13. Christmas Infiltration
Christmas Infiltration
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.
” Delilah marched beside her sister down the road leading to the casino.
But just because she was going along with Scarlett’s crazy plan, that didn’t mean she was going to let Scar off the hook.
“And I’m including the time you tried to teach the Chatterjees’ gnomes about dance battles. ”
“They were doing great until someone —” Scarlett shot her sister a meaningful look “—told them about popping and locking.”
“It’s not my fault gnomes have crappy knees.”
The sisters marched along through the darkness, the casino’s overdesigned neon entrance beckoning them onward. Nate and Jasper trailed behind like a pair of fretful ducklings. As they approached the town limits of Oak Haven, Scarlett paused. “Okay, everyone clear on the plan?”
“You mean the plan where we stroll on in and hope none of the magicians notice that we’re the witches they’ve been feuding with for centuries?” Delilah asked. “Yeah, crystal.”
“Actually...” Jasper raised his hand like a nervous student.
“I have a question. What happens when I forget everything about Oak Haven? Won’t I be a bit confused about why I’m in a casino?
Won’t you three just be—” he suddenly locked eyes with Delilah but just as quickly looked away “—be, uh, strangers?”
“Don’t worry,” Nate assured him. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“Great, that’s... But wait, how, though? Won’t you forget everything too?”
“No, because I grew up here, so I’ve got that learned resistance on my side. Of course, I can’t I stay away too long or...” He made a popping sound with his mouth. “Poof. Clean slate.”
“Right.” Scarlett nodded. “So, no dawdling. In and out—we’ll be fine.”
“Well,” Jasper said weakly, “some of us will be fine.”
Delilah found herself wanting to reach for Jasper’s hand, to tell him they didn’t have to go. But that would mean admitting she cared whether he remembered her or not. Which she absolutely did not. Probably. Maybe.
It’s better this way, she told herself firmly. It’s already getting complicated with him. Best that he forget me now. Makes everything simpler .
Then he smiled at her: an annoyingly endearing smile that plonked at her heartstrings like a ten-year-old at her first violin lesson. Suddenly she remembered why she’d spent so long avoiding interactions exactly like this one.
The casino loomed over them like the MGM Grand’s most-hated cousin.
The building’s facade managed to combine the worst excesses of Sin City with the most aggressive aspects of holiday cheer.
Giant rotating top hats sprouted mechanical rabbits while holographic doves circled overhead, trailing tinsel.
Sequined Santas performed card tricks for an audience of animatronic reindeer.
Even the fountain had gotten into the spirit, the multicolored water was now spelling out “DECK THE HALLS WITH ENDLESS WONDER” in a font that looked like it had been created by someone who’d had too much eggnog and access to too many exclamation points.
They were about twenty feet from the entrance when Jasper stopped dead in his tracks.
“I... Where am I?” His voice had gone oddly flat. “What’s happening? Who are you people?”
The town line, Delilah thought. We just crossed it .
“Hey, buddy.” Nate stepped in smoothly. “Remember me? I’m, um, a visiting archivist from uh, Schoharie County...”
Scarlett turned to her sister and mouthed, Schoharie County, what the hell?!
“We’re helping these ladies with their research about Christmas traditions in casinos?”
“You . . . I . . . We are?” Jasper blinked several times. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d?—”
“For the clerk’s office historical records,” Delilah added quickly. “Very important documentation project.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Documentation. Of course.” Jasper nodded in that eager way people have when they’ve got no idea what’s happening but dread the idea of getting caught out.
He pulled a small notebook from his pocket.
“Should I be taking notes? That entrance shows a fascinating mix of neo-brutalist and?—”
“Maybe later,” Scarlett interrupted. “Come on!”
Inside the lobby, the shiny marble floor was overlaid with holiday-themed carpeting.
On each side of the reservation desk stood enormous nutcrackers with magician’s capes slung over their shoulders.
Their painted-on smiles managed to look somehow festive and threatening at the same time, like Ted Bundy at an office Christmas party.
A group of middle-aged tourists in matching holiday sweaters, likely down from Maine or Vermont for a wild weekend of penny slots and all-you-can-eat prime rib, posed for photos in front of a massive Christmas tree.
But all that kitsch took second place to the lobby’s main spectacle: an Elvis impersonator in a gold spangly jumpsuit gyrated atop a platform beside the reservation desk.
He warbled “Blue Christmas” along with an appallingly loud karaoke machine.
