Christmas in the Valley: A Jinx Hamilton / Shevington Novella

Author:Harper, Juliette [Harper, Juliette]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781943516780
Publisher: Skye House Publishing
Published: 2016-12-10T16:00:00+00:00

6

Amid whispers of, “Hush! It’s the Lord High Mayor!” Barnaby finally managed to get the crowd’s attention. “Good people!” he called out. “Good people of Shevington! Fare thee well?”

He was answered with happy shouts all around.

“Each year on Christmas Eve our great and wise friend the Mother Oak joins with us to celebrate this holiday,” he continued, his voice resonating across the square. “Whether you call this observance Christmas, Yule, or Solstice, this is a time for celebration and happy remembrance, both of old acquaintances and new beginnings. Let us now clasp hands and combine our magic with that of the Great Tree herself.”

Mom took my hand and reached for Dad with the other, who in turn clasped Connor’s hand. Tori came up beside me and caught my free hand, and then reached for Gemma. And so it went, one link after another formed a living chain that wrapped round and round the square.

“What do we do now?” I asked Mom.

“Think of light,” she said. “Think of those you love.”

A warm current of energy passed through my body as a low hum rose from the crowd. It grew in timbre and depth until the night air itself played the notes of a universal chord. The ground around the Mother Tree began to glow as one after another, tiny balls of light rose into the branches of the majestic oak.

“Jinksy,” Tori whispered, “look!”

From over the rooftops the ranks of the fairy guard came flying on the night air, their iridescent wings flashing beneath the rays of the full moon. They dove in perfect formation toward the canopy of the Mother Tree releasing cascades of shimmering fairy dust that covered the leaves and branches until the Oak stood outlined in the glittering facets of a million prisms.

A cheer rose from the crowd as cries of “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Solstice,” and “Blessed Yule” sounded around us.

I lost track of all the hugs and well wishes that followed, but after several minutes, I felt a hand on my back. When I looked, I found Lucas standing just behind me.

“Would you like to see the Mother Tree from up there?” he asked, pointing at the top of the wall the encircles the city. “It’s pretty spectacular.”

“Sure,” I said, straining to make myself heard over the noise. “To tell you the truth, I need out of this crowd for a few minutes.”

Taking the hand he offered, I allowed myself to be led through the milling throng, across the street, and up a stone staircase.

The sounds of the fair receded and the night air felt refreshingly cool on my face after the press of well-wishers. When we moved into an arched, open balcony overlooking the square, I gasped. From this vantage point, the Mother Tree sparkled as if she had been painted in diamonds.

“Oh, Lucas,” I said. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She is,” he said, gazing lovingly at the tree, “and a more gentle old soul I’ve never known. Being in service to the Mother Tree is a great honor.

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