Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short

by Alexandria Westbay

  “What a jokester,” I said, not really understanding how that was supposed to be a shocking example.

  “Doesn’t sound much worse that getting stuck in a sweater,” mumbled Bart, glancing down at his festive outfit.

  “That one’s pretty good, too,” nodded Taradiddle. “How did Warren get that on you, by the way?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s never going to happen again,” grumbled Bart.

  We made it to the door, where a snowman wearing a scarf and mittens was blocking the door. It stood a foot taller than Taradiddle, which wasn’t saying very much. As I tried to walk by it, Taradiddle pulled me back.

  “You can’t pass him,” she warned. “He’s one of Jack’s guardians.”

  “Guardians?”

  “Yes. They are beings that protect Jack. You won’t be able to pass into the building until you talk to him.”

  “Is he going to fight us?” asked Bart, crouching down and eyeing the snowman with suspicion.

  “Who knows,” she shrugged. “Jack changes his requirements to see him all the time. Sometimes he’ll let you walk in, other times you have to pass a trial.”

  “Do you have to talk right here?” asked the snowman, shaking as he came to life. “I was trying to get some sleep.”

  “Hello, Boris,” smiled the elf.

  “Oh great. Visitors,” he said, staring blankly at us. His voice was flat and monotone. “What do you want?”

  “We’d like to ask Jack Frost a few questions,” I said.

  Boris let out a sigh. “Just a minute. I’ll have to communicate with him briefly and see if he’s in a talking mood.” The snowman went still again, somehow informing Jack of our arrival.

  I glanced down at my phone to check the time. I couldn’t get a signal, and the time was off since we were in a different timezone. I was pretty sure it had been a few hours since we first arrived, which would mean it was the afternoon back at home. Bridgette’s party was fast approaching.

  Boris shook again as he came back to life.

  “Mr. Frost has decided that he will only talk to you if you can find him inside the house,” said the snowman, a hint of boredom in his voice. “Listen, are you sure it’s worth it? He’s just going to waste your time.”

  “This snowman doesn’t seem like a great fit for a trickster like Jack,” mumbled Bart. “He’s got not excitement whatsoever.”

  “You know I can hear you, right?” said Boris. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to put up with his shenanigans day after day. It gets old fast.”

  “What are we going to have to do to find him?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to get past me, traverse through whatever trick rooms he’s setup, and answer to any other guardians you meet along the way.”

  “So we’ll have to fight you?” I asked. I was trying to think through any spells that would help, but I didn’t know any yet. I suppose I could try and make myself angry to summon fire, and just melt him away. That seemed pretty dark, though.

  “Fight me?” asked Boris. “Of course not. I’m a snowman.”

  “What do you want to fight a snowman?” Taradiddle asked me. “Is that something grocery store owners like to do?”

  “N-No! He said we’d have to get past him, which sounded like he was challenging us to a fight,” I said. The elf and snowman looked at me like I was a monster.

  “I was just going to tell you a riddle on how to open the door,” said Boris. “Before we begin, though, I have to ask if you accept Mr. Frost’s terms based on what I’ve explained.”

  I looked down at Bart, who shrugged. “I don’t think we really have a choice, do we?”

  “We don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “We accept. What’s the riddle?”

  Chapter 7

  The snowman let out a sigh of disappointment. “I was really hoping you guys wouldn’t accept. Mr. Frost said if you make it past me then I have to accompany you inside. I wanted to go back to sleep.”

  “You could just take us straight to him and cut out the middle man,” I tried. “That way, you get to go back to sleep faster.”

  “That is tempting…”

  “Doesn’t your boss like pranks? By helping us, it’ll be like pranking him!”

  “I don’t know if that makes any sense,” whispered Bart.

  Boris thought it over. “I’m not really one for pranks, to be honest.”

  My shoulders dropped. It was worth a shot.

  “But I’d rather get this all over with,” he said, turning pressing a gloved hand up to the door. The sheet of ice fell backwards with a loud thud.

  “That was easy!” cheered Taradiddle. “Last time I was here, it took me about six hours before I made it inside.”

  “Follow me,” said Boris, shuffling forward.

  The three of us followed after him as he entered the building, hooking a sharp left almost immediately.

  “There’s going to be a room filled with reflective ice up ahead,” he said. “Try not to get too distracted.”

  We came into a room filled with mirrors. It reminded me of carnivals I had been to as a kid, only with less creepy clowns. Instead, images of a man dressed in blue reflected off the mirrors, acting like he was running at or away from us in random intervals. I took that to be Jack Frost, trying to trick us into thinking he was here when he wasn’t. If it wasn’t for Boris, I probably would’ve fallen for it.

  It occurred to me I knew almost nothing about Jack, aside from some little items mentioned in songs or old stop motion movies.

  “What’s the story with Jack Frost, Boris?” I asked. “I’m not very familiar with him.”

  “Not really a story,” said the snowman, shuffling along. “He controls cold weather and the things associated with it. He’s in a constant struggle with Jarilo, who brings about spring and warmer weather.”

  It always amazed me how little I knew of the paranormal world. Even Bart was listening intently, which I took to mean that he wasn’t very familiar with topic either.

