23. Holly Hashtag Christmas
Holly Hashtag Christmas
Moments ago, Delilah had witnessed the mystical birth of her hometown. Now, she was staring dead-eyed at its potential end.
Her stomach lurched with a fresh wave of nausea that had nothing to do with temporal displacement.
Oak Haven’s quaint gazebo, where she and her sisters had spent countless summer evenings—where Papa had taught them constellation names while they licked ice-cream cones dripping sticky trails down their fingers—was now wrapped in purple twinkle lights and draped with fake cobwebs.
A banner announced the gazebo as “YE OLDE WITCH TRIAL SELFIE STATION,” where tourists could pose with their heads and hands locked in stocks while fake flames “burned” them at the stake.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Delilah struggled to her feet. “That’s wildly offensive.”
Jasper hoisted himself to standing beside her. “And historically inaccurate.”
“Good grief, Jasper. Inaccuracy is just the rancid cherry on top of this shit sundae of awful.”
She could feel her blood pressure rising with every tacky sign.
This wasn’t just cultural appropriation.
It was familial appropriation. Her family.
Her home. Her hand slipped automatically into her pocket, fingers closing around her wand.
She’d vaporize that booth, for starters.
Just a quick spell, nothing too flashy?—
Nothing happened, of course. She felt for that familiar tingle, the electric buzz that ran from her fingertips up her arm when she cast. Delilah stared at her wand like it had personally betrayed her but, of course, she knew it wasn’t the wand’s fault.
It was Saturnalia. “Still no magic in town.” She sighed.
“And there I was, really enjoying having it again.”
“Does Saturnalia end soon?”
“Depends on when we are.”
A hunched figure in a pointy black hat and flowing robes rushed past, clutching what appeared to be a cauldron full of glitter-infused “potion bottles.” Delilah caught a glimpse of the woman’s face and felt her blood freeze.
“ Aphra? ”
The figure stopped short, head whipping around. Indeed, beneath the Halloween-store costume was Aphra. Elegant, dignified Aphra, now looking for all the world like Margaret Hamilton’s understudy.
“Delilah?” Her eyes darted nervously around the crowded square. “Oh my gods, where have you been? Quick, come with me.”
Before Delilah could respond, Aphra grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the park, across the road, and into a narrow alley between buildings.
Jasper hurried after them, nearly colliding with a walking tour led by a witch whose costume had clearly been ordered from the “Slutty Salem” section of a catalog.
Once they were hidden from view, Aphra pulled off her pointy hat and ran a hand through her flattened hair. “You’ve been gone for days. When did you get back? Scarlett’s been losing her mind trying to track you down.”
“We just returned, literally minutes ago,” Delilah said. “Louise sent us to witness the founding of Oak Haven, if you can believe it. We actually met Agnes Bartlett and she— Wait, you said days ? What’s happened? And why are you dressed like an extra from Hocus Pocus ?”
Aphra’s face darkened. “Everything’s gone to absolute shit, is why.
Remember that tourist girl you chased out of the inn?
She was a social media influencer with millions of followers.
She posted videos and photos of Oak Haven, those went viral, and suddenly we were flooded with visitors.
The magicians saw their opportunity and took it. ”
“And the forgetting spell?” Jasper asked.
“Faltering, clearly. The girl’s photos and videos never should have been visible, much less shareable.
Now, all kinds of visitors are finding their way to Oak Haven on purpose .
That’s never happened before. We’ve always had tourists occasionally, but they were like you, Jasper.
They stumbled into us. They didn’t come here deliberately.
Now, though? Lots of people are talking about us, lots of people are posting about us .
..” Aphra glanced around nervously. “On the upside, the tourists complain a lot about experiencing memory glitches. That’s our only saving grace at the moment.
They come here but then they can’t remember precisely what happened.
So that means we aren’t one hundred percent fucked yet.
But people certainly remember enough to keep coming back, so the shit we are in is pretty deep. ”
Delilah had known Aphra their whole lives and never heard her curse this much. A troubling sign, no doubt. “When does Saturnalia end, so we can fix this mess?”
“That’s the thing, Saturnalia should’ve ended days ago!
Del, tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Can you imagine, Christmas arriving at last, and we’re still stuck in the middle of this shit?
Trouble is, the magicians erected wards around the grove, like the ones protecting their casino, but stronger.
We can’t get through.” Aphra’s voice cracked slightly. “And without access to the grove...”
