The all-consuming, disorienting pain from moments before is replaced by a full-body ache accompanied by weird visions bursting in my mind’s eye. An enormous pecan pie. Mountains of curled silver ribbons all over the living room floor, my own hand pointing, and Hall hanging his head like a shamed dog. “Oh my God,” I groan. “What kind of fairy godmother are you?” I throw up; it’s mostly cocoa, and it burns my nose. “What is happening?”

Hall retches, too, although I don’t know if his retching is because of how he feels or if it was triggered by the sound of me retching.

I anchor my hands flat on the floor, eyes closed, trying to keep my breathing even as an endless stream of visions batters me upside the head. I see shaving cream all over my bathroom, and Hall crouching on the floor, putting the finishing touches on a Home Alone diorama. It includes tiny bricks for dropping onto Marv’s face and a working staple gun the size of my pinky nail.

“I’m having psychic visions,” I whisper. “You gave me superpowers.”

I’m like Dr. Strangelove or whatever he’s called, with the cape. My first thought is How do I abuse these powers for personal gain?

“I’m so thirsty,” I mutter. “I need something to drink.”

A cup appears, levitating level with my mouth. Hall’s magic is on the fritz, evidently, the cup wobbling, shifting color from orange to yellow. I peer inside, croaking, “Is this tap water?”

He blinks. “Uhh. I don’t know.”

“I only . . .” I slump onto my side upon the unforgiving floor, eyes clenched tight, dying of thirst. “. . . drink . . . Evian.”

He tips the cup against my lips, confirming my worst fears about the source of this water. It’s inhumane, the atrocities I have endured today. Or . . . ?

“Is it yesterday, then? Did it work?”

“I think so. What you’re seeing in your head are memories of things you should have done and said and experienced if time had proceeded as usual. And alternate possibilities of those memories, too. I just envisioned myself eating four possible breakfasts at Denny’s, which is handy information, because now I know I want the fried potato tower.” He coughs. “It’s off-menu. You have to ask for it.”

“You knew about these side effects?” I try to swat at him, but my arm flops uselessly.

“I knew that it might feel bad, in theory. But I was hoping to be an exception, in practice.” He tries for a smile. “Sorry. I really wanted to flex those time travel powers. Never done it before.”

“Never doing it again,” I retort darkly. “Not with me, anyway.”

“I would never do it with anybody else. I’m committed to you.”

My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the one who conjured me. I’m yours. And I am here to fill you with the holiday spirit.”

I raise my eyebrows, smirking.

Hall flushes. “Not like that!” He’s so distressed that he starts knitting a tinsel scarf, which he completes with remarkable quickness, and drapes around the shoulders of a life-size Father Christmas I didn’t know was behind me, and which I’ll be seeing in my nightmares tonight. “Obviously, you brought me here because you need holiday spirit, right?”