Curses and Candy Canes: A Paranormal Mystery Christmas Anthology

by Tegan Maher

  “Okay. We’re going right.” If Comet wanted to sulk, that was his business.

  The reindeer parade marched right down the main drag. We only had to stop twice for awed children to have a meet and greet before Prancer took another right-hand turn, and we fetched up at a little blue cottage of a house.

  If there were such a thing as the Christmas Faerie, she’d turned her wand up to eleven and slapped this house with it multiple times. Lights blinked, chased, and twinkled around windows, along the eaves and on every bush and shrub.

  Not a single hoofmark marred the smooth surface of the snow in the front of the house.

  I offered Comet a seed. “Take me up so we can scope out the backyard.” I think he only complied because he wanted to prove Prancer wrong.

  We found a dark corner to take off and circled back at a low altitude to dip over the garden. Plenty of hoofmarks back there, and worse, human footprints as well. Whoever lived there didn’t confine their holiday spirit to the front yard, the back was just as lit up.

  “You see what I see?”

  Comet nodded and banked hard to land in the darkness where the others waited.

  “Well, boys. This is going to be tricky.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Tell me you have your phone on you. We have to take a picture for Kris.” Evian handed me the whistle. “I’m back.”

  “So I see. Who’s Kris?”

  “Kringle…the guy who’s currently recuperating on our sofa.”

  From her tone, this was information I should have put together on my own. Excuse me for not being on a first name basis with Santa Claus.

  “Taking advantage of a photo op isn’t my first priority here. From what I saw, this extrication is going to be tricky. We’re looking at an enclosed space, and he’s not alone.”

  What I’d seen was some chick with crazy hair having a field day glamming up a reindeer in her back yard. Poor Dasher, or Dancer, or whoever was getting the full treatment. He had garland wound around his antlers and threaded through his harness. The lighted kind that ran on batteries. He looked like a Christmas craft project.

  “We need to get in, get him out, and for once, not be seen.”

  “That’s easy enough. Here, take this.” Evian rubbed her thumb and index finger together until a small shell appeared. She twined it into my hair, then did the same for hers. The sound of the sea isn’t the only thing shells can channel, and I cussed myself for not thinking of using Evian’s preferred method of communication earlier.

  “I’ll glamour up and create a diversion while you and Comet run the rescue mission.”

  The truth was, Evian didn’t need me. She could have magicked herself into the backyard, snatched the reindeer out from under the woman’s hand, and been gone in the wink of an eye. But in her own way, as had been the case with the godmothers for my whole life, she wanted to provide me with an interesting experience. I’d had plenty of those over the years.

  With no better plan in mind, we sent the rest of the herd to hide, and I took off on Comet.

  “Go,” I whispered into the shell from the shadows just above the backyard’s tallest tree. In the auditory form of double vision, I heard the doorbell twice—once from below, and also from the makeshift earpiece.

  “Here she comes.” And when the door opened, Evian introduced herself and launched into a spiel about needing help to find a lost dog.

  “Of course, I’ll help you find your poor pup. Let me get a flashlight. I’ll be right back.” Warm, and filled with compassion, the woman’s voice trilled in my ear. “My name’s Gustavia, by the way.”

  As soon as Gustavia was safely down the block, chattering away with questions about Evian’s imaginary dog, I directed Comet to take us down. We landed, and I quickly established that we’d found Blitzen. At the sight of his fellow teammate, Blitzen’s feet left the ground. He, it seemed, found joy in his friends.

  “Well, you’re the easiest one of the bunch, aren’t you?” I said as I quickly removed the garland and tinsel so we could fly up and out of the backyard.

  I should have known there’d be a catch, and there was.

  Gustavia.

  “All clear,” I whispered to Evian, and listened while she tried to get away from the helpful women.

  Twice, they walked past the shadowed area where I stood with the reindeer, and twice, Evian had to wiggle her fingers to keep us hidden from the questing flashlight beam.

