A Circle of Celebrations: The Complete Edition Read online

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Valentine’s Day Myth Lonelyhearts

  Mardi Gras Wash Away the Sins

  After Midnight

  Passover Surviving Traditions

  Lammas Night Sunflower

  Halloween Trick

  Smiling Jack

  Thanksgiving The Stars in Their Courses

  Christmas The Revenge of Chatty Cathy

  Mistletoe

  The Very Next Day

  About the Author

  Book Description

  Celebrations help us to mark moments in time that are meaningful, some for religious reasons, others cultural and historical. New York Times bestselling author Jody Lynn Nye has written about holidays from many points of view, in this world, in another; in the past, present, and future. What holidays—and holiday stories—have in common is that people choose to come together for these festive events to discover joy and mystery.

  Gathered together for the first time, these eleven fantastic tales showcase the wonder and mystery of Christmas, Passover, Lammas Night, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Mardi Gras, and Valentine’s Day.

  Have a happy, magical holiday season!

  ***

  Smashwords Edition –2015

  WordFire Press

  wordfirepress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61475-288-2

  All stories copyright © 2014, 2015 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Myth Lonelyhearts,” © 2015 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Wash Away the Sins,” © 2009, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “After Midnight,” © 2008, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Surviving Traditions,” © 2015 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Sunflower,” originally published in Lammas Night, Baen Books, © 1996, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Trick,” published in Spooks, 11th Hour Publications, © 2003, 2004, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Smiling Jack,” © 2003, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “The Stars in Their Courses,” originally published in Stardates, Dreams-Unlimited.com, © 1999, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “The Revenge of Chatty Cathy,” originally published in The Magic Toybox, DAW Books, © 2006, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  “Mistletoe,” © 2015 Jody Lynn Nye

  “The Very Next Day,” originally published in Human for a Day, DAW Books, © 2012, 2014 Jody Lynn Nye

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Janet McDonald

  Art Director Kevin J. Anderson

  Cover artwork images by Dollar Photo Club

  Book Design by RuneWright, LLC

  www.RuneWright.com

  Kevin J. Anderson & Rebecca Moesta, Publishers

  Published by

  WordFire Press, an imprint of

  WordFire, Inc.

  PO Box 1840

  Monument, CO 80132

  ***

  Foreword

  Celebrations help us to mark moments in time that are meaningful, some for religious reasons, others cultural and historical. From time to time, I’ve written about holidays, from many points of view, in this world, in another; in the past, present, and future. What they have in common is that we choose to come together for these festive events to discover joy and mystery.

  Four of these stories I wrote to perform aloud for the audience at the Twilight Tales reading series in Chicago. Four were commissioned for anthologies, and the rest are original stories for this volume. They are all collected here for the first time. I hope you’ll enjoy them.

  Happy holidays!

  Jody Lynn Nye

  November, 2015

  ***

  Valentine’s Day

  Myth Lonelyhearts

  I looked around the ruffled-sided tent at the array of cards, statues, satin pillows, toys, candies, and an array of more adult items, the use of some I had to guess at. Every single item had been made, dyed, or painted red, white, or brilliant, eye-burning pink.

  I glanced at Aahz. Like me, the Pervect hesitated on the threshold.

  “Come in, come in!” exclaimed the Deveelish proprietor, Valentinius. Red-skinned with hooved feet and a long, skinny tail like all of his kind, he had a long, narrow face and high-arched eyebrows. He beckoned us in with a flick of his beautifully manicured talons, albeit shooting a look of resigned disdain at my companion. Short of stature but broad in the shoulder, Aahz had green-scaled skin, yellow eyes, and batwing ears. He hailed from a dimension called Perv, which meant his kind were called Pervects, if you liked them, or Perverts, if you didn’t. They had such an interdimensional reputation for questionable behavior that even after years of knowing him and other Pervects I had no idea if it was earned. Valentinius was no doubt concerned for the welfare of his stock and possibly his employees. I, as a tall, skinny, blond-haired Klahd, never posed a threat to anyone in Deva, a dimension that possessed far more magikal potential than mine ever dreamed existed. “Come and examine the wares. Affection Day is coming! Your special someone will be expecting a gift from here. You know it. I know it! So, buy already!”

  “What the hell,” Aahz said, plunging into the first aisle. “C’mon, Skeeve.”

  “Aahz?” I asked, all but stumbling in behind him. “Do you have a special someone? You’ve never mentioned one.”

  “One?” Aahz turned back to me, his four-inch-long pointed teeth set more in a rictus than a grin. “I have a dozen, and they’ll all be furious if I don’t come up with something that tells them how I feel about them.” He waggled his scaly eyebrows at me.

  “How can they be special if there are a dozen of them?” I asked. My own experiences with women had been largely unsuccessful, or so I could recall. The women that I cared about most in the world were friends, not lovers—at least so far.

