A Very Merry Witchmas

by Ani Gonzalez

  "What was an accident?"

  "It had to be." Santos ranted. "He just fell. I didn't push him."

  "Were you fighting?" Liam asked.

  "No, not fighting." Santos looked around, his face pale. "We said the words."

  "The words? You mean Lorena's song?"

  "Yes, the invocation song," Santos whispered. "Just like the book instructed. You do the dance and when the dance ends, you turn down the lights and sing the song."

  Santos stared at something behind Liam, his eyes wide with wonder.

  "Jeff," Liam said gently. "Every single boy in this school has sung that song. Nothing ever happens."

  Santos shook his head. "It was different this time. The book had instructions...Jonas laughed at first, but he soon learned his mistake."

  "What kind of instructions?" Liam asked.

  "To fix things," Santos said in a quiet whisper. "Because things are supposed to happen. They are supposed to come out."

  "Who are they?" Liam asked.

  "The ones like Lorena," Santos stared at something right behind Liam.

  "Lorena is not real, Jeff," Liam replied.

  But he wasn't so sure right now. The music kept growing louder and the lights were spinning. He felt the creeping darkness that he now knew heralded a vision.

  The song reached its trademark crescendo and a cool green light appeared behind Liam casting sickly shadows on the floor.

  "She should be," Santos whispered. "And she is."

  A low, musical voice reached Liam's ears as he turned around.

  "Will you dance with me?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "ARE YOU kidding me?" Kat panted, catching up to Claire as she rounded the hallway corner.

  The question did not do the occasion justice, but you try coming up with a good line when faced with a glowing, floating ghost wearing a shimmering prom dress, teased hair, and twelve-inch bangs hair-sprayed into stiff verticality.

  The disco music added to the surrealism. The Donna Summer song seemed to be in eternal replay. Imagine an afterlife spent wearing your tacky high school prom dress and listening to disco.

  Hell, indeed. Jeff Santos seemed to agree, as he stood, stiff as a board, staring at the floating figure as if mesmerized.

  "Well, there goes our town's reputation for classy hauntings," Kat said. "What's next, acrylic nails with painted designs?"

  The joke fell flat as Lorena floated up, giving Kat a clear look at the prone figure lying on the floor. Her heart stopped.

  Liam.

  "Don't give them ideas," Claire muttered, raising her paintball gun.

  The cheap, plastic weapon looked ridiculous, and Kat's stomach sank with fear.

  The boys dance. They dance until they die.

  Surely, there hadn't been time for that to happen.

  "Kat, focus on the girl," Claire commanded. "Hold her down."

  "Down?" Kat asked shakily. "How?"

  She was used to mixing ingredients and drawing symbols and letting the energy flow toward a goal. Standing next to a crazy woman who was aiming a toy gun at High School Prom Barbie ghost wasn't in her witchy repertoire. Claire Delacourt did things differently.

  So what the hell was Kat supposed to do?

  "The dress," Claire said. "Drag it down."

  Kat stared at the apparition, trying to figure out what to do. She needed a focus for her magic, herbs or extracts or something. "But I don't have—"

  "Oh, for crying out loud," Claire screamed. "You just spent two hours baking an offering to a goddess of protection. Use that."

  "Cookies?" Kat exclaimed. "You want me to craft a spell with cookies?"

  Claire glared at her. "We use what we have, Kat. Do you think I like lugging paintball guns around?"

  Hard to argue with that.

  Kat steeled herself and focused on her offering of sugar, coconut and rum.

  Protect us, oh mother.

  She felt a surge of power. Good, it was working.

  But she needed more.

  She had the solstice to draw upon, the moon and the tides and the stars. All were sacred to Yemanya and would give her power.

  Food, prayer, stars. Those were all requirements for the protection ritual. What else did she need?

  "Hold her down," Claire shouted. "I don't have enough ammo to take her if she's this strong."

  This still wasn't enough. Kat followed Claire's directions and aimed her power at the floaty taffeta dress, trying to drag it down. Lorena's heavily made-up face curled into a grimace as she fought, the Donna Summer song screeching a hectic accompaniment to her struggles.

