Secret Santa

The gift looked innocent enough, wrapped in shiny red paper with a gold bow.

But Kyle had been working at the Bureau long enough to be alarmed by the sight of it when he stepped out of the elevator on Monday morning.

“This office doesn’t happen to have a Secret Santa program, does it?” he joked hopefully to his desk mate Rose, who had happened to be walking into the building at the same time as him that day. 

“No,” she said. “And this place is on lockdown over the weekend. There’s no way someone could have gotten in to leave something like this here.” 

Kyle reached out to touch it.

“Don’t,” she said. “There’s a protocol for this sort of thing.”

Kyle knew that Rose was right, but he was in no mood to do a mountain of tedious paperwork at the beginning of the last workweek of the year before the holidays. When he had first started this job, he had thought working in Enchanted Containment was going to be much more exciting than this. 

In the late 90’s, a series of ostensibly fictional fantasy novels had revealed to the world that a hidden population of humans existed, capable of performing witchcraft and magic. The books had been allowed to be published because no one had actually thought that they would become popular. 

That couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Obviously, the books contained tons of inaccuracies. 

Though based on real magic, a real world, real schools, and real historic figures, the plot itself was fiction. And although she became a billionaire by shining a light on a previously hidden subculture, the author herself was rational. 

But now that the rational world was obsessed with magic, coupled with the invention and proliferation of the internet, social media, and ecommerce, the Enchanted realized that they could leverage their new popularity into prosperity. 

No one wanted to remain hidden anymore. They wanted to make money. 

The American Enchanted Congress knew that they couldn’t put this toothpaste back into the bottle, so to speak. So, they amended the laws that had for so long required the Enchanted to remain hidden. 

With the following regulations, of course:

1) Practicing witches and magicians had to obtain a license permitting them to accept money in exchange for performances, products, or services.

2) Elemental Magic was strictly forbidden.

3) Any form of magic that violated Plausible Deniability was strictly forbidden.

4) Any witch or magician whose enchantment affected wealth or markets had to obtain written permission from the Abundance Magic Department at the SEC before performing any spell or ritual.

5) Any witchcraft or magic that violated (or attempted to violate) free will (including, but not limited to, love potions, love spells, and possession) was strictly forbidden.

6) Witchcraft or magic could not violate (or claim to violate) any local, state, or federal laws. 

Naturally, a law enforcement agency had to be established to ensure that these regulations were obeyed. 

Enter the Bureau of Enchanted Containment (a new, highly secretive division of the Department of Justice). The BEC employed rational and enchanted agents alike. But its elite team of enforcement agents were a handful of sorcerers who could be called in to neutralize the most dangerous of cases. 

As a rational person, Kyle had never paid much attention to the Enchanted. 

Their policy of only using plausibly deniable magic had worked. 

Kyle never really believed that magic had the power to operate outside the laws of physics. He thought everyone who believed in it was a sucker. And to be fair, some of them were. Like any salesperson, Enchanted could operate at varying levels of competence and integrity.

But that didn’t mean that magic wasn’t real. 

It had never been Kyle’s dream to work a government job, but he had needed a paycheck, and this was the only place that was hiring. 

Now he spent his days answering the tip hotline. The laws governing the use of magic were well-communicated to the Enchanted community. There were whole classes at academy and university levels, and any witch or magician hoping to obtain a license to practice publicly had to pass an exam demonstrating that they understood the rules.

But these laws weren’t explained to the rational portion of the population.

That would defeat their entire purpose. 

When Kyle started his job at the Bureau, he learned the laws governing Enchanted behavior. At the tip line, his job was to assess the level of each call’s severity (and urgency) as well of the likelihood of its veracity. Usually, he dispatched an enchantress or wizard-level special agent to check it out. 

If that claim turned out to be true, the agent was authorized to use their judgment: let the Enchanted off with a warning, fine them, or require that they enroll in a class that would review the rules surrounding containment and why they were so important. 

And then this person would go on a list.

A third violation meant the Bureau would have to take extreme measures to remove them from interacting with the public.

