Midwinter Magic: White Haven Witches Book 12 (EBOOK)

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One
Avery Hamilton stood at the window of her shop, Happenstance Books, admiring the town’s Yuletide decorations.

White Haven was decorated with winter greenery, seasonal lights, and other Christmas-related decorations. However, the view was filtered through a veil of thick, velvety snowflakes that blanketed the street, suppressing everything into hushed silence. It felt timeless. Magical. In fact, as she gazed out, she felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, and that there was nothing except White Haven and the upcoming celebrations.

“Hard to believe that the Yuletide parade and feast is tomorrow,” Alex Bonneville, her boyfriend, said, handing her a mug of coffee and then leaning against the window frame. “Let’s hope the snow stops falling by then or no one will see a thing!”

Avery laughed. “It always does. It’s the magic of this time of year. White Haven is always blanketed in snow, and yet the day of the parade is bathed in crisp, winter sunshine.” She returned to the counter with her coffee, turning her back on the snowy scene to appraise her shop’s decorations.

As usual, Sally, her shop manager and good friend, had made Happenstance Books warm and welcoming, twinkling with candles and fairy lights, and smelling of cinnamon and frankincense. In addition, thick branches of pine were festooned across the top of bookshelves, and glittering pinecones nestled within them.

“How are your pub decorations coming on, Alex? You know that Stan will be inspecting everyone today.” Stan was one of White Haven’s councillors and their pseudo-Druid, and he organised all the solstice and seasonal celebrations. “We don’t want to upset him.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Anyone would think our lives depended on it. Don’t worry, Marie has risen to the occasion, and the pub is groaning with decorations. You’ll see when you swing by later. I’m on the evening shift tonight.”

“Great. I’ll come and have dinner with you.”

Alex’s eyes clouded for a moment, as if he was struggling to think of something, but then he shrugged it off. “I’d better go. I need to run over the Yuletide menu. We’re fully booked for lunch, so we better make it good!” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

The door clanged shut behind him, setting off the bells that hung over the door. Their sound was startlingly loud in the quiet shop, as if they were trying to remind her of something she’d forgotten. She ran through her plans for the day.

At the moment, the shop was closed. She and Alex had risen early for once, for reasons neither could understand. They both preferred late nights to early mornings. Maybe it was the unusual, hushed silence that hung over the town, and the brilliant white light that filtered through the blinds. There was a quality to snow that was hard to ignore. It turned the once familiar landscape into alien shapes as it settled on walls, trees, and houses. Avery might not be able to see the beach and harbour from here, but she knew that the sea would be a flat pewter sheet stretching to an unseen horizon, the foaming surf churning up the snow-white beaches. The fishing vessels might even be trimmed with ice.

But what was she forgetting? Her shop manager, Sally, and Dan, her shop assistant, would be arriving soon, and then they would open for the day. They would need to check that all of their decorations were ready for inspection, and then they would prepare the reading corner. Dan always loved the chance to read Christmas classics to the children and their parents who visited the shop. Hopefully Sally would bring mince pies.

And then, what else? She’d contact Briar Ashworth and El Robinson to see if they wanted to eat at The Wayward Son, too. But she was sure there was something else to do…

Her reverie was broken by Sally and Dan’s bickering voices as they arrived using the back entrance to the shop. They clattered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, and Avery took the opportunity to walk around the shop, still trying to focus. She tidied up messy books, straightened displays, and picked up random objects. Snow globes were dotted on some of the shelves, and she shook one absently, watching the glitter swirl around a castle on a hill in the centre. A castle made of ice.

The door to the kitchen flew open, and her friends struggled into the shop, Sally carrying a large Christmas Bunch, and Dan a set of stepladders.

“Good grief,” Dan complained, “did you have to make it so big?”

“Yes! It wouldn’t look the same it if was small!”

“If it falls on someone’s head, they’ll have a serious injury!”

“It won’t fall!”

Avery giggled. “You two! What are you like?”

Dan shot her an impish grin. “I wouldn’t complain so much if Sally would have just given me a mince pie!”

“They are for later!” Sally reminded him. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet!”

“So? Elevensies can be any time I want. I’m an adult.”

“Says the man wearing a Jingle Balls t-shirt!”

“If I could just interrupt for one moment,” Avery said, trying to head off more bickering, “I would like to say how gorgeous that wreath is!”

Sally was flushed, her normally neat blonde hair tumbling over her face, but she gave Avery a beaming smile. “Thank you! I intend to win Stan’s competition!”

