Page 3

CHAPTER 3

VIOLET

I really hate it when Fiona was right. Just once, I'd love to have a proper normal weekend without stumbling across dead bodies or supernatural mayhem. But when she held up that business card with its ominous magical countdown, I knew we were well past the point of normal. "Twenty minutes," Fiona announced as she waved the thing. "That's how long we've got before something else happens. Oh, don’t give me that look. Mounting deaths and mysterious magical timers are always brilliant news."

"Dare I ask what happens when it hits zero?" Aislinn's expression suggested she already knew the answer wouldn't be pleasant. She might be a worrier, but she faced crises head-on.

"With our luck? It’ll involve more bodies or magical mayhem," I muttered as I pulled my scarf tighter. My fingers were practically numb despite my best warming charms and thickest winter mittens. Whatever corrupted magic lingered from our vanishing corpse seemed to be interfering with even the simplest spells. "Anyone else wondering if we're actually cursed? "

"If we are, it's likely Fiona's fault," Aislinn said, stamping her feet to keep warm. Her nose had gone quite red from the cold. It made her look younger than usual. "She's the one who attracts trouble like bees to honey."

"Hey!" Fiona protested as she watched the activity. "I prefer to think of it as having an exciting life. Besides, you can't blame me for this one. I was totally content just drinking wine and acting normal for once."

"Normal?" I scoffed. "The last time we tried to be normal, we brought back Grams. And after that was the incident with the Dark One."

"Grams was not my fault," Fiona insisted as she closed her fist around the card. "How was I supposed to know that spell would interact with one Grams cast and bring her back from the dead?"

"That's actually a good point. However, you also went through a portal to Eidothea before you knew how to conjure fire," Aislinn pointed out. "Honestly, Fi, for someone who grew up without magic, you have an uncanny knack for finding the most dangerous magical situations in Britain."

"It's a gift," Fiona grinned. Her expression quickly sobered as she glanced at the card again. "Eighteen minutes now. Whatever's coming, we should probably-"

A whisper, so faint it might have been the wind, stopped me in my tracks. Wind didn't usually call your name. Or speak in Latin. The words were familiar but distorted, like listening to Radio 4 with poor reception.

" Violet. .. veni ad nos ... tempus est ..." The whispers seemed to curl around my consciousness like smoke.

The weather had turned properly grim since we'd first arrived at the accident scene. It had transformed what had started as a picturesque snowfall into something rather more menacing. It was the sort of weather that usually preceded very bad things in horror films. Of course, in our experience, reality was often worse than anything Hollywood could dream up.

"The temperature's dropping," Aislinn noted, checking her mobile. "It's gone down five degrees in the last ten minutes. I think we can safely say the storm is not natural."

"Neither is that," I said, pointing to the way the snowflakes were falling. They weren't drifting anymore. They were moving purposefully and forming patterns in the air that looked suspiciously like the same symbols we'd seen on our vanished corpse.

"We need to get closer to that body before the mundies contaminate the scene," I muttered as I eyed the growing crowd around the car. The woman in the red coat was still there with her mobile in hand. No doubt she was talking to emergency services. Through the falling snow, I could just make out familiar-looking symbols beginning to form in the slush around the victim's feet. "Those sigils won't stay visible long."

I managed to get close enough to see that the victim's hand had fallen palm-up in the snow. Based on the fingernail polish, I was guessing it was a woman. There was something tattooed on her wrist, but before I could get a proper look, the flash of blue lights through the snow made my heart sink like a stone.

"Bloody hell," I muttered. Police cars carefully navigated the icy road towards us. Their lights painted the falling snow in alternating colors. It created a beautiful light show. "This is proper awful. I hope this body doesn’t do a disappearing act as well."

"You think?" Fiona said as she quickly checked the card again. "What gave it away? The police or the fact that we're about to lose our second body before we can figure out if they're even human?"

"Both of you, shut it," Aislinn hissed as she put on her most innocent ‘just a mum out with friends’ expression. Her mum-powers were legendary. She could convince a room full of sugar-high five-year-olds that naptime was brilliant. "Let me do the talking. I've got practice explaining away Kalli's magical accidents at school."

"Like when she sneezed and singed her teacher's eyebrows?" I teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Or that time in the cafeteria when she got upset and turned all the puddings into smoke rings?"

