Yuletide (Matilda Kavanagh Novels Book 3)

by Shauna Granger

“It’s an expression,” she said with an exasperated sigh, throwing up her hands. “I mean, you’re not going to do anything?”

  “No, I’m gonna go home and finish baking cookies and get ready for the Solstice tomorrow.”

  “About this,” Joey said, pointing at one of the stuffed Krampus statues.

  “No, I am not going to do anything about this. Not everything is my damn job.”

  “But Mattie—”

  “Enough,” I said, making a cutting motion to stop her. “This is the first time in my adult life that I get to fully enjoy the holiday, okay? If the bag is here, then it’s not him. There isn’t a damn thing I can do anyway, so just drop it.” Joey glared at me, and I felt my temper rising. “Nothing is stopping you from going to the cops and telling them these theories.”

  “Me?” If it was possible, her eyes got even bigger.

  “Yes, you,” I said. “You’re half human. Those are your people, not mine, so you go tell them and see how they take it. I’m going to go home and bake some friggin’ cookies.”

  Chapter 8

  It was Winter Solstice, just a few days before Christmas, and the night was alive with energy and people. I could smell the fires lit all around town as people celebrated in their homes and on rooftops. The scents of sage and pine filled the damp night air, and I breathed them in, letting the smoke fill my lungs and cleanse me.

  I should be at home, lighting my own fire, burning my spices, and cooking a feast to celebrate making it through the darkest part of the year, but I had a mission. I was lucky to get through the lobby unnoticed as Frankie tapped on her phone, no doubt texting Kyle. I was more than a little surprised they’d made it so long, but I was grateful for it too. Frankie had been much more bearable the last few months.

  The city had strung lights along the roads, making the enchanted snow glitter. Wreaths were hung on street lights with massive red bows, and birch trees were temporarily placed along the sidewalks, their thin white branches strung with tiny twinkle lights. Innocuous holiday music was piped through the city as if we were in one massive shopping mall. It could have been obnoxious, but I kind of loved it, truth be told.

  I tucked my scarf into the front of my short leather jacket and zipped it up against the cold. Tugging a slouchy knit hat over my head, but letting my bangs hang out so I wouldn’t get hat-head, I craned my head back to look at the sky. The enchanted snow was falling, so I couldn’t see the sky or the dome beyond it. They’d really done a fantastic job this year of giving the perfect holiday illusion without freezing us.

  I pushed open Ronnie’s shop door and the sound of a dozen tiny bells chimed, announcing my arrival. There were more decorations than there had been a few days ago, and I had a feeling that Joey was responsible for them.

  “Okay, do you remember how to work the safe?” Ronnie’s voice filtered back to me through the over-crowded shelves.

  “Ronnie,” Joey said her name in that same forced-patient voice heard among teenagers speaking to less-intelligent adults, “this isn’t the first time I’ve watched the shop. It’s fine.”

  “It’s the first time you’ve done it during the holiday.”

  “It’s Solstice,” Joey said. “Everyone’s home celebrating. I probably won’t have any customers tonight. I don’t know why we’re even open.”

  “Neither do I,” I said, making my way through the shop and reaching the register.

  “Because,” Ronnie said with a sigh, as though she’d explained this one too many times already, “people always forget things for the holiday. We’re open so they can pick it up.”

  Joey rolled her eyes, and I asked, “You ready to go?”

  Ronnie looked around the shop anxiously. She bent down to check the safe, then the register, then straightened the carousel rack of charms I’d set up. I was happy to note it was half empty already.

  “Ronnie, come on.” I held out a hand for her, but she ignored it.

  She grabbed her coat from behind the counter and pulled it on, tugging her hair out from the collar.

  “You know, for someone getting a present, you sure do look like you just sucked on a lemon,” Joey said, leaning on her elbows on the counter.

  “Joey!” I snapped, as Ronnie said, “Present?”

  Silver dust fell from Joey in a spike of panic. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

  “Wait, we’re going to get a present?” Ronnie stopped her fidgeting and pinned me with her big green eyes, a smile curling her lips, and I swear her freckles were brighter.

