“Forget my suspicions.” I pointed at the squirrel zipping around the roof of the cabin. “We’ve got to get him some help.”

  It took me frantically raiding the oven to find some of Nutty’s secret stash to set him up for capture. Once Wyatt had ahold of him, I called Vale’s mother to find out what we needed to do.

  Whoever had laced the cookies with whatever had made Nutty overdose on Christmas spirit had no idea the motivation he or she had ignited inside of me. If the culprit was indeed Wren, then she had just made a huge mistake.

  Chapter Eleven

  Aster and Vale had come over as soon as we called to check on Nutty and his manic state. It took all of our efforts to get the squirrel to down a potion that Vale’s mother had concocted to reduce the unwanted effects of the cookies. A good night in bed should get him back to normal by morning.

  Pacing helped me to think, and right now, I couldn’t sit still if I wanted to. “Thank you for coming over to help, Mrs. Sugarplum.”

  Aster finished pouring some of the leftover potion into a bottle. “I’m just glad it’s something that could be handled quickly.” She corked the vial. “If he wakes up in the middle of the night, another few drops of this should take care of things.”

  “Is there any way to trace whatever did this to Nutty?” I asked, pacing the floor outside my roommate’s room.

  Aster shook her head. “If we had more than a few crumbs left, perhaps.”

  “If there were any nuts involved in the cookies, there’s not a snowball’s chance there’s anything left,” I said, shaking my head.

  Amos exited Nutty’s room and closed the door with gentle care. “He’s out like a light all curled up into a tight little ball in the middle of his pillow.”

  A little relief seeped through my stress, and I relaxed my shoulders a smidge. “Good. Poor little guy.”

  “What did I miss?” Amos asked.

  I gestured at Vale’s mother. “I was just bemoaning the sad fact that since Nutty ate all the cookies, we don’t have anything left to test.”

  “Sure, you do,” the old guy countered. “If you think there’s something wrong with the cookies, I got a batch delivered with the same kind of box to my place.”

  “You did?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yep. And I’ll bet if you looked on your front porch, you’d find a similar package waiting for you.” Amos plopped down on the arm of the couch, his wrinkled face stuck in a frown. “In fact, I’d lay a pretty big wager on all of the Humbugs receiving one.”

  Vale raised her hand to be heard. “Has anybody checked to see how Rocky’s doing?”

  Wyatt waved his spell phone in the air. “I called him to let him know about Nutty, but I didn’t know to ask him about finding any box or anything when he got back to his cave.”

  Aster listened to all of us, shaking her head. “This is way more than any of us should be handling on our own. Maybe we should involve the law.”

  Amos snorted. “What? You think Buzzy would have the first clue what to do?”

  “I don’t really want to bother Clara with this since she has so much on her plate as it is.” Vale’s mother sighed in resignation. “But whoever did this has caused more harm than good.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I know who did it,” I fumed.

  Vale bit her lip and glanced between her mother and me. “Rory thinks Ms. Wren is behind all this.”

  Aster’s eyes widened. “That’s a pretty serious accusation. Why do you think that?”

  I relayed the story of catching my boss sprinkling something from a velvet bag into a batch of dough at Yuletide Yummies and then the encounter Vale and I witnessed while waiting in line to see the sleigh.

  “Plus, the only motive for stealing the most powerful vehicle in the whole of the North Pole is for someone wanting to gain access to the incredibly powerful Christmas spirit it possesses.” I paused in my tirade, waiting for my friend’s mother to process my theory.

  Amos grunted in agreement from his spot on the arm of the couch, listening to every detail.

  “Wren Warbler can hardly be upheld as the only resident in town with a lot of holiday spirit,” Aster countered. She paused, a quizzical expression spreading on her face. “Although, the ending of the awards meeting was a little odd. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why I got so caught up in all of the excitement.”

  Vale glanced up at her mother. “Did you happen to eat anything from the refreshments table?”

