Chapter 1
“ O kay., okay, okay, I’ll…”
“I just don’t know what to do, Glo. I mean, we’ve got… That is to say, we need… Or maybe I should be saying that you need… Or would it be better to say that somebody needs…? Oh! Wait! Is there anyone else we can…?”
“I understand, Gustav ,” she stressed, putting all the emphasis on his name with the hopes that he took a breath. When he didn’t, she plastered on a smile she hoped was reassuring even as it felt incredibly fake and ignored the incessant beeping in her head. Then, shoving a shit-ton of Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Enchantment into her voice, she continued in a soothing tone. “I assure you that you’ve come to the right person, my friend. Have I ever let you down?”
“Well, no, it’s just that we…”
“Yes, we have worked together for years,” she continued what she hoped he was trying to say in an effort to keep the conversation moving. “Some might even say centuries, and we have always gotten the job done. We can do this, Gustav. We are an unstoppable team.”
With her frustration and trepidation levels rising at an astronomical rate, she couldn’t help but feel like a real Reindeer’s behind for giving one of the nicest people she knew what could only be described as a hope and a prayer. Sadly, she didn’t know what was happening and if she could fix it because she hadn’t had a second to think, much less assess the situation.
Even worse was the fact that she’d interrupted what Gustav was saying when she, known as Glo and named Gloria Angelica Brown by her momma, did not interrupt anyone, ever.
Well, she didn't interrupt anyone but Hill, aka Hilly, aka Hillary, her fastidious and sometimes facetious Familiar. Still, things were going from bad to worse at a high rate of speed while Glo was sadly lacking in caffeine, was sleep deprived, and was totally unprepared to handle even the smallest crisis.
It wasn't an excuse. It was a fact–an irrefutable fact that was gnawing away at Glo like ants chowing down on the icing of one of her Auntie Eleanor's famous Texas Sheet Cakes during the Annual Brown Family Coven Reunion Get Together and Gathering Picnic. She not only had no idea what in the Sam Hill was going on, but she didn't know where it was coming from or how to stop it because, and here was the rub, she didn't know what the Sam Hill was happening.
To make matters worse, the 'phone' in her head was ringing, binging, and ting-a-linging off the hook with each and every 'call' marked URGENT in glowing and flashing big red letters. It was quite literally driving her battier than she already was, and that was saying something at that time of year. Glo's morning had become an eleven-cauldron fire, with the flames getting hotter by the second, and she didn't have a clue where her Magical fire extinguisher was.
Gustav would just have to understand her impertinence. Right? Well, she was hoping and praying that was the case. After all, he’d always been an incredibly understanding soul.
If he didn’t understand and/or forgive her for interrupting, and if they both survived the Holidays, she would simply smooth over any hurt feelings that might remain by sending him a basket of his favorite candy with a big red bow and a handwritten card with an apology. She would order it from Sadie Sue’s Sweet Shoppe, the best candy store on the planet, and it would be enormous.
It would be so dadgum big that it would barely fit through the door of his tiny, well-appointed, cute-as-a-button cottage at the entrance of the lush and lavish landscaped acreage known as Gustav's Glorious Greenhouse and Greenery. It would not only make up for her rudeness but show Gustav how much she valued his hard work and friendship.
But first, she had to calm the poor Elf, get him off her mental phone, and find out who else needed her immediate attention. There hadn’t been an eleven-cauldron emergency in three centuries, and she wasn’t about to have one on her watch and in her very own living room.
“I promise I’m on it, Gustav. I would never leave you hangin’. You’re the fifth…”
"Make that sixth," Hillary corrected from her position atop the antique, cherrywood bookcase housing some of the oldest Grimoires and Tomes of the most ancient Brown Witches, as well as her favorite romance novels.
Blessed–or cursed, depending on the day–Gloria Angelica Brown, the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love, had been decreed by the Great Goddess of All to share part of her soul with none other than Hillary K. Hippo. From that fateful day so very long ago to the present, they were known as Brown Witch and Familiar to everyone in the Supernatural, Preternatural, and Magical World.
As such, a few things were very important to note:
(1) Gloria Angelica Brown would only answer to Glo. At the ripe young age of four, it was the nickname given to her by her favorite cousin, the one and only Molly Brown-Archer. It stuck. She'd loved it, wholeheartedly embraced it, and endorsed it with all the gusto of a very happy four-year-old. The rest was pretty much history. Well, there was an exception to the rule–as there usually was. Three incredibly special Beings in all the universe were allowed to call Glo by her government name, Gloria Angelica. They were as follows: Molly Brown-Archer, Glo's momma, and the Great Goddess Herself.