"Don't remind me," Aislinn groaned. "I had to convince everyone the smoke alarms were malfunctioning. And then there was that incident with her scales showing through during PE." She shuddered. "Do you know how difficult it is to explain why your daughter suddenly looks like she's wearing sparkly purple body paint?"

"'It's a new fashion trend' was actually quite brilliant," Fiona quoted with a grin. "I thought it was rather inspired, personally."

"You weren't the one who had to explain to twenty sets of parents why their children were now begging for 'dragon skin' makeup," Aislinn muttered.

The whispers grew louder and began pulling at me like invisible threads. They were coming from the woods to our right, where a dark mass of trees seemed to loom closer despite the falling snow. Something was very wrong here. The magic felt ancient and hungry. My mind conjured a horrifying image of a predator that had just woken from a long sleep.

"Vi?" Fiona murmured. She'd noticed my distraction. After a lifetime of friendship, she could read my expressions like the Sunday papers.

I gave her a subtle nod toward the trees. Her eyes narrowed, and I knew she got the message. We barely needed words anymore. We couldn’t investigate because the first officer approached us. He had a notepad in hand and suspicion written all over his face. He was young, probably fresh out of training. He had the sort of earnest expression that said he still believed everything could be solved by following proper procedure. Poor bloke had no idea what he was walking into.

"Ladies. Bit of a nasty accident we've got here. Mind telling me what you're doing standing about in this weather? It doesn’t appear as if you were involved." He gestured to Fiona’s vehicle.

"Officer," Fiona said, smoothly inserting herself between the policeman and me, "I saw what happened and thought it might help with your accident report." She launched into an elaborate story about black ice and a mysterious lorry that may or may not have existed. She told the tale with such conviction that even I almost believed her.

The whispers were becoming more insistent. Taking advantage of Fiona's distraction, I edged toward the tree line. The magic pulling me forward wasn't anything to be trifled with. It made me think of a record playing off-key. It made my skin prickle with goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. Given what had happened, I didn’t think we could ignore it.

" Tempus fugit ... momentum est ..." The whispers were clearer now. They were also urgent and compelling. I recognized the phrases from ancient grimoires. Time flies, the moment is here . The question was what it was talking about. I had to know. My feet carried me forward.

I shouldn't have gone alone. That's what any sensible witch would tell you. However, someone had to keep the police occupied. Between Fiona's gift for creative storytelling and Aislinn's concerned mum routine, they had that sorted. Not to mention, I was part phoenix and would regenerate from my ashes should the worst happen. That made me far braver than was wise.

The trees swallowed me like a hungry mouth the second I stepped off the road. Ten steps in, and the accident scene disappeared behind a curtain of snow and branches. The whispers led me deeper. They grew clearer with each step. The woods were unnaturally quiet. I didn’t hear any birds or small animals. There was nothing but the soft crunch of snow under my boots and those damned whispers. That could have been the cold. Yeah, keep telling yourself that .

The magical energy grew stronger as I walked. My head began to spin. It was familiar somehow. Yes, it carried echoes of Fae magic, but that was only a small part of it. This felt old and dark. It also spoke of forgotten rituals and forbidden knowledge. I stumbled to a stop when I came across three more bodies. They were arranged in a perfect triangle. Unlike our friends by the road, these hadn't been hidden. The display seemed ceremonial. There were also strange symbols carved into their exposed skin. The snow around them was pristine and undisturbed. They hadn’t been killed there. They'd been placed there by magic rather than carried or dragged in.

"Bloody hell," I breathed as I pulled out my mobile to text Fiona. My fingers shook as I typed. Three more. Ritual arrangement. Get rid of bobby ASAP. And maybe grab that bottle of Winter's Embrace. We might need it.

The scene before me was like something from a dark fairy tale. The bodies lay on beds of frost-covered pine needles. Their positions were too precise to be accidental. The symbols carved into their skin glowed faintly in the dim light. They also pulsed in time with the whispers that still echoed through the trees.

I crouched down to examine the nearest victim. It might have been stupid to go out there alone, but I was careful not to touch anything. The symbols weren't like the others. These were a bizarre mix of ancient runes and what looked like mathematical equations.

One victim appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was dressed in posh hiking gear that looked brand new. His watch had stopped at precisely midnight. That had to be significant. Ritual magic loved its symbolism. There was also a small tattoo on his wrist. It caught my attention because it was similar to the one on the woman beneath the vehicle on the highway. I saw the entire thing on this victim. It was a complex sigil. I think I saw it somewhere in Eastern Europe.