  Aster gave the question some thought. “I didn’t intend to as I was accosted by a few customers wanting to place some last-minute rush orders at the store. But then…yes, I did. I remember not being hungry, but when I was talking with Mrs. Berryman, we were right by the tables.”

  “What did you eat, Mrs. Sugarplum?” I pushed.

  She glanced at me. “Some of the fruitcake. Which, now that I think about it is very strange since I don’t even like fruitcake. And yet, I remember thinking it tasted absolutely divine. Oh my stars.” Vale’s mother covered her mouth.

  “Exactly.” I trudged a path back and forth as I connected all the dots. “If I’m right, then Wren has somehow figured out how to use the sleigh’s magic to affect everyone else’s sense of Christmas spirit. And while she might think it doesn’t do any harm, we clearly know differently.” I pointed at my roommate’s bedroom door.

  Aster furrowed her brow. “This is way beyond any of us.” She took out her own phone and dialed a number. After the receiver of the call picked up, she spoke in a clear voice. “Code Rudolph’s Nose, Clara…Yes, everyone is basically fine…okay, we’ll be here.” When she hung up, she turned to face all of us. “Better get ready.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  A vortex of wind whirled in the middle of the room, and I rushed over to Wyatt’s outstretched arms and huddled into his strong body. A blast of frigid air blew against us, and we struggled to stay upright. A light tinkling sound echoed in the middle of the indoor maelstrom, and snow whipped around. The scent of freshly cut fir trees and a wood-burning fire surrounded us. The swirl of snowflakes shimmered and solidified into a shape. Snow and light burst out of the center, and Clara Claus stood smack dab in the middle of my small cabin.

  “Pardon my inability to knock when I enter this way, but as Aster has declared this an emergency, I felt that my presence was needed with expediency.” Mrs. Claus dusted herself off and stomped her boots. She searched the faces in the room until she settled on mine. “So, have you figured out who took the sleigh?”

  It took a few minutes until we caught her up to the present. Before she assessed the situation, Clara excused herself and left to check on Nutty. The rest of us remained quiet and in awe of the powerful presence of the head witch of the North Pole.

  Mrs. Claus closed the door behind her as she left Nutty. “You did good, Aster, in stopping any further damage. I think the little guy will sleep off the effects and be right as reindeers in the morning.”

  “Oh, that is good tidings,” exclaimed Vale’s mother, placing a hand over her chest and heaving out a long breath of relief.

  “But I’m afraid we have a more serious problem on our hands that needs to be addressed as soon as possible.” Clara addressed the rest of the room. “It looks like the person who is using the sleigh to subvert the goodwill and spirit that it exudes is risking the very essence that powers the precious object.”

  Her words confused me. “In other words…”

  “We need to get that sleigh back now or my husband will have no way to travel the world in time for Christmas,” Mrs. Claus declared, placing her hands on her hips.

  We all stood in tense silence, letting the gravity of the situation soak in.

  Amos snorted. “Well, that sounds ominous.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Clara. She turned to address me directly. “So, what are your plans?”

  I pointed at myself. “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Rory Hart.” She nodded at me. “I think you’ve picked a suspect.”

  I wrung my hands together. “I have. Wren Warbler.”

  Instead of protesting my accusation, Mrs. Claus waited with patience for me to continue.

  “I’m sure down to my very bones that Wren has something to do with the sleigh’s disappearance. Why else would her baked goods cause such strong effects?” I asked.

  Clara considered my logic. “Your theory about her motive is sound. But without proof, I’m afraid we can’t move forward on it. Have you got any evidence?”

  Amos raised his hand like a schoolboy waiting to be called on. When the venerable woman smiled at him, he cleared his throat. “I can bring over the cookies that were left with the box of decorations at my house.”

  “I could test them to confirm that they’ve been supercharged with Christmas spirit,” Aster volunteered.