  “Dogs are such wonderful company,” Gustavia said on her second pass. “They love unconditionally, and never judge.” From her wistful tone, it sounded as if someone in Gustavia’s life hadn’t loved her enough. “I wish,” the night took a breath in anticipation, “my friend Julie had a dog. Her grandmother isn’t feeling well and she needs someone in her life to be there for comfort. I do the best I can, but it’s not the same.”

  I recognized the bark that conveniently interrupted Gustavia as a reindeer and not a dog, but Evian, bless her, seized the opportunity to get away.

  “That’s my Goldie,” she said, “I’m sorry, I have to run. I’m sure I can catch her now.” Without even breathing fast into the shell, Evian took off at a run, leaving Gustavia suddenly standing alone.

  “Good luck,” she called after the fleeing woman, and I waited until she’d gone back inside before giving Comet another seed and stroking Vixen’s neck. Then, we flew.

  Evian joined us in the air. “Nice woman,” I said as she swooped in on my left. “I felt kind of bad blowing her off like that.” And for leaving her with an empty backyard besides. “I hope everything turns out okay with her friend.”

  “Whatever.” Compassion wasn’t Evian’s strongest suit. “Let’s get this done and get back. I could go for some wine and a nice, long soak.”

  That could only mean one thing: faerie hot tub party. “Okay, but don’t let Terra put mint in the water again. Too tingly.”

  “Good for tired muscles, though.” Terra banked slightly toward the right to orient herself when another bark sounded from close by. “Over there, on the top of that hill.” She zoomed on ahead.

  In her small form, Evian looked like a mote against the moon which rode over a view of the lake below us. Comet put on some speed to join her, only to stop short when he got close enough to see her waving us back. We almost had an air traffic control fiasco.

  On the far side of what looked like a snowy hill, light spilled from a pair of windows to touch on the curled up form of either Dasher, Dancer, or Cupid. Before Comet banked left, I saw the shadow of someone moving around inside the underground home.

  “Do you think he’s hurt?” I whispered into the shell still hanging near my face.

  “Forgot we had these things on,” Evian whispered back. “I don’t know, but you need to stay back. He’s too close to the door. Let me go down and see.”

  She spiraled down, and was soon camouflaged amid the blue snow shadows, so I had to content myself by listening.

  “Psst,” Evian hissed. “Which one are you? Dishrag, Doodlebug, or Cootie?”

  The reindeer snorted.

  “Dasher, Dancer, or Cupid, Evian! Jeez, that’s insulting.”

  “Dasher then.” He must have nodded because she continued. “Okay, Dasher. You hurt?”

  I heard a low growl and nudged Comet with my knee. He took the hint and moved into a position where I could see Dasher, but stay hidden in the shadows.

  “Well, if you’re not hurt, you need to—” Evian disappeared when the front door opened.

  “Yes, I said reindeer.” Deceptively deep for her size, the tiny woman’s voice paused as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Yes, in my yard, I’m standing not five feet away right now…I know they’re not indigenous to the area, what does that have to do with anything?” Another pause. “No, Santa is not with him. For Pete’s sake, Roman, I'm not some teenager making prank calls.” Pause. “And, Zach, the name is Jade. Garnet was last year…Fine, see that you do.”

  She ended
the call with a stab of her finger on the phone’s screen. “Stupid man.”

  Jade turned so the light from the open door spilled over her and I stared in shock at the pixie of a woman. Hair, eyebrows, lipstick, and clothes—head to toe—were all the shades of the forest. It certainly was a look.

  “Just because I don’t dress like Suzie Homemaker, he treats me like I can’t tell fact from fiction. We’ll just see about that.” Leveling her phone, Jade snapped a shot of Dasher, then tapped in some digits and hit send. “There’s your proof.”

  Two seconds later, the phone rang. Jade’s hello had an edgy lilt to it. “He doesn’t look mean, and he’s wearing a harness, so I’m assuming he’s someone’s pet, but I do appreciate you taking me seriously.” The snark in her tone proved that last to be a lie.

  “Fine, see you soon.” And now we were on the clock before Zach, whoever he was, showed up. I sucked in a breath and decided to reveal myself just as Evian appeared and walked right past me.