I wracked my brain for what I knew about it. "The Binding of the Seven," I murmured when it finally came to me. I traced the air above the tattoo. "He was part of the Old Guard." This wasn't just some random bloke who'd stumbled into supernatural trouble. He was one of us. A magical being and practitioner of the old ways. This wasn’t done by whoever killed the guy. This was protective. This guy should have been able to fight off whoever attacked him.

When my mobile buzzed, I realized we had service again. I hadn’t even thought about it when I sent my message to Fiona. It was a relief to see her reply. Gadross ETA 30. Keep area clear. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. And no, we're not opening the wine yet. Stop asking. A smile spread across my face. I didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Wasn't planning to," I muttered. The urge to trace the symbols was almost overwhelming. Something about them seemed familiar. It was like when you have a word on the tip of your tongue but can’t voice it. I turned on the camera in my phone and started snapping pictures of everything. Years of magical training had taught me the value of proper documentation, especially when dealing with potentially lethal runes.

The second victim was older. She looked to be in her sixties. She had silver hair and an aura that spoke of a lifetime of working with magic. Her fingers were stained with various potion ingredients. I’d bet she was a kitchen witch. And judging by the feel of her rings, she was powerful. I could feel the enchantment on each one, though the spells had died with her.

A glint of metal caught my eye. Around her neck was a pendant I recognized. It was the mark of the Hearthstone Guild. This was the guild of kitchen witches devoted to preserving the magic of hearth and home, weaving spells into potions and foods to heal and protect their communities. The pendant looked relatively new, which was odd. The Guild hadn't admitted anyone in over a decade. Not since...

“Oh, bloody hell,” I whispered as the pieces clicked into place. The pendant, the strange resonance in the air that hinted at Fae magic, The Midnight Cellar. It all traced back to a scandal from nearly twenty years ago. A group of kitchen witches tried to harness primal magical forces that should have been left untouched. It had gone about as well as you'd expect.

The third body made my blood run cold. She was young. Barely out of her teens. She was wearing the distinctive robes of a student from Blackwood Academy. It was one of the most prestigious magical schools in Britain. Her robes bore the silver trim of a seventh-year student. Pinned to her collar was the symbol of the Advanced Alchemy Society.

"What were you doing here, love?" I murmured. There were fresh ink stains on her fingers and an experimental potions kit still strapped to her belt. "Wrong place, wrong time? Or were you part of this?"

The symbols carved into their skin formed a pattern when viewed together. It made me think of a complex circuit board designed to channel magical energy. But channel it where? And for what purpose? There were elements from various magical traditions. Celtic knots were intertwined with Egyptian hieroglyphs. Sanskrit mantras were woven through Nordic runes.

The overall pattern was familiar. It resembled the theoretical frameworks for immortality rituals I'd studied during my time at university. This was more complex. Whoever had done this was trying to harvest immortality from others. They were using innocents to pay the prices of eternal life so they could steal it without having to experience the repercussions. The gods were the only beings capable of giving that particular gift. The cost for mortals to try it was too high to pay.

I heard footsteps crunching through the snow and whirled around. A defensive spell was forming on my lips. Fiona and Aislinn appeared through the trees. They both looked grim. They had their hands raised slightly as well. Fiona was no doubt ready to cast. Aislinn looked ready to unleash her elements.

"Police are dealing with the accident victims," Fiona said as she brushed snow from her hair. She scanned the scene with the kind of focused intensity that reminded me why she was usually our leader in situations like this. "We've got maybe ten minutes before they start widening their search area. Please tell me this isn't as bad as I think it is."

"It's worse," I said, gesturing to the bodies. "Look at the arrangement. This wasn't random. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. The symbols, the positioning, and even the timing. It's all part of something bigger. And these aren't ordinary folk. They're practitioners."

"Brilliant," Aislinn muttered. "Just brilliant. Because magical murder is so much better than regular murder."

"That's not even the worst part," I said, pointing to the Guild's pendant. "Remember that scandal with the experimental magic twenty years ago? The one my gran used to warn me about?"

"The one where they tried to use the primal forces of magic?" Aislinn's eyes widened. "But that was shut down. The Guild made sure of it. Half the people involved either disappeared or ended up in St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward for Magically Induced Madness."

