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Chapter One
“Look,” I sighed. “I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. I’m just not sure that Christmas in the Swamp – in Nowhere, USA- is what I need. I’ve got at least three more appointments with Dr. Bombay and his Magical Healing Machine. I have to get the special cookies that keep Santa from gaining weight baked, cooled and iced. I need to make sure the Christmas Star Crystals are fermenting on schedule. Being the Keeper of the Christmas Star, the Witch in charge of making sure the hope of the world never dries up is something I take seriously, and this is my busiest time of the year. I mean...”
“You mean, you don’t want to bump into Liam Archer while hobbling around on your designer candy cane crutches – that I magicked up for you - with a broken leg that won’t heal thus making it impossible for you to run the other way with your wand tucked between your legs and your cheeks – the ones on your face – a brilliant and bright red,” she pointedly assessed, not sparing my feelings the littlest bit.
(Yes, I love my family, but they pull no punches…ever…and Molly was one of the most direct of the bunch.)
Speaking of Molly Brown-Archer, the aforementioned cousin, let me be clear. I adore her. We are closer than most sisters. She is wonderful and loving and the one and only Molly Brown of Nowhere, USA, Famed Witch of Halloween, the Keeper of the Sacred Pumpkin, and the purveyor of none other than the amazing and fantastic Brown Family Party-stravaganza…
(I justcannotsay that whole name right now, and I can’t bad mouth it either because, well, I don’t want to get cursed. I mean, all I’d have to do is utter a single word against the title - Brown Family Pumpkin Patch Pick-A-Beauty and Win a Jack-O-Lantern for Life Party-stravaganza - andbingo-bango, I’d be a white rat. No questions asked. No way to turn me back into the gorgeous-in-her-own-mind, curvy-in-all-the-right-places-and-others-that-we-won’t-mention, sometimes mouthy and always sarcastic fantasticness that is Ella Brown. As you can probably guess but I want to be sure you know, my ancestors didnotplay nice. When they gave something a name, they meant for it to be revered, not snickered at.
A broken leg that won’t heal a month before Christmas Eve is bad enough for the one and only Brown Family Christmas Witch, the Keeper of the Christmas Star and the Curator of the Crystal Forest. Can you imagine what I’d look like as a white rat hobbling around on candy-cane crutches? I’m not even sure I could ride my broom to light the North Star. That’s my job, for the sake of all the holly berries in all the bushes in all the world! How would Santa have the light he needed to complete his yearly sojourn if I didn’t give it my special whammy-abracadabra-hocus pocus with the Brown Family Christmas Witch sparklies? Everybody in the whole damn world would be simultaneously laughing at me while sending out the lynch mob that was boisterously chanting ‘Burn the Witch’. Not a pretty picture, but I digress…)
As, I was saying, Molly Brown-Archer is amazing and along with all the aforementioned attributes is also the Keeper of the Sacred Pumpkin, and also just happens to be the very pregnant Mate to a Dragon who is super nice and a wonderful addition to our family.
(Yes, they just got back together on Halloween after many years apart. No, not a damned one of us can figure out how she got so pregnant so quickly, but Dr. Bombay says momma and baby are healthy and everything is good, and that’s what’s important.)
“This has nothing to do with Liam.”
(Yes, I was lying. How could I tell my cousin that her very own brother-in-law made me crazy with lust and think about the whole Mate thing that Imay havebeen giving her shit about since she and Nate got together. Nope, I wasn’t about to admit anything to Molly. She would never let me live it down. Worse than that, she would try to play Cupid. Can I get an ‘oh, hell, no’? Oh, and if you’re even thinking about sharing this info with her because you love a good romance, just don’t. I will turnyouinto a white rat. Ya’ feel me?)
“Yes, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it do…”
“Oh, my Great Goddess in a fur-lined bikini,” Edgar, my fart-faced-but-lovable Familiar, a rather cranky one-thousand-three-hundred-and-forty-seven-year-old Christmas Elf who’d been with the Brown Family for almost that long, exasperatedly growled. “Would you twopuhleaseact your ages instead of your IQs.”
