17. Christmas Cookie Exchange

Chapter 17

Christmas Cookie Exchange

“ Y ou know I’m not a kitchen witch, right?” Alice asked.

“There’s a difference in witches?” Hugo responded as he sifted through her kitchen cabinets looking for mixing bowls, measuring cups, and other utensils.

“Of course there are. We have our own areas of expertise. It’s like our profession,” Alice answered. “There are apothecary witches, like me, who brew potions. Then you have kitchen witches who specialize in baking. Green herbal witches grow things. Medicinal witches. Coven witches like Ez who keep knowledge and secrets. Cosmic—”

“Cosmic?” Hugo gave Alice a puzzled look.

“They specialize in astrology and tarot and stuff like that,” Alice answered. “Then there are the eclectics who dabble in a bit of everything, but master none of it.”

“So, what is this? Like a major in college or something?”

“No! Not like a major.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Yeah. Actually, kind of like a major. You pick an area you want to focus in and study it. I picked apothecary brewing, which is why I make my magical wine. I didn’t choose baking. ”

“I’m not asking you to make magical cookies. They’re regular, old Christmas cookies. How hard can it be? We follow the recipes and boom. Cookies. No magick.”

“No magick?” Alice asked with a discerning look on her face.

Hugo placed the gathered items on the island in the center of the kitchen. “No. We’re giving them to Johanna. Elizabeth did this every year. This might help fix whatever icy relationship the two of you have.”

“She started it,” Alice retorted.

“I know, but a little kindness goes a long way. It’s the holiday season, after all.”

“Fine,” Alice relented. “I’ll help bake them. For Christmas’ sake.” She moved to the island and plopped her hands on the wooden countertop. Her head tilted to the side.

“Fair warning, though,” she continued. “I’m not the best baker in the world.”

“Neither am I. We can be the worst bakers in the world together.”

“There is this whole store dedicated to baked goods in the town center. What is it called? The name escapes me.” Alice held up a finger to her chin and gazed at the ceiling. “Oh yeah! They call it a bakery because, you know, they bake stuff. Like baked goods. And cookies.”

Hugo moved around the island and hugged Alice. His hands moved up and down her back. Alice quivered the further down his hands traveled. They inched closer and closer to the small of her back with each passing rub.

“Where is your Christmas spirit? You don’t buy cookies in a cookie exchange. That’s the whole point.”

“I have plenty of Christmas spirit, thank you very much. I don’t have a lot of baking spirit.”

“Well, I’ll cover you in that area.” Hugo released her and strode to the pantry. He removed a bag of flower and sugar. He proceeded to the refrigerator to gather eggs, a box of baking soda, and other ingredients. He carefully placed each item on the island in their designated places.

“You know, if you want the best cookies, we should ask Holly,” Alice offered.

Hugo paused. “Who’s Holly?”

“Holly. Holly Claus. Santa’s wife. She’s a kitchen witch,” Alice replied with a confused look. “You don’t know who Holly is?”

“First, I’ve never heard of Holly Claus, only Mrs. Claus,” Hugo answered. “Second, there is no Santa Claus or Mrs. Claus.”

Alice stood there with crossed arms. Her face was solemn, and her eyes were piercing. Hugo’s smile faded to worry.

“How dare you?”

“You… you don’t still believe, do you?” Hugo asked.

“First, the Clauses are the nicest people I’ve ever met.” Alice raised a finger to illustrate her point.

“You’re joking, right?”

Any figurative pretense of staring daggers seemed to manifest thoughts of Alice literally throwing kitchen knives. Alice snapped her fingers, and the refrigerator, cabinet, and pantry doors flung open. Hugo ducked behind the island as all the items he previously placed on the wooden countertop flew past his head and found their way back to their original storage homes. The doors slammed shut with another snap of Alice’s fingers.

“Second, you’re being very insulting right now, especially this close to Christmas. Third, the Clauses make frequent visits to Ez’s place throughout the year. I’ve known them for a while. Fourth, Holly’s shortbread cookies are the best. She gives me a batch every year for Christmas. They are the best you’ll ever taste if—and right now that’s a big if—I’m feeling in the Christmas giving mood.”

“Perfect.” Hugo rose from the sanctity of his hiding spot. “So, you’re already familiar with cookie exchanges.”

