the red and green flyer on the window of the charm shop in downtown Jagged Grove. Christmas season is in full swing and the mall is crowded with last minute shoppers today. The flyer announces a pancake breakfast to help raise money for upgrades to Killswallow Park. In comic sans.

  Angelo shrugs and grins. “Nobody ever said that witches have better graphics skills than other people.”

  He’s right. I let the subject drop. “What do we have left?” I ask, motioning with my free hand to the list he’s carrying. My other hand is pinched with bags from the stores we’ve already hit in the brand new - if a little bit tiny - mall on the edge of town, complete with elf-dressed carolers in the center food court area. I look at them now, just as they start up with Jingle Bells again.

  It is catchy.

  Jagged Grove doesn’t technically exist, but then neither do the witches, werewolves, and other supernaturals that live here. We even have a vampire, but he’s harmless and charming.

  I’m one of the more recent transplants from the U.S., along with my mother Bilda, and I can say for certain that this place definitely takes some getting used to. The new mall helps, though, making Jagged Grove feel a little more like home.

  “We need to pick up some feathers for Bilda, and Blakely asked me for a new set of wine glasses.” He grins at my shudder, and I have to fight off the little twinge of desire that hits me when he does that.

  Angelo and I were married sort of by accident, but it’s for a good cause - a few months ago we saved the island from an evil wizard who also happened to be my estranged father. Together, our powers were enough to defeat him, but I’m still a little shaken from the whole event and we haven’t really tried to figure out how to annul our magical vows yet.

  Besides, as annoying as he is, he kind of grows on you after a while.

  “Why does Blakely need more wineglasses?” I ask. “He has an entire room full of them.”

  Angelo cocks an eyebrow at me, and I shudder. Blakely is the vampire I mentioned, and I suddenly realize what he’ll be drinking from his Christmas present. “Eww. Can’t we just get him a nice scarf or something? Maybe a few of those monogrammed handkerchiefs he likes...”

  Angelo is shaking his head. “No - he specifically asked for wineglasses. Crystal. I think they’re for a special occasion...” His voice trails off, and suddenly he’s way too interested in a crystal ball in one of the store windows.

  My eyes narrow. What is he talking about? Someone bumps me, so I tug him over to the side of the hall, out of the flow of foot traffic. “What special occasion?”

  He looks away. “It’s a secret.”

  For an island as small as Jagged Grove, there sure are a lot of secrets around here. “’Fess up.”

  “Nope. Can’t. I swore on my life.” He shifts from one foot to the other and rakes a hand through his hair, making it look like bedhead.

  I push away the mental picture that springs to mind. “You did not.”

  But I can see that he isn’t going to tell me. Fine. I’ll just check the engraving once they’re done.

  Sometimes, if I just drop the subject, Angelo accidentally lets the information I want slip out later. “So, Bilda asked me to pick up some spikenard.”

  His head snaps up. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I think she’s making cookies for the town.”

  Worry creases his forehead. “And she needs spikenard for that?”

  “That’s what she said - that it’s for a lucky year. Why? I thought it was a sweet gesture.” And harmless.

  His lips press together into a thin line. “It’s...odd. Do you think she knows what she’s doing?”

  I realize what he’s asking. Bilda’s results are kind of hit-or-miss sometimes. “Of course. She is getting better every day.”

  “You sure? Because spikenard has other purposes, too, you know...”

  “Angelo, you’ll have to ask her. I’m not a kitchen witch, I’m an energy healer.” I pause. “What other uses does spikenard have, anyway?”

  His face goes red. “Never mind.”

  Bilda’s magical mistakes have caused us all sorts of trouble, so now I’m worried. I grab his arm and yank him down to my level. “Tell me, Angelo. I need to be prepared when Bilda does something.”

  “It’s a main ingredient in love spells,” he says, looking away. “Especially if you want someone to propose to you.”

  I snort. Bilda is too much of a free spirit to get tied down like that. “I’m sure that’s not the reason she wants it. Spikenard is used for luck, too.”

  “I know.” He sighs dramatically. “OK. We’ll just...keep an eye on her.”

  I eye him. “Don’t you start fussing at her and ruin her Christmas, Angelo. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.”

  He takes a small step back. “I’m not. I’m just trying to keep Christmas happy for everyone.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  I hope.

  Two

  Bilda’s cottage is draped in twinkling white lights, turned on full force even though it’s only late afternoon. The only reason they are even visible is because of the overcast sky. Angelo had promised me snow, and I’m watching for it all the time, now that Christmas approaches.

  The smell of melting chocolate and caramel hits my nose the minute I walk through the door, drawing me through the house to the kitchen - which is also draped in lights. The woman loves Christmas.

  I find Rain working in here, sitting high on the counter near the window, hugging a huge ceramic bowl to her stomach and stirring like she hates the contents. Her face is flushed when she looks up and waves at me.

  I smile and wave back, remembering the times I sat in our kitchen back home and helped Bilda prepare Christmas treats for the neighbors and her coven. Fun times.