“Well, I never,” Molly huffed. “You’re lucky I can’t zap you to Kingdom Come,Eddie.” She stressed his nickname because, like most things, Edgar was not a fan.” ‘Cause if I could…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” my frump-faced Familiar sassed, only because he knew he could. “Just ‘cause you’d get the same spell back atcha times ten, is that all that’s stoppin’ ya’Molly Brown? Come on. Witch up, little lady.” Drawing out her name and his witty taunt while leaving off the ‘-Archer’ to retaliate for the use of his nickname – something he and Molls did pretty much every time she and I spoke –
(When would I ever learn not to have every conversation with my lovable and unpredictable cousin on speakerphone? If you answered,never, then you got the gold star for the day.)
- he added, “Or are you just worried it’ll hit that half Dragon/half-Witch bun in your oven? Wouldn’t that be hilarious? Havin’ your baby come out with pointy Elf ears and a long beard?”
“Just about as hilarious as the Christmas Elf who was burnt to a crisp by Dragon Fire and his ashes used to sweeten my morning coffee?” Nate’s low, threatening grumble emanated from my phone, filling the entire living room of my cozy little cabin in the woods. “What have I told you about upsettin’ Molly, Eddie? How many times do we have to have this conversation? Should I make a special trip to Blustery Hollow just to remind you how angry a Dragon can get when someone messes with his Mate? Have you forgotten what happened…?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Edgar tried to be snotty, but sounded more like a little boy who’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was quickly running for cover. “And I’ll thank you to stop bringing it up every time I’m within earshot. I know your Dragon and that pain in the beard scaled menace who shares the soul of your brother take every chance they get to laugh at my expense, but let me tell you one thing, Nate Archer… ror roror roroororororor…”
(Yep. I did it. With a snap of my fingers, I zipped that Elf’s lips shut tighter than Santa’s bag on the day after Christmas. Yep. He was pissed. Yep. His cheeks, the little bit that could be seen atop his long, white beard were beet red and steaming. Absolutely. I knew that meant he would retaliate. So, I snapped one more time and magicked him into the basement and locked the door. No, it wouldn’t hold him forever, but it would give me a few Edgar-free minutes.
Would the Great Goddess and the Universe give me the old ‘Kickback Whammy’ that all Witches got when they zapped their Familiars? I didn’t think so. After all, Eddie was being a grade A, sprinkled with red and green sugar, snothead and I was laid up with a broken leg that just would not heal.
Also, I had to believe that we Witches get a little leeway when it’s only things like lovingly zipping the lips of said Familiar shut before your cousin’s big Dragony Mate turns him into a pile of ash. I had to be justifiable. Could even be considered an act of kindness because in a way I saved Edgar’s life. And since I’m still around to impart this bit of laughable wisdom, I have to believe the Powers That Be agreed with me.)
“Thank you,” Molly gushed. “I love Eddie like a Witch loves Eye of Newt, but when he gets going on one of his tangents, it’s just…” A heavy puff of breath and the sound of her taking a drink preceded her quipped, “Goddess bless your heart, Ella. Cleo can be a handful, but old Eddie takes the cake.”
“And the cookies, and the sugar plums, and the candy canes…”
Laughing out loud right along with Molly and Nate, I had to add, “And whatever that is that you’re sippin’ on better be decaf. You know what Doc Bombay said about caffeine and a half-Witch/half-Dragon baby.”
“Yes, Ella,” she sassed right back, laughter still in her tone. “I know what he said. I was there.” Another heavy sigh and she added, “I love you to bits, but damn, I’m sorry I ever told you about my last appointment.”
“Oh, don’t be that way,” I chuckled. “You know I lubs you loads, and bunches, and lots.”
It was all I could do not to laugh out loud when she growled something that sounded an awful lot like,“And I’m gonna love kickin’ your butt right after this baby is born, sweet Ella dear.”I could imagine the look on her face. Eyebrow raised, free hand rubbing her tummy, and a frown on her face as she gave me what all of us Brown Witches were calling the Preggo Pissies.
