Yuletide Spakle Read online

  *****

  Maybe I should’ve just put one up anyway.

  But, in truth, Morgan never really had the time. With her job at the Broken Icepick and Abraham’s insistence that she continue her duties as a Shadow Walker, whether she wanted to or not, all of Morgan’s life was regulated by one thing or another.

  With one last look at the now empty street, Morgan went back inside, stoked up the fire in her stove and settled herself down on the sofa. Again. She pulled her blankets up close and watched the fire flicker as the minutes of Yuletide slowly ticked by.

  Morgan was drifting off to sleep when something banged on her porch. She jumped to her feet with a curse and stomped to the door. All she needed was yet another critter chomping on one of the villagers. Of course, if that had been the case, Abraham would’ve told her through the owl. Instead, all he had done was waddle around a little and squawk.

  “What the hell is going on now?” Morgan asked the empty room. She just wanted to sleep and forget it was a holiday.

  Morgan tripped on the edge of her rug and cursed again when she landed against the door. She righted herself and snatched it open to come face-to-face with a giant tree. Her mouth dropped open, and she stepped back in surprise. “What the hell?”

  A head popped around the side of the tree, and Erastus grinned at her. “I noticed you didn’t have any decorations up and thought you might want some company.”

  Morgan shook her head and stepped back to let Erastus in. He lifted the tree in strong arms and carried it, without apparent effort, through Morgan’s front door. He hauled the tree into the living room and set it up in the corner furthest from the wood burning stove, then he turned to Morgan with a grin. “How’s that?”

  Morgan laughed and hugged herself in the cold. “Let me get some lights on, and I’ll tell you.” She lit several candles and gasped at the sheer size of the tree. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’ll look even better once it’s decorated.”

  Morgan didn’t know what to say. The very idea that someone would go to such effort simply for her happiness was so far beyond anything she had recently experienced that she couldn’t wrap her mind around the gesture.

  Erastus stepped out onto the porch and returned with a box of ornaments. He opened it and handed Morgan a hand-blown glass ball of bright red. She held it lovingly for a moment, for it was nicer than anything she’d had as an adult, then she hung it on the tree.

  For the next hour, Morgan and Erastus hung ornaments of all kinds on the Yuletide tree. Some of them were delicate hand-blown pieces, while others were intricately carved wooden figures with bright paint. As a final touch Erastus pulled a string of lights from the box. Morgan gasped at their beauty, then her heart sank when she realized she didn’t have a generator to power them.

  “That’s okay,” Erastus said with a smile. He returned to the porch and came back with a small, coal-run generator. “It only takes a few pieces of coal at a time, and it isn’t very powerful, but it will run the lights for the rest of tonight and into tomorrow.”

  Tears filled Morgan’s eyes as she stared at the lighted tree. The lights twinkled, and the low hum of the generator soothed her nerves. The glass ornaments reflected the lights and sparkled in the darkness, and, for a moment, Morgan had hope that, for once, tomorrow would be better than today had been.

  “Thank you, Erastus,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  Erastus wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head and turned her face up to his. “Not as beautiful as you are,” he whispered, then he kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Happy Yule.”

  “Happy Yule,” Morgan echoed. “Would you like some cocoa?”

  Erastus nodded, and Morgan gifted him with a rare smile before she ran off to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She returned to see Erastus coming back through her front door with several gifts in his arms. She gasped when he placed them under the tree and turned back to her with a shrug and a shy smile. “I thought you could use a little Yuletide cheer.”

  Morgan stood in shock. Feelings she thought too deeply buried to ever resurface welled up within her and threatened to drown her, but the lights on the Yuletide tree brought her back to herself. She returned his smile, then the kettle screamed to let her know the water was hot. She quickly fixed them each a cup of cocoa. Erastus smiled at her, and Morgan was struck by the softness in his eyes.

  Morgan opened her gifts from Erastus, and, the two of them went outside for a brief snowball fight before returning to the warmth of the house.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Erastus said after he’d warmed up a little.

  Morgan nodded, not wanting him to go but less comfortable with him staying. “Bright and early,” she replied with a smile.

  Once Erastus had gone, Morgan settled onto the sofa again and pulled the blanket up to her chin. The sparkling lights on the Yuletide tree reminded her that she wasn’t completely alone in the world, and that sense of someone caring eased the ache that was her constant companion.

  “Thanks, Erastus,” she whispered into the darkness as she drifted off to sleep. On the table in front of her the owl that occasionally housed the spirit of Abraham blinked its eyes.

  Read an Excerpt from Aradia’s Secret

  Coming April 1, 2017

  The Death of Ravyn Grimsbane

  The day we were banished from the Xaggarene Empire is one that will live in the memory of the witches and wizards of Grevared forever; though, in retrospect, none of us would mourn the loss. We have our power, and we have our faith, and we have ourselves. Our home at Crowrest in the Kingdom of E’ma Thalas is a beautiful place where we can live in peace among the elves of that kingdom. We have been welcomed here and given the sacred duty to protect the northern borders of E’ma Thalas from all who would harm her.