  Once we passed through the room of mirrors, we entered a room with a giant creature, covered in white fur.

  “Is that… a yeti?” I asked.

  “It is,” nodded Taradiddle. “Don’t let his size scare you, they’re very nice.”

  “Afternoon, Tim,” said the snowman.

  “Oh, hey Boris!” smiled Tim the yeti, waving over at the other guardian. “You and your friends got here pretty fast, eh? I don’t think Mr. Frost is ready for them.”

  “What are we supposed to do here?” whispered Bart.

  “What do they have to do to pass this room?” asked Boris.

  “Dunno,” shrugged Tim. “The boss hasn’t told me yet.”

  “He’s just hiding behind the yeti,” whispered Boris.

  “What?” I asked, my voice lowered.

  “Mr. Frost is standing behind the yeti. If you call him out, he’ll just give it up.”

  “Uh, we know you’re back there, Jack,” I shouted. “You might as well come out now.”

  “Blast it! How did you know?” came a whimsical, although mildly annoyed, voice. A thin young man jumped out from behind the yeti and floated over to us. He had a long nose, elf like ears, and his hair was platinum, nearly completely white. He was dressed in various shades of blue, and the temperature seemed to drop as he got closer.

  “Hi there, Jack,” I said. “I’m Zoey Foster. We had a few questions concerning-”

  “You told them, didn’t you Boris?” asked Jack, arms crossed.

  “Maybe,” said the snowman.

  “I knew it! They got here so much faster than I expected them to! I was going to put in some trap doors for them to fall through, or maybe freeze them into a block of ice for a few minutes. I hardly had time to put that room of ice mirrors together. Why’d you do it?”

  I didn’t want to get Boris into any trouble, especially not after hearing the rest of Jack’s plans.

  “We played a trick on you,” I said. “I thought you would resp
ect Boris for going along with it.”

  Jack turned to me, floating closer.

  “You played a trick? How’s that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, uh, we know how much you love playing tricks and pulling pranks, so Boris helped us prank you. You thought you had all this time, but it turned out you didn’t. Get it?”

  “Is this true, Boris?” asked Jack.

  “I guess,” shrugged the snowman.

  “Since you’re the master of pranks, we thought an anti-prank would be the only way to get you,” I said. “Looks like you fell for it.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked down to Bart and Taradiddle.

  “Got ya!” said Bart, smiling. Taradiddle nodded enthusiastically.

  “I see,” said Jack lowered himself to the ground. He quickly jumped up and down, a big smile on his face. “I am too good that you had to do the complete opposite in order to fool me! I love it! Very good, Boris.”

  I smiled and relaxed. Looked like even people in the North Pole could have big egos.

  “Go ahead and ask me your questions,” said Jack. “Since you pulled one over on me, I’ll gladly answer truthfully.”

  “Thank you,” I smiled. “Santa has gone missing, and we wanted to know if you had anything to do with it.”

  “Missing!?” gasped the yeti, covering his mouth with both hands. The poor guardian looked horrified.

  “Ah, I could see why you would suspect that,” said Jack, ignoring the yeti and inspecting his fingernails. “Something so large and daring would surely have to come from someone like me. Who else is a suspect?”

  “Krampus and Blitzen,” pipped in Taradiddle.

  “A grouchy old hack and a reindeer?” said Jack, his smile slipping. “They’re in the same category as me? How disappointing.”

  “So you did it?” I asked. “You have Santa?”

  “I wish I could take the credit for it, I really do, but I wasn’t the one that kidnapped him,” said Jack. “I wouldn’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind over the millennia, but doing it on Christmas Eve seems like it would be crossing a line. Even for me.”

  “Do you have any traps setup in the mountains or around the North Pole?” asked Bart. “Is it possible that Santa fell into one by accident?”

  “Of course I have some pranks setup around town,” giggled the man. “However, I would be notified if someone encountered one. That way, I can quickly teleport over and have a laugh.”

  “Is there anyone you could think of that would want to stop Santa from making his trip out tonight?” I asked.

  “No. Everyone likes Santa.”

  “You do?” I asked. For some reason I thought the two were enemies.

  “Of course. He makes people like the coldest time of the year. Anyone that can make people enjoy the cold I consider a friend.”

  That was consistent with what Boris mentioned on the way into the room.

  “Anything else?” asked Jack.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. One of the three must be lying. Which one was it?

  “Very well,” nodded Jack. “Feel free to leave whenever you’d like. Just go back the way you came.”

  “Actually, could Boris escort us out?” I asked. “Wouldn’t want to fall into any traps on our way out.”

  “Drat. I almost got you,” laughed Jack. “You must be quite the jokester yourself, Zoey. We will go to battle in pranks some other time. Boris, go ahead and help them outside.”

  “Very good, sir,” nodded the snowman.

  I looked back over my should to Jack Frost as the snowman led us out the safe way. I was glad to earn the respect of the sprite, but I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of a prank battle with him.

  Chapter 8

  After making it safely through Jack Frost’s place, we said our goodbyes to Boris and made back for town. I hadn’t quite figured out who the kidnapper was, and time was running out. I needed to come up with something, and fast.

