Jake & The Gingerbread Wars (A Gryphon Chronicles Christmas Novella) (The Gryphon Chronicles) (18 page)

“Maybe we could all just get along for once,” Juniette said firmly.

“We could try, I suppose. The truth is, I don’t really feel like fighting anymore.” Rollio’s father threw down his candy sword. “It does grow boring, even for a noble knight.”

“I agree.” The Sun King turned to his courtiers. “Lay down your arms! Well, if you still have them.”

“Oh, poor Papa.” Juniette picked up her father’s broken arm so it would not be lost amid the rubble, then she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Please let me marry Rollio! I love him.”

“Oh, very well. If that is
truly your wish, then you may have my blessing.”

“Hooray!” cheered several of the gingerbread folk on both sides as Rollio and Juniette rushed together, united at last.

“Thank goodness all that’s over,” someone said while the little cookies applauded.

“I’m so happy, I just want to dance!” one of the courtiers shouted gleefully.

“Me too!” said a knight. “Let’s have a party!

Santa’s Dusting Sugar had obviously worked, perhaps a little too well. The gingerbread people turned not just sweet and happy, but downright silly, in fact.

They started dancing around like you might e
xpect gingerbread cookies to do if they somehow came magically to life. Even the gingerbread horses gamboled and cavorted. The fluffy marshmallow sheep came out of hiding, no longer frightened, and started bouncing to and fro. The swans squawked, the shepherdesses skipped around the fountain, and a few of the knights did back flips, which was very risky, crispy as they were.

Bu
t this was no time for a party.

For,
as Jake looked on, his brow furrowed with the dawning of a dark thought, he realized he could not just leave them here.

Bizarre as it seemed, t
hese gingerbread folk had become sentient beings, and soon, Christmas would be done.

Blast
it, he had not planned on this. Indeed, time was of the essence. If he did not get a move on it, he’d be late to the Nativity.

Still,
something had to be done to keep them safe. He racked his brain until the answer came.

Of course.

Looming over them, he cleared his throat to get their attention amid their celebrations. “Ahem! Excuse me—”

“
Ahhh!
Look! Giant!”

They had not even noticed him till then, but instant screams erupted.

“Run for your life!”

“No, no, it’s all right, he’s a friendly giant,” Rollio and Juniette assured their startled kinfolk. “Even if he
is
a burglar,” Juniette added under her breath.

He ignored her accusation. “My name’s Jake, and Santa Claus sent me here to help you.”

“Santa?” Murmurs full of wonder traveled through the crowd as the gingerbread people marveled at this news.

“I’m glad you’ve got the whole war business sorted out, but we’ve got trouble,” Jake informed them. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, y’see—”

“Hooray for Christmas!” they cheered.

“No! Not in your case, anyway.
Think about it,” he said. “Nobody needs a gingerbread display after Christmas is over. I’d give you lot till Twelfth Night, tops. Then these bakers are either going to throw you away or let their customers eat you.”

A collective gasp of horror rose from the gingerbread folk.

“But don’t worry,” Jake said. “I’m not going to let any of that happen of you. We need to evacuate both your towns, then I’ll bring you to a safe location, where you can be resettled in a new home. Just let me get a box.”

“But my people down at the castle will be left behind!” Rollio’s father cried.

“No worries, I’m headed there next. I’ll get them, too. But we don’t have much time, so everybody, please prepare to evacuate the bakery in an orderly fashion.”

“Can my sheep come, too?” one of the shepherdesses asked with a pretty flutter of her lashes.

“And the horses?” a knight called.

“Squawk!”

“Of course. Swans, too. You only have to leave your buildings behind. But don’t worry. Where I’m taking you, we have an excellent cook who can make you a whole new town, whatever you like. It may not be as fancy as all this, but at least you’ll be safe there to, er, live out your lives.”

Which was still completely odd, if you thought about it. Jake chose not to. Instead, he ran to the kitchen to fetch one of the large pasteb
oard cake boxes he had seen on the supply shelf.

He folded it into shape, then left it on the side of the display table so the gingerbread people could get in.