  Mrs. Claus shook her head. “That won’t be enough to implicate Wren herself. Anybody could have baked the cookies.”

  “What about me seeing her sprinkle extra ingredients into her batter?” I asked.

  A frustrated growl rose in Wyatt’s throat. “That would be your word against hers.”

  “If I weren’t supposed to take another day off due to my ‘unfortunate incident’ of being detained at the town jail, I could bring in more baked goods to be tested,” I said, annoyed for the first time at being denied the chance to work.

  Trembling but still being brave, Vale stepped forward. “I could do that.”

  “I don’t want you to risk your job,” I exclaimed, looking to her mother to back me up.

  “If my daughter wants to do her part to help you, then that is up to her,” Aster replied, surprising all of us except Mrs. Claus.

  “Anything you could bring back to your mother to test would provide more evidence to prove if there has been extra spirit added into the ingredients of the baked goods of the store,” Clara yielded. “But it still wouldn’t confirm that Ms. Warbler had anything to do with it.”

  “We’re talking about a sleigh here, people,” Amos said a little too loudly. Cringing, he lowered his voice a little so as not to disturb Nutty. “Shouldn’t someone be able to search in garages or barns or anywhere one might stash a large vehicle?”

  “The security team that you ran into already tried that,” Mrs. Claus explained. “They tried to locate the tracking device on the sleigh.”

  “They couldn’t find anything?” I asked.

  Clara snorted. “Hence why some of you got the kind of treatment you did. Topper was more than frustrated because the tracking signal never activated in the first place. He figured one of you reformed or current probationary subjects did something to disable it.”

  “I hate to admit it,” Wyatt said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I would suspect us first, too.”

  “I wouldn’t have the first clue how to disable anything. My only talent had been in unbolting locks.” If I had been able to disable alarms, the chances of having gotten caught would have decreased significantly. “I don’t think any one of us has the skills to bypass a tracker.”

  Amos made a clicking noise with his tongue. “That’s not entirely true. Bypassing alarms used to be my specialty. But it’s been an age and a half since I was in the business. Plus,” he pointed at Mrs. Claus. “I’ll bet all my teeth that any wards or alarms on the sleigh were mighty sophisticated so that only those who spellcast the protections could remove them.”

  Clara grinned at him. “Precisely, Mr. Pine. Which is why this whole thing has flummoxed me. Because while I understand why Wren Warbler would be at the top of your list, I just don’t see how she could pull it off without being found out.”

  Unable to stay still any longer, I paced the floor trying to work through the problem. “Assuming Wren is using the sleigh in some manner to spike her baking, then we have to catch her in the actual act.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be easy to do that at Yuletide Yummies,” Vale said. “Besides us getting really busy right now, Wren will be devoting most of her attention to the Seasonal Spirit Awards and leaving the basic baking up to the others.”

  My pulse increased as a solution to our problem presented itself like a wrapped gift waiting under the tree. “That’s it.”

  “That’s what?” Amos asked.

  “The SSAs.” I waited for all of them to have the same revelation I did. When nobody else got excited, I gave a better explanation. “Wren will be completely wrapped up in the awards and wanting to make sure everything is perfect.”

  Clara circled her hand in front of her, trying to coax more information out of me. “Which means…”

  “That she’ll be doing everything she possibly can to make sure things go the way she wants them to.” I glanced around at each person. “Guys, I think if we watch her close enough, we’ll catch her using her baked goods to influence people in their voting.”

  Aster caught on and smiled at me. “That’s some good thinking, Rory.”

  “But unless we tail her at all times, which is gonna be hard to pull off without looking really weird, how are we going to make sure we actually catch her in the process of using any Christmas spirit from the sleigh?” Wyatt asked.

  I thought about Wren’s encounter with her rival. “Vale, what was the name of the woman who argued with her before we took our picture together?”

  “Blanche Caulfield,” my friend explained.

