Page 50 of Jingle Spells

You have until sundown to accept our terms, she could hear the magician saying.

But Delilah knew there would be no accepting of terms. Whether they’d accept wasn’t in question. No, the question was: What happens when they don’t?

Forty minutes later, freshly showered and arguably more awake, Delilah made her way to the dining room. The inn was bustling with activity. Guests chatted over breakfast while staff darted around, overburdened with holiday-themed everything. Kelly had transformed the dining room yesterday, before giving up her powers, and it remained expanded to outrageous dimensions, the ceiling soaring and the walls stretched to accommodate the entire town for the Saturnalia feast.

Delilah spotted Jasper in a quiet corner, huddled over a very large mug of coffee and a plate of untouched eggs. He was still wearing his tuxedo from the night before. Scarlett was right, there was a sort of “haunted Victorian radiator” about him . . . but in the best possible way. Besides, who wouldn’t look haunted if they woke up in a strange place with no memory of how they’d gotten there?

Poor guy, she thought. This isn’t fair to you at all. Her heart did that stupid little stutter it had been doing since she first saw him at the hardware store. It was both infuriating and increasingly hard to ignore.

Get a grip, she thought. Exactly ten seconds after he stepped out of Oak Haven, he completely forgot who you were. This is not worth getting worked up about. Later on he’s going to go back to his real life and you aren’t a part of it.

But later on felt very far away.

Ruth Injabere sat across from Jasper, chatting away while her grandchildren shoveled pancakes into their mouths. Jasper’s smile was polite but blank. Delilah could see the confusion in his eyes from all the way across the room. No surprise there. Ruth remembered having met Jasper yesterday. But Jasper couldn’t say the same.

As Delilah approached, she caught the tail of Ruth’s remarks. “It’s all right, dear. Perhaps a bit too much celebrating after the ritual last night, eh? Overdid the eggnog, did we?”

“Um . . . right, yes!” Jasper seized on the explanation like a drowning man on a life preserver. “It must’ve been the eggnog.”

“Morning, everybody.” Delilah slid into the chair next to Jasper. “Mrs. Injabere, I see you’ve been keeping our archivist company.”

“Good morning! Yes, such a lovely young man,” Ruth said. “But perhaps I should leave you two in peace. Maya, Elijah, would you like some more pancakes?” Both kids nodded their syrup-smeared faces. “Wonderful, let’s see what we can do. Come along, bring your plates.” She shepherded the two kids away.

“How are you this morning?” Delilah asked carefully.

“Well . . . ” Jasper looked around furtively and lowered his voice. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

So sexy, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking. What is so sexy about sneakiness?

“Maybe you can help me,” he said. “I seem to be experiencing significant memory gaps. That lady thinks we’ve met before, but I have no memory of her. In fact, I’m not at all sure how I ended up here in the first place. The last thing I remember is being at my office, and then things start to get fuzzy . . . And I had an absolutely insane dream about a casino . . . Wait, you were there, actually! And. Then we were outside, I think? Uh. It was so . . . I don’t know. I’m, uh . . .”

He leaned in closer, staring straight into Delilah’s eyes and forcing her to consider how a man could look so petrified and so irresistible at the same time.

“The truth is, I think I might be having some sort of psychotic break?”

Guilt stabbed through her. “No no, Jasper, I swear, you’re perfectly all right. The truth is . . . You have been here before. And Mrs. Injabere does know you. It’s just that you can’t remember meeting her.”

“I—” He gazed around the room, utterly lost. “I don’t think I’d forget all this.”

“It’s a spell. You’re um . . . I’m sorry but you’re under a spell.” The stabbing sensation intensified. Delilah had never thought about the forgetting spell in quite this way before; she’d never questioned the ethics of the whole thing. The forgetting spell was such a good deal for the witches of Oak Haven . . . She’d never realized what a shit deal it was for everybody else.

“But that’s—I mean, I’m sorry.” Jasper adjusted his glasses. “But that’s not a real explanation. Spells aren’t real.”

“Says the man sitting in a banquet hall that’s several stories taller than the building it’s housed in. You did notice that, right?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to argue the point, then closed it again when he looked up and realized he could barely see the ceiling. “Did I drink last night? I did, right? I must’ve had too much to drink and I’m still drunk. That would explain so much right now.”

“No no, you’re okay.” Delilah surprised herself with how gentle her tone had become. “You’re not drunk. Or hungover, or anything like that. You’re just very very far outside your usual frame of reference.”

“So if I’m under a spell, are you . . . a witch?” Jasper asked. It was clear that he had every intention of at least sounding like he was taking Delilah seriously. But he clearly thought he was talking to a madwoman.

“Yes, most of the women in Oak Haven are witches. Well, we’re temporarily non-practicing at the moment, due to the holiday. And yes, I know it all sounds crazy but it would be great if you could suspend disbelief, just for a bit. Because we could really use your help. We have until sundown to figure out what to do about the magicians, and I haven’t been able to get anyone to take it seriously.”

“Magicians?” Jasper’s eyebrows shot up. “Like . . . pulling rabbits out of hats magicians?”

“More like threatening to enslave our town, but yeah. Magicians.”

“Right.” Jasper’s voice was faint. “Obviously.”