While Juniette organized the evacuation, Rollio showed Jake the secret way down into Bob’s British Bakery. It turned out that his kinsmen had been using an old servant staircase as their invasion route. The gingerbread men were thinly rolled enough to be able to fit under the crack at the bottom of the drafty door.

Jake suspected
that Bob and Marie used to visit each other through this stairwell during slow moments in the workday—at least, until they had ended their courtship.

Now the door to the stairwell
was padlocked, but this was of little consequence to a skilled former thief.

“Better take me with you,” Rollio said whi
le Jake picked the lock with a small nail he had brought along for that very purpose, just in case. “It’ll save time. My kinsmen might not trust you, but if I go, I’ll let them know it’s all right and that you’re telling the truth.”

“Good enough,” Jake murmured. As soon as he had lifted the padlock off the door, he bent down and picked up the gingerbread boy, setting him on his shoulder.

Rollio braced himself, hanging on to Jake’s scarf. “Ready!”

“Let’s go.” Jake opened the door cautiously. The stairwell was dark and a bit cobwebby, but he did not hesitate. Creeping down the stairs, he w
inced when one of them creaked.

Then he froze when he saw a feeble light shining in the shop below.

“Someone’s still here!” Rollio whispered.

“Shh!”
Maybe someone just forgot to blow out the lantern
.

The bottom of the stairw
ell did not have a door, so, inching closer, Jake was able to steal a cautious glance around the corner into the lower shop.

Blast.
He clenched his jaw at what he saw.

Britis
h Bob was still at work, poring over his bookkeeping ledgers on the counter by the light of a single candle.
Well, that’s sad.
He looked moody, scowling down at his work, but that was no surprise.

Nobody liked being alone on Christmas Eve.

Jake, however, did not like getting arrested. Nor did he relish the thought of being attacked as an intruder by a former army officer. British Bob looked tough.

Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, Jake glanced at Rollio. The gingerbread boy pointe
d at the jar of Dusting Sugar.

Jake nodded.

Silently, he took it out of his coat, poured some into his hand, and then blew it into the air in Bob’s direction.

It whispered down lightly onto his head and shoulders, so fine a powder that he didn’t even feel it.

Jake held his breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Once more, it didn’t take long to start working.

Bob let out a weary sigh that nearly snuffed his candle flame. He put his quill pen down after a moment, rubbed his eyes, then stared off into space, his ledger books forgotten.

“Oh, Marie,” he said softly to himself.

With a yawn and a stretch, he rose to take a break. He unlocked his shop door and stepped out to get some fresh air.

As he
gazed up at the stars, forlorn, Jake darted across the rustic-themed bakery and threw Dusting Sugar on the remaining castle knights and soldiers. They went silly, as expected—which made him wonder if the Dusting Sugar was a form of fairy dust, which could have a similar effect. Gladwin had said, after all, that Santa was technically an elf (obviously one of the large variety) and elves were related to fairies.

In any case, the Dusting Sugar made it possible for Jake to quickly collect all the castle folk on a nearby tray, which he grabbed off the counter.

“Let’s go! Hurry, before he comes back!” Rollio whispered frantically. “Everyone, stay down!”

Careful to keep the tray steady, Jake sped out of Bob’s shop and rushed back up the stairs without a sound.

He shut the door silently behind him.

Whew!

Heart pounding, he went back to the gingerbread Versailles and put the new arrivals in the cake box with all the others.

While they got settled, Jake took another moment to sprinkle more Dusting Sugar all around Marie’s shop, in case Humbug had tainted any
thing else with Spiteful Spice.

After making sure he had followed all of Santa’s instructions, he returned
to his box of little refugees. “All right, everybody, ready to go to your new home?”

“Hurrah!” they answered.

That Dusting Sugar had certainly put them in a cheerful mood. “I’ll have you there in no time,” Jake said, then he closed the lid.

He whisked the box into the kitchen, but could not attempt climbing out the window
while holding it. Instead, he merely unlocked the shop’s back door, pulled it open, and cautiously peered out. Seeing no one, he stepped out into the alley and pulled the door shut behind him.

