29. Father Christmas （Give Us Some Magic） #2
Eps’s semi-transparent features arranged themselves into an expression remarkably like Zahir’s when he was being patient with a particularly difficult customer. “No, you can’t. And that’s okay.”
“It’s not, though. We’re asking you to?—”
“To serve the purpose I was created for,” he interrupted. “Look, when Scarlett tried to unmake me the last time, she was just doing it to clean up a mistake she’d made. But this?” He gestured toward the casino. “This is worth it.”
“Are you sure? Because an hour ago, my sister was calling you a ‘magical battery with legs,’ and I don’t want you to think that?—”
“That I’m sacrificing myself because your bickering annoyed me into oblivion?” His mouth quirked in a very Zahir-like smirk. “I’m not. I am magic given form, Del. Assuming my original form to save Oak Haven is obviously correct.”
The tabby cat at his feet meowed plaintively, and Eps reached down to scratch behind her ears. “I do have one request, though.”
“Name it.”
“The cats. I know your mother will hate them, but?—”
“She’ll understand,” Delilah said firmly. “After what you’re doing for us, she’ll welcome an entire clowder of cats.”
“A clowder?”
“Group of cats. Luna taught me that one.”
“Huh.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve been calling them a ‘catastrophe.’”
Despite everything, Delilah smiled. “That works.”
“Delilah!” Scarlett called, waving them back over. “We need to get started.”
“So start.” She shrugged. “I’m useless here anyway.”
Jerusha shook her head. “No, you can still join us reciting the incantation. Come stand over here. And Eps, you’re with Luna.”
Eps gave the cat one final scritch along her chin. “Meow,” he told her.
As they rejoined the group, Delilah couldn’t shake the feeling that they were making a terrible mistake.
Not because of Eps—he’d made his choice—but because the power of the spell, the destination, the very nature of what they were attempting felt reckless in a way that went beyond even Scarlett’s usual impulsivity.
But on the other hand, what choice did they have?
“Where did we decide to send it?” Delilah asked as the group gathered their supplies.
“The Mojave Desert,” Luna answered. “Isolated enough to minimize collateral damage, but not as challenging to reach as the Kalahari. And not immediately fatal to the occupants, unlike... uh...” Luna’s eyes flicked at Scarlett “...some of the other suggestions.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “ Whatever. You guys are too nice.”
“Here.” Jerusha handed Delilah a slip of paper with her section of the incantation written out phonetically. “You’ll be at the northern point. Luna east, Scarlett south, me west. Aphra and Eps will anchor the center.”
Delilah looked down at the words, strange syllables that felt like they might burn her tongue when spoken.
Then she looked up at the casino, its gaudy facade an insult to everything Oak Haven stood for.
She thought of Papa, how he’d given up everything to start a totally new life with Mama, here among the witches.
This is for you too, she told him silently.
It was time.
Jasper drove with the windows cracked despite the winter weather.
He needed some sharp winter air to keep his thoughts clear.
The radio played Christmas carols, and he found himself turning up the volume rather than switching it off.
Each familiar tune seemed to tug at something buried deep in his memory, like trying to recall a dream upon waking.
He’d been driving aimlessly for nearly an hour when he spotted it: a massive structure rising above the tree line, completely incongruous with the surrounding landscape. It looked like someone had airlifted a Vegas casino and dropped it in the middle of rural Connecticut.
“That has to be it,” he muttered, following the access road that wound toward the blinking lights.
As he approached, Jasper rehearsed what he would say to the management. Something professional but firm about improper paperwork and county regulations. He’d demand explanations about the impossible address and the mysterious J&J, Incorporated.
The parking lot was surprisingly full for Christmas Eve, cars with license plates from all over New England packed into neat rows. Jasper found a spot near the back, locked his car, and began walking toward the entrance, his breath fogging in the cold air.
He was about fifty yards away when something made him stop. A feeling, not quite déjà vu but similar, washed over him. He’d been here before. No, that wasn’t right. He’d been somewhere like here. With someone. Someone important.
Jasper looked up at the casino, its neon signs casting multicolored shadows across the parking lot. For a moment, he thought he saw movement around the perimeter of the building. But when he blinked, there was nothing there.
He took another step forward, then another, drawn by some inexplicable compulsion. This place held answers, he was certain of it. Perhaps he should go inside?
A strange thrumming filled the air, like overburdened power lines. No—deeper, more resonant than that. The hairs on Jasper’s arms stood on end. The ground beneath his feet began to vibrate subtly. Then not so subtly.
“What the?—”
He gazed up at the casino and saw it sort of wobble, as if he was viewing it through rippling water.
The edges of the building became indistinct, blurring into the night sky.
Then all the lights flickered once, twice, three times.
.. then stabilized in a way that seemed fundamentally wrong, as if they existed in a slightly different reality than everything around.
The terrified shouts of hundreds of people echoed across the parking lot.
And then, between one heartbeat and the next, the casino was gone.
Jasper stood frozen, staring at the empty space where, seconds before, a fifty-story building had towered over the treetops. Nothing remained. As if the casino had never existed at all.
“Right,” Jasper said to empty air, his voice unreasonably steady given the circumstances. “Okay. Fair enough. I am losing my mind.”
Behind him, his little car waited in a parking lot that now served nothing at all.
Above him, stars twinkled in a clear winter sky.
And inside him, a strange grief blossomed.
Not for the building, which was appallingly ugly and absolutely deserved to go wherever the hell it had gone.
No, the grief was for something else. Something he couldn’t name but knew, with absolute certainty, that he had lost.