  When I was small I wondered what could possibly harm us, perched as we were on the edge of the land with nothing behind us but the vast emptiness of the void. It wasn’t until my fifty-sixth year that my question was answered in the form of a void serpent, a gigantic, legless creature with scales the size of shields and fangs the length of swords. Vicious and cruel, the beasts rode the currents of the void and attacked all who dared cross their paths. Not even the great scholar Mylar Massengill fully understood why these monsters behaved the way they did, but on the day the creature attacked, I learned just how powerful we of Crowrest really were. I’ll never forget the stench of the vile creature or the burn from where its blood splattered me.

  The serpent arrived just as the light began to shine. A guard, I’ve forgotten his name, sounded the alarm just as Ravyn, Vonner, and I were sitting down to break our fast. We raced to the ramparts to join the guard, and my soul trembled at its appearance. Ravyn issued orders, a rapid fire of words that the body understood even if the mind failed to comprehend them, and we jumped to obey. Wizard fire lit the morning, and the void serpent was soon nothing more than charred bits raining down upon Crowrest Keep. I never again doubted our purpose or the elven king’s wisdom in assigning us this task.

  My people call themselves the children of Aradia, goddess of magic; though the last of us to speak with her was my mother, Ravyn Grimsbane. I found the following letter in my mother’s effects when she transposed forms at nearly 900 years of age.

  My Dearest Gwennyth,

  As you know, we witches and wizards claim to be the children of the goddess Aradia. This is true in essence; however, there is a secret known to the Grimsbane family that can only be shared by Aradia herself. Seek her out, but look not in the places of the gods. Hurry, my child, for the fate of our power may rest in your discovery.

  With love,

  Mother

  My mother often spoke like this and created mystery where there was none. I disregarded her message entirely, thinking it nothing more than her typical theatrics, then three days ago our world was shaken.

  Ravyn transposed six weeks ago while searching t
he woods below Crowrest Keep for an herb she claimed only blooms once a year. She’d done this every year for as long as I could remember, more than a hundred winters, so I’d had no cause to be concerned at her absence. When I was small Mother would take me with her, and we would spend several days in the woods as I learned herb craft and animal lore. As I got older my interests took another direction, and I ceased to accompany her. On this day I regretted that choice.

  Two wood elves, who had long been friends of Ravyn’s, discovered her body and returned it to us. Zaleria laid my mother’s corpse in the courtyard of Crowrest and stepped back with her head bowed. Long, mulberry hair wavered in the breeze and tears watered eyes the color of new leaves. Her wings fluttered once then drooped, and she looked at me as if begging me to explain this thing before her. Silence and stillness emanated from her in a way peculiar to the elven folk, and that stillness screamed her sorrow more than sobs ever could.

  Calerel, too, kept silent. She shifted her quiver on her shoulder and pulled her emerald hair from her neck. She held her longbow loosely in her hand, and tears poured from her crimson eyes. Younger than Zaleria by more than a century, Calerel was still considered a child by her people. She and I had played together as babes, and I longed to reach for her now, though I knew it wasn’t the elven way.

  “We found her below in the forest,” Zaleria whispered. “It looked as if no harm had come to her.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. As immortal elves, they would have little knowledge of death from old age, though Mother appeared to be little older than me. It didn’t occur to me at the time to search for another cause of death. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

  Zaleria nodded and rose silently into the gray sky. As always, I was amazed that such delicate wings could lift her. I watched the fairies fade into the distance, then I turned my attention to my mother. It was summer, long passed midsummer, so our mourning ritual would have to take place quickly. I needed to gather the witches, set the fires. My mother was our leader, so someone would have to take over the business of Crowrest. My siblings were older than me by several centuries, and all four had left Crowrest before I was born. I’d never even met the eldest. I thought of trying to contact them using the magic that surrounded me; but I dismissed the thought, for it could take weeks for them to arrive. Our magic wouldn’t transport us through the void, and I had no idea where my siblings resided.

  There’s so much to do.

  I slowed my rambling thoughts with deep breaths and the exercises my mother had taught me in my youth, then I entered the keep to get busy.

  About the Author

  Lissa Dobbs has been an avid reader her entire life. She loves to research and explore new topics, though most of them are subjects that fell out of fashion three hundred years ago.

  Creating new worlds gives her something to do and provides a place to play, a place where mystery and magic are always real.

  Visit her at https://www.lissadobbs.com.

  She can be found on Facebook and Pinterest at The Shadow Walkers of Grevared.

  You can follow her on Twitter at @LissaDobbs.

   

  Also by Lissa Dobbs

  Wolf in the Shadow

  Rise of the Mad Gods: Broken Treasure/For Love of Her

  Yuletide Sparkle

  Aradia’s Secret

  Children’s Books

  The Chronicles of Ethan Grimley III: A Walker is Born

  The Chronicles of Ethan Grimley III: Cronus Attacks

  The Chronicles of Ethan Grimley III: Revenge of Cronus

  Crochet for Home and Heart

  Bootie Slippers for All Ages

  Toasty Hands

  Soft and Fluffy

  Simple Charm

  Little Purses for Little Things

  Daddy’s Little Man

  Great! It’s Pumpkin Time!

  A Friend for Me