  “Thanks, Joey,” I said, my head dropping.

  “I’m sorry,” Joey said again, the cringe clear in her voice.

  “What is it? What is it?” Ronnie asked, bounding around the counter to grab my shoulders, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  I looked at Joey as Ronnie shook me. “Well, at least I’ll be able to get her out of the shop now.”

  Joey gave me an awkward smile, her shoulders reaching her ears.

  I waved her concern away and looked at Ronnie. “Can we please go now?”

  “Yes!” She snatched her purse, waved at Joey, and grabbed my hand to lead me out of the shop.

  It was a short drive to our destination, and thank the gods for that, because Ronnie would not let up on asking me where we were going or what she was getting. Even when I threatened to turn around and forget about the whole thing, she didn’t stop. We pulled up in front of an apartment building about ten blocks from ours. Unlike ours, all of the apartment doors could be accessed from the outside, and metal-and-stone staircases zigzagged on the faces of the buildings. Every window was lit up as the occupants celebrated the winter holiday, chasing away the shadows and making our trek to the top floor less creepy.

  “This is where my present is?” Ronnie asked, skepticism etched in her voice.

  “Just c’mon,” I said, leading the way up the stairs.

  We made it to the top, and I knocked on the door with a golden number twenty affixed to it. There was a crash inside, and someone yelled something unintelligible, answered by something equally indiscernible.

  “Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Ronnie said, leaning toward me, her brows raised.

  “Shush,” I said, pushing her back.

  After a few more moments, someone finally answered the door. The first thing I saw was a pair of thick glasses, then a hook nose. Duncan blinked when he recognized me, and he opened the door so we could see more than just his owlish face.

  “Mattie?”

  Before I could reply, his mother yelled from somewhere in the apartment, “Of course it’s her. Open the damn door, and let them inside!”

  Duncan jumped as though stuck with a pin and scrambled back to let us in. I had to hook Ronnie’s arm with mine to pull her inside. She tripped over her own feet as I pulled, and Duncan closed the door before she could make her escape.

  The apartment was cramped and warm, and I was pulling off my scarf to jam it into my bag before Duncan even had the locks turned. Ronnie stood close enough that I elbowed her in the shoulder when I moved. The living room was taken up by a massive, ancient couch facing a television that looked as if it was older than Ronnie and me combined.

  The majority of the apartment was dedicated to the kitchen, which was more than twice the size of the living room. There were plants everywhere: hanging from the ceiling, taking up most of the counter space, and lining the window sills.

  “A hedgewitch?” Ronnie whispered, finally sounding a little more normal.

  I nodded and smiled when the wizened Antonia hobbled out of the kitchen. She was bent forward, a cane supporting most of her weight. She’d gone round in the middle in her old age, but her legs and arms were spindly thin. Her crooked, gnarled fingers clutched her cane. She blinked at me before adjusting her thick glasses. Her jaw was moving, and I knew she was messing with her dentures.

  “Antonia,” I said, greeting her. When I reached out to hug her, she poked me with her cane, stopping me in my tracks. I made an ooof sound
.

  “I’m not your granny, child,” she snapped. “Don’t go hugging me like an old woman.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing my stomach where the cane had punched me.

  “So this is the girl?” she asked, moving around to examine Ronnie.

  Ronnie shot me a confused look and tried to smile at Antonia, but it was more of a grimace than anything.

  “Yes, this is Ronnie.”

  Antonia made a noise deep in her throat and circled Ronnie like a dog checking out a stranger. She pinched a lock of Ronnie’s long, ropey orange hair, rubbed it between two fingers, and sniffed. Though she was trying not to, Ronnie leaned away from the strange woman, and I had to stifle a laugh.

  Duncan had sneaked back into the kitchen and was making a pot of tea and setting out a tray of cookies. It seemed like such a normal thing to do that it made it extra weird.

  “Everything all right there, Toni?” I asked, realizing she was still inspecting Ronnie’s hair.

  “I told you not to call me that, child,” she snapped, coming around Ronnie.

