Christmas Magic

By Alexandra Moody

Clio has one mission in life: keep her unique powers hidden and avoid other magical beings at all costs. Sounds simple enough. But, when a group of murderous dark elves attack her, keeping a low profile becomes a little more complicated.

To make matters worse, she's now adopted an unwanted defender. His name is Dash -- a reindeer shifter who's as irritating as he is handsome. He wants to protect her. She wants him to take his rather large antlers and fly on back to the North Pole. But when magical creatures are being killed, and no one knows why, she has no choice but to trust him.

They'll need to work together if they want to find this group of killer elves. But can Clio keep the nature of her powers hidden when Dash is watching her so closely? Or will her secrets unravel as the danger escalates and her magic becomes the one thing between them and disaster?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexandra Moody
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463191958

Alexandra Moody

Alexandra Moody is an Australian author who currently resides in Sydney. She studied Law and Commerce in her hometown, Adelaide, before going on to spend several years living abroad in Canada and the UK. She is a serious dog-lover, avid snowboarder and has a love/hate relationship with the gym. She can often be found on Twitter at @alexandranmoody and facebook.com/alexandramoodyauthor.

Book preview

Chapter One

Iwas in the supermarket when I heard the first Christmas song of the year drifting down the aisle. The ten packets of mac and cheese and the large carton of Fanta I was attempting to juggle came crashing to the ground as I recognized the tune. Jingle Bells.

Are you freaking kidding me? I yelled at the ceiling. It’s not even Halloween!

I wasn’t imagining it. Christmas really was getting earlier each year. I had yet to see a decoration adorning any doors or shop windows, but once the songs started playing, it was only a matter of time.

Miss, you’re going to have to pay for that, a shop attendant said, pointing to the cans of soda that had exploded out of their box and were seeping across the floor. The boxes of mac and cheese were soaked in the sticky orange fizz, so not even they were salvageable.

I turned my attention on the human as he folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were narrowed on me like he was preparing to do battle over the broken goods. The man clearly didn’t know you should never cross a claus—especially when they were pissed off. Then again, the man also had no idea my species existed. I looked just like any other regular nineteen-year-old girl with long brown hair and green eyes, so I could hardly blame him for wanting to take me on. Little did he know, there was something a lot more powerful bubbling just below my pale skin.

Fine, whatever, I said, returning my glare to the ceiling where the merry tune had sprung from. I’d lost my appetite for food anyway. What I needed was a drink. And not the sugary orange stuff I guzzled like water. This occasion definitely called for something a whole lot stronger.

I gave the attendant a handful of cash, hoping it was enough to cover the damage, and hurried for the exit. Yes, I was now running from music. The sad thing was, it wasn’t the first time it had happened. I pretty much had this reaction every year.

As I careered out of the store, I nearly crashed into a small woman by the entrance. It probably didn’t help that I wasn’t looking where I was going. I kept glancing over my shoulder like the music was about to give chase. I murmured an apology to the lady before dodging around her and onto the cobblestone street.

A cold wind brushed against my skin and tugged at my long brown hair as I emerged outside. I slowly drew in a breath before exhaling in one big rush. I could no longer hear the Christmas song, but I swore I could still feel the tune’s presence in my blood. It was like it had taken hostage of my heart, which now seemed to pump to the Jingle Bells beat.

I set off down the narrow road, walking far quicker than was necessary as I made my way to the pub. The stone townhouses that lined the street were all identical in appearance. Each home I passed was a two-story and made from the same golden-toned bricks that were smeared black with age. We were in the middle of the countryside, and yet no gaps separated the buildings. It was as though the people here wanted to live on top of one another, which I failed to understand.

The gloomy day didn’t seem to help my spirits as I walked. The clouds were dark with the promise of rain, and, without any sunshine, the town seemed sapped of life. That’s England for you, I guess.

I reached The Rusty Gate in record time though it wasn’t much of an achievement when everything in town was within a ten-minute walk. To say that Bramblewood was small was an understatement. I doubted that even Google Maps knew it existed. But it was the perfect place for me.

It was only once I stepped into the pub and had my hand wrapped around an ice-cold beer that I began to feel any hint of calm. I downed half the drink before I even considered taking a seat. The pub was dingy and smelled like stale beer, but I’d come to find the familiar stench a comfort since moving to town a few weeks ago.