“Red! Where are you? Time to go!” he whispered
as loudly as he dared in the direction of the roof.

Speeding around the corner to the side of the build
ing, Jake froze at an unexpected sight in the cobbled street ahead.

Mademoiselle Marie!

Instead of walking off down the street as she had started to do when he had last seen her, something had made her turn around and come back.

Still outside
as well, Bob was standing motionless in the street, staring at her.

Jake gulped, afraid he was about to get caught.

But as the seconds passed, neither baker even noticed him.

They just kept gazing at eac
h other—first from a cautious distance, then taking a few wary steps closer.

They spoke, but Jake could not make out the words.

Whatever was said, in the next moment, he could almost hear the romantic music playing as they suddenly raced across the empty street and into each other’s arms. They embraced with the snow sprinkling down on them all the while.

Awww,
thought Jake with a cheeky grin.

But when the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the wrought-iron lamppost above them required the reconciling couple to kiss, he looked away in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Red pounced onto the snowy ground beside him at that moment.

“Finally!” Jake slung a leg over h
is back. “We’d better get going,” he said in a low tone. “We need to make a stop at Beacon House.”

Red swiveled his head around and looked curiously at the box. “Becaw?” he asked, as if to say,
You stole a cake?

“No, it’s the gingerbread people. We need to drop them off before we head
out to Gryphondale, savvy?”

“Caw!”

Jake held onto the cake box tightly as Red gathered speed, running up the side street.

Wings pumping, he launched into the air and fle
w right over Bob and Marie, but still kissing under the mistletoe, they never even noticed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Christmas Wish

Santa himself had called Jake brave, but even he found it slightly terrifying to be holding on to the Gryphon with one hand as they soared high above the rooftops of London; his other arm, of course, was busy clutching the box full of gingerbread people.

He was scared to death
of dropping it. Dozens of lives were at stake, after all.

“Uh, Red, could you fly a little lower, please?” he asked nervously.

His winged friend obliged him, but Jake didn’t really relax until the beast touched down once more on the roof of Beacon House.

The great lantern with its yew tree silhouette was shining in the rooftop cupola—a secret sign to those in the know
, that the old Tudor mansion on the Thames was a safe haven for magical beings.

Well, this situation cer
tainly qualified, Jake thought.

Beacon House had
plenty of unused bedchambers. He would set the gingerbread people up in one of the extra rooms, then hurry on to Gryphondale to play his part in the Nativity (no matter how stupid he knew he was going to feel).

Ignoring a frisson of stage fright, he continued telling his little passengers about Mrs. Appleton as he slid off Red’s back, still carefully holding the box steady. “She has house brownie blood, you know, which means she’s an excellent baker. I’m sure she can make you whatever sort of new gingerbread village you might like.”

“Can she fix Papa’s arm?” Juniette asked.

“Oh, I’m sure of it. I’ll bet she can even paint you with some sort of shellac or varnish, so you don’t ever crack or get stale.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!”

They were very excited.

“Be right back, Red.” The Gryphon remained behind on the roof while Jake went in through the little rooftop door on the side of the cupola. Then he carried his passengers down the spiral stairs, and a moment later, stepped out into the upper hallway, as before.

H
e opened a few of the empty bedchamber doors along the corridor to find the gingerbread folk a nice room where they’d be comfortable.

“This one looks good.” It had a large canopy bed, a writing desk, a fireplace, and two tall windows.

Jake started to set them down.

“Oh, not on the floor, please! There could be mice,” the little Sun King warned.

“Ah. Of course.” He went and set their box down on the middle of the bed instead. It was soft and would give them plenty of room to spread out.

Seeing that this pleased them, Jake folded down one side of the cake box to let them out. Then he went and lit t
he oil-lantern on the desk to give them some light.

As the lamp illumin
ated the chamber, he spotted a pad of paper and a few pencils on the desk. He brought them over to the bed. “Here. You can use these to start sketching your ideas for your new town.”

