Page 107 of Jingle Spells
Before anyone could answer, the air began to shimmer, coalescing into a rectangle of light. Within the rectangle appeared an enraged figure they recognized all too well: Ramona, the burgundy-suited magician who had taken Kelly.
Scarlett folded her arms across her chest and grinned wickedly. “What’s next, you ask? Next, we get our people back.”
Chapter 31
Run, Ramona, Run
The air crackled with a sudden violence as a portal appeared, looking more hastily torn open than carefully crafted. Ramona emerged, looking distinctly unprepared for this particular battle. Her silver hair was disheveled, and the faint echo of other voices clung to the air around her, as if she’d been yanked suddenly away from some other (no doubt equally nefarious) task.
“What. Have. You. DONE?!” Ramona’s face contorted with fury, and her power radiated outward like heat from a furnace, distorting space all around. “Do you have ANY idea of the punishments that will rain down on you?”
Scarlett stepped forward, chin lifted defiantly as she positioned herself between Ramona and her sisters. Delilah could see the slight tremor in her sister’s hands. That’s not fear, Del thought. That’s Scar restraining her own anger.
“We did what we had to.” Scarlett’s voice was steady despite the dangerous electricity in the air. “That monstrosity was really bringing down property values.”
Ramona’s eyes narrowed dangerously, pupils contracting to pinpoints of pure hatred. “You dare jest with me?” Each word left her lips like shards of ice. “What have you done to my people?”
Delilah felt a moment of genuine doubt flutter in her chest. Did we go too far here? But then she remembered her mother’s absence, and her resolve hardened like frost on a windowpane.
“That’s exactly what we’re here to discuss.” Scarlett rocked back and forth on her heels. “You want your people back? Give us ours.”
“Where is our mother?” Delilah stepped forward to stand beside her sister, and she was pleased to hear her own voice coming out steadier than expected. “And Belinda, and the others you took.”
Ramona’s lip curled into a sneer, revealing teeth that seemed too white, too perfect. “You are in no position to make demands.” But there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Calculation, perhaps, or the first seedlings of doubt.
Luna joined her sisters, positioning herself on Delilah’s other side. “We just yeeted your entire operation to Location Unknown. I’d say that puts us in an excellent position to make demands.”
“As for where they are now . . .” Scarlett said with exaggerated casualness, “I voted for dropping the whole mess in the bottom of the Mariana Trench. You guys have diving suits in the casino supply closet?”
Ramona’s anger literally lifted her several inches off the ground, her luxurious boots hovering in the icy air. The air around her shimmered with heat distortion, despite the season. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Luna tilted her head, looking at Scarlett with mock concern. “Oh, Scar . . . I don’t know if they’ll have time for diving suits.” She turned to face their adversary. “The pressure at the bottom of the Trench is quite intense. They’re probably pancaked already, no?”
Delilah bit back a smile. Luna had never been one for confrontation, but when she did join the fray, she always brought her A-game.
Ramona’s face flushed an alarming shade of crimson. A pulse of energy emanated from her, strong enough to send dead leaves skittering across the ground at their feet. She looked to be one twitch away from a full-blown aneurysm.
“You will return our property and staff to their original location immediately,” she commanded, and her voice resonated with a sort of material power that pressed against Delilah’s eardrums.
“Sorry, no can do.” Scarlett shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, though Delilah noticed her sister shifting her weight subtly into a more defensive stance. “One-way trip, I’m afraid.” She took a half-step forward, her expression hardening. “But here’s what we can do: you release our mother and the others, and we’ll give you the location. And don’t worry, I didn’t win the argument about the trench. They’re not dead . . . yet.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant honk of some poor tourist who couldn’t seem to find his way back to the main road. Behind the magician, the glowing rectangle reappeared. Delilah caught glimpses of ornate furnishings and the shifting movements of other figures through the shimmering doorway.
“You’re bluffing,” the magician’s words practically vibrated. “You witches don’t have the ability to open a portal that large.”
“Umm, those fifty missing stories behind you suggest otherwise.” Delilah gestured at a gaping void where the casino had stood. The starlight caught on her fingers, highlighting a tiny tremor of fear that she couldn’t quite control. “You magicians should really pay closer attention to your real estate holdings, if you don’t want to lose them. Wanna test what else we can do?”
Ramona’s eyes flicked from sister to sister, assessing them all. Delilah felt the weight of her gaze like a bad touch, cold and invasive. The magician rolled her eyes and vanished into the rectangle of light.
Indistinct murmurings drifted through the portal, suggesting she was conferring with others. Delilah caught fragments—“impossible,” “consequences,” “retrieval”—but couldn’t piece together the whole conversation. She exchanged glances with her sisters, raising her eyebrows in silent question. Luna shrugged minutely while Scarlett made a little thumbs-up gesture.
When the magician reappeared, her expression was marginally less murderous, though the air around her still shimmered with barely contained power.
“Very well. A trade. Your witches for our casino.”
“It’s not really a trade,” Scarlett corrected, “so much as it is a hostage negotiation. And you’re the ones who need to pay up.”
The magician’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, Delilah thought she might actually breathe fire. Instead, she pressed her lips into a bloodless line before responding. “Fine. They will be returned.”