Alice stormed out of the kitchen.

“Alice!” Hugo shouted as he followed her into the hallway. “Alice, wait. ”

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she stormed off. Fresh, lush evergreen garland adorned the hallway. The smell of cinnamon and pine permeated throughout the house. Red and green candles were lit in their black candelabras atop the antique tables.

Max and Galahad rushed into the hallway from the living room, excited to see the commotion. Max’s tail swung low, back and forth. Galahad hovered at eye level. It surveyed the hallway, looking for any signs of trouble, only to be excited at the sight of Alice and Hugo.

“I’m sorry.”

She stopped and held an arm back, wiggling her fingers. He accepted her unspoken invitation and grabbed her hand. She turned around to face him. He batted his eyes in his attempt at an apology. Max nudged Alice’s free hand.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I was joking around.”

“It hurt, Hugo,” Alice replied. “It didn’t feel like joking around.”

Hugo’s playful expression turned morose.

“She’s not that hurt,” a familiar voice yelled from upstairs.

“We don’t need input from you,” Alice yelled back.

In a rhythmic, sarcastic response, the voice replied, “I know what she really wants.”

“Enough from the peanut gallery,” Alice replied as she snapped her fingers.

The bedroom door slammed shut, and the voice upstairs became muffled.

“This is important to me,” Hugo said. “Because it was important to Elizabeth. I want to make sure it continues. And I think it will go a long way to help patch things up. I’ve known Johanna for a while. I don’t want things to be awkward, especially if—”

“If what?” Alice asked.

“If whatever this is continues.”

Alice pulled back her hand and placed both hands on her hips. She gave him another glare of impending doom. She asked, “So, what is this then?”

Hugo sighed. He carefully considered his next words, knowing full well the importance they carried. “This has been… heaven,” he replied.

Alice narrowed her eyes in a discerning, puzzled gaze. He touched both of Alice’s hands. She allowed him to hold and lift them.

“This past month and a half has meant more to me than anything you could understand. I want things to continue on our journey. I don’t want a neighborhood war to break out between two of the few people I still care about,” Hugo said.

Alice glanced down at the floor and then back toward Hugo. His mouth curled into a half smile. His eyes somber, yet hopeful. She glanced away again for a moment. She found his eyes once more and smiled.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll do this, but only for you,” she replied.

She pulled her hands away from Hugo and snapped her fingers. All the items in the kitchen returned to the places Hugo had assigned them.

Hugo wrapped his arms around Alice and pulled her closer. Alice blushed as their bodies pressed against each other. Her heart beat against his chest. He kissed her on the forehead.

“Perfect,” Hugo said as joy returned to his face.

He let go of her and marched to the kitchen, leaving her behind. Max followed. Galahad floated past Alice. It stopped and turned to face her.

“Oh, come on,” Alice said as she plodded past. “You can help too.”

Galahad circled around in excitement and followed everyone into the kitchen.

Alice stood next to Hugo. Their shoulders touched. She leaned into him. He soaked it all in—her presence, her breath, her aura. A sensation coursed through Hugo’s body. He smiled and winked at her. She placed her hand on top of his.

She tilted her head toward him and whispered into his ear, “Where do we start?”

A shiver ran down his back .

“First,” Hugo began as he analyzed the recipe. “We mix all the ingredients in the bowl.”

They read through the list and divided the items. Their hands smacked against each other as they took turns adding their assigned items to a large, glass mixing bowl.

“I didn’t realize baking was a contact sport,” Alice said.

Hugo leaned closer and whispered, “That’s what makes it fun together.” He gave a wink and then stood up straight. “Now we mix.” He focused on Alice, waiting for her to act.

“With what?” Alice surveyed the table.

“Do your thing. Mix it together,” he replied with a swirling motion of his finger.

“You said no magick.”

“Well, I assumed that’s how you mixed stuff.”

She bent down and opened a cabinet door. She pulled out a handheld mixer and stood back up. She dangled it in front of him. “You know what they say about someone who assumes. It makes an ass out of you—”

“I thought you liked my ass?” he interrupted.

“Right now, that’s questionable,” she replied as she shoved the mixer against Hugo’s chest.