“Oooh, and plan our perfect wedding!” Juniette exclaimed, fluttering her lashes at Rollio.

“Er, whatever,” Jake mumbled. “I’ll go let Mrs. Appleton know you’re here. Afraid I can’t stay, but I’ll come back and visit you in a few days, and bring my friends to meet you.”

He
could not wait to see Dani and Archie and Isabelle’s faces when they met the living gingerbread folk.

“Thank you so much for everything!” they cried.

“You’re very welcome. Happy Christmas—and no fighting,” he said with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jake! Goodbye, giant boy!” they called, waving and hopping around on the mattress.

He gave them a final nod of farewell, then stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut.
Better hurry.
It was no short ride out to Gryphondale and he had not planned on having to make this stop.

Determined to get out of
there as quickly as possible, he jogged the rest of the way down the formal hallway, past its row of old paintings whose eyes always seemed to follow you.

At the end of the hallway, he came to the top of the ornate staircase that overlooked the foyer.

“Mrs. Appleton?” he called.

No response.

He frowned and started down the stairs. “Mrs. Appleton?”

Not here? Drat. What about the butler?

“Mr.
Mayweather? Anybody home?”

The minute Jake stepped down into the foyer, his gaze slammed to a halt on the Christmas tree in the corner
—with the pile of presents beneath it.

The presents he and his friends had bought for the orphans.

Still waiting to be delivered, for it was Christmas Eve.

Oh, no…

Jake paled as he realized his oversight. “Oh, no, no, no,” he whispered to himself, raising a hand to his forehead.
“Idiot!”

In all the excitem
ent of returning Humbug to the North Pole, Jake had completely forgotten about the presents they had gathered for the orphanage.

Now what?

Their plan had been to deliver the presents and somehow make it look like Santa had done it. But now Jake faced a painful choice.
Whom do I disappoint? Aunt Ramona or the orphans?

He could either high
tail it to Gryphondale to be in the Nativity play or take the presents to the orphanage. After all the hours they had lost on their adventure, there was no longer enough time to do both.

Blast it.
Jake crossed the foyer to check the library in the vague hope that either the housekeeper or the butler was actually at home. Maybe, done with their duties for the day, they were relaxing and had just dozed off by the fire.

He
knew that either of the kindly old souls would have been happy to deliver the presents for him.

But
no.

The library where he had interrogated Humbug held no Mrs. Appleton, no Mr. Mayweather, and no cozy fire in the hearth
, as he’d hoped. He walked in, glanced around, and sighed.

The butler and housekeeper
must have gone out to enjoy the Christmas Eve festivities, along with the rest of the world.

Well, if it came down to it, he knew what he would choose.

Santa
had
said he needed people to help him once in a while, and surely Aunt Ramona would understand. He could be in the village Nativity next year, he thought, never mind that his not showing up would make a very bad impression on the whole village full of neighbors who were only just getting to know him.

One last possibility occurred to him.

Maybe they’re in the kitchen!
he thought, hoping against hope.

But as he turned and headed for the door, he suddenly heard a strange rustle in the fireplace behind him.

He spun around just in time to see a flurry of silver snowflakes rushing out of the hearth, accompanied by a smattering of red-and-green sparkles.

Jake’s jaw dropped as the Snow Maiden stepped out of the fireplace as coolly as you please, with Humbug by her side.

He was amazed to see her, especially since she looked so…different.

Instead of wearing bizarre high-fashion clothes and trying to look older, she was dressed in
a fairly normal-looking blue coat with a hood and sleeves trimmed in white fur.

Her blond hair hung over her shoulders in two braids,
with a sprig of holly tucked behind her ear.

From her rosy cheeks to the smile presently on her face instead of her former bored scowl,
now
she fit the description of the Snow Maiden of Eastern Europe’s Christmas legends.

“Hello, Jake,” she said ever so casually, sauntering into the library.

“What are you doing here?” he burst out when he finally found his voice. “And Humbug?”

The erstwhile grumpy elf grinned at him.

“Grandmother sent me,” the Snow Maiden said. At his blank look, she added, “To deliver those presents for you?”