“We can’t end Saturnalia and get our magic back,” Delilah finished grimly. “Well, I’ll go take a look at the wards. Maybe if Scarlett and I put our heads together, maybe we can?—”
“No! Belinda already tried that with her exploding gnomes, and we haven’t seen her since. Same with a few others who confronted the magicians. They vanish.”
“Just like Mama.”
Aphra nodded. “Scarlett’s organized what resistance she can. They meet in the basement of the Stargazer. Rather, what used to be the Stargazer. It’s called Hex Marks the Spot now.”
“Yuck. And you? What’s with the get-up? You working for the magicians?” Delilah couldn’t quite keep the edge out of her voice.
“No! Not the way you mean. Everyone who resists too openly gets ‘disappeared,’ Del. The rest of us are just playing along while we try to figure something out. And I need to get back. I’m leading the ‘Enchanted Yarn Experience’ at two, and if I’m late, they get suspicious.
She jammed the pointy hat back on her head, her eyes hard with resolve.
“Go to the inn. Basement entrance through the old coal chute. The password is ‘Quentin.’ Don’t ask, it was Scarlett’s idea.
” With that, she swept past them, transforming back into a hunched crone as she returned to the street, cackling dramatically for the benefit of passersby.
Delilah and Jasper exchanged looks. “Should we head over to the inn?” he asked.
“I have a different idea, actually. Tell me what you think of this. Louise clearly sent us back so we could run into Agnes. Right? Which means ...?” She paused, to let Jasper catch up.
But he just looked confused. “Which means... she can send us wherever she likes. So! If she sends us back to right before Saturnalia, I can warn everyone about what’s coming.
And I can convince the witches not to give up their magic in the first place. Then, we won’t be helpless.”
“Decent plan, but shouldn’t we really be focused on how I can get my hands on the spell Agnes talked about?”
Delilah knew what that plan would mean: Jasper leaving town. Her entire being revolted against the idea.
“If I can get back in time to stop us from giving up our power, we won’t need it. But first, I seriously need caffeine,” Delilah said, rubbing her temples. “My brain feels like a ricer, trying to process the three hundred years we just skipped over.”
The only coffee shop in town, Hexpresso Yourself, was near the town green and, fortunately, mostly empty at the moment.
Out-of-towners apparently preferred exploring the more obviously “witchy” attractions to sitting down for a latte.
Managing barista duties was Milo, who’d been doling out coffee drinks since the Melrose sisters were in high school.
They cracked a relieved smile upon seeing Delilah.
“Heyyyy,” Milo sang out, “a familiar face at last! And one not wearing a pointy hat. What can I get you kids? The usual?”
“Please. And whatever he’d like too.” She nodded toward Jasper.
“Just black coffee,” Jasper said, then added, “You know, in Rome, they considered coffee drinkers suspicious.” At Delilah’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “I figured historically relevant coffee trivia was fair game.”
Despite everything, she found herself smiling. “Valid. Grab us that table in the corner while I pay?”
Milo shook their head. “Melroses don’t pay, come on. Go sit, I’ll bring it right over.”
Once Delilah and Jasper had settled into their seats—as far as possible from the handful of tourists taking selfies with their “Magic Mocha Potions”—she pulled out her phone for the first time since they’d returned.
“ Melroses don’t pay ,” Jasper repeated, eyes twinkling. “Gosh, I keep forgetting I’m running around with a town celebrity.”
“Oh hush, Milo’s just—” She gasped suddenly. Her eyes went wide staring at her screen. “Holy hellfire. Thirty-seven missed calls from Scarlett, sixteen voicemails, and... oh no.”
“What?” Jasper leaned forward, concern etching his features.
“Look.” She turned her phone toward him, displaying her social media notifications. The tiny red bubble showed a number so high the app had given up counting and simply displayed “999+.”
“That can’t be good,” Jasper said, pulling out his own phone.
“Oh my gods . . .”
The hashtag #OakHavenWitches was trending, accompanied by #MemoryTown and #WitchTok. Delilah’s fingers hovered over the screen, a morbid curiosity compelling her to tap on the first video. It was a teenage girl with perfect winged eyeliner and a pentagram drawn on her forehead.
“So I just got back from the COOLEST place, you guys!” The girl’s enthusiastic chirping hurt Delilah’s ears.
“It’s this little town called Oak Haven where ACTUAL WITCHES live!
