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“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “That isn’t how this works.”

“Then how does this work? Please tell me.”

“It just…doesn’t work. I don’t think. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, barely able to look him in the eyes. “Please, Bradley. I need you.”

“You don’t need me. If there is one thing I am absolutely certain of in this inexplicable world of talking clouds and trustworthy mall psychics and retaliatory Christmas curses, it’s that you are capable of amazing things, all on your own.”

“I…I’m not sure I am.”

“Hey.” He reached forward and nudged her chin up with his knuckles. “You have to know it isn’t you I don’t believe in. Okay? You made a robot tell a knock-knock joke with perfect comedic timing. If you can do that, there is nothing you cannot do.”

A tear ran down her cheek as she softly exhaled.

“You’ve got this, Devra Harrison.”

He spoke so assuredly, the only thing she could possibly do was nod in agreement.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

“More like, I’ll see you around.”

See you around, she thought. At some unintended meetup at the mailbox months down the road. Just how she’d always known this would end. In December.

She almost wanted to laugh at her foolishness. But her body felt too frail, too beaten, and her lungs didn’t have the oxygen to spare. A harsh wind lashed out at her then, carrying a faint cackle, adding insult to injury, freezing her tears to her cheeks. And she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t—

Devra sucked in a long breath of cold Christmas air. And then another. She breathed. She would survive, just as she always had.

The truth filled her lungs like the air whirring into Frosty, inflating her, expanding her, forcing her to grow.

“See you around, Bradley.”

“See you, Devra.”

She turned away.

She didn’t need him.

That didn’t make this moment hurt any less.

DEVRA

Loss floated around her like a thick fog. It was an old acquaintance, one she knew how to bear.

Devra cleaned up her office space. She put grounded books onto shelves and loose papers into file folders. When a puck-sized chunk of ice smashed through her kitchen window, she tacked up cardboard with duct tape, the cleanup job a mere annoyance compared to everything else. She logged into the server and ran a few updates. She paused and sighed and acknowledged her pain. Acknowledged the date: December 23rd. The curse had tricked her this year, as it was apt to do, setting rules, then twisting them like wringing a wet cloth so she was never fully prepared. She’d thought she had more time, that they had more time. She actually believed she could stop the curse before this year’s crushing blow. Instead, it had lured the perfect man to her doorstep, dangled him in front of her, and made her believe she could have him. That she could keep him. Made her believe that he had the power to set her free, only to snatch him away at the last minute.

The curse was clever.

But it had made a fatal mistake. Because somewhere along the way, she’d found the strength to free herself.

At her desk, she opened the copy of Potestas Maleficarum Mallei. She read and considered, took notes. Then she reread, reconsidered, and took more notes. But what did she know about magical spells? Code was straightforward, logical, every word, every punctuation mark having a specific, definable purpose. This was like trying to interpret Shakespeare without the help of an English major.

Bradley was supposed to be her helper. He was the one who had a knack for mystical research, the one who had guided her this far. Any other year, she might have given up, collapsed into bed with only the company of her self-pity. Not this year. This year, failure was not an option. Fear would no longer control her.

Besides, she happened to know an even better person to help her decode this riddle.

Devra needed to return to 48 Meadowview Lane.