  Music.

  Kat focused on the song, singing along under her breath. She wasn't strong enough to bring down the ghost by herself, but maybe she could use Lorena's own energy to power her spell. A wave of electricity ran through her, making her hair stand on end.

  Lorena had a lot of energy.

  "She's newly-made," Claire explained. "And she's tapping into the geomagnetic fault. Follow that power source."

  Kat's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you insane? Staying away from the geomagnetic fault is hashtag lifegoals in this town. That thing is dangerous."

  "So is she," Claire said, gesturing with her gun toward the ghost.

  "I see your point," Kat said.

  She concentrated on the song, letting the power pour through her. The last time she'd tried it, she'd been in the Hagen House, also trying to fight a supernatural entity. That time she'd had a hard time tapping into any energies.

  But not this time. Now the magic just flowed.

  This is it, Lorena. Last Dance.

  The ghost shrieked wildly and Claire raised her gun.

  "I hope you have a lot of salt in there," Kat muttered as she struggled to control the power surging around her.

  "You're joking, right?" Claire shouted. "Does this look like a television show to you?"

  An otherworldly groan rent the air and Lorena reared up, ghostly hands stretched like claws. Kat tried to hold her down, but it was a struggle.

  "It does," Kat said. "Kind of."

  But Claire wasn't listening.

  "That's it," she exclaimed as she fired the plastic gun.

  A sweet but pungent aroma filled the hallway as dark pellets raced through the air, sending off sparks as they hit Lorena's energy field.

  Kat sniffed the air and identified the smell of cinnamon, cloves and...piñones? Claire had turned the Patagonian ingredients she'd bought at the Botánica into paintball gun ammo.

  The ghost shrieked, making Kat's ears burn. Jeff Santos held his head in pain, and Liam writhed on the floor.

  Kat's shoulders slumped in relief. Sure, the power surge was painful, but at least Liam was alive.

  She felt the weblike strands of power go slack, and barely had time to shield herself before Lorena's ghost form imploded, seemingly collapsing onto itself like some kind of fluorescent origami then sending out a gust of unearthly pressure that felt like a hurricane wind.

  Kat winced as the air was sucked out of her lungs. She heard the glass in the hallway's trophy boxes explode around her.

  When she reopened her eyes, all she could see were wispy green tendrils of power left behind in Lorena's wake.

  And Liam's prone body lying on the floor, surrounded by glass shards.

  Claire shot cinnamon-and-clove pellets at the tendrils as Kat ran toward her husband. After dodging a couple of aromatic bullets, Kat finally reached her man, who was struggling to get up.

  "Stay down," Kat commanded.

  But she was too late. A brown pellet hit Liam smack on the forehead.

  "What the—?" he growled, looking around in confusion.

  Kat knelt at his side, weak with relief. She reached out and wiped the pungent powder off his face.

  "You're okay," she sighed.

  Liam grimaced. "I'm...I'm covered in condiments."

  "I think those are technically spices," Kat said, laughing. "Good ones too. This means that y
ou'll be free of foreign influences."

  "Could I have some?" a shaken Jeff Santos asked behind them.

  "Be my guest," Claire said, aiming the toy gun directly at Santos' skull-decorated cummerbund and pressing the plastic trigger.

  The paranormal investigator doubled over with a groan.

  "Bullseye," Claire said. "That'll teach you to meddle into what doesn't concern you."

  Kat and Liam stared at Claire. Liam pushed himself up and pointed to the leftover strands of energy still floating over the linoleum floor.

  "What just happened?" he stammered.

  Claire shook her head. "Don't worry. Most people can't see that."

  "I can see them," Liam said. "I saw everything. Now, if you could just—"

  She gestured him into silence and tilted her head. They listened with her and, after a second, Kat could dimly hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

  "No time for that," Claire said. "Your friends are coming."

  She smiled.

  "And we have some cookies to judge."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  "THEY ALL BURNT?" Liam asked.

  Kat didn't have to answer the question. The small, blackened balls on her plates spoke for themselves.

