Chapter One
Though Massachusetts in the fall was beautiful, it looked so storybook in the winter. At least that was what Jessica Mason thought when she stared at the snowfall the week after Thanksgiving. Everyone said it would be a cold winter that year.
She was a newcomer to Middleton Village, Massachusetts since September, the first outsider to arrive in a long time for the small east coast town. And for a California teenager, watching the thick snowfall covering the roads, the trees, and her lawn, she just hummed the words to White Christmas, savoring the moment. Her mother wasn’t enjoying it as much. It was her mother’s first time driving in the snow and she had gone out to buy ice melt and chains for her tires, just in case.
Turning from the window where their open box of Christmas decorations sat in the living room, Jessica reached to their stereo system and turned up the volume to the radio station that was already playing Christmas music. Bing Crosby sounded so divine with his voice filling the room. What a crooner. If only her father could be there to hear it.
That dark thought made Jessica frown. It would be her first Christmas without him since the divorce. Jessica wondered where that old crooked magician was at the moment. Probably tricking someone out of his money with the usual sleight-of-hand, though it was more likely he was in prison. Their move to Middleton Village was to make sure that she and her mother would not be dragged into his self-made legal problems.
It was all thanks to Mr. Deacon, her mother’s billionaire employer. Their move into Middleton Village would have been impossible, as everyone said the town was cursed. Only those that were born into the town really could find it, and to move in one had to be invited—a long story having to do with a history of witchcraft linked to the Salem witch trials. Jessica didn’t know how much to believe. Though after living in the town for four months, she started to think that maybe there was some credence to the local superstition. After all, not long after her own move-in she had stumbled upon a curse that had plagued the town for generations with the disappearances of boys and young men in the local library. Her encounter with the library had ended the curse, and she had gained seven new friends in the mostly hostile town. After all, she was an outsider.
She started to unpack the glass balls. Jessica had already taken out the bells and the garland though she had yet to unpack the lights. She and her mother debated whether it was worth putting up lights on the outside of the house since that year her father wasn’t there to do it. Jessica had suggested that her boyfriend, Andrew Bartholomew Cartwright, set it up for them. But her mother still did not like the idea of them going out, regardless of the good upstanding family Andy came from. His past history made her mother uncomfortable. After all, Andy was one of the boys that had been trapped in the library curse—though their friends told everyone that a cult had kidnapped them all. No one, even in Middleton Village, really believed in magic…despite all the nonsense about curses.
The doorbell rang.
Jessica smiled, hoping it was Andy. She had invited him over anyway though her mother had objected to his help. At least they could make cocoa and sit by the fireplace where already they had a small blaze going.
Walking to the door, Jessica peeked out the hole then blinked. It wasn’t him, but two women in coats and mufflers. She unlocked the door and opened it.
“Hi! Is your mother home?” A cheery middle-aged woman with forget-me-not blue eyes grinned on the front step next to an older lady with a slightly more stern disposition. Both waited politely with looks of Christmas cheer about them.
Jessica shook her head, shivering from the draft that quickly blew in. “No. She’s out shopping. Can I help you?”
Normally the locals didn’t visit them at all, so already Jessica’s cynical suspicious side took over in her mind. After all, in being outsiders that Mr. Deacon had brought in from California, they had been given a less-than-friendly greeting for four whole months.
Still grinning with that sweet homemaker-y way, the middle-aged woman stepped closer to the door. “Yes, actually. I’m Margaret Hill and this is Linda Sawyer. We are representatives of the Ladies Aid Society of Middleton. We are collecting donations to help pay for this year’s Winter Ball, as well as looking for volunteers to participate in the auction. We have been canvassing around the neighborhood, and we realized that your home had not been visited yet.”
“A terrible oversight,” Mrs. Sawyer, the stern lady, added.
Jessica just blinked, listening, though she thought it was hardly an oversight. People passed them by all the time. However Jessica didn’t mind not having solicitors coming to her door.
“Can you tell us when your mother will be in so we can meet with her?” Ms. Hill kindly asked.
Thinking, Jessica then shrugged. “I really don’t know when she’ll be in. You can try after six, maybe, though I think she’ll be tired and just want to rest then.”
“How about tomorrow?” Mrs. Sawyer asked, taking out her appointment book.
“Sunday?” Jessica’s mouth turned to a slight frown. “No. Mom likes to rest on Sunday. She works forty hours a week and often overtime. If you want to visit, it will have to in the afternoon on Monday.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Her mother could schedule her hours if she wanted to. Mr. Deacon was rather lenient. He valued her mother’s skills as a translator with his foreign contacts, so he made her job easy. She did most of her work on the phone and online anyway.