He chuckled and took the mixer. He plugged it in and stirred the bowl, transforming the ingredients into dough. “Take the flour and spread some on the table.”

Alice spread out the flour.

“Now, sprinkle a little more on the dough,” he instructed.

“Sprinkle a little more?” Alice dipped her fingers into the bag of flour.

“Yeah.”

“Like this?” She flung a puff of the white powder toward Hugo’s face.

He stopped the mixer in shock. She put an elbow on the table and rested her face in her palm. She gave an impish smile toward her handiwork .

A surprise smile overcame him. Hugo set the mixer down and pushed the bowl toward the middle of the table. He mirrored her pose. Elbow on the table. Flour covered face resting in the palm of his hand. A knowing expression. He licked the flour around his lips. She winked at him.

“Why, Ms. Primrose, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

“If I was flirting, you’d know it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“If I was flirting, I might have dumped some flour on your head like this.” She snapped her fingers with her open hand.

A cloud of flour extruded from the bag toward Hugo. His hair and face were now covered in the white powder. Galahad bounced through the air in excitement. Max barked at Galahad’s movements.

Hugo stood up. “Well, Ms. Primrose. You picked the wrong person to have a food fight with.”

He peeled off a small clump of dough from within the bowl and flung it toward Alice. She snapped her fingers. The little lump of dough stopped in midair.

“No magick,” Hugo shouted.

“That’s not fair,” Alice responded.

“Exactly.”

He grabbed the bowl and chased Alice. She ran away, circling around the island. Alice snatched the bag of flour and proceeded to fling bits of powder toward Hugo. He gave chase.

He flung small bits of dough back as he became like a ghostly apparition. They circled the island, giddy with glee. Alice allowed Hugo to catch up to her. He wrapped his free arm around her.

“And now, Ms. Primrose, the champion of food fighting shall reclaim his crown.” He raised the bowl to dump the contents on her head.

“Gally, save me!” Alice playfully called as she pretended to struggle in Hugo’s grip.

Galahad flew across the table to her aid by poking at Hugo’s ribs.

“Easy, Gally. Easy,” Hugo said. Each poke was less playful than the last. Hugo set the bowl on the tabletop. A sharp pain emanated from his side from Galahad’s latest glancing blow. “That one hurt. Max, help!”

Max rushed to Hugo’s side, not to help him, but to save Alice. She jumped up and pushed against Hugo, giving a loud bark with each shove.

“Traitor!” Hugo called out. “You’re supposed to help me.”

Max continued to shove the pair. With the combination of Galahad’s pokes and Max’s shoving, the pair wobbled.

Hugo and Alice fell to the floor. He was able to twist them around so he hit the floor and Alice landed on top, straddling him. They laid on the floor face-to-face. Her purple hair engulfed his head. Their noses nearly touched. They lost themselves in each other’s eyes. Lost in a dark, secret language they only knew. They smiled and chuckled.

Alice moved in and kissed Hugo. Her soft lips pressed against his flour covered ones. Each kiss was longer and deeper than the last. He moved his hands to the back of her head. His fingers intertwined in her purple hair. His other hand wrapped around her waist, attempting to pull her closer than was possible.

He curled his fingers along her back. As they continued kissing, Hugo was set ablaze with passion. After a few minutes, he pulled his hand away from her hair, and they stopped kissing. They locked onto each other and breathed deeply together. Hugo yearned for more.

“So, I guess we’ll have to start over then, huh?” Hugo stated.

Johanna sat in her high-back chair looking out her living room window. The drab and dreary gray December sky blotted out the setting sun. A light blanket of fresh snow on the ground covered the slumbering yellowish grass beneath. Desolate trees lined the street. A few cars passed by the window. She sipped her cup of tea. Her eyes always kept a watchful vigilance over her neighborhood street, as was her daily ritual. She glanced up and down the street, but her eyes focused on the real threat. The black door of the purple house across the street.

She took another sip of her steaming Earl Grey tea.

There was motion. The black door opened. Johanna set the tea cup down in the saucer dish she held with her other hand. She placed them both on the stand next to the window. She sat up straight with her eyes focused. They widened as Alice emerged from the door and jogged down the steps. Alice continued across the street. Alice held a small, red box in her hands. Johanna held her breath. Alice continued past her parked, black SUV.