Bad morning? Sam asked, as he dried a glass behind the bar.

I sunk onto the nearest bar stool and nodded at him. The worst, I replied. I was probably being slightly overdramatic, but I had very good reasons for hating the Christmas season. Not that Sam would understand seeing as he was a human.

What happened? he asked.

The supermarket played ‘Jingle Bells,’ I grumbled in reply.

Sam lifted back his head and laughed. And that’s what’s got you charging in here and demanding beer like you’re dying of thirst?

I scowled at him. I thought bartenders were meant to be sympathetic.

He held up his hands as if I were pointing a gun in his direction. Come on, Clio, it was funny, he said, trying to keep a straight face. Only you could dislike a Christmas tune. Please don’t tell me you’re a Grinch and hate the holidays?

Close. I was a claus. The Grinch was just a magical being the humans dreamed up, but I was a very real one. I wasn’t about to correct him though.

Look, not everyone is a fan of the holidays, I said. Did you know that Christmas is the most likely time of year for anyone to experience anxiety or depression? It was also the time of year I was most likely to run into other magical creatures. Creatures I was trying to avoid at all costs.

Sam shook his head at me. You need to let a little of that Christmas spirit in, he said. He was starting to get on my nerves.

I wanted to tell him that Christmas spirit was the whole problem. Again, I somehow managed to keep my mouth shut. Humans didn’t understand magic, and trying to explain it never ended well.

I downed the rest of my drink and slammed the glass down on the bar.

More? Sam prompted, taking my empty glass.

Do you need to ask?

Sam grinned in response. All right, all right, more beer coming up.

Maybe the human wasn’t so bad after all.

I was five beers deep when customers started to stream into the pub. It was Wednesday lunchtime, so they were there for food rather than the cheap beer The Rusty Gate was known for. I thought they were missing out. I never understood why humans were such sticklers for set times for their activities. To them, it was acceptable to get drunk on a Friday night but frowned upon to do the same thing on a Wednesday at lunch.

My point was only driven home when Sam stopped in front of me between serving customers. Do you want something to eat? he asked.

I laughed. And ruin all the good this beer is doing? Not on your life, Samuel.

From the sad look in his eyes, I could tell he disapproved. I didn’t have room in my moping for his judgment though. So, I took my beer, left my seat at the bar, and went to sit in one of the booths. It was harder to get a drink refill in the back corner of the room, but at least the crowd there was less critical.

I sighed sadly once I reached the bottom of my drink. The buzz I got from beer was usually far more fun than what I was currently experiencing. In fact, the alcohol was a massive downer today. I was starting to reminisce about my childhood in the North Pole, which was never a good idea. We’d left that place for good reason, and I could never go back.

I nodded to myself, glad I’d set my mind straight once again.

Who needs mince pies anyways? I grumbled into my empty glass. They just weren’t the same in the human world, and they were about the only thing I missed from home.

I see you’re still pondering the greater questions in life, someone said from the other side of the booth.

My head jerked up, and I was met with the semi-transparent form of my best friend, Alfie.

I see you’re still dead, I said in reply.

He grinned brightly. Yeah, Alfie had always been Mr. Positivity, and it looked like things hadn’t changed. How a ghost could be so happy, I’d never understand.

Did you find the answers you were looking for at the bottom of your beer glass? he asked.

Not yet, I replied without expanding. Alfie had never been a huge fan of drinking. I always figured it was because he was jealous that he couldn’t join in.

So, how long have you been here? Alfie asked, watching me closely. He could have been asking about my time spent in the pub, but because I hadn’t seen Alfie in a while, I knew he was curious about the backend town I now called home.

A few weeks, I replied.

And you like it?

I shrugged. I hadn’t had a chance to get used to it yet. As far as I can tell, I replied.

Looking at my empty drink, I considered going up to the bar for another one. There was a line though, and Sam looked slammed. I didn’t feel like waiting. With a quick glance around the room to check if anyone was watching, I placed my hand around my beer glass.

My palm warmed as magic flowed out of me, and three seconds later, the glass was filled with beer once more. I grinned down at my full drink. Being a claus wasn’t the worst thing in life after all.

Alfie shook his head at me. You shouldn’t use your magic so openly, he said. Especially at this time of year.