“That’s fine,” Mrs. Sawyer said. “We can return then.”
Both ladies waved as they walked down the steps toward the road. Jessica watched them, wondering. It really had been the first time anyone came to their door to make them feel like part of the community. Maybe things were changing.
Jessica closed the door and returned to the living room.
In truth, living in Middleton Village had been hard. At school, the kids picked on her. For a while she had only one friend, and that was Andy. He didn’t become her boyfriend until after Halloween. By then things had changed a great deal.
Magic.
Jessica sighed and lifted her right palm to stare at it. The faint scar where she had once burned her hand during the magic escapade itched occasionally, a memento of the outrageous experience that she, Andy and six other boys went through. Two others had shared the adventure with them, an elderly man now retired in San Diego, and another older man who worked in the local market. But unlike her and the seven boys, they mostly forgot the adventure they had been living in for most of their lives. Really though, it had been only her with six of the boys since one of the cursed boys, Michael Toms, had gone back to San Diego where he was from, taking the old man with him. Michael’s only link to Middleton Village was his grandmother, and he had escaped the town altogether, the lucky dog.
She lowered her hand then dug back into the decorations box. Jessica took out more glass ball boxes and stacked them on top of each other on the carpet. The only magic she wanted to experience now was the magic of Christmas time. She had decorating to do, presents to buy, mistletoe to find, and lots and lots of candy to make. Also, she wanted to have party with her friends. After all, they weren’t the type that got invited anywhere. They had been classified as nerds and geeks by everyone at Middleton High, unfair categories to the say the least.
The doorbell rang again.
Jessica put down another box then walked to the peephole. No one was standing outside on the porch this time.
Sighing with a faint moan, Jessica headed back into the living room. That felt more like Middleton Village.
She stuck her hands into the box again. Barely getting out another box of glass ornaments, the doorbell rang again.
Glancing over her shoulder at the door, Jessica frowned.
She got up, walked back over to it and peered at the peephole again.
Not a soul, as before.
But then she noticed something on the step. Blinking at it since the angle was bad, Jessica then undid the locks and opened the door, first a crack.
On the step sat a box, simply wrapped in the seasonal colors. The wind blew in as she stared at it. It wasn’t a big box. Shoebox size, actually. But Jessica frowned as she parted the screen door to get closer to it.
The moment she did, a hard snowball smacked her right on top of her head. Another pelted her shoulder.
Jessica looked up.
Another snowball hit her in the face.
Cackles burst out in the cold wind.
Swiping off her glasses and the snow out of her eyes and mouth, another struck her in the ear. Jessica swore. She reached down and grabbed a heap of snow in her bare hand. Immediately, those hiding behind the snow-covered fence along her front yard scrambled to get away, screaming.
Balling up the snow with a hop to chuck it hard, she stuck her glasses back on then counted the number of her attackers. Three. She recognized as Milton Coombe, her friend Peter’s cousin. The other Mary Pransford, a popular creep from her school as well as Milton’s girlfriend. Jessica guessed the last one to be either Amy Paige, Mary’s friend, or one of Milton’s pals. Jessica lifted her arm and chucked the first snowball.
It smacked Milton right on the back of his head. Jessica reached for another clump of snow, but the threesome was already out of reach by then. She dropped the second ball with a glare at them.
Before going back into the house, Jessica picked up the wrapped box and shook it. The weight didn’t shift at all, though it felt mostly hollow. She sniffed it then.
Sure enough, it stank.
With a stomp, Jessica walked to the side yard through the snow and dumped the package in the trashcan. As she let the lid fall with a clank, she shivered. Merry Christmas indeed. What kind of town raised kids to become such nasty people?
Jessica clenched her arms to herself with a shiver. This was when she wished she was back in California.
“What are you doing out here without a coat?”
She turned.
The adorable tall redhead that she had come to really like stood at the gate in his parka. In his arms were some grocery sacks.
“Andy!” She jogged over to him, trembling. “Oh, I was just throwing something out.”
He lifted his eyebrows then kissed her on her forehead before escorting her back into the house. “Was it that urgent?”
Jessica nodded. “Oh yes!”
Andy smirked.
They both went in. Andy put the sacks on the kitchen counter, taking out the perishable goods to put them in the refrigerator. Her kitchen was one of those ‘cozy’ types that made it difficult to maneuver around in. The hanging pots and pan rack hung in the way of his admirable height. He managed, though he bonked his head against it a few times before he was able to leave the kitchen.