This is it , Johanna thought as she stood up and pulled the curtains shut. She hurried over to the display table that held her dark tools, the ones that would help her exact her revenge.

Josiah Newes pushed his way through the crowd. He tried desperately to save his daughter bound and tied to the tree.

“Please. Please stop this,” Johanna cried out. “I’m not a witch.” She screamed. Her body went limp, head buried into her chest. Only the ropes kept her body upright.

“Behold,” Thaddeus proclaimed. He removed his oversized tricorn hat, lifting it high into the air. “The amulet of witch’s fire claims yet another witch!”

The crowd erupted in cheers of jubilation.

Josiah pushed further toward the center. “No! No! Not my daughter,” he yelled as he finally broke free of the crowd. “Not my Johanna. She’s no witch.”

He rushed to her side. He removed the restraints, catching her limp body as it fell into his arms. He was an older gentleman, not particularly muscular, but he was able to lift her body and carry it. The crowd hissed and booed as he picked up her lifeless body.

“My friends. My friends. Our deed is done,” Thaddeus yelled to silence the crowd. He turned his attention to Josiah. He smiled a wicked grin. “Besides, we are not mad barbarians. Let him take her to give her a proper burial.”

Josiah carried her body to a horse-drawn cart. He struggled to place her onto the back of the cart. His grip nearly slipped. He lifted his knee to help push her lifeless body as it rolled onto the wooden platform. Josiah ran to the front, climbed aboard, and whipped the horse to ride off. Thaddeus smiled and placed his hat back on his head.

The horse pulled the cart as fast as it could. Josiah jostled with every rut and bump in the road. He whipped the reins, begging the horse to run faster. It felt like an eternity. The road went on and on with no end. He glanced back to Johanna’s lifeless body. It rocked back and forth. Faster and faster, they went down the path until they arrived at a walking path hidden off the main road.

Josiah pulled back on the reins; the cart struggled to come to a full stop without wanting to plow through the horse. He leapt down from the seat and grabbed Johanna’s body. He ran with her down the dirt walking path. Deeper and deeper, he ventured into the woods. Her body was heavy. The amulet waved around her neck. His grip slipped as he stumbled over tree roots. He nearly fell, but he was able to hold himself upright. His lungs burned. He wanted to stop, but he kept going deeper into the woods.

There was a cabin in a clearing of the woods. He ran up to the door and kicked it. He waited. It opened outward. Standing in the doorway was an elderly woman. She wore a black dress covered in dirt. Her gray, curly hair was matted and tangled in knots. Her face was unwashed. Her skin was old and leathery from working the fields in too much sun.

“What happened?” she asked in a panic.

“They burned my daughter,” Josiah replied as he carried Johanna’s body into the cabin.

“Set her on the table. Quickly!” the old woman exclaimed. She rushed to a shelf of bottles and jars, grabbing a few in a hurried pace. “How long ago? ”

“Not long.”

“She’s dying. We don’t have much time.” She went to her fireplace. A black cauldron of bubbling water hung above the fire. She removed the cauldron and handed it to Josiah. “Empty this outside. I need to start fresh.”

He rushed to the door and dumped the contents onto the ground. He brought the cauldron back. She hovered over Johanna’s body. She worked to remove her black petticoat. Each button resisted. She pulled and tugged before all eight buttons were undone. The white undershirt was now fully exposed with a black, charred burn mark.

Josiah covered his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up. Tears gathered in his eyes. “What have they done to my daughter?”

The woman tore at the undershirt. A similar black burn mark festered out in spiderweb like patterns across Johanna’s chest. Their black veins grew and clawed their way outward across her breasts right before their eyes.

“We might be too late,” she said. “I don’t have enough time to make a potion.”

“Please, Willow,” Josiah begged through his tears. “She’s all I have left. Please. We have to try something. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose anyone else.”

Willow examined the amulet of witch’s fire. Her fingers ran over the ridges of the jewels. She touched Johanna’s face. She nodded to Josiah. “I can try something. It’s not perfect. I can use magick on the device that did this to bring her back. But if I do this, she’ll forever be tied to the fate of this amulet. As long as this amulet exists, so will she.”