  “Santa’s hat,” I said. “You mentioned that Blitzen found it. Are we able to look at it?”

  “Absolutely,” smiled the elf. “Our Santa museum is open to the public.”

  “Museum? Isn’t that just for old stuff, not in use anymore?” asked Bart.

  “Maybe most museums, but not the Santa one! It’s where he keeps all of his Christmas night gear. There were a few times a couple thousand years ago that he completely lost an important item during the long off season, so the elves helped build him a place to hold all of the important pieces.”

  “Seems reasonable,” I said. “What’s keeping people from stealing the items during the year, though? Do you have security elves posted up around?”

  “No. Why would someone steal from Santa?”

  “Doesn’t he have a bag that gives infinite gifts? That seems like it would be worth a lot of money.”

  Taradiddle nodded, pulling out her notepad again. “Add… security… team…”

  We entered the large building in the middle of the North Pole, where we first me Taradiddle, and followed her down various hallways. In the back of the building, we found two large doors wide open, with a decorated sign above reading Museum of Santa Claus.

  The elf walked us past Santa’s coat, belt, and boots, before we finally arrived at his hat.

  I picked it up and looked over it. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary with it.

  “Can you sense anything out of it?” I asked Bart.

  The cat shook his head. “Not really. I can tell there are some magical properties, but that was the same with the other pieces of his outfit. I don’t think it has anything to do with Blitzen.”

  “I figured,” I sighed, setting the hat back down. It looked like this was a dead end. It was starting to look like we wouldn’t figure this case out in time.

  “Want to see the rest of the museum?” asked Taradiddle, smiling nervously up at me. I didn’t particularly want to, but I could tell she was trying to cheer me up.

  “Sure,” I smiled.

  The three of us walked around, Taradiddle pointing out various items of Santa’s ensemble. In different circumstances, this all would’ve been so nice. My Oma would’ve been ecstatic to know I was surrounded by all of Santa’s things.

  “Kind of ironic that Santa was the one stolen, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” said Taradiddle. “Why is that ironic?”

  “Because he’s normally the one that kidnaps children, right?” I laughed. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “He doesn’t kidnap children,” said Taradiddle, puzzled. “What gave you that idea?”

  “My Oma, or Grandma, told me about how she was a bad kid when she was growing up back in Germany. She even knocked out a boys teeth with a two-by-four once, and her family had to buy him new teeth,” I smiled, remembering being told the story. “Anyway, her family was tired of her acting the way she did, so they had a friend dress up as Saint Nicholas. Her parents left the door unlocked, and in the middle of the night the fake Saint Nicholas came in and shoved my Oma in his bag. He took her out into the woods behind her house, where he told her if she was bad again the next year, he would keep her. Supposedly it spooked her so bad that she had a complete change of heart.”

  “How strange,” said the elf.

  “Yeah, I think that sort of thing was more socially acceptable a while ago.”

  “No, not that,” said Taradiddle, shaking her head. “It’s strange because Santa isn’t the one who stole kids. That was Krampus’ job.”

  “Krampus’ job?” I asked, coming to a stop in front of Santa’s sack exhibit.

  “Yup. Your ancestors’ friend must have gotten confused and put on the wrong costume.”

  “Is this really Santa’s bag, the one with all the presents in it?” asked Bart, gesturing over at the sack.

  Taradiddle nodded.

  “Hold on,” I said, getting the elf’s attention
again. “Krampus has been known to steal children?”

  “Not permanently, or anything like that,” she said, holding up her hands. “Santa would’ve never allowed that. He would just take them for a little bit, to scare them. Like your Oma.”

  “He would shove the kids in his bag with all the coal?” I asked.

  “Of course not, silly. He had a separate bag to keep the kids in.”

  “So you knew that Krampus was known for stealing people, and it didn’t cross your mind to mention that to me?” I asked.

  “I assumed that was common knowledge,” shrugged Taradiddle. “I don’t see why it really matters.”

  “You don’t see how that could be related to this case?”

  “Aw man, what kind of a gift is this?” complained Bart.

  Taradiddle and I turned to see that Bart had snuck up to the platform and was standing right next to Santa’s open bag. He was staring down at a bundle of sticks.

  “Does his bag think I’m actually a cat? Sticks are a horrible gift!”

  “I don’t think those are just sticks,” I said slowly, getting up on the platform and joining him. “I think those are switches…”

  “Huh. I mean, I know I haven’t been purrfect this year…”

  “Good one,” I said, reaching into the bag myself. I grabbed hold and pulled out a clump of coal.

  “Ha! You’re bad too!” laughed Bart.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, turning to Taradiddle. “I thought Santa’s bag only gave out gifts?”

  “That’s correct, Miss,” nodded Taradiddle.

  “Bart shouldn’t have gotten switches and I shouldn’t have gotten coal out of his bag then…” I said slowly, looking down at the sack again. My eyes widened with realization as I turned and sprinted for the door.

  “Zoey, wait!” shouted Bart, dashing off after me.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Taradiddle, trying to keep up. “Are you looking for a bathroom?”

  “No,” I said. “We need to hurry, though. It’s getting late, but I know where Santa is!”