  “Weeeellll,” Aahz said, narrowing one big yellow eye with an expression that spoke of annoyed embarrassment. “None of them knows about the others, so to each, she’s my one-and-only.”

  “Gosh.” It was all I could find to say. I admired Aahz. I had no idea how he could juggle a lot of relationships like that without getting them confused. Or in a lot of trouble.

  “Try a sweet, young Klahd?” a female Deveel asked, shoving a pink and white box under my nose. “Free samples. Guaranteed harmless and delicious. Just the thing to show your warm sentiment on Affection Day!”

  I peered into the container. Nestled in individual paper nests were solid, irregular ovals of dark brown-red sweets with narrow stripes of pink daubed on them in random directions. I’d cut up enough carcasses to know what I was looking at.

  “Eyugh,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Heart-shaped candy?”

  The Deveel snarled at me, sharp white teeth showing vividly in her deep red face. “Get with the spirit of the day, Klahd. You’re supposed to show someone that you’d let them eat your heart if it would make them happy.”

  The heart seemed to be a common theme in the crowded tent. Shoppers considered all kinds of items featuring that vital organ: cards, scrolls, rings, necklaces, garters, bottles of potions, philters, and spells. Over a half of the not inconsiderable floor space was devoted to racks and tables of embarrassing-looking garments for all genders and body types. I had never worn anything like that myself, but I had seen a number of them among the plethora of wedding presents given to my former apprentice, Massha. I had no doubt, considering the healthy relationship she had with retired general Hugh Badaxe that they had made good use of the gifts.

  “Oh, yeah!” Aahz crowed. He headed toward a clothesline from which hung bits and pieces of fabric in the obligatory red, pink, and white. None of them looked large enough to clothe a Gnome, let alone a Pervect. Then I recalled the tiny swimsuits that Bunny and the other beauty contestants had donned (for a brief look (see what I did there?), consult the compelling tale, “Myth Congeniality,” in Myth-Told Tales, a collection of brilliant stories of conniving, derring-do, and camaraderie), and the items no longer looked too scanty. But the thought of putting Bunny, Tananda, or any of my female friends into one made my heart pound furiously. I began to understand the candies offered by the Deveel clerk.

  “So, how may I take your money?” Valentinius sidled up beside me. He thrust an armload of items into my hands. “What do you need? Flowers? A satin pillow, perhaps? The sentiment embroidered on this one is bespelled to change with your loved one’s mood.” I glanced at the pink oval. It said, “Drop dead, you creep!”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” I said, shoving them back. Valentinius flicked a wrist. Instead of dropping to the floor, they hovered around him, spinning so I could see every angle.

  “What sort of item were you hoping to find for your very special someone?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes.

  The phrase had begun to irk me. “I don’t have a special someone!” I said, with pe
rhaps more heat than was necessary. Valentinius didn’t take it amiss; no Deveel worth his salt would take shouting as a cue to exit an argument. If anything, it indicated the beginning of a bargain.

  “Well, if you don’t, I have powders and other items you can use to make someone interested in you. Bracelets? Rings? I’ve got a spray that you can use to perfume a room to attract just the right person. Want to give it a try? Only two coppers per spritz.”

  I had a brief vision of having hordes of strange people charging toward me with lust in their eyes, and shuddered.

  “No, thanks. I can come up with my own bad ideas.”

  “Are you calling my merchandise bad ideas?” he shrieked, raising his voice so high that shoppers for three rows around turned to look. “It figures that a Klahd can’t tell true romance from heartburn!”

  “Hey, I’ll know it when I see it,” I protested, albeit weakly.

  “Kid! Stop playing around!” Aahz marched over and shoved a hand between my shoulder blades, aiming me toward the clothes racks. The Deveel gave us both a disgusted look and sauntered away. Not a yard from us, he latched onto the arm of a bright-pink Imp matron.

  “Darling, you don’t want that! It doesn’t match anything in this entire dimension!”

  “C’mon,” Aahz said. “I’m afraid of what you’ll end up buying if you don’t stay close to me.”

  “Okay, Aahz,” I said. To tell the truth, I was relieved. Even though I had lived in the Bazaar for years, I had yet to explore every corner, tent, and booth. Adding to the confusion was the fact that shops routinely disappeared from one location and reappeared in another, often under a new name, although less often with a new owner or manager. I’d been fooled more than once by patronizing a business only to learn that it belonged to a Deveel who had tried to outrun his reputation for unusually shady dealing by relocating. To my best recollection, I had never seen this one before. “Has this shop been here long?”

  “It’s a pop-up,” Aahz said. “Seasonal merchandise. It’s like the Festival of Hamsters. In between, no one wants to see the stuff. You can see why.”

  I watched other shoppers, but I really couldn’t tell what they were buying. The baskets were bespelled so that anything tossed into them became invisible. Aahz was just as cagey about his purchases.