“Do it,” Josiah said. A solitary tear flowed down his face. “Anything to bring her back. She’s all I have. Please.”

Willow pulled out a leatherbound grimoire. She flipped through the pages until she found the needed entry. She held the amulet of witch’s fire with her right hand. She placed her left hand over Johann’s heart and recited an incantation. The language and words were foreign to Josiah. The spiderweb mark slowly retreated into the black mark until both disappeared. As she finished, Johanna sprang up and gasped for air.

The memory of the gasp jolted Johanna back to reality. She wanted the satisfaction of finishing that memory, but it was for another time. She prepared herself for what was to come. Johanna turned the brass key in the center leaf. The locks clicked. Johanna double tapped her pinned cloak clasp before opening the left drawer. She withdrew the black, twisted wand held within.

There was a knock at the door.

Johanna turned and proceeded toward it, not in a hurry, but cautious. She held the anti-magick wand out in front, ready to strike. The tip pointed toward the door. Her steps carefully placed. Her eyes shifted from the door to the window and then back to the door. Always cautious. Always vigilant.

Another knock echoed through the entryway and living room. Johanna went to grab the doorknob, but stopped short.

“Who is it?” Johanna called out.

A muffled voice spoke, “It’s Alice. From across the street. We have a gift for you.”

Johanna paused and thought, We? No. That’s her trick. Her trick to get you . Johanna gripped the wand tighter. The ridges indented into her hand. She moved to the side of the door. Sure of her aim, the tip of the wand was ready.

Johanna used her other hand to unlock the deadbolt and then gripped the doorknob.

“Just a moment,” she yelled back. She took a deep breath and rotated the silver knob. Johanna exhaled and then yanked the door open.

Her eyes widened as standing in the doorway was not Alice, but Hugo looking toward someone out of her view. She pulled the wand back and stuffed it into her pocket .

“Hugo,” Johanna said in shocked amazement. She opened the door further and stood in the threshold. “What a nice surprise.”

“We brought you something,” Hugo said.

“Merry Christmas, Johanna,” Alice followed.

She handed Johanna the small, red box. Johanna laid her eyes on the box, trying to decide if she should take it or not.

The pause lingered.

“It’s homemade sugar cookies,” Hugo said. “Not as elaborate as Elizabeth used to make, but we thought we’d continue the tradition in her memory.”

“It took us three attempts to make them. We kept getting… interrupted,” Alice said. “We made them with that extra Christmas magick.” Alice winked at Hugo.

Johanna stood there, caught off guard by the gesture. “I…” Johanna began as she took the box. “I don’t know what to say.”

Hugo smiled. “It’s been a tough year for both of us. I thought maybe a little cookie exchange could help to make the season bright.”

“I wasn’t expecting this.” Johanna raised her eyes from the box to Hugo. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugo said. “Keeping Elizabeth’s tradition alive is good enough for us.”

Alice added, “It was all Hugo’s idea.”

“Thank you. Thank you for honoring her memory. I hope you continue to do so.”

“The Raskins are coming over to my house for Christmas dinner. We’d be honored if you joined us,” Hugo said.

Johanna’s mouth dropped. First, cookies, and now an invitation for Christmas dinner. She never expected a Christmas invitation. She was at a loss for words. She focused on the box of cookies. The fleeting thought of accepting crossed her mind. Johanna glimpsed Alice’s pointed hat, and the words came flooding back. “I appreciate the gesture, but I already have plans on Christmas. I’m seeing some friends. Out of town. ”

“That’s okay,” Hugo responded. “Maybe next year.”

“I really do appreciate everything,” Johanna said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas,” Hugo said.

He winked at Alice and blew her a kiss. They turned, locked hands, and strolled back toward the purple house.

Johanna watched them cross the street before shutting the front door. She opened the cardboard box to peer at the yellowish cookies held within. She removed one and took a bite. The sugary goodness melted in her mouth. She was taken aback by how good they tasted. Almost as good as the ones Elizabeth used to make, but still not quite.

Johanna set the box down on the table next to her tea cup as she proceeded to return the wand to its drawer. She went to the window, drew open the curtains, and returned to her duties as she sat in her wingback chair. She opened the box and took out the half-eaten cookie to take another bite.