  “Bilda is killing me here, Trinket - save me!” Rain cries, wiggling the big wooden spoon in my direction.

  “Sorry, kid. You’re on your own. Where’s Mom?”

  “She went upstairs to get something.” Rain has changed so much since Bilda and I came to Jagged Grove that it’s hard to believe she’s the same teenager. The Goth clothes are gone, as are the sad lines of depression and fear around her eyes. She’s taking an interest in things again, and I’d be lost without her in the clinic, where she’s been helping me with patients. It’s wonderful to see her blossom.

  I walk to the stairs and yell. “Mom! I brought the stuff you wanted!”

  Her muffled voice answers me, so I put the bag on the counter. “Where’s Glade today?” I ask Rain.

  “Work. He thinks he’s a secret agent or something,” she says with a laugh.

  “Well, I guess he is, kind of.” Rain’s twin G
lade is training to work with Angelo’s men, finding supernaturals and bringing them here to live in Jagged Grove. At first I thought it was mean, even inhumane, but then I got here and saw that most supernaturals - even me - are ultimately happier here among our own kind. It also helps that the only people who come here are people who get caught using their powers in front of normals. Here, we can use our magic freely, which feels so much more natural than constantly pretending to be something we’re not.

  I walk over and see that her bowl is full of cookie dough, spotted with bits of caramel candy and chocolate chips. I reach to grab a fingerful, but Rain jerks the bowl away. “The first batch is in the oven,” she says. “You can wait.”

  “Meanie.”

  She sticks out her tongue and goes back to stirring.

  “There you are! I thought you and Angelo had run off to make -.”

  “Don’t.” I stop her before she gets started. She holds the firm belief that Angelo and I are meant to be, and nothing I say can shake the idea. “We went to the new mall, and it was packed.”

  She smiles knowingly. “I’m sure it was.”

  “Mom...”

  She holds up both hands. “Just saying. I want grandchildren someday.”

  “Maybe Rain can give you some.”

  “Oh, gross. No way,” Rain mutters from behind me. Technically, she isn’t Bilda’s daughter, but Bilda sort of adopted the twins, so...close enough. “Pin your hopes on Glade, please.”

  “Aww, come on. You’ll meet some fine warlock someday, and things will never be the same in your heart,” I tease.

  “Shut up.”

  I grin and turn back to Bilda. “Angelo was a little bit worried about the cookies,” I say. “Is it safe? I mean, we aren’t going to have any Christmas weirdness, right?”

  She looks hurt. “I thought you trusted me more these days,” she pouts, giving me a look. She grabs a potholder from the countertop and opens the oven door. The cookies she pulls out are huge, and mouthwatering. I wander over and sniff. “Hot!” she warns, sliding the whole pan onto a cooling rack.

  “I know, I was just looking.”

  Uh-huh.”

  She’s using her pouty voice. “I think the spikenard is fine, Mom. Angelo was the one asking.”

  “You tell Angelo to mind his own business.”

  “OK.” This isn’t my fight. “When can I have a cookie?”

  “Let them cool for ten minutes, at least,” she says.

  “You want to come with us?” Rain asks. “When we’re done, Bilda and I are handing them out at the new mall.”

  “Just...handing cookies to strangers?” This doesn’t sound like the best idea to me.

  “No, goofball. We’re putting them in these pretty little boxes she found in the attic.”

  “Oh. Um, sure.”

  “It’ll be fun.” Rain looks happy, and I’m struck again by how much she’s grown. “Blakely’s coming, too.”

  I smile. It amazes me that Bilda has made so many friends here in Jagged Grove so quickly. We’ve only been here seven or eight months, but I swear she’s becoming a minor celebrity on the island. Mayor Rive Callahan even joked last week that she could take him in an election.

  Thankfully, she has no intention of running. She’s having too much fun working in my clinic, helping Rain and Glade, and generally being a happy witch.

  She unbags the supplies I brought her, thanking me with a smile as she inspects them.

  “Good luck, right?” I pick up one of the long, thin spikenard roots and look at it.

  “Yes - everyone should have a wonderful Christmas and a lucky new year,” she says.

  I leave them to it and go upstairs to finish cleaning out my bedroom. It’s mostly empty, but there are a few odds and ends, and I know Rain is anxious to have her own space these days.

  Three hours later, Bilda calls me downstairs and we head out, bundled up tight because the temperature has fallen along with the early evening darkness.

  Rain runs around the side of the house and comes back a few minutes later dragging a red wagon behind her. It’s the kind with wooden sides, and it’s big for a wagon.

  I look at the boxes of Christmas cookie boxes and know we’ll need the space. “Did you make cookies for literally everyone in town?” I ask. If so, this is going to take forever.

  “Of course,” Bilda says, lifting a stack and placing then neatly in the wagon. “It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t.”

  I don’t answer, but inwardly I groan.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll hand out most of them with the hot chocolate.”