A bundle of mistletoe hung conspicuously over his head.
The sisters stopped abruptly and stared up at Elvis. Papa’s favorite, especially the Christmas albums. It was as though Time itself had frozen them to the spot.
After a verse or two, Scarlett squeezed her sister’s arm. “I miss him too, you know.”
Del tore her gaze away from Elvis and looked into her sister’s eyes. “I’m sure you do. But... I don’t know, it always seemed so much easier for you and Luna. Even Mama. I’ve never understand why that was.”
“It’s not easy for me, Del. It’s not. More than a decade, and the sadness still jumps out at me sometimes. Like somebody hiding in the shadows in a bad horror movie. I mean, sometimes I can remember Papa and just feel happy. But other times, it’s like...” She trailed off.
Delilah studied her sister as if for the first time. “I thought it was just me.”
Scarlett smiled, a little sadly. “Mmm, maybe you decided it was just you. But on the other hand, I’m the one who left, remember? How could you know how I felt? Wasn’t like I stuck around long enough to show anybody.”
“We should talk about him more, Scar. It always felt like Mama wanted to box up all the memories and just move on.”
“Ehh, I think that’s just her trying to be the tough guy. You’re right—we should talk about him more. But at this particular moment...” Scarlett gestured at the casino. “Maybe for now we focus on this?”
“Sure, let’s do your plan.” It was a bad plan, Delilah knew, but it felt good to be teaming up with Scarlett. She gave her younger sister a playful sock on the arm. “No time like the present to stroll right into a trap.”
“Not a trap, Del.”
Delilah snorted. “Reckon we’re about to find out.”
They moved together toward the casino proper: islands of slot machines and gaming tables stretching as far as the eye could see.
Slot machines played “Let It Snow” when someone hit a winning combination; their electronic bells mixed with the constant drone to create a demented holiday Muzak.
Grouchy blackjack dealers wore elf costumes complete with jingling bells that tinkled as they handled cards with a ruthless efficiency.
Scarlett nudged her sister, a big grin on her face. “Del, you remember the last time we were in a casino? You had a very different reaction to the hubbub compared to now! Back then, you just about shat yourself, if I remember correctly.”
Much as she firmly believed they were standing in the middle of a huge mistake, Delilah had to grin at the memory. “Sure, but that was over a year ago. At the time I’d never been anywhere. I’ve seen some things since then.”
“Oh, I remember,” Nate piped up. “That was when you guys took a portal to Vegas! You were chasing that magician... that guy, uh, whatshisface.”
“Maximillian the Magnificent.” Scarlett nodded.
“ Maximillian ! That was him. With the ever-changing accents. That guy was hilarious.”
Delilah frowned. “He was a spy, Nate. A filthy dirty rotten spy, bent on destroying our town.”
“Funny dude, though, that’s all I’m saying.” He turned to Jasper, as if to justify himself a little bit. “Max had this great trick with a rabbit—it was very funny.”
“Oh my gods, I’d almost forgotten about him!” Delilah whirled around to face her sister. “Is Quentin okay?”
“Totally,” Scarlett said. “Ever since we rescued him, Quentin has been living in the back garden, happy as a—oh shit, look over there!” She pointed toward a cluster of intense-looking goths who whispered to one another before disappearing down a dark hallway.
“Those have to be council members. Look at how they’re dressed! ”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Delilah objected. “Just because a gal wears lingerie as outerwear...”
“Yeah babe,” Nate offered. “You’re looking for the magicians’ council but you could end up at a Siouxsie and the Banshees tribute show.”
But her sister was already moving. “It’s them, you guys.” The other three had to hurry to catch up, dodging past a craps table where the dice had been replaced by tiny snow globes and the dealer was dressed as Frosty the Snowman.
The hallway grew darker and quieter with each step, and the casino’s din faded to a distant hum.
Scarlett moved like a heat-seeking missile, letting nothing distract her.
Meanwhile Delilah kept stealing glances at Jasper, who was taking in their baffling surroundings with an academic’s precision, despite having no clue what he was doing there.
“Fascinating implementation of capitalist Christmas aesthetics,” he murmured, gamely scribbling away in his notebook. “Though the architectural integrity of the structure seems completely?—”
“Shh!” Scarlett had stopped in front of a heavy black door. “I think this is it!”
“Why?” Delilah asked, but her sister was already reaching for the handle.