  “Ah, the SSA organizer from Garland Gale,” Clara said. “Yes, I can imagine her and Wren not getting along well at all.”

  I paced the floor again, sure I was onto something. “There’s one thing that trips up anyone who is up to no good every single time. Pressure. We need to rig the most important thing to Wren so that she makes a mistake.”

  “What’s that?” Aster asked.

  I glanced over at Vale, and we both smiled, exclaiming at the same time, “The baking category.”

  “She’s entering her fruitcake,” my half elf, half witch friend added.

  Clara smirked. “That’s a bold choice.”

  “If it’s anything like the sample I had at the meeting, then there will definitely be a significant effect on the general voters and the awards judges,” Aster said. “I wish we knew who they were going to be.”

  I glanced at Clara. “If only we knew someone who might be able to influence who was on the judging panel.”

  A wide grin spread on her face. “I think I see where you’re going. If the stakes are high, then Wren might crack and do something that will prove without a shadow of a doubt how she’s been using the sleigh to her advantage.”

  I pressed a finger to the side of my nose and winked at her.

  “Leave it to me. If we want to raise the stakes, then consider it done.” The scent of mulled cider and cinnamon floated in the air. “I’ll leave the rest of you to work out the details.”

  With a flourish of her hand, the whirlwind of snow surrounded her, and Mrs. Claus disappeared from the interior of my small cabin, leaving behind a small flurry of snowflakes to melt on the wooden floor.

  “That clears everything up,” grumbled Amos. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

  I caught Wyatt watching me, a slight grin on his lips. Returning the smile, I rubbed my hands together. “It’s simple. Tonight, we get as much rest as possible. Because tomorrow, Team Humbug infiltrates the Seasonal Spirit Awards.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I took a deep breath before entering the building hosting the SSAs. So much depended on what happened next, and my heart thumped hard enough in my chest I swore others around us could hear it.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Wyatt whispered low in my ear.

  Swallowing the slight lump in my throat, I nodded in half-hearted agreement. “I hope so.”

  He placed his hand at the small of my back. “Everyone is in place, ready to help. The plan you came up with is solid. Now it’s time for you to trust in yourself and in us.”

  “Trust,” I repeated. “I think I can do that.” Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I rolled my shoulders back and kept my head held high.

  Wyatt escorted me inside and through the throng of the different areas designated for each category of the awards. Despite my idea that it would be a simple affair, I had not been prepared for the massive size of the overall event.

  “And I thought the enthusiasm at the last meeting was bad,” I muttered as we navigated through the crowded area.

  A fairy wearing a spiffy red outfit with a badge dangling from her neck hovered over to us. “Welcome to Holiday Haven’s Seasonal Spirit Awards! Here’s a ballot for both of you. Please mark clearly every entry you prefer in each category. When you’re finished, you can hand it to one of our volunteers or place it in one of the designated boxes. Remember, your votes are important since the winners will move on to the overall regional awards. Thanks for your support!”

  I accepted the hefty paper and glanced through the different categories. “Oh my word, there’s so much more involved in this than I thought.”

  “The awards were meant to help build up the holiday spirit right before Christmas. It’s unfortunate that the competitive nature of someone like Wren almost ruins it all,” Wyatt said as he pointed in the direction we should head.

  We walked by different displays in various categories. Vale had been right—if I’d researched the awards, I would have found something I could have participated in. I couldn’t help but be amused at some of the categories of the first room we entered, including handmade holiday dioramas, original art in several different mediums featuring holiday themes, and some sculptures.

  “I wonder where the food categories are,” I mused out loud.

  “Well, there was one thing I wanted to show you before we start our mission.” Wyatt guided me over to a specific display. “I hope you won’t get mad at me.”

  I stared at the placard in front of a familiar carving, reading the words out loud. “Holiday Wishes Come True by Wyatt Berenger and Aurora Hart.”

  “I added the holiday part so that it would fit the whole theme of the awards,” he admitted.

 

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