  “Excuse me,” she put just the right amount of concern into her tone. “Have you, by any chance, seen a reindeer…oh, there you are.” If she’d have left it at that, it would have been fine, but Evian took her performance over the top. I shouldn’t have been surprised, since that’s the faerie way. She dropped to her knees next to Dasher, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Through the shell, I heard her whisper in his ear, “Santa sent me to find you, so come along now.”

  Letting out another short bark, Dasher hauled himself up off the ground while Jade—one eyebrow cocked—watched with interest. Only it wasn’t the reindeer who held her attention, it was Evian.

  “Your aura is like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She tilted her head and moved closer as though magnetically drawn to the faerie in disguise.

  I’d seen enough faerie fights to recognize when Evian’s body went into battle posture. Chin and shoulders lifted, knees bent slightly, the bow-string tension centering along her spine.

  “It sparkles like snowflakes in the morning sun.”

  All faeries love a good compliment. It’s one of their weaknesses, and this one took Evian from battle-ready to purring. “Thank you. What else do you see?”

  “Evian,” I hissed into her ear. “It’s time to go.”

  It was, but not before Jade murmured, “I wish I could see every aura as clearly as I do yours.”

  The pregnant hush lasted only seconds before Evian broke it with, “We’ll just get out of your hair, shall we?” She tugged at Dasher’s harness. “Come along now.”

  When she gets embarrassed, Evian’s speech patterns go all formal. She passed me with Dasher in tow and a smile on her face.

  As soon as we were far enough away to muffle the sounds of our voices, we set about the task of learning how to get Dasher off the ground, but what worked with the others didn’t work with him.

  He took one sniff of the lantern seeds and turned away. I sang to him, petted him, showed him Donner’s snowflake. Nothing, and being with his reindeer friends didn’t do it for him, either.

  I jammed my hands into my pockets before I gave in to the temptation to use them to tear out my own hair. “I don’t know what else to try.” My fingers touched something crinkly. Frowning, I pulled out the candy cane Santa had insisted I take.”

  Dasher perked right up. He nodded his head and nudged me with his nose.

  “Ding, ding. I think we have a winner.” I broke off a piece, held it out, and watched his feet leave the ground.

  Two minutes later, we hovered while I blew the whistle and waited for an answering call, which came from somewhere off to our left. I gave Comet his head and, with the others following behind, we arrowed into the night.

  Chapter Eight

  The next flight was short and low, as we skimmed just over the treetops aiming for a large house on stately grounds. From a distance, with its turrets and white columns, the place had the feel of a castle. Up close, the roof of the outbuilding we landed on could use a little work.

  “There,” Evian’s eyes were sharper than mine, and she saw the hoofmarks in the snow before I did, “near the gazebo. I’ll go.”

  “Fine, but get the name right, please. It’s either Prancer or Cupid.”

  “Got it.”

  She flew away, her small form quickly swallowed in shadows.

  When she found him, I heard her ask if his name was Pringle. “Prancer. How hard is it to remember one word?”

  Below and across from me, a door opened. “Stay there.” I whispered to Evian, and then tried to forget to breathe. All the woman standing just outside the door needed to do was glance up to see something she’d never forget: six reindeer and some random chick—me—standing only a few feet above her head, in plain sight.

  The woman—young, blond, not wearing a coat—had far more important things on her mind as she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

  I might be a witch with no powers, but in my day job, I’m a matchmaker, so I work with people all day long. It’s emotional work, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m a sympathy crier, so the sound of her pain brought a tear to my eye.

  “God, if you’re listening, I sure could use a miracle. Not for me, for my Grams.” There was a pause. “Maybe a little for me. I don’t know if I can stand to lose her. She’s all the family I have left in the world.”

  Evian sniffled in my ear.

  “I need more time and I know I’m being selfish to ask for it when she says she’s ready to go and she’ll always be there to watch over me. But I don’t know if I can bear to say goodbye even if it’s what’s best. I just wish I could have more time with her.”