And like, they TOTALLY do magic but only if you catch them before noon because that’s when their powers are strongest due to the lunar cycles! ”
“What in the holy hells is she talking about...”
“So I, like, bought this AUTHENTIC witch potion—” the girl held up a small bottle filled with what looked suspiciously like maple syrup with glitter in it “—and the witch who sold it to me said it was made with herbs picked under a full moon and can make your crush text you back! I’m going to try it tonight, so like follow for an update! ”
“Who is selling fake love potions around town?” Delilah closed the app with a pained expression. “Jerusha would never.”
“Probably the magicians cashing in,” Jasper suggested.
Milo brought their drinks over, and Delilah wrapped her hands gratefully around the warm mug. “So, Milo, tell us. How bad is it out there?”
They glanced around to make sure no tourists were listening. “It’s a nightmare. I’ve had to make up fake ‘witch coffee rituals’ all week. Some guy yesterday wanted me to ‘enchant’ his latte for an extra twenty bucks.”
“Well, I hope you took the cash,” Delilah said.
Milo looked a little embarrassed. “I just put the shape of a star in his foam and mumbled some Latin I remembered from high school.”
“Smart.” Delilah nodded appreciatively.
“Anyway, I should get back to the counter. The Resistance meets at?—”
“The inn, I know. Aphra filled us in.”
Milo nodded and headed back to the counter where a woman in a “BASIC WITCH” T-shirt was demanding to know if the oat milk was “moon-blessed.”
Jasper held out his phone. “Check this one out. Nearly three million views.”
A stand-up comedian in a dark club was mid-routine: “So my buddy went to this place called Oak Haven last weekend, right? He comes back and I ask him how it was, and he goes ‘I don’t really remember.’ I’m like, what do you mean you don’t remember?
Did you party that hard? And he’s all ‘No man, I just... I remember being there, but I can’t tell you a single thing about it.
’ So I said, ‘Oh, so it’s like Vegas?’ And he goes, ‘No, because with Vegas, you remember the hotel and the casinos and THEN you black out from drinking. With Oak Haven, you black out FROM JUST BEING THERE!’”
“Great,” Delilah huffed. “We’re a punchline now.”
“At least it sounds like the forgetting spell still works somewhat.”
“Small comfort. Oh, let’s check out this one: relationship drama, from the look of it.” She tapped on a video of a tearful young woman sitting in her car.
“Storytime: I think my boyfriend CHEATED on me in Oak Haven!” she began, dabbing carefully at her eyes to preserve her immaculate eyeliner.
“We went there last weekend, and now he claims he doesn’t even REMEMBER going!
But I found THIS—” she dramatically held up a lipstick tube “—in his jacket pocket, and it’s NOT MINE!
He says he has no idea where it came from because we ‘never went to any witch town’ and now I’m like, did the witches erase his memory to COVER HIS TRACKS? ”
“Great, so now we’re breaking up couples,” Delilah groaned. “The divorce attorneys of New England send their thanks.”
Jasper had gone quiet, staring at his borrowed phone with the look of a man witnessing a slow-motion car crash.
“What?” Delilah asked. “What could possibly be worse than—oh.”
It was a famous meme. A wild-eyed, disheveled man stood in front of a conspiracy board covered in photos, papers, and red string connecting everything.
But someone had photoshopped “OAK HAVEN TRUTH” across the top, and added witch hats to some of the photos.
The caption read: “Me trying to remember literally ANYTHING about my trip to Oak Haven after leaving town.”
“That’ll be me soon,” Jasper said softly. “Down in my basement, losing my mind as I try to piece together what the hell happened to me here.”
Delilah couldn’t even begin to imagine what to say. She laid her hand atop his and squeezed. “Let’s not give up quite yet.” But as she set her mug down, her coffee suddenly tasted like ash.
A group of tourists entered the café, laughing loudly and taking photos of the plastic cauldrons hanging from the ceiling.
“We need to see Louise.” Delilah pulled her hand away reluctantly. “Now. Before #WitchTok turns into #ActualWitchesExposed.”
As if on cue, her phone lit up with another notification. “Louise’s shop is down that way. If she can send us back to the day before Saturnalia, this whole mess would never happen. Let’s just hope she’s in a helping mood.”
“And not a turning-people-into-sundials mood?” Jasper stood up too.
“To be honest, I’m not aware of another moment where Louise has ever helped anyone? I guess that makes us a little bit special, come to think of it. I just hope she hasn’t died from the shock.”