“So, what are putting up first?” he asked, walking up to Jessica who was now taking out all the lights. They were in the bottom of the box.
She smiled at him, putting on doe eyes.
“See that?”
Daniel Smith frowned, peering through the snowy bushes and his fogging up glasses at the bed and breakfast that rarely ever got business—yet it was the Christmas season and people were coming home. The curse on the town demanded that those people who dared leave had to come home sometime. Otherwise they might meet an untimely death like Michael Tom’s mother.
“I don’t know him. Do you?” James Peterson, Daniel’s best pal said, his frown almost identical to Daniel’s though it spread differently on his chubby face than Daniel’s thin, pimple-dotted one. His glasses were just as frosty.
Shaking his head, Daniel mused seriously over it. “Not at all. But you know the outside world could change a person.”
James sighed aloud. “No. That guy is a stranger. An outsider. How did he get into our town?”
“Maybe someone invited him,” Daniel suggested.
That seemed the most possible to the boys. But outsiders usually meant trouble.
Not that they hated all outsiders. Jessica Mason was one of their best friends also. Actually, they all felt indebted to her. After all, she was the one who had helped them escape from a magical world over three months ago—broke the curse on the library so to speak…or at least they gave her the credit for it. They had nicknamed her Chosen One because of it, something that bothered her a great deal since she didn’t feel especially blessed or chosen. They had nicknames for each other also. They called Andy Red—not because of his red hair, though it sure did seem like it to everyone else, but Red because he was the ‘red knight’ in the magical world they had been sucked into years ago and had only just escaped. Daniel went by the name of Swift, though they also called him the ‘brown knight’ since he had worn brown rusty colored armor in that other world. James had been the green knight known as Sir Iron Fist. Of course lately he bemoaned that he was no longer the strong man he had been in the magical world. Most of them felt that way.
“But what was he invited for?” James asked, thinking aloud.
Daniel shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you, but we had better tell Sir Cooly, Peter, and Sir Strength Heart.”
“Not Red or the Chosen One?” James peered at Daniel funny.
Daniel cast back a smirk. “Not yet. I don’t want to get in the middle of them getting all lovey-dovey. He’s over at her house right now, you know.”
James broke into a laugh. He nodded and rose from where he had been hiding. Then his eye caught on something. He blinked and nudged Daniel. “Hey. Look!”
Daniel did look, blinking across the snowy road at the same bed and breakfast.
“It’s Sir Long Shanks.”
Sure enough, Daniel saw Michael Toms stepping out of a dark rental car, tugging the collar of his greatcoat around his neck with a glance around the neighborhood. He hardly looked changed; his slightly tanned face under his nearly black hair the only difference.
“Is school out for him?” James asked.
“He goes to a private school.” Daniel shrugged. “Besides, maybe the schools are different in California. Let out early.” He then hopped into the road, waving his arm wide as he jogged over. “Sir Long Shanks!”
Michael turned immediately, blinking. Upon seeing them, a smile popped onto his face. He left the car at a jog, skidding on the snow to meet them on the curb. A few heads turned to look, including Michael’s father who lit up a cigarette under cupped hands.
“Swift! Sir Iron Fist! Have you come to meet me?”
Both Daniel and James shook their heads.
“No. Actually we were, uh…” Daniel grew suddenly squeamish. Michael had been gone for so long he wasn’t sure it was wise to let him in on all the changes the town had gone through since their release from the curse.
“There’s an outsider in the bed and breakfast where you’re staying,” James said.
Michael blinked then glanced back. “Really? Are you sure he’s not just some guy who just came back from college?”
Both Daniel and James shook their heads again. “Too old.” “Way too old.”
With a miniscule smirk, Michael leaned back and closed one eye. “Wow, you guys never change. You are both the same as when we served under King Card.”
Daniel sighed with relief. “Then you haven’t forgotten.”
Blinking again, Michael peered at him. “What do you mean? How can I forget? It was in that book for I don’t know how many years, half the time stuck as a zombie. I still have nightmares about it.”
James and Daniel shared a look. They said, “Because, that old hippie, he’s forgotten it entirely, and the burn mark on his hand is gone.”
“Entirely gone,” James added.
“Does old Nathan still have his scar?” Daniel asked.
“More still,” James asked, leaning in, “Do you have yours?”
Moaning, Michael, pulled his hand out of his coat pocket where he had been keeping it warm. He held it out. In the center was the scar, a shape like the sun, though its center whirled into a spiral, and the rays were shaped more like dragon wings than sunny flames. “I haven’t really pressed old Nathan about the time he lived in the book. I kind of wanted him to forget it and just enjoy retirement. You know he spent his whole life as a zombie in O’thor’s castle.”