(2) As mentioned before, Glo was the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love. On the day of her birth, the Great Goddess Of All appeared, kissed her forehead, and said, "You, Gloria Angelica Brown, like all the Brown Witches before you, the ones living and the ones looking down from the Heavens, have a very special and important Calling known as your One True Gift. You, Little One, will be the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love, and as such, you will have a very important job. As we all know, on December twenty-third of every year, people all over the world celebrate the Feast of Potentials, or as the Ancient Druids called it, the Day of Creation."
“On this very special occasion, a Holiest of Holy Days, we give thanks for the precious little flowering plant known as Mistletoe. As Old Man Winter’s equivalent of the Mighty Oak Tree, this little white blossom with its oval, evergreen leaves reminds us that even in the harshest of weather, there is Peace. When it seeks refuge in the ever-present Fir Tree, we must remember to Protect those we hold dear. Most importantly, when standing under the Mistletoe with the one made for you by the Universe, the one person in all the world who completes you as no other, you are not to squander the opportunity. You are to hold them tight, kiss them with all the love in your heart, and promise that through good times and bad times, you will always be there for them because, Gloria, that is what Eternal Love is."
(3) Lastly, and quite probably the most important thing of all, Gloria Angelica Brown knew who her Mate was. She knew who the Universe had made for her and, likewise, who she completed as no other. They met when they were children. They became best friends in kindergarten. They had learned to ride bikes on the cracked sidewalks behind Brown Manor on the other side of the Swamp in none other than Nowhere, USA. And most of all, the one and only Christopher Alexander Archer was the first boy–the only boy–she'd ever kissed under the Mistletoe. Sadly, Chris and his brothers were gone before she could tell him how much he meant to her. Not dead. Just gone.
Poof!
Disappeared in the middle of the night.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Then, as Fate and The Powers That Be would have it, the Archer Brothers returned. Unfortunately, Glo had not gotten back in touch with Chris, but then again, he hadn’t come knocking on her door either.
Hillary, the aforementioned Familiar, had a few theories on the subject that Glo refused to entertain. It was nothing new. Hill thought she was right, and Glo knew she was wrong. They agreed to disagree or, in truth, stomped off in opposite directions until the next time the subject of the Witch's Mate reared its contrary head.
Speaking of Hillary K. Hippo….
After correcting Glo on the number of frantic and panicked calls she’d already received, the Pygmy Hippo sat upon that gorgeous, antique cherrywood bookcase, in all her imagined glory, drinking tea and eating scones made by none other than Glo’s cousin, Lucy Brown-Archer, the Brown Witch of Magical Deliciousness, Special Memories, and the Holder of the Golden Spark of Warmth and Happiness. They were meant for Glo. Every time they came in one of the expertly decorated tins, they were for Glo, not that she got very many of them.
It didn't matter that they were made with Lucy's own two hands and special Enchantment given to her by the Great Goddess of All, the Universe, and all The Powers That Be. It also didn't bother Hill one little bit that Glo loved all things sweet and wonderful and had been waiting for those extra special scones for three-hundred-and-sixty-three days because the Holidays were the only time Lucy made them.
Nope, none of that mattered to Hillary K. Hippo, but the worst thing of all, at least in Glo’s mind, was that Lucy had used Granny Esta Brown’s famous, super-secret, and incredibly elusive recipe–and it made the bestest ever, bomb–diggity scones in the whole wide world and beyond.
Out of all the Brown Family Elders, Granny, not Auntie, because of her age and status, and, well, it was what she wanted to be called, was far and away the best of the best when it came to baking. And when somebody who can create scrumptious baked goods like she could and also possessed enough Magic to turn everyone within a ten-mile radius into toads for the rest of their lives wanted to be called Granny instead of Auntie, a person did what was requested without delay, and with a smile on their face–if only to get a taste of one of her scones.
And what wonderfully delicious scones they were. Made from an especially Magical and totally magnificent formulation unknown to anyone but Granny Esta and the Brown Witch of Magical Deliciousness, Special Memories, and the Holder of the Golden Spark of Warmth and Happiness–aka Lucy Brown-Archer. That recipe and that recipe alone was the favorite of everyone from the Omnipotent Being known as Fate to the youngest Witch in the Brown Family…
And Hilly had gotten to them before Glo and would most likely not even leave a crumb. Needless to say, Gloria was not a happy Brown Witch.
“ Ahem , I stand corrected. “… sixth person to call me in as many minutes. All I need is…”
“All you need is a brush for that hair of yours, to get a cup of coffee, and to change out of your green, red, and black plaid flannel PJ pants and black Grinch T-shirt. I just don’t understand…”
Without so much as a glance to the side, Glo snapped the fingers on her right hand and breathed a quick sigh of relief when her feisty, flippant, and sometimes foul-mouthed Familiar was robbed of her voice. The silence from that side of the room was pure bliss. Wanting to laugh but holding it back as Hill’s mouth moved with incredible animation and more than a little bit of irritation, the Brown Witch continued speaking with Gustav Snowflake, Head Elf in charge of Mistletoe production in the northernmost region of the North Pole, and the Owner/Operator of Gustav’s Glorious Greenhouse and Greenery.