  "I think it was the spell," she said sadly. "My offering was accepted, which is fantastic for magic, but not so good for winning a baking contest."

  "At least Holly is happy," Liam said, glancing at his jubilant sister. "And we'll get a new research section at the library."

  "Yes," Kat said, as she finished cleaning up her materials. "Doesn't that strike you as..."

  Her voice trailed off.

  "Suspicious?" Liam finished for her. "You mean because Claire lectured us for a good half-hour about magical safety and doing good research and keeping materials safe? I'm sure that had nothing to do with Holly winning the contest."

  Kat gave her sister-in-law a sidelong glance. "Those 'Ghosts of Christmas Past' cookies looked pretty good."

  "Tasted good too."

  Kat dug an elbow into his ribs. "Have you been taste-testing behind my back?"

  "Ouch, that hurt." He rubbed his chest gingerly. His wife had sharp bones. It must be a witch thing. "And don't blame me. Blood is thicker than water and all that."

  Kat raised a brow. "Oh, so I'm water? Is that what you're saying?"

  Liam suddenly realized the conversation had taken a dangerous turn.

  "No, not at all. Just that there's only so much coconut a man can take."

  His answer did not appease the Eyebrow of Death.

  "Well, that's unfortunate," his wife replied. "Because I have about three pounds of leftover coconut flakes."

  "Oh." He stroked his chin. "Are you sure about that? Maybe they also got burnt up by your spell."

  In fact, he would make sure of that. He'd had it with the coconut, and he suspected that Kat was done with it too. She'd been complaining that the mere smell made her stomach turn.

  "As long as it's the only thing that got burnt, we got off easy." Kat scanned the room glumly, but her face lit up when she spied Luanne. "Hey, fellow loser."

  "Hey, yourself," Luanne replied cheerily. "I hear we had a bit of excitement today."

  "That's putting it mildly," Liam muttered under his breath.

  "Too much of it," Kat said, putting a hand to her stomach. "I'm still feeling queasy. Have you seen Claire?"

  "She left as soon as the judging was done," Luanne said.

  "She just drove off?" Liam asked.

  Luanne nodded. "She said she had something important to do."

  "No," Kat exclaimed in dismay. "She can't do that. I have so many questions."

  Luanne made a face. "Believe me, you don't want to know the answers."

  Kat's eyes narrowed. "I don't?"

  Luanne shook her head. "Nope. Ignorance is bliss."

  "What about the Tower card?" Liam interjected. "Did you figure out what that meant?"

  Luanne's face darkened. "Yes, it's...being taken care of."

  "That's it?" Liam asked. "That's all you have to say?"

  He hated it when the fortune teller became cryptic like this. Two days ago, Luanne was frantically trying to figure out what the Tower card meant. Now, after they were attacked by a high school ghost, she was all blasé about it.

  Luanne just grinned. "You guys did your part." She aimed a meaningful glance at Kat's stomach. "And you have other responsibilities now."

  Liam went cold. Surely she didn't mean...

  Kat's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

  Liam recalled his wife's nausea, the mood swings, and the food cravings. He was starting to feel a little light-headed himself.

  Luanne took out a Tarot card. It depicted a woman in a flowing gown sitting on a throne. The woman's belly was, well, not flat.

  Kat stared at the card, white with shock. "The coconut cookies, the ritual...all to Yemanya."

  "She is also the goddess of motherhood," Luanne reminded them.

  Whoa, a baby. They were having a baby.

  "That's why I couldn't shake it off." Kat mused, looking surprisingly calm. "All that coconut..."

  "Which was a good thing," Luanne replied. "Claire said she couldn't have done her job without the goddess...or you." Luanne frowned. "Although I'm not sure what job she was referring to exactly."

  Kat and Liam exchanged glances. They knew exactly what job Claire had been talking about.

  But they had other things to worry about now.

  "Anyhow," Luanne continued. "Holly has invited us over for pizza at her place. She's trying to be a gracious winner. Will you come?"

  Kat looked wary. "Is she doing 'creative combos' again? I'm not sure I can take pineapple-jalapeño-feta pizza in my delicate state."