  Every so often, he darted a glance around to see if anyone was watching him, then grabbed something off one of the long tables. I eyed the display, which appeared to be all garments in pink and white, decorated—no, festooned with lace and stretchy straps. I had not seen the size of the item that Aahz had shoved into his shopping basket, so I couldn’t even make a guess as to the race of the one-and-only for whom he had bought it. He stopped and eyed one table in the crowded tent. Though they were tinted pink and white, the items on display looked like implements of torture. Owing to a recent visit to a professional torturer (see the whole sordid story in Myth-Fits, coming to a reputable or disreputable seller of literature near you), I had some uncomfortable familiarity with such things.

  One apparatus struck me as unusually odd. It consisted eight or ten broad, various-sized loops of white leather all bound together with stretchy pink elastic, chains and matching padlocks, each with a heart incised on it. I picked it up.

  “Hey, Aahz, what’s this for?”

  With a long-suffering sigh, he took it out of my fingers and dropped it back on the table.

  “That, you absolutely do not want to know,” he said. “Look, it’s Affection Day. Why don’t you pick out something for people you like?”

  “I’ve never heard of Affection Day,” I protested. “And I don’t have a special someone, like Valentinius said.”

  “You have a bunch of special someones,” Aahz said, with a shake of his head. “You just ain’t dating any of them. Get something PG-rated for them. Go look over there.” He pointed to a group of tables where a Deveel, a handful of Imps, and two Centaurs were browsing. “Scram. I don’t want to have to keep explaining what I’m buying.”

  The half-horse, half-Klahd beings made way as I sidled up to the table to examine the wares. A female Centaur, wearing nothing but her long chestnut-colored tresses over her bosom, was sorting through a sheaf of colorful little books. One of them was called The True Story of Affection Day. I picked up a similar volume and browsed through it. What I read made me sputter in outrage.

  “Is this right?” I asked the Centaur female. “This holiday was made up by Deveel merchants to sell candy? It’s phony?”

  She smiled at me, showing a mouthful of long, horsy teeth.

  “That’s right, Klahd,” she said, with a nickering laugh. “But many of us have adapted it for ourselves to tell our loved ones that we value them.”

  “But what about all that other stuff? The charmed portraits? The Miss Lonelyhearts contests? Those?” I pointed to the racks of questionable garments. “That’s not candy.”

  She gave a nickering laugh and patted me on the shoulder.

  “You are young, Klahd. Sweet things come in many guises.”

  I felt my cheeks burn. I wasn’t that young!

  “Grizzle grum nang dabbit marn flandifulation!”

  One of the clothing displays gave a massive heave and fell towards me. I had just enough time to ready a spell that kept the mass of satin and leather from tumbling down over the Centaur and me. The female trotted out of the way of the bondage avalanche, holding her basket. I tried to make the rack stand upright, but the person swearing must have been tangled up inside it.

  Valentinius strode toward me, tut-tutting furiously.

  “Did you knock that over?” he demanded.

  “No!” I said. “I’m holding it up!”

  He glanced past me at the clutter on the floor and sniffed. “Very badly, I see.”

  I was willing to do favors out of common decency, but such a thing was often lost on Deveels. I let my spell lapse.

  CRASH!

  The garments spilled in every direction, leaving a large, black-bearded, leather-clad Klahd lying in their midst, only this leather was well-worn military-grade armor—not a bad choice, considering that shopping in the Bazaar during the end-of-season sales could result in mortal wounds. He clutched a handful of pink satin to his chest. I recognized him in an instant. It was retired Possiltum general Hugh Badaxe. His face flushed scarlet as he met my gaze.

  “Another Klahd!” the Deveel said, flicking a fingernail. The general swung up into the air as if he weighed no more than the wispy feathers that decorated the garment in his hand. “We request that you do not use the merchandise until after you have purchased it!” He walked purposefully toward the tent’s door, preparing to fling Badaxe into the dusty, sun-drenched street.

  “Wait!” I said, jumping into the Deveel’s path. “Don’t you know who that is?”

  “No, who is it?” Valentinius asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

  Badaxe waved a frantic hand at me. I gulped. If he was buying something in the Bazaar instead of on Klah, he probably wanted it kept a secret.

  “That’s my uncle Harv,” I said. “He’s here to make a big purchase. A BIG purchase.”

  “Oh,” Valentinius said. He closed his fingers, and Badaxe dropped to the floor with an audible thud. “Fine. But he’s handled the size XXXXXXL Cupy panties, so he’ll have to buy them, too.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Three gold pieces.”

  “One silver,” I countered. “After all, he’s handled them now. They’re used. You couldn’t sell them to a Cupy now if you wanted to.”

  “Two gold pieces.”

  “Two silver. That’s my final offer.”

  Valentinius looked from me to the general, who had risen to his feet with what dignity he could muster. He was half again the Deveel’s height and at least three times his weight, although physical stature meant little in dimensions where magik might be involved. Valentinius showed a mouthful of sharp-pointed white teeth.