"As you can see, and Hillary so infuriatingly pointed out, I am still in my pajamas and have not brushed my hair–or my teeth for that matter, which I now realize is not something you needed to know. Sorry about that. Furthermore, you can see in Magically living color on the fantastic Enchanted screens created by our invaluable, irreplaceable, and absolutely fabulous Tech Gurus that I do not have a steaming mug of my special blend of coconut, vanilla, sweet caramel, and hazelnut coffee with sugar-free syrup and cream in my hand."
“Yes, ma’am, I do see that, and I understand, but…"
"You understand that it is three-thirty-nine in the morning? You understand that I was awakened at three-thirty-three, also in the morning? You understand that the call waiting in my brain is beeping, bleeping, peeping, and chirping like Auntie Mabel's Bird Sanctuary on Feather Island? Or…"
Inhaling so deeply that she thought she might pass out, Glo stopped for a moment. Holding her breath, she counted to three, seriously pondering if losing consciousness might actually be exactly what she needed.
Maybe a nice little nap would clear her mind, help her find the solution to the conundrum she faced, and give her a much-needed respite from Hillary and her shenanigans. It might just work. She’d never tried it before, but there was always a first time, right?
Wrong!
Shaking her head, she mentally ground out through gritted teeth, “No. No way. I am the mother-humpin’ Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love. I am the amazing and incomparable Gloria Angelica Brown, and there is no way, no how, that I am giving up without one helluva fight. I do not bend. I do not buckle. I repeat, I. Do. Not. Give. Up.”
Winking at Gustav while trying with all her might to brighten the smile still plastered on her face, she was ready to give the best rah-rah speech in the history of rah-rah speeches when the very last of her light brown and blond highlighted curls–the ones that just happened to still be hanging onto the red, green, and black plaid scrunchie that matched her PJs–gently floated down to her left shoulder.
It was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back and started an avalanche of emotions Glo never expected. Alarm bells like a tornado siren in downtown Waco shook her brain inside her skull, yelling, “Wake up! Get your shit together! This is not you! You are not, I repeat–You are not a screaming Mimi!"
For the briefest instant, Gloria Angelica Brown found the last few seconds repeating in her mind like a scratched record skipping on a phonograph. To add insult to injury, a Mystical mirror appeared in her mind's eye, and for the first time in her life–Glo did not like what she saw. It was as glaringly obvious as the big dark bags under her pretty blue eyes–that she was being a grade A, top of the class, pain in the tushy, petulant brat.
Who the heck did she think she was? It didn’t matter if she’d only gotten twenty-seven minutes of sleep. Nor was it important in the grand scheme of things if she hadn’t brushed her hair or her teeth. It also wouldn't change one damn thing if she had a drop of coffee or not.
And bitchin’ about still bein’ in her PJs was… Well, it was just ridiculous. It was one of the perks of her job. Hell, she spent pretty much every day in pajamas, or at the very least, yoga pants and an oversized–shirt. She needed to get her shit together, and she needed to do it toot suite !
It was her job to listen. It was her job to be supportive. It was her job to fix whatever needed fixing whenever it needed fixing. It was her job, nay, her Goddess-Blessed One True Gift and her J-O-B, to make sure that the most important plant of the Holiday season, the one that inspired first kisses, long kisses, passionate kisses, and all other forms of incredibly important expressions of LOVE was perfectly perky, exceptionally evergreen, and readily ripe for the picking.
Oh, yes, the thick, oval-shaped leaves had to be the deepest and richest green there had ever been. Its small, white flowers, made up of four tiny petals, forming sweet little blossoms in clusters of three, four, or five, had to be so white that they shone even in the darkest of nights.
And not to be outdone, it was the accompanying berries, the color of the finest porcelain, whose amazing aroma of lightly spiced clove, fresh holiday greens, and crisp, sweet balsam fir needles made everything more special. They had to be perfectly prepared, wrapped in a silk ribbon, and ready to set the dreamy backdrop for the everlasting love that could only come from a first kiss, a second kiss, a kiss of everlasting love under the one and only Holy Mistletoe.
And…
It was Glo's job to make sure the people who planted, loved, nurtured, and grew those very special plants had everything they needed–even if it was just an ear to bend and rah-rah speech to keep them going.
Glo needed to get her shit together, and she needed to do it in exactly one–quarter–of–one–second, if not sooner.
And that was precisely what she did.