  “Sorry.” I crammed my hands into my jacket pockets and rocked in place. “So everything okay? We good to go?”

  “Hmph,” the old witch said, pushing her glasses up her hook nose. “Very well.”

  She ambled into the kitchen, shoving Duncan out of her way as he reached to pick up the tray. It showed how often the blind old woman did that when he didn’t lose the tray. He took the tray, loaded with cookies, tea cups, and a pot of tea, and hurried out of the kitchen. I met him at the tiny, two-seater table that was too close to the edge of the couch and fixed myself a cup. Ronnie was still standing where I’d left her, unsure what to do.

  “Well? Let’s get a move on!” Antonia’s voice was like the crack of a whip that made Ronnie jump.

  She looked at me, and I nodded, telling her to follow the old woman.

  “Me?” she mouthed, pointing at her chest.

  I nodded, waving her on. She shook her head, and I rolled my eyes, setting down my cup. I took her hand and dragged her into the kitchen. Antonia was waiting for us in front of the sink, leaning on her cane. Instead of a cabinet under the sink, there was a flowered curtain, and from behind it, tiny noises could be heard. I glanced at Ronnie to see her staring at the curtain, her orange brows drawn together, and I smiled.

  Antonia used her cane to pull the curtain aside and revealed a kindle of kittens in a cardboard box lined with a plush blanket. The mama cat was sleeping in the corner, purring loudly while her kittens tumbled and tripped over each other, mewing constantly.

  “Oh my,” Ronnie whispered, dropping to her knees and leaning over the box.

  Antonia gave me a look of approval, and I smiled back. Antonia was one of my regulars, coming to me for pain amulets for her arthritis and bent back. She was also one of my poorest clients and couldn’t always pay for her charms and potions. She was a pretty decent hedgewitch, but she didn’t have the knack for healing potions.

  For the last two months, she hadn’t been able to pay me anything, so she’d brought me bundles of herbs and flowers to supplement my stores. But when she’d told me her cat was about to have a litter, I made a deal to have the pick of the litter for Ronnie and call her tab square. The witch hadn’t hesitated to agree.

  “They’re so cute!” Ronnie said, trying to pet and scratch all eight kittens. “Wait, what’s up with their legs?”

  I laughed and knelt beside her, reaching in to pick up a white-and-grey kitten. They had thick, fluffy coats like Artemis, but their legs were short, almost stunted. I held the mewling kitten and showed Ronnie. “They’re called Munchkins.”

  “Napoleons,” Antonia said, whacking me in the arm with her cane.

  I cringed, keeping my hands loose around the squirming ball of fur. “Whatever. All it means is that their legs are super short. These are Rug Huggers, right? The shortest ones?”

  “Hmph,” Antonia replied, but she gave a quick nod.

  “Oh gods, how freaking adorable!” Ronnie reached into the box again. “Is this my present?”

  I let the white-and-grey one slip out of my hands and back into the box. “Yeah. I wanted to help you find a familiar. You’ve been having so much trouble, and when Antonia told me about the litter, I just had a feeling.”

  Ronnie looked at me, her lips pressed together and her eyes shining with tears. I felt the answering prickle of tears just before she gripped me in a breath-stealing hug.

  “Yes, yes, it’s all so touching,” Antonia muttered. “Let’s get to deciding.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Ronnie said, wiping at her face.

  I sat back and let her have a little space. She closed her eyes and held out her hands. My skin prickled as Ronnie unfurled her aura, letting it reach out to the kittens. The mama cat rumbled in her sleep and shifted but didn’t wake. The kittens were still mewing and tumbling, but one by one, they moved to the edges of the box until just one was left in the middle.

  It was probably the fluffiest of the kittens and was the color of orange sherbet with a white chest and paws. It looked at Ronnie with perfectly round blue eyes and mewed for her. When Ronnie opened her eyes, she giggled and reached for the cat.

  “Hmph,” Antonia said. “Might’ve known—a ginger for a ginger.”

  Ronnie shot the old witch a look, but with the kitten clutched to her chest, she just smiled.

