Page 72 of Jingle Spells

She straightened her posture and adopted a deep, portentous tone that Jasper assumed was an impression of Louise. “‘A surrender of my temporal powers would cause the past, present, and future to horrifically collapse into an ouroboros of catastrophic simultaneity.’”

“An ouroboros,” he repeated.

“Of catastrophic simultaneity.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Exactly.”

Despite this less-than-reassuring news, Jasper couldn’t help but kiss her again. There was something addictive about how she responded to him, as if she’d been waiting for his touch as much as he’d been wanting to give it.

“Excuse me!” A sharp voice sliced through their moment. “Is this really the time for those shenanigans?”

They broke apart in time to see Jerusha pedaling past on a bicycle. “You have an important assignment to fulfill!” she called over her shoulder. “Stop frittering around and get on with it!”

As Jerusha disappeared around a corner, Jasper and Delilah exchanged sheepish glances. A grouchy witch on a bicycle immediately reminded him of The Wizard of Oz, and he murmured the Wicked Witch’s theme.

“Very true.” Delilah sighed. “But she’s right. We should go and see Louise before I lose my nerve.”

“Lead the way.” Jasper offered his arm with a gallantry that felt both ridiculous and completely necessary.

As they continued down the street, Delilah leaned in close. “But just so you know, once we’ve sorted this all out? You and I definitely have some other things to get on with.”

The look she gave him made his collar suddenly feel two sizes too small.

“Right,” he managed. “Excellent. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” she said, and the promise in her smile carried him all the way to the clock shop.

Jasper’s first indication that Louise Demain might be as terrifying as advertised was a six-foot-tall Krampus statue guarding the entrance to Tout le Temps. Unlike the cheerful snowmen dotted across Oak Haven, this horned, chain-wielding demon was humming Mozart’s Requiem in a bass so deep it made Jasper’s fillings vibrate. Its ruby eyes followed them as they approached the door.

“Huh,” Jasper said, aiming at nonchalance and missing by miles. “That’s not my favorite decoration in town.”

Inside, Tout Le Temps was less ‘quaint clock shop’ and more ‘dimly lit hoarder den,’ home to everything from delicate pocket watches and sturdy chronographs to Ancient Greek water clocks and ceiling-high obelisks. And each told a slightly different time. Their off-beat ticking created a chaotic sonata that made Jasper’s brain itch with the wrongness of it all.

But Jasper’s mind really went into revolt when he stopped looking at specific details and took in the overall architecture of the place. The walls were parallel to one another but somehow also not at all, and they met the ceiling at nonsensical angles. “Something is seriously wrong with this room,” he whispered. “It’s . . . um . . . sort of . . . well . . .” He gave up. “What am I looking at?”

“Non-Euclidean architecture,” Delilah said.

“Oh, sure. Of course. And what exactly am I smelling?” There was an odor of metal and incense and something else he couldn’t quite identify, something unsettling.

“Eau de Last Breath of a Dying Star.”

“Ah. Okay. You know, I think I’m just going to stop asking things.”

On the far side of the room, Louise lounged in an antique chair, drinking tea and flipping through prehistoric scrolls with the privileged air of a bored housewife at her hairdresser. Simultaneously, and with no apparent effort, she was also engaged in repairing a massive grandfather clock sitting on the other side of the shop. The body of the clock hung open, and screwdrivers, pliers, and delicate gears floated in the air, dancing to her unspoken psychic instructions.

Delilah and Jasper stood there silently awhile, waiting for Louise to acknowledge them.

She did not.

Jasper shot Delilah a questioning look. She shrugged helplessly.

“Um, excuse me?” he ventured. “Ms. Demain?”

Louise’s head snapped toward him. Her eyes were violet and ancient and as cold as the void between galaxies. They fixed on Jasper with predatory intensity.

“SILENCE, MEATSACK!”