For everyone’s safety, of course.

But sometimes the tip that came in was particularly alarming: reports of necromancy, possession, elemental magic, sedition, or terrorism were never taken lightly. If something came in that was serious, Kyle had to bring the report straight to Hecate. 

Which he probably should have done with this suspicious looking package on the desk in front of him.

But Hecate gave him the creeps. Kyle didn’t want to go to them unless he absolutely had to.

“I’m just going to open it and see what it is.”

Rose scooted her desk chair as far away from Kyle as possible.

“It’s your funeral.”

“You’ve seen how heavily this building is guarded.” Kyle looked around at the windowless fluorescent room of the underground office that they were in. A Christmas tree was erected in the corner, doing very little to bring festive cheer to the sterile environment. “It’s probably just a prank from a co-worker. Or a secret admirer,” he joked, trying to hide his nerves.

Rose arched an eyebrow. “If you’re hoping your crush on Hadley is mutual, you truly are delusional.”

Kyle felt his face turn bright red. “I don’t have a—”

“Relax,” Rose said laughing at him. “Everyone has a crush on Hadley. That’s one of the reasons she’s so powerful.”

Being called “everyone” did not actually make Kyle feel better. He decided to distract himself with the present on the desk in front of him. 

“There’s no card.”

“You better hope it’s not full of anthrax—or a hex.”

Kyle yanked his hand back. Was he being stupid? No, it was just a Christmas present. Probably from a co-worker. But still, he kept his face as far away from it as possible as he carefully ripped the wrapping paper at its taped seams.

“It’s a music box.” He looked at the heavy polished oak antique in front of him. It was exquisite. Lined with dancing flames and etchings of holly leaves. 

Rose scooted her chair back closer towards him, interest piqued.

“What are you, a teenage girl?”

Kyle ignored her as he ran his fingers over the brass metal clasp holding the lid in place. He took a deep breath to steel his courage and flipped it open. 

The tinkling melody of “White Christmas” pinged out, but that wasn’t what made Kyle almost drop the box.

In place of a ballerina twirling in front of the mirror at the back of the lid, there was a tiny yet exquisitely carved figure of him. Of Kyle. Sitting at his desk. Answering a phone. The figure twirled in a lazy circle as the carol played. 

“What the—”

Kyle almost snapped the thing shut, but then he saw what was contained in the belly of it.

A dead salamander, ceremonial dagger driven straight through its body. 

Kyle didn’t want to touch the dead animal. It could have been diseased or something. So, he picked it up by the handle of the dagger and held it up closer to his face for inspection.

“I wouldn’t—” But Rose’s warning was too late.

The salamander twitched and opened its eyes.

It looked directly at Kyle’s face and then burst into flames.

“Shit!” Kyle dropped the Salamander on the floor in front of him, and Rose ran from the fire. The smoke from the burning creature billowed towards his face and caused a coughing fit as Kyle felt himself accidentally inhaling it. He tried to run away, but something had pinned his feet to the floor. He was stuck breathing in ash and smoke and enchanted elemental amphibian until finally with a TSHHHHHHHH sound Rose put the thing out with the fire extinguisher. 

Once Kyle stopped coughing and wheezing, he took a deep breath of air. 

They looked at the dagger drenched in foam on the floor in front of them. 

“I should probably take this to Hecate,” Kyle said reluctantly. 

Rose nodded in agreement. 

***

“Hecate” didn’t refer to the actual goddess. 

It was an internal, tongue-in-cheek nickname for the Bureau’s team of three powerful sorceresses. 

Kyle stepped timidly into their office, music box in one hand, residue-drenched knife in the other. 

Crone Mother, the oldest of the three, was sitting on a couch off to the right side of the door, looking directly at him. 

“Kyle, come in,” she croaked at him, her wrinkled face twisting into a smile. “Have a seat.” 

Of course, she had known he was coming.