And you shouldn’t go so long between visits, I replied, taking a sip.

You know I can’t help that, he murmured.

Yeah, I know, I replied, my eyes fixed on my beer as I set it down. Like all Christmas beings, Alfie’s magic was tied to the season. He would grow stronger and more visible as Christmas drew near, but for most of the year, Alfie’s powers were so weak he completely disappeared. Other Christmas creatures didn’t have it as bad as Alfie. While they lost their powers, they didn’t physically fade out of existence for months on end.

I was an exception to the rules. My powers never weakened, but it was something I kept secret. I didn’t know a single claus who could cast magic out of season.

My mom once told me it was because I was special, but I knew she was just being kind. The truth was, my powers would terrify anyone who found out about them. Alfie knew, and when he was around, he always made sure I didn’t display my magic in public. Thankfully, he didn’t fear me, but I couldn’t risk the truth with anyone else.

I just meant that I missed you, I said, focusing back on Alfie.

Yeah, me too, he replied.

I leaned back in my chair as I took him in. He was still barely visible, and his voice was only just louder than a whisper. He was wearing his usual suit and bow tie, and his dark hair was slicked back. There was no denying how polished he always looked; it was like he’d just stepped out of a 1920s jazz bar. He was a damn sight more smartly dressed than most of the other ghosts I encountered. Half the ones I came across were in hospital gowns.

He’d been a few years older than me when I first encountered him, but at nineteen, I had now overtaken him in the age department. Alfie would look seventeen forever, but I suspected he would always be the mature one out of the both of us.

So, I guess the season really has begun, I said with a sigh. I shouldn’t have felt so sad. Whenever Christmas drew near, I got my best friend back, which was something I always looked forward to.

Maybe this year will be different, Alfie said, laying his transparent hand over mine. Surely you’re safe from other magical beings out here in the middle of nowhere.

Yeah, maybe, I replied, but my heart wasn’t in the words.

Christmas always meant one thing—magic. But with magic came trouble, and I had an unfortunate knack for attracting both of those things. I tried my hardest to stay firmly away from other magical beings in the hopes of avoiding any danger, but they always managed to find me.

I hoped that Alfie was right and that perhaps this season would be different. That being hidden in a small town in the middle of nowhere would mean that for just this one year I could find a little peace. Little did I know, peace would only last a few more hours; my life was about to be thrown into mayhem, and it would all start when a reindeer walked into the bar.

Chapter Two

Sam was trying to throw me out. At least, I think he was. My day drinking had progressed to night drinking, despite the protests of my ghostly best friend, and I couldn’t quite understand what the bartender was telling me.

You’ve got to speak slower, Samuel, I slurred over the bar.

"Don’t call me Samuel."

I grinned. He was only called by his full name when he was in trouble. Although, I think I was supposed to be the one in trouble right now. I just couldn’t find it in me to care.

Clio, you should probably leave, Alfie said. Don’t make me go get Tomi.

I turned a scowl on my best friend. Don’t threaten me, I said, pointing a stern finger at him.

Oh, and now she talks to invisible friends, Sam interrupted. Great. I’m going to lose my license.

I waved Sam’s comment off. Stop stressing, Samuel. Just one more drink and I’ll go.

You’re not getting another drink, Sam growled.

Yeah, you tell her Sammy-boy, Alfie agreed. Although, you probably should have cut her off two hours ago when she started dancing on tables.

Sam couldn’t hear anything Alfie was saying, but I could and snorted. But that was the best part of the night, I complained. We made friends with those two girls.

"You made friends with those two girls," Alfie corrected.

By now, Sam was looking at me like I was both drunk and crazy. I still didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much.

So, you’re telling me you won’t give me another drink? I asked, focusing on Sam.

I’ve been telling you that for the last twenty minutes, he said.

Huh, I replied, as his refusal finally sunk in. If Sam wouldn’t get me a drink, it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d just have to get one myself. Without hesitation, I summoned a shot of whisky, which appeared in a swirl of magic on the bar. As I picked up the shot glass, Sam looked at it and frowned.

Where did you get that? He stole the glass out of my hand before I got a chance to shoot it back.

What the hell, Sam? I magically summoned another one and drank it before he could stop me. I placed the glass back on the bar and licked my lips. I’d been going for whisky, but I’d somehow ended up with Frangelico. It wasn’t bad.

