Page 77 of Jingle Spells

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she knew perfectly well.

“I mean that I’m here now. And so are you.”

“That’s an eminently practical approach to the issue, Mr. Hopkins.”

His eyes twinkled. “You’ll find me to be an eminently practical man, Ms. Melrose. And whatever happens next . . . whether we get around the spell or not . . . as of right now? I’m all in.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. Not the frantic, adrenaline-fueled kiss they’d shared earlier, but something deeper, more deliberate. A kiss that acknowledged the precariousness of their situation while defying it all the same. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer until she was out of her chair and in his lap. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her chest, the warmth of his hands on her back.

When they broke apart, breathless, the night had overtaken their encampment. The fairy lights in the trees had brightened in response, casting a silvery glow all around.

“I’ve wanted to do that properly since I saw you in that Saturnalia dress,” Jasper confessed.

“What stopped you?”

“Oh, you know, evil magicians, time witches . . . all the usual rom-com obstacles.”

Delilah laughed. “So predictable.” She kissed him again, trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into that moment. Then she climbed off his lap and tugged him toward the tent, with its soft blankets and pillows.

Inside, the cushions had transformed into a proper bed, covered in soft blankets that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Jasper looked around, impressed.

“Your magic is very . . . accommodating.”

“You have no idea.” She pulled him down beside her on the bed and Jasper responded eagerly, his kisses growing more urgent, more intense. His hands were everywhere, roaming up her thighs and over her hips, as if he couldn’t get enough of her either. Everywhere he touched, she lit up like a bonfire. She leaned into the sensation, refusing to think past this moment, past tonight. If this was all they’d have, they’d make sure it was enough to fill a lifetime.

The wind picked up outside, making the tent billow and flap ferociously.

Ignoring the racket, Jasper bent his head and began a languorous journey down her neck, planting tender kisses as he went. He lingered at the base of her throat, and the sensation made Delilah catch her breath. He moved lower, kissing the length of her collarbone, delicate and careful, savoring every moment.

Delilah moaned softly, and his lips trailed lower still, leaving a line of delicious heat in their wake.

“Jasper,” she gasped, not sure if she was protesting or pleading for more.

The wind howled louder, more insistent now, sending disoriented fairies swirling around the tent. Then the ground began to shake. At first, it was just a slight tremor, easily ignored in the heat of the moment. But it quickly intensified, the earth beneath them rolling like a ship on stormy seas. A deep rumble, similar to thunder but from below rather than above, filled the air. Outside, trees were snapping and crashing down. Birds shrieked overhead, fleeing in panicked flocks. It felt as though something massive was approaching—something with the power to reshape the very landscape.

Jasper pulled away, bewildered. “What the hell is⁠—”

Delilah was already on her feet, and she pulled him up with her. “Something’s coming.” With a swift gesture, she dissolved their glamping setup, the tent and fire and fairy lights vanishing as though they’d never been. They ran in the opposite direction of the falling trees, dodging branches and leaping over exposed roots. The ground beneath Delilah’s feet continued to heave and roll, making each step treacherous. Her mind raced through magical possibilities; was this Louise coming to retrieve them, or some unforeseen consequence of time displacement? Or something else entirely?

Finally, they reached a massive oak tree. Delilah pulled Jasper behind it, both of them peering back at the clearing they’d just abandoned.

The air itself had begun to vibrate. Colors shifted and blurred at the edges, and a high-pitched screeching noise cut through the rumbling. It sounded like a hundred sets of bad car brakes being applied at once.

Delilah clapped her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t block out the sound. She could feel the magic in the air. But not the familiar, controlled power of Oak Haven witchcraft, but something wilder, more primal. This was old magic, the kind that moved mountains and parted oceans. Then came a sonic boom—a wall of sound and pressure so powerful it knocked them both to the ground. Delilah felt the air being forced from her lungs, her vision going momentarily dark at the edges.

When she could breathe again, she pushed herself up on shaking elbows. The rumbling had stopped. The screeching was gone. An unnatural quiet had fallen over the forest.

She reached out for him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, and they scrambled to their feet. Together, they peered around the trunk of the oak.

Where dozens of tall trees had stood just moments ago, now stood a barn.

A massive, sturdily built structure with distinctive curved braces reinforcing its corners. The roof was peaked steeply to shed snow, and a small cupola sat at its apex, topped with a weathervane in the shape of a crescent moon.

Delilah’s breath caught in her throat. She knew this barn. Every witch in Oak Haven knew this barn, or rather, what it had become. “That’s the original structure of the Stargazer Inn library,” she whispered, awe overtaking her fear.

“I recognize those curved braces,” nodded Jasper. “They’re still visible in the library.”