Crone Mother was a divination sorceress. One of the world’s few oracles, she had been snapped up early in her life by the government for purposes of maintaining world order. She even had her own temple somewhere in the underground office that held the innerworkings of the BEC. Crone Mother’s job was to consult the gods to detect enchantment that was violating the laws. She also divined the authenticity of tips that the department received. 

Based on the information that Crone Mother divined, the two other members of Hecate would go to the source in person and contain the problem. 

Kyle sat in the chair across from Crone Mother’s sofa.

“I, uh, was given this.” He set the box down in front of her on the coffee table, open so she could see the miniature model of him inside. “And this was inside it,” he set the dagger with what was left of the salamander next to it, cringing in embarrassment a little as he did so.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t in that state when you received it,” Josie’s voice said from behind him, and Kyle sank deeper into his seat in shame, suddenly feeling like he was a child, getting a stern talking to from his mother. 

Josie had that effect on people. 

She sat down next to Kyle and kindly but judgmentally looked at the pieces on the table in front of them. Josie was a middle-aged woman, a little dumpy and kind looking. This image was her greatest weapon. Josie could blend into any crowd and had a consummately forgettable face. Every person she met was comforted by her and trusted her. They were disarmed, which almost always caused them to open up to her, not feeling threatened at all. This made her very persuasive. She almost never needed to resort to physical violence.

But when she did—Kyle had heard rumors from senior agents. 

Josie was a master at krav maga (a firm believer that not every combat move needed to be enchanted), and she could put anyone into a sleeper hold in seconds—before they realized what was even happening. 

And if she needed to use magic?

Josie was one of the few people in the world who had mastered the elements. Rumor had it she could start a fire with her hands, burn your skin just by touching it, or change the state of any body of water (up to the size of a small lake), yes including the water molecules in human cells. 

She was one of the most powerful sorceresses on the planet. And most people would never even know her name.

“Uh, yes,” Kyle said, nervously. “It came wrapped as a present and I, uh, opened it. It burst into flames and—”

Josie looked at him with gentle understanding. “You inhaled the smoke, didn’t you?”

He nodded. 

“Can you work with this?” Josie asked Crone Mother.

The old woman nodded. “It’s troubling,” she said. “But it clearly points to a fire elemental. Whether this enchantress is the one who sent the tip is… a separate question.” She held the items carefully in her brittle hands. “But I think we can find their location.”

Crone Mother looked at Kyle seriously. “You should have come to us before unwrapping it,” she said. 

“I know,” Kyle felt his heart beat faster. His palms were sweaty, he—

“No matter,” the crone said. “It is done. This just means that now you have to be involved in the ceremony.”

“The what?” he gulped.

“The locator ceremony,” Josie explained patiently. “Part of the evidence is inside you. So, we’ll need to bring you with us while we track this person down.”

“Oh, but I—” this could not be happening. Kyle was starting to wish that he had just filed the report and done that fucking paperwork. “I’m rational, I can’t—”

“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll protect you.” 

Kyle’s voice caught in his throat as he looked up and saw the third member of the team.

Hadley.

People who didn’t know the sorceresses usually mistook her for Josie’s daughter. In the field, that was usually the cover story they went with. 

At twenty-two years old, Hadley was one of the youngest sorceresses in the world. She was unnaturally beautiful, thin, and curvy. The benefit of having two sorcerer parents was that she was able to master her craft and move up the government ranks quicker than should have been possible. She was disarming for completely opposite reasons than Josie. 

Hadley’s skillset was protection magic. 

She was fluent in younger futhark and could create amulets would stop a bullet. She knew rituals that would render participants immune to certain spells for a finite period of time. And her best trick was an elixir that provided invisibility to the person who consumed it (for as long as the liquid was in their system). 

Of course, Hadley had started in the military before being recruited to the highest level of enforcement at the BEC. A company girl through and through, she could always be counted to put the mission before everything else. 

Unlike Kyle, who had allowed his curiosity to destroy evidence before he was able to pass it up the chain properly.

And now he was being dragged into the field. 

“Here, put this on.” Hadley tossed an amulet at him. “You’re going to need it.”