You just stole two shots of booze? he asked, grabbing the empty glass off the counter. Yep, even when magic happened right before a human’s eyes, they still didn’t seem to recognize it.

No. I’m not a thief, I replied. I mean, I guess it technically was stealing. I had used my summoning powers to get the shot, and it had to come from somewhere. But now that I’ve had my promised last drink, I’ll go.

Sam rushed around the bar as I stumbled away from it. He grabbed one arm to help me to the door.

I bet you’re glad I’m not corporeal right now, Alfie said. Nothing like a cute bartender escorting you from the premises.

I rolled my eyes at him. Sam wasn’t even close to being my type, and Alfie had been friends with me long enough to know that. Sam was far too nice for my liking. He was attractive enough, if you were into that pretty boy look, but he was also ten years older than me so definitely out of bounds.

My nose twitched as we walked toward the front door, and I swayed unsteadily on my feet despite Sam’s firm grip on my arm.

Do you smell that? I murmured to Alfie.

I’m a dead guy, remember? No sense of smell, he responded.

Smell what? Sam asked. He was still holding me, but I’d forgotten he was there.

My nose scrunched up again with disgust. It was the rich smell of cinnamon combined with fresh snow that I always associated with Christmas magic, but it was also mixed with the whiff of wild animal. There was a shifter nearby.

Alfie caught my expression. What is it?

Someone’s here, I growled.

The words had barely left my mouth when the front door of the pub swung open, slamming against the wall. In stepped the largest man I’d ever seen. The guy’s muscles had muscles, and from the way his shirt gripped his body, they were clearly visible beneath the material. His dark hair was unkempt, but that only added to his rugged appeal. It was his eyes that really got me though. The color was like nothing I’d ever seen before. They were a light shade of amber that glowed with a golden hue toward the edges.

Woah, Alfie whispered from beside me.

No kidding, I agreed. The man before us belonged on the covers of magazines not in dingy bars in lazy English towns.

I realized I had stopped breathing for a second, and when I inhaled again, I recognized that the smell of magic was coming from the man who had entered the pub. From the scent coming off him, I could tell he was a shifter but couldn’t guess his natural form. Either way, I immediately found him less appealing. Apart from Alfie and Tomi, I hadn’t seen another magical being in a long time. Not one as powerful as the guy in front of me, at least. The sight of him quickly seemed to sober me up. Shock can have that kind of effect on a girl.

The shifter’s gaze surveyed the pub in a calculating manner, almost as if he were looking for someone. I got a bad feeling I was the not-so-lucky girl he was after and felt a sudden urge to leave as quickly as possible.

Thanks for the help, Sam. I think I can take it from here, I said. I easily darted out of his grasp and gave him a wink before I rushed out the side door of the bar.

See you tomorrow for your shift, he called after me. Don’t be late this time.

The door shut behind me, and I let out a breath. The air outside was crisp and, thankfully, firmly devoid of the smell of any magic.

You work in there? Alfie asked, not trying very hard to disguise his shock.

Yep. I turned from him and started the walk home down the darkened street. Only the odd lamppost lit the way, making the uneven cobblestones a challenge to walk on. Bramblewood was usually busy enough during the day, but as soon as night fell, the place turned into a ghost town—and with Alfie here, that was only truer tonight.

My friend kept pace beside me, his walk more of a hover as his feet barely skimmed the ground. I was glad for his company. I never usually minded the late-night walks home, but I was rattled after seeing the shifter. I kept checking over my shoulder to see if he’d followed us from the bar. There was no sign of Mr. Muscles though.

Who was that? Alfie asked.

Some kind of shifter.

What’s a shifter doing here?

Don’t know, don’t care, I replied with a shrug. So long as he doesn’t bother me.

You’re the only magical being for miles, Alfie said. Do you really think he’s not here looking for you?

A girl can only hope, I said. And I really did hope. The last thing I needed right now was trouble with a shifter. I hadn’t done anything to annoy any shifters lately, so I was trusting it was just a coincidence. What could he possibly want with me?

Alfie was shaking his head, as if he thought I was being naïve. But thankfully, he let the subject drop. So, you work in a bar? he asked.

That was his change in topic?

Yeah, it’s called a job,