  “I think it’s cute they match,” I said, scratching the top of the tiny head.

  Antonia just hmphed at me again.

  “I can’t believe I finally found you,” Ronnie whispered to the cat, rubbing her nose against its furry face.

  I let my aura unfurl and brush up against Ronnie’s. Hers was warmer, humming happily, brighter than it had been in a long time.

  Antonia pushed the curtain closed, eyeing me as though she could feel my intense desire to take all of the cute little critters home. Not that I thought that would go over well with Artemis. I dug into my bag and pulled out a tiny gift bag. Ronnie glanced at it and then at me with a pinched brow.

  “You should have something to open,” I said, holding it out for her.

  She reached in and pulled out the tiny green collar I’d bought. The blank nametag flashed in the light, and Ronnie laughed. “A green collar for an orange cat, just like a tiny little pumpkin.”

  Our eyes met, and her brows shot up. I nodded.

  “Pumpkin,” she said and rubbed her face against the kitten’s head.

  He purred, a tiny rumbling that made me melt.

  “You’re sure?” I asked, taking the collar.

  “I am.”

  I nodded and pinched the nametag between my thumb and forefinger. I concentrated on the metal until it became hot against my fingers. When I took my fingers away, the name Pumpkin was etched on the metal above Ronnie’s phone number.

  “Perfect,” I said before slipping it over the fuzzy orange head.

  Ronnie gave me a one-armed hug. “Thank you. You’re the best sister I could’ve ever asked for.”

  I had to hold my breath to keep from crying.

  “All right, all right,” Antonia said, tapping us with the end of her cane to get us moving. “Enough, enough. Start moving.”

  “Thank you, Antonia,” I said, laying a hand on her boney shoulder.

  She squinted at me through her thick glasses, and for one second, I caught a smile on her wrinkled face. Then she was poking and jamming us with her cane to get the hell out of her apartment.

  Chapter 9

  I was so full of energy and holiday cheer that I couldn’t even think about bed when we got home. Besides, it was still early—sunrise was still hours away. Ronnie rushed to her apartment with Pumpkin bundled in her jacket, excited to show him his new home. She was talking a mile a minute about all the things she needed to buy. When we walked into her apartment, she went ultrasonic when she saw the gift basket on her coffee table from Joey and me, full of all the things she would need for a kitten: formula, food,
toys, a tiny litter box, and more toys.

  I left Ronnie so she could bond with her familiar, only their auras mingling during those first few crucial hours.

  In my apartment, I was baking again. Artie was sleeping on the kitchen table, out of the way but still in sight, quelling my desire for a second furry friend. Over a dozen little gift bags were lined up on my counter, waiting to be filled with goodies for my regular customers. I’d had an influx of business in the last few months, but my regulars had gotten me through the lean months, making sure I didn’t lose my apartment or share a can of tuna with Artie. I wanted to thank them with a small token of appreciation.

  Stupidly, I’d turned on the television, not realizing the late night news broadcast was coming on until it was too late to change the channel. My hands were covered in batter, so I couldn’t touch the remote. I tried to change the channel with my toe, but I only succeeded in kicking the remote under the couch. The stupid buttons on the television were on the back, where I couldn’t see them, and when I tried to flick a spark of power at the set, all I accomplished was flicking a glob of cookie dough at the screen.

  The broadcasters were repeating the same five stories, but the one that was getting the most attention was the story about the mayor’s still-missing son and the other missing human children. Not all of the children were being snatched though. Some children were showing up in hospitals in the middle of the night with welts and bruises that they claimed to have woken with. Child Protective Services was investigating over twenty cases.

  “It appears we have developing information on the case of the mayor’s missing son, Carlos Junior, known to his family as CJ,” the female anchor said, a look of grave concern on her face.

  “Yes,” her male counterpart picked up seamlessly. “It appears that CJ Martinez was having some difficulty in school. Campus police were investigating him for reports of cyber bullying.”

  I stood behind my couch, a bowl of cookie dough in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. I’d been telling myself that it was impossible that Krampus was doing this, but I couldn’t ignore it much longer.