Of Hypnosis Holidazed — Mistress

Cora sat in her corner, eating a slice of her clay-like fruitcake, which she had secretly laced with a calming, non-psychoactive tincture of chamomile and skullcap. The pendulum was back in her pocket.

“And now,” Cora murmured, the pendulum coming to a stop in her palm, “when I count down from three to one, you will all feel a deep, abiding sense of peace. The perfect, simple peace of a silent night. No arguments. No resentments. Just the quiet joy of being together. Three… two… one.”

Cora didn’t flinch. She pulled a small, antique silver pendulum from a pocket inside her cloak. It wasn’t showy, just a simple teardrop on a fine chain. It caught the candlelight and threw tiny, dancing stars onto the tablecloth. Mistress Of Hypnosis Holidazed

“It’s just a little relaxation technique,” Cora said, her voice dropping into a lower, richer register. “A gift, really. For the holidays. Close your eyes, everyone.”

A wet, heavy silence fell. Leo hiccupped. Cora sat in her corner, eating a slice

No one had wanted to invite Cora. She was Mark’s eccentric younger cousin, the one who’d dropped out of medical school to run a “hypnotherapy and holistic resonance” studio in a refurbished shipping container. She arrived late, wearing a velvet cloak the color of a thunderstorm and carrying a fruitcake that looked alarmingly like a lump of clay.

The chain swung. Back and forth. Tick. Tock. Like a gentle, hypnotic grandfather clock marking a time that didn’t exist. The perfect, simple peace of a silent night

Chloe saw it and gasped. “Mark?”