  A man’s voice broke the sudden hush. “Julie, where are you? Your grandmother has been calling and calling. I need you to take care of her so I can get this paperwork finished.”

  Julie inhaled, and brushed away her own tears. “Yes, Logan. I’ll be right there.” Inch by inch, she drew herself up from the huddled posture of misery, and smoothed her hair with shaky hands before going back inside.

  The interlude left me saddened, subdued, and stranded on a roof with six reindeer who needed to feel joy in order to fly. It also left me feeling thankful for my family. Even if they annoyed me on a daily basis, I couldn’t imagine losing any one of the godmothers.

  Oddly, the reindeer didn’t seem affected by Julie’s plight. Despite my backside mounting a painful protest, I settled onto Comet’s back for the short flight to meet Evian and Prancer behind the gazebo.

  “What did you do?” His feet hovered above the snow. “He’s ready to go.”

  “Nothing. It just happened.” Evian shrugged and since I wasn’t about to look a gift horse…or reindeer…in the mouth, I checked to make sure all the others were juiced up and ready to go.

  Two by two, with Evian taking Cupid’s empty spot, the reindeer flew eastward, only turning south when the moon laid a glittering track of light over the Atlantic. A view worth the trip, and the pain in the butt I figured would last until the new year dawned.

  Enjoying the festive parade of brightly lit coastal towns passing below, I didn’t notice we were nearly home until Prancer barked and angled down in a steep, arcing loop toward what most considered the heart of Port Harbor. Nestled up to the water’s edge and backed by the downtown section of the city, the north end of Tidewater Park butted up against historic affluence. On this end of the park, twinkling lights danced a ballet through winter-bared branches of trees lining cleared walkways.

  Prancer, however, made a beeline toward the stark contrast of the south side of the park where we landed in the shadows. There was no ballet of lights here, no cleared paths, only shadows and snow. I rode Comet until we’d left the park behind, and then dropped stiffly to the sidewalk. Christmas might be in full bloom elsewhere, but failed to touch this part of the city. Steel supports marched up and over to carry the highway up and over as if even the concrete had better places to be.

  Even in my magically warmed clothing, I shivered as I pulled out the whist
le and listened to it’s piercing tones bounce and echo through city canyons.

  The answering bark came from somewhere close.

  We found Cupid in the slanting shelter under a highway bridge, his body protectively huddled around what looked like a bundle of rags, but it was too dark to tell for sure.

  “Evian, can you—” I wiggled my fingers at her to indicate doing magic. “Do something so we can see?”

  “Child’s play.” She set an ice mirror in place, then took my phone, clicked on the flashlight app, and angled the beam to fall into the dark space. Cupid blinked in the sudden brightness, his eyes wide pools of misery, and when I gingerly touched the bundle of rags, I saw why.

  “It’s a man. Cupid has been trying to keep him warm, but he’s still half frozen to death.” I pulled off my magically heated coat, tucked it around him, felt for and found only the faintest flutter of a pulse. “We need to get help.”

  Expecting a flurry of motion, I was shocked when it didn’t come.

  “Honey, I think it’s too late,” Evian laid a hand on my shoulder.

  Cupid leaned down to touch his nose to the man’s cold cheek and I saw the flicker of an eyelash, but nothing more.

  “It’s not. He’s alive, but barely. Now, go get help.”

  Evian made no move to leave. “Look at him. I know you want to help, but he’s very old and his time is near.”

  In my heart, I knew she was wrong, and like Cupid, I refused to accept what would become inevitable if I listened to Evian. “No. I know I’m right. We’re meant to help him.” The conviction was so strong it felt like I imagined my magic might, should that boon ever be granted.

  The man stirred, and whispered something. I bent close to listen.

  “Thirsty.”

  “Water. Evian. I need water and then you have to go and get Terra. He’s too far gone for an ambulance, but I know she can help. Please.”

  Reluctantly, Evian conjured an ice tumbler filled with water, and as I held it to lips cracked from age and exposure, she winked out to do as I’d asked.