“It is impressively large, and I’m sure we have a good chance!” Avery also thought Dan was right. They needed to secure the Bunch well. If it fell on Stan, it would be a disaster.

The Christmas Bunch was a traditional Cornish Christmas wreath made of two hoops set at right angles, decorated with seasonal green leaves and a candle in the centre. It was made to be suspended from the ceiling. Sally had added baubles and beads, too.

“We must make sure,” Avery continued, wrinkling her nose, perplexed, “that the candle doesn’t set fire to the wreath. We do not want to burn down my house and shop.”

Dan had already placed the step ladders into position, and taking the Bunch from Sally, he wrestled it on to the hook just beyond the front entrance. When it was finally in place, he lit the candle. “Don’t worry, Avery. It will be fine. It’s a good distance from the greenery.”

Sally clapped her hands with delight. “Perfect! I knew a real one would look much nicer than a fake!”

“Now can I have a mince pie?” Dan asked as he folded the steps up.

“You may, if you make coffee, too.”

Dan grumbled as he headed to the backroom, and Sally laughed. “I do love teasing him.”

“As long as you keep making mince pies, you can tease him all day long.” Avery settled behind the counter. “So, when’s judging day for the wreath?”

“The day after Yule, seeing as tomorrow Stan will be whirling around White Haven, making sure it’s ready for the parade.” Sally leaned on the counter. “I really think that he needs help. He never stops!”

“Will he open the fayre tonight, too?”

“I’m not sure, but I can’t wait.” Sally grinned. “I’ll take the children this year. They will love to see the castle lit up. How is Clea this morning? Will she go to the fayre tonight with you?”

Avery had returned to sit behind the shop counter, and startled by the question about her grandmother, she almost knocked over the cold dregs of her coffee. “Shit! How could I have forgotten her? I’ll go and check.”

She raced into the backroom of the shop, straight past Dan who was making a fresh pot of coffee, and up the stairs to her flat. She paused on the threshold of the living room, once again feeling as if something was wrong, but everything looked fine. The Christmas tree was decorated in the corner, the TV was on with the sound turned low, and Clea’s door was partly open. But the smell of burnt toast wafted from the kitchen, and Avery walked to the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room.

Clea, still dressed in her fluffy bathrobe, was at the sink, scraping off the blackened edges from the toast. Avery crossed to stand next to her. “Gran! I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you. Are you okay? Let me make you more toast.”

Clea looked up at her, her smile vanishing into her wrinkles as she patted her hand. “I’m all right, my dear, don’t you worry. You have the shop to worry about. I’m going to watch a bit of breakfast TV. Join me for lunch though, later?” She headed to the counter to butter her toast.

“Of course.” Avery’s head felt woolly, and she looked around at her familiar kitchen, wondering if she had a hangover.

Had she and Alex got riotously drunk the night before? Surely not. She would have a pounding headache. Her kitchen had the remnants of her and Alex’s breakfast in the sink, and their belongings were strewn around the living room, and yet, everything felt so wrong. She drifted to the window, but the view was as muffled as her head. Snow swirled thickly, obliterating her view of the garden and the town. She could barely see the lane behind the house, and the sea was completely hidden.

Drawn upstairs by a compulsion she couldn’t understand, Avery headed to the attic floor where her bedroom was situated, leaving Clea to potter. Standing on the threshold, she frowned at the shadow filled space. Her and Alex’s bedroom was the room on the other side of the fireplace. On this side was the big, wooden table cluttered with books, the shelves around it stacked with candles and herbs. She inhaled the scent of incense and felt her spirits lift. But why had she so many herbs up here? Shouldn’t they be in the kitchen? And why so many books?

She should turn this space into another seating area, a lounge for her and Alex for when they needed privacy from Clea. Perhaps she would do that later. She walked around the room, her finger running along the thick, wooden shelves.

And then Avery paused as she saw another snow globe. This one was the size of a football, and inside it, perched on a snowy branch, was a raven, its yellow eyes fixed on her with an intense glare. She couldn’t even remember why she owned such a thing. She shook her head, perplexed, deciding it was time to return to the shop.



***



Briar knew she’d have difficulty getting home that evening if the snow continued to fall so thickly. She’d had enough trouble walking to work that morning.

She had set off from her cottage on one of the side streets, wrapped in layers and wearing her sturdy leather boots that were now drying out in front of the heater in the herb room of her shop. However, the snow did not deter customers. They entered the shop in an endless flow, her products evaporating off the shelves. She was thankful that she had plenty of stock.