Both Daniel and James shared a look again then they tugged on Michael’s arm.
“Ok, here’s the thing,” Daniel whispered low. “Does your hand ever burn or twinge, you know especially when something really weird is going on?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah. It twinges a lot. Itches sometimes. Do you know why?”
Both boys nodded again.
“We have a lot to talk about,” James said. “The Chosen One said she sent you a letter about what happened around last Halloween, but I don’t know how much detail she put into it.”
Michael scratched his chin then shivered. He heard the distant echo of his father calling to him. Looking back, he saw his father waving over to them all to come inside. He said to them, “Let’s get out of the cold. I can tell you all of that inside the diner. We’ll treat you to lunch.”
Daniel hesitated, thinking of the stranger inside the bed and breakfast. James, however, was thinking of the same thing with a different impulse. He nodded. “Yeah, I want a closer look of that guy also.”
“Just don’t make it obvious,” Daniel whispered back to him, though he headed along with Michael and James to the building. Mr. Toms grinned at them, beckoning them inside with another wave.
They passed the workers setting up wreaths on the old-fashioned street lamps as the flurries thinned a little. Daniel pushed on the door but then paused with a glance at the Toms’ rent-a-car.
“Hey, I just wondered something.” Daniel gestured down the road with his thumb. “How come you don’t stay at your grandma’s? I’m sure she has space in her house.”
Michael lifted his eyebrows with a glance at his father. His father walked inside then held the door open for them.
“Oh, that’s probably because Dad promised Mom a long time ago not to stay at her place when he visits,” Michael said.
“But why not?” Daniel asked.
With a shrug, Michael answered, “Mom said grandma was a witch.”
Daniel shared a look with James. Both of them weren’t sure how to take that.
They went inside.
The snow continued to fall as the street decorators moved to the next street lamp, hanging up a wreath and attaching an electrical light string to it. Then they went to the next light. On the opposite side of the road a group of boys were twisting white lights around the trees, going up the hill towards the bed and breakfast. It was a part time job for the season, and all three of them were bundled up warm to handle a couple more hours of it at least.
“Come on, give me the next string,” the boy on the ladder called down.
Edward White, another bespeckled brown-haired friend of the pals that had gone into the bed and breakfast, took the bundle out of the box, unwound the end then handed it up. The boy above took it.
“I guess geeks need money too,” the boy on the ladder murmured as he fitted the plugs together. He had been talking like that for a while. The other boy working with them frowned at Eddie also. “You know, if your dad worked for Mr. Deacon, he could afford to give you an allowance.”
“Then what are you working here for?” Eddie asked, taking up another bundle before climbing into the next tree along the road.
Their co-worker snorted.
“Shut it you d—”
But as the other boy snapped back a rude retort, Eddie’s eyes fixed on the bed-and-breakfast. The stranger had walked out, halting on the curb with a look left then right. The stranger shoved his hands into his pockets of his down coat then started in a walk along the street towards the center. Eddie watched him, feeling a tingling on his palm though he didn’t know why.
“Do you know who that is?” Eddie asked.
Eddie’s co-worker slowly shook his head. “Never seen him before.”
That made all of them pause.
“Maybe it is somebody back from college,” the guy in the tree at last said. “People change when they leave here.”
“Maybe he is Howie Deacon,” the other boy said.
Shaking his head still, Eddie replied, “He’s too old to be Howie Deacon. He could be his grandpa.”
They watched the man stroll down the road, hardly noticing them or more likely pretending he didn’t notice that they were staring. The boys didn’t take their eyes off of him until the snow and distance obscured their vision.
“Come on, lets finish this block,” the guy in the tree said.
Eddie and the other boy nodded, though Eddie considered talking to Andy about it. He had a funny feeling, and funny feelings in Middleton Village were usually bad news.
Peter McCabe carried the evergreen tree. His father had already opened the back to their SUV so they could put it. Middleton Square was still full of good choices, but they had chosen that particular tree on purpose. It shed less, and the snow was getting heavy again so they didn’t want to linger. They had bumped into Jessica’s mother who was carrying a smaller tree for her and her daughter, one in a pot that she intended to plant later since she did not believe in cutting down a tree for a holiday. She had given Mr. McCabe a polite smile and nod, though she cringed when she met Peter’s gaze. But then she was uncomfortable with all the kids that her daughter had saved from the curse. It wasn’t like they told her the truth about it either.