  Luanne laughed. "I'm sure we can negotiate that. We'll also need non-alcoholic drinks. Maybe Zach can put together an agua fresca for you."

  "That would be lovely," Liam replied, eager to share the good news with his friends. "We'll be there."

  "With bells on," Kat added.

  "Excellent," Luanne said. "I better go help Amy clean up. She's very competitive and not dealing well with her loss." She waved at one of the band members, who was packing up equipment. "Hey, Gary. Can we get some peppy music for clean up?"

  "Sure," the guy replied, flipping a switch. "Movie montage music coming up."

  A familiar melody swept over the room.

  "Guess we better finish up," Kat said, bending to pick up a box. "We can start loading."

  "Whoa," Liam said, snatching the package. "You can't do that, remember. You're..."

  His voice trailed off. He couldn't quite say the words.

  "Pregnant," Kat finished for him. "Preggo, knocked-up, in the family way, eating for two..."

  "Yes, that was probably a clue."

  Kat punched him in the arm playfully. "Don't be an idiot. Anyway, Now I get to eat anything I want."

  "Anything at all," Liam replied. "As long as it's not coconut."

  "No," Kat shook her head firmly. "Definitely not coconut."

  Liam was about to answer when the song lyrics caught his attention. "Is that...?"

  Kat tilted her head. "No, it can't be. They wouldn't. Claire said Lorena was gone." She looked up at Liam doubtfully. "Didn't she?"

  "Yep," Liam said firmly. "Totally gone."

  "This is just coincidence," Kat said.

  "Absolutely," he agreed.

  "Let's get out of here," she said, picking up her bag.

  "Good idea," he replied, grabbing the box.

  They left the gym, ABBA's "Dancing Queen" playing merrily as they hustled out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "SO, WE'RE clear, right?" Claire asked sternly. "You won't try anything like this again, right?"

  "No, I won't try anything like this again," Jeff Santos replied, his words dull and heavy, as if he were in a trance.

  Claire sighed, glancing kindly at the slack-jawed paranormal investigator sitting docile
ly in the driver's side of his car. The sun was setting, and the high school's parking lot was cast in shadow.

  She hated doing compulsion spells. Tinkering with free will was a bit too close to the dark side for her. Gray was a shade she liked to wear, but not one she liked to work in.

  But staying in the light was getting harder every single day.

  "And if you see another book, you'll tell me, correct?" she added, drawing a sigil in the air next to him.

  The glowing blue symbol hovered for a second then disappeared.

  "I'll tell you right away," Jeff agreed, his eyes tinged with a blue glow.

  "Excellent." Claire banged on the top of Santos' vintage Chevy. "You can go now."

  Jeff obediently turned on the ignition and drove away.

  Claire took a deep breath and walked off to her car.

  The black hearse beckoned at her, tempting her with visions of the open road. She longed to get in, put on some Johnny Cash tunes, and drive off into what little was left of the sunset. She'd love to take Pookie far away from here, maybe back to the barren Dakotas, or drive down Route 66. New Orleans was nice this time of year, and it had plenty of work for a workaholic ghost hunter.

  But she couldn't. She was stuck in Banshee Creek now.

  She got into the car and slammed the door.

  "Did you get the book?'

  Pookie was in the hearse's makeshift back seat, lying in his plush designer pet carrier and looking cozy. Hellhounds, Claire had found, appreciated their creature comforts.

  Even if they were Chihuahuas, or maybe particularly if they were Chihuahuas? She wasn't sure. She'd never had a hellhound before and had experienced some problems adjusting to her new charge.

  As had Pookie.

  "Well, did you?" the dog repeated impatiently.

  Claire took a brand new trade paperback out of her bag and threw it onto the back seat. "There it is. Fresh off the press."

  Pookie glanced at the book's garish cover and sniffed. "Cartoon corpses and paranormal emoji, that's what we're dealing with? In my time you wrote these things in Latin, using human blood as ink, and then bound them in human flesh. This isn't even grade A paper. There's no respect for tradition anymore."