She needed to get a shop assistant. She’d been promising herself one for years, and couldn’t work out why she hadn’t organised one sooner. Especially at this time of year. She would miss lunch again, she knew it. She would have to make up more of her hand lotions and seasonal candles that evening, too. However, she would still take time to see her friends in Alex’s pub. She could always work late after that. But she needed to see her friends first; it would cheer her up. While she loved Yuletide and Christmas, it always reminded her of her lack of family. She shook her head and smiled at one of her regulars. This was not the time to be depressed. Her friends were family, and they would celebrate it together.

“Penny for them, my lovely,” a middle-aged woman called Carla asked her. “You look worried.”

“Sorry!” Briar brushed her hand across her brow, pushing a thick lock of her hair away. “Just thinking of my friends and wondering what we’ll do to celebrate Christmas. You know, I’m sure I had plans, but I can’t for the life of me think what they were.”

“It’s just stress, love.” Carla frowned as she glanced around the shop. “You need help in here. It’s a big shop to manage all on your own.”

“I know. Maybe I should put a sign up in the window advertising for help. Someone must want some extra Christmas cash.”

“Excellent idea. Although, the castle has employed most available people at this time of year.” Briar must have looked as confused as she felt because Carla said, “For the feast tomorrow? Don’t tell me you forgot that!”

Briar had totally forgotten, but instinct told her it wouldn’t be right to admit it, so she lied. “Of course not! I’m just preoccupied with work. I can’t wait.”

Carla smiled, her frown clearing. “Every year I think it can’t get any better, and every year it does! I’ll see you there, I’m sure, despite the crowds.” She placed her purchases in her bag and left, and as the door shut behind her, the chiming bells seemed to emit a warning.

Instantly, Briar remembered the feast. The costumes, the delicious food, the band, the dancing, the Yuletide fight between the kings, all of it taking place in the castle on the hill. How could she have forgotten that? But instead of feeling excited about it, dread crept through her.

It made no sense. Why would she dread a feast?



***



El was going to be late to work, but she watched the ice encroaching on the sea, mesmerised.

Her warehouse flat overlooked White Haven’s harbour, offering a panoramic view of the harbour, the beach, the edge of town, and the sea. The view was always captivating, but it was even more so today.

Although snow had fallen in the town before, she was sure it had never felt quite so cold, and the sea had surely never iced up. The harbour already had a solid layer of ice that locked the shipping vessels, rowing boats, and yachts inside it. This would last until spring, and the snow would fall thick and heavy until March, at least. But the Winter Fayre would be fun. Hot chestnuts, mulled wine and cider, and the braziers that lined the streets would burn brightly, staving off the chill. And of course, the council would issue the sleighs today. Soon the streets would ring with sleighbells, the air misting with the breath of reindeer.

El paused, confused.

Reindeer and an icy sea until spring? Thick snow for months? Where had those thoughts come from?

But then a fluttering pennant caught her eye up on the cliffs above White Haven, and she gazed upwards, the snow clearing for a moment to reveal the castle on the cliff top. It sparkled despite the gloomy, cloud laden sky. The icy walls gave off a bluish glow that reflected the snow and its surrounding.

They would be preparing for the feast in there, the multiple fires in the kitchen no doubt blazing as food was cooked, and today the shops and town would be inspected for the parade. It had to be right, or everyone would suffer.

Pulling her coat on, she knew she had to hurry. She needed to join Zoey in her shop to make sure everything was perfect.



***



Despite the heavy snow, Alex loitered on White Haven’s streets, eyes sharp as he took in the decorations around him.

Every shop was adorned to perfection. Every window gleamed, every pot was filled with winter plants, every display sparkled. He should be excited. Tomorrow, starting at four o’clock in the afternoon, the Yuletide parade would march from the square, down the main street to the harbour, and then up to the castle. The streets would be lined with well-wishers, and street vendors would sell roasted chestnuts and candy floss. The feast would complete the day. Alex paused, confused.

The feast.

Damn it. He wouldn’t have Jago, his chef, working in the pub for another couple of days because of it. He had been poached, as he was every year at this time, along with many other great cooks in the town, to help with the Yuletide extravaganza. As a result, more pressure was put on other staff.

But it would all be worth it.

Alex raked his hands through his hair. He was missing something. Something important. This should be a fun time of year. It was a fun time of year normally, and yet…

He shrugged the thought away and set off again, finally rounding the corner into the square. As usual, a huge Christmas tree dominated the space, the lights sparkling through the swirling snow.