“Come on,” Mr. McCabe said, gesturing to the back of the vehicle. “I’m freezing here.”
Lugging the tree over, Peter heaved it up. His father helped him put it in, but as he did, Peter casually glanced over at the tree lot. He blinked, dropping his end.
“Peter!”
Turning with a jerk, Peter whipped his eyes back to his father, grabbing his end of the tree again. However, his heart was pounding as he peeked once more at the tree lot where he noticed a man he had never seen before. The man was meandering through the trees, peering at the smaller, already decorated trees in pots. Peter wanted to go in for a better look, but his father tapped him on the shoulder to wake him out of his reverie.
“Come on, space case. Where is your head at?”
Peter blinked up at his father, almost about to say but then thought the better of it. He didn’t want to get his father tangled in his problems again. The man worried, and people treated him like a kook for it. “Nothing. But, uh, can I stay here for a bit?”
His father gave him a dry look. “Everyone is waiting for us at home. We’re decorating tonight.”
So Peter let out a sigh and followed his father to the front of the car. The stranger would stand out in town. He would probably see him again.
His father stepped to the passenger seat and tossed Peter the keys.
Peter blinked up at them then at his dad. “I’m driving?”
“You gotta learn to drive in snow sometime,” his dad said with a smile.
Peter gleefully hopped to the driver’s side, yanking open the door. He climbed in then stuck his key into the ignition.
“Seatbelts first,” his father reminded.
Nodding, Peter grabbed his and pulled it on. He adjusted the seats and the mirrors then started the engine. Giving the stranger one more fleeting glance as he set the car into reverse, Peter looked out the back and pulled away from the curb.
“And go slow.”
He gazed out the window at the parking lot, trying to ignore the farting noises his little brother was making with his mouth. For a while now Semour had been watching the snowplow going around the cars to clear off the growing blanket. Cars came and went. Brown slush tracks and ugly puddles ran as rivers and valleys between the mountains of snow that heaped up on the curb and near the cart rack. The occasional pedestrian sloshed through them, tucking their scarves closer to their necks.
“My old bones,” he murmured, peering out at the pedestrian that passed across his view now. “Who is that?”
Semour squinted at the man’s face through his glasses. The stranger was coming to the front of the store, stepping on the mat that made the automatic doors open. Both Semour and the courtesy clerk watched him shake off the snow that had gathered on his shoulders then stomp his feet to clear out the slush. The stranger hardly left a track as he walked into the store. Semour followed him, watching. It was no college student. Way too old.
Felix made a face at him with another loud fart with his cheeks.
“And don’t you give me that ‘old bones’ routine of yours. You’re fourteen years old, not eighty.” She then turned back to the counter to accept her change and the long receipt. “Honestly, I swear those cultists brainwashed you into one sassy little—”
She cast him a look to say he was still being sassy. However, she did not argue the point further. With everything, she took hold of her other cart and steered towards the door. Semour took the other one, sulkily pushing it after her as his little brother kicked the backs of his feet, though Semour’s eyes went back to the stranger who leaned back to gaze at the fair-haired stringy teenager, impressed with the same feeling Semour had. He was young, yet also very old.
The stranger to Middleton Village watched as the Dawsons went into the parking lot with their cartloads, a pensive expression in his tired eyes. But soon they were gone from view, the snow now thick as it blowed.
The man strolled down to the aisle where they sold cup of noodles, picked up a few. Then he walked to the produce aisle where he chose three bananas. He took those with a box of instant cocoa to the checkout. Setting them down, he smiled at the woman there.
“I’ll just carry them,” he said.
The stranger plucked up one of the supermarket tabloids then one of the local papers on sale there, setting them down.
“Um, could you tell me where the local library is? I’m a researcher. A historian, actually,” he said.
He shook his head.
“The library was demolished,” the courtesy clerk answered him, bagging Mrs. Mortensen’s groceries. Jessica’s neighbor eyed the new man in the same fierce way she had Jessica and her mother when they had first moved into town. The courtesy clerk added, “It happened in the beginning of November.”
“It was old, coming apart,” the clerk said.
Mrs. Mortensen snorted. “The books aren’t gone. The Ladies Aid Society collected them in until the new library could be finished.”
“The total comes to fifteen dollars and thirty-five cents.”
Flattening it, the cashier finished the transaction. The register bell dinged a little louder than usual, or perhaps it seemed that way as everyone was now staring silently at the stranger.
Mrs. Mortensen replied with a snide tone to her voice, “What business do you have in Middleton Village? You’re an outsider.”