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told us, her black nails tapping loudly on the counter top.
    "Fine. We'll take it," I said, tired of all the witchy nonsense. Jeff had told us to bring something that was a symbol of the season, and mistletoe certainly fit the bill. I handed over my credit card. I knew Julie was always cash poor at this time of year. She tended to run through her monthly allowance long before the month ended.
    As D'arcania was writing up our purchase, Julie, easily distracted, wandered off to look at some of the other stuff in the store. Wicca Lady said to me, "You seem like the sensible one here. You better watch her and tell her to be careful with this stuff. Its berries are poisonous, you know."
    "We're not planning to bake mistleberry pie."
    "I'd be remiss if I didn't warn you that this came from our hoard of deepest magicks. You both need to remember that, and exercise caution."
    "Right," I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.
    D'arcania seemed to feel she hadn't sufficiently made her point, because she added, "I didn't work the spell on this myself. I got it from this other practitioner." She paused dramatically before adding, "She's into some dark stuff. Her spells are powerful. And they last."
    If I hadn't already turned over my plastic, I'd have thought she was trying to jack up the price. But she was opening a cute red holiday bag, about to lay the mistletoe inside. She stopped and leaned over, squinting at the small card attached to it. "Read the spell," she said, nodding to an inscription in spidery handwriting.
    I read it aloud:
    Wanting, yearning, merge you must
    Your Longest Nights filled with lust
    Passion shared and bodies trussed
    Each cold solstice til you're dust.
    "Bodies trussed? Sounds kinky."
    "It's a potent invocation," she insisted.
    It sounded puerile to me, but I didn't say so. "Merge you must" was downright Yoda-esque.
    "All magic has a price," she added.
    I sighed and nodded. I signed the credit card slip.

6. Solstice Games
    "Oh my god, isn't it perfect? Look at this place. It could have been used as the setting for one of those old Christmas cards from early in the last century, with Christmas carolers and sleigh rides."
    Julie was flying high with her professor-crush when we got to Professor Slayton's place on the night of the party. From the way she enthused about the man, everything he did was wonderful and perfect, his home and his holiday decorations included.
    His house did look pretty, I had to admit. It had snowed lightly during most of the day, but the clouds had been swept away by evening, and a nearly full moon was rising above the tree line behind the professor's rambling old house. The moonlight gave the snow a silvery sheen, brightening the night so all the details of the landscape were visible. The house itself looked old, but well maintained, with warm yellow paint and shiny black shutters framing its many windows. In each window gleamed a single white candle. There were holly garlands wound around the pillars holding up the broad front porch, with tiny red lights twinkling among them, like shiny berries.
    Through the uncurtained front windows, we could see the living room, with a roaring fireplace and a large Christmas tree, fully decorated and blazing with electric candles. We could also see people inside, buzzing and chattering. By the time Julie and I arrived, which was not as late as I'd proposed because Julie had been so impatient to start the evening, there were numerous cars parked on the broad, plowed-out area at the end of the private drive that led to Slayton's house. He clearly owned a few acres of land. Off to one side and curving behind the house were several rows of squat trees configured like an orchard. There were woods to the back and fields on the other sides. The place must have been a working farm at some point in the past, although I doubted the professor worked it now.
    I parked beside the other cars, studying them all, looking for Will's. It wasn't there. I panicked a