For a second, Alex’s spirits lifted, until the wind parted the snow like a curtain to reveal a huge ice sculpture of a regal woman seated upon a glacial throne at the edge of the square. A crown was placed upon her head, her hand clutched a staff that was planted in the ground next to her, and her swirling skirts hid all sorts of impish figures and animals that cavorted at her feet.

Alex halted, riveted at the sight of the queen’s sculpture, and it seemed that her eyes bore into his as if she could see his soul.



***



As Reuben Jackson approached his home on the hill above White Haven after his early morning surf, he slowed the car to look at what appeared to be a white wall around the town that was nestled in the valley below.

He was so confused that he found a layby to park in, exited the car, and stood on the grass verge to get a better look. Snow was falling, becoming thicker by the minute, whipping over the moors and covering the thick, tufted grass.

His eyes weren’t betraying him. Beyond the swirling snow, it was as if thick cloud had settled into White Haven. It had been dark when he’d left to go surfing on a neighbouring beach that morning, so he hadn’t noticed a thing. He reasoned with himself, arguing not to be paranoid, and that it was just a low cloud. But the longer he stared at it, the more worried he became. It was too thick. Too solid.

Shivering in the icy chill, he returned to his car, and continued past the turnoff to his house, instead turning onto the road that would take him down the hill into White Haven. Except the road that would lead him there turned back on itself. In minutes, he found himself back on the lane leading to his house.

Confused, he stopped the car again. He had lived there all his life and had never once got lost in the meandering back lanes that wound through the fields and moors around his home. He turned around and tried again. This time he ended up on another lane entirely that wound past Stormcrossed Manor, Briar’s family home.

Okay. Something was definitely wrong.

He tried again, heading down the lane, this time at a crawl. The white blanket of cloud rose before him, the lane heading straight into it. He stopped the car and exited, progressing on foot. He took his time, sniffing the air as if for danger. For magic.

For a few paces, everything was normal, and then he was suddenly turned about, facing his car and the fields again. He hadn’t felt a thing, either. No tingle of magic, no disorientation, just a gentle righting. He turned to face the cloud again, worry balling in the pit of his stomach.

However, the longer he stared at it, the more he wondered what he was staring at. Why was he staring at a low hanging cloud? He had to get home, check on his staff in Greenlane Nurseries, and make sure that work was going smoothly. The wall seemed to rebuff him, telling him that everything was okay.

Reuben stepped back, retreating to the car where he felt more in control of his thoughts. He pulled his phone from his pocket, found El’s number, and called his girlfriend. But the phone rang and rang and no one answered. Then he tried the rest of his coven—Alex, Briar, and Avery.

Not a single one answered. Nor did their voicemail messages kick in.

This was not normal.

He focussed within himself, calling on his familiar, Silver. He was a huge water horse that had appeared during the fight with the wizard and Wyrd who had tried to destroy White Haven over Samhain. Sometimes he surfed with Silver, but he hadn’t that morning.

Usually, Silver arrived quickly. They had bonded well. This morning, however, he was taking his time. When he finally manifested, his shimmering, watery body icing up quickly in the freezing temperature, he pawed the ground impatiently.

“You took your sweet time,” Reuben complained. “We have a problem. White Haven has vanished, and my coven isn’t answering the phone.”

Silver snorted, throwing his mane up as he eyed Reuben with disdain. “I know we have, you fool. Where do think I’ve been? All of the familiars have vanished, too.” Silver spoke, but only Reuben could hear his voice, inside his head.

Reuben had been worried and confused, but now was getting more angry than afraid. He fisted his hands. “What now? Is El okay?”

“I have no idea how any of them are. I can’t reach them.”

Reuben pointed at the thick, white wall that edged White Haven. “Look at that! Can you see it too, or is it just me? I can’t even drive through it!”

Silver studied it. “Interesting. Does it feel magical up close?”

“Interesting? It’s infuriating! And weird.” He considered his familiar’s question. “No, actually, it didn’t feel like magic, but the closer I got to it, the less I seemed to care about White Haven. It muddied my thoughts, so that has to be magic. Who has done this? Is that bloody wizard back?” Reuben’s magic swelled as he considered his next course of action.

Silver shook his head. “He can’t be! We defeated him. I have no idea who’s behind it, but they are powerful, because even my magic can’t penetrate it.”

“Let’s be logical. I can’t get in this way, but there are other roads into the town. I’m going to try all of them, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll find a boat and try to get in by sea.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then we have a massive problem.”