“Along with some real holiday magic!” Humbug chimed in.

Jake laughed aloud. “Mrs. Claus, I love you.”

“I think she knows,” the Snow Maiden drawled.

“Beg your pardon, but this is quite a surprise. I thought you hated Christmas.”

“Well…” She dropped her gaze. “Once Christmas Eve arrived, I sta
rted thinking about my former duties, helping Grandpapa bring the toys, and I… Well, in the end, I didn’t want to be left out,” she said with a slight pout. “Besides, I owe you, I suppose, for keeping you and your friends prisoner. Let’s just say this is my own little way of making up for it.”

Jake shook his head, amazed.
“Apology accepted.”

“So where are the
se presents, then?”

“Right in here.” He led them
into the foyer. “I’ll write down the address of the orphanage for you—”

“Please,
” she cut him off with a superior glance. “I
am
Santa Claus’s granddaughter, Jake. Give me a little more credit than that.”

He laughed in surprise. “
Sorry.” He really could hardly believe his good fortune at her arrival. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Hopefully, this should help me get back into Grandfather’s good graces. Humbug, put the presents in the sack.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Ha, and you were worried you’d be
put on reindeer stall-mucking duty,” Jake said to the elf, who was whisking all the gifts into the wide-mouthed sack they had brought along.

“Oh, I was!” Humbug answered. “But then Mrs. Claus told me to go help Snow Maiden with this missi
on. Believe me, I was glad to tag along.”

“Good, t
hen you can carry the sack, Humbug,” Snow Maiden said. “Happy Christmas, Jake.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she sauntered back to the fireplace in the library. The little elf struggled along after her under the giant sack filled with toys.

Jake followed them, still mystified. “
I really do appreciate this.”

“I know,” she answered lightly, stepping into the fireplace. “Don’t worry, we’ll give them a good show. Won’t we, Humbug?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Ta-
ta.” The Snow Maiden tapped the side of her nose just like Santa had done; Humbug held onto the fur-lined hem of her coat as she went shooting up the chimney.

In the
blind of an eye, she was gone—as if she was never there, but for the eddy of sparkling snowflakes she had left behind.

“Huh,” Jake whispered at lengt
h, a smile spreading across his face.

Now
it was time to get on with his own Christmas.

As the grandfather clock in the foyer started bonging the hou
r, he dashed a quick note to Mrs. Appleton about the gingerbread people, then raced upstairs, and back out onto the roof, rejoining Red.

“To Gryphondale, boy!”

There was no time to lose.

#

Red flew hard for nearly two hours.

When they finally approached their qua
int home village in the English countryside, Jake saw the crowd was already gathering in the tiny town square around a cheerful bonfire. The people were mulling about, drinking wassail, laughing with their neighbors, and watching entertainers juggle fiery torches.

As soon as
Red touched down on the elegant back terrace of Griffon Castle, Jake was already taking off his coat as he ran to get into his St. Joseph getup.

Just a stone’s throw across the meadows,
over at Bradford Park, Archie and Isabelle and Dani were also donning their Christmas pageant costumes.

It was a bit of a scramble at the end there, but the next thing Jake knew, he was standing by the mange
r in the middle of the Nativity play.

He felt the strangest jumble of emotions, like the warm glow of the candles that all the village children were holding had got inside his chest.

Maybe some of Santa’s magic Dusting Sugar had absorbed into his skin, because he didn’t complain once about the fake beard, silly as it looked; he got there on time; and he smiled from ear to ear as the whole community gathered to honor the miracle of the Savior’s birth and sing the old hymns.

He wasn’t the only one
overcome by the love, either. To
everybody’s
shock, even the stern, proud Dowager Baroness Bradford (their Great-Great Aunt Ramona) wiped a brief tear from her eye.

That was when he knew that
Santa was right. When it came to Christmas, the only thing that really mattered was the love.

There was, however, a great mystery that year at the annual Nativity play.

The villagers could not figure out how the vicar, in charge of the production, had managed to make the Christmas star fly up onto the top of the stable all by itself.