  Huh?” What hot chocolate?”

  “In Killswallow Park.” She shakes her head at me. “Don’t you keep up with local news at all?”

  “I try,” I mutter. The truth is, I’ve been kid of busy lately - running the clinic, training Rain, keeping Angelo out of my...ahem, business.

  “Well, the WBC is handing out hot cocoa tonight in the town square. It’s an...”

  “Outreach. I get it.” The WBC is the Witches Beautification Committee, dedicated to beautifying Jagged Grove, I guess. “Aren’t they doing the pancake breakfast thing, too?”

  Bilda nods, but her voice has drooped a little. “Yes, they are. Tonight they’re selling tickets and handing out hot cocoa.”

  Something in the air shifts when she says that. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Let’s get started.” She grabs the wagon handle and starts toward the sidewalk.

  I look at Rain, who shrugs. “She’s upset because she offered to help with the pancake breakfast, but they turned her down.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe it’s because they’re a bunch of elitist, condescending -.”

  “Rain!”

  “Witches.” She smiles. “Bilda doesn’t need them.”

  I bite my lip and glance at Bilda. “She’s OK, though?”

  “Her feelings got hurt, but I think she’s all right.”

  “Would you two hurry up? We’re supposed to meet Blakely in ten minutes,” Bilda calls over her shoulder.

  I make a mental note to ask Angelo about the WBC later, then run to catch up and haul the wagon for a while.

  Blakey is waiting for us at the town square, standing in the corner with one of those cardboard cup carriers in his hand. In it are four steaming cups of what I hope is hot cocoa. He waves when he sees us.

  There he is,” Bilda says, heading that way across the frosty grass. I follow more slowly, because the wagon is getting heavy.

  Blakely is wearing his usual, a tux. This one is a little threadbare, but it suits him - older, elegant, and refined. Over it, he’s got on a long wool coat. He hugs each of us in turn as he hands out cups. “Merry Christmas,” he says, but I notice that his eyes don’t leave Bilda for long.

  “Merry Christmas, Blakely. It’s nice to see you again,” I answer, but he’s not paying attention. He’s looking at Bilda with a smile.

  He’s always looking at Bilda. The man is smitten.

  “Did you buy our tickets?” Bilda asks him.

  “Yes - we’ll feast on flapjacks come Friday the following.” He emphasizes every F.

  Bilda giggles.

  I sip my cocoa and let it warm up my fingertips through my gloves. “Can we get started?” I ask. “I can’t feel my knees.”

  Bilda leans in toward Blakely. “She’s been in a mood all day,” she half-whispers.

  “I have not. I’m just cold.”

  “Me, too,” Rain says. “Let’s go.”

  Since most of the people in Jagged Grove are here tonight, I move the wagon closer to cocoa table and start handing out boxes of cookies with a frozen smile. Every person who takes a box grins back and calls out, “Merry Christmas!” as they walk away. The mood is festive, and I’m happier by the time the square starts to clear out a little. I even catch myself humming Jingle Bells once or twice.

  Bilda starts rearranging boxes in the wagon for the trip to the mall
. “Just a few more places now,” Bilda says. “For the folks who didn’t come tonight.”

  I smile at her, or at least I think I do. I can’t feel my cheeks. I’m more than ready to move and get my blood flowing again.

  “This was a good idea, Mom,” I say. Rain has the wagon now, so we can walk side by side.

  “I thought so,” she answers with a laugh. “Have some faith, Trinket. All is well.”

  Looking out over the twinkling lights of town and the ocean beyond, I think she might be right.

  My warm and fuzzy mood lasts until we knock on Mayor Callahan’s door.

  “What is this?” Wisp Callahan asks, wrinkling her nose and staring at the small glittery blue box that Bilda has just handed her.

  “Cookies. For you and your dad,” Bilda explains. “A small gift.”

  Wisp’s eyes shift to me, and I silently implore her to just take the cookies and not ruin Bilda’s happy mood by being her usual snotty self. For once, she seems to get the hint.

  “I’m sure Dad will love them,” she says, trying to smooth away the exasperation on her face.

  We start back down the walk. “It’s just a present,” I say to her quietly, after the others are ahead of me.

  She sniffs. “Well, you’ve brought so much to the island already...Ghosts, freak storms, murder...”

  “Shut up, Wisp. Have a merry Christmas.” Man, she gets on my nerves. I just want to smack her sometimes.

  “How is Angelo?” she asks. The question is completely out of the blue.

  “Um, fine, as far as I know.”

  “He told me that he was bringing you snow for Christmas,” she says, then gasps and brings a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Oops - I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a surprise.”

  I smile as hard as I can to keep from snapping. “It isn’t.”

  Her expression darkens, and she shuts the door in my face. I blow out my breath and catch up to my group.

  I don’t know what happened between Wisp and Angelo, and I’m not sure I want to know, but she hates the thought of us being together. Someday, I’ll work up the nerve to ask him about it.