"Well, someone's trying something similar," I said. "And they're using blood magic to speed up the process and avoid the cost to themselves. Look at these symbols. They're designed to harvest magical essence. They're using these people to obtain immortality and then taking it from them"

"Setting aside the news that there is a magical psych ward, and this is the first I’m hearing of it, I understand the gist of what you’re saying. Why do this now?" Fiona asked, though her expression suggested she didn't really want to know.

"If I'm right," I said, "they're trying to create immortality potions on steroids without the cost to them. These equations and the way they're structured makes me think they're trying to distill the essence of magic."

The wind picked up suddenly. It whipped the snow around us in a frenzy. The whispers returned and were louder now: " The old ways return... the price must be paid... "

"Tell me you both heard that," I said, not really hoping for a no.

"Unfortunately," Fiona confirmed. She looked sick to her stomach. "Come on. Help me hide this before Detective Constable Nosy decides to take a nature walk."

I joined her, and our magic wove together to form a formidable glamour. Aislinn kept watch. The concealment spell was complex. We had to hide an entire ritual setup complete with active magical signatures. "Bloody hell," Aislinn whispered suddenly. "The temperature just dropped ten degrees in the last minute."

She was right. The cold had taken on a sharp, aggressive quality that had nothing to do with normal weather. Ice was forming on the trees around us and spreading in patterns that looked suspiciously like the symbols carved into our victims. Fiona pulled out the business card again. The countdown had nearly reached zero. Additional text was appearing beneath the timer. The first phase is complete. The vessels are prepared. The harvest begins at midnight.

"Right," Fiona said decisively. "New plan. We finish the concealment spell, get back to the road, and call Gadross again. This just went from 'magical murder mystery' to 'potentially apocalyptic ritual site’, and we’re not dealing with that without backup."

"Or wine," I added, which earned a snort from Aislinn.

"We're going to need something stronger than wine," she muttered as she watched the ice spread. "Maybe that vodka we got last Christmas?"

"The one that amplifies your magic but leaves you with the worst magical burnout?" Fiona shook her head. "Let's save that for real emergencies."

"Three dead magical practitioners arranged in a ritual circle isn't an emergency?" I asked as I added the final touches to our concealment spell.

"For us?" Fiona grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. "This is an average day."

The spell settled over the scene like a blanket. It hid the bodies and supernatural elements from mundie eyes. The symbols faded from view, though I could still feel them pulsing beneath the magical camouflage. I cast a magical marker so we could find the victims again. As we headed back toward the road, I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd stumbled into something much bigger than a few dead bodies in the snow. The magic in the air felt expectant. Like the pause before a thunderclap. The whispers had faded, but their words still echoed in my mind: The old ways return... the price must be paid...

"So," Fiona said as we emerged from the trees, looking perfectly innocent for any watching police officers, "anyone else thinking we should have gone with Aislinn's spa weekend suggestion?"

"Don't," Aislinn warned. "Just don't."

I pulled my coat tighter, trying to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. "Hey, Fi?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when you said at least it wasn't demons this time?"

"Yeah?"

"I rather think I might prefer the demons."

The wind picked up, driving the snow harder. In the distance, I swore I could hear laughter that sounded nothing like human amusement. This laughter made me want to run and hide under my bed with a protective circle and my strongest wards. "Next time," Aislinn said in a voice barely audible over the wind, "we're definitely going to that nice spa in Eidothea."

"Speaking of time," Fiona interjected. She pulled out the business card again. The countdown had reached zero. New text was flowing across the surface like mercury.

"The Midnight Cellar welcomes worthy seekers. The path opens at the witching hour." Below that, coordinates began to appear one number at a time. It was some sort of macabre treasure map.

"Those coordinates," I said, peering over her shoulder. "They're for somewhere in the South Downs. There's an old network of wine cellars there, dating back to..."

"Let me guess," Fiona sighed. "The same period as our friendly neighborhood immortality-seeking alchemists? "

"Got it in one."

The card shimmered again, revealing one final message: The price must be paid.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. The cryptic invitation was almost certainly a trap. But then again, when had that ever stopped us before? "Well," I said, "at least we brought that bottle of Winter's Embrace with us."

"Yeah," Fiona agreed as she tucked the card away. The whispers in the woods had faded to a soft murmur. Their promise lingered in the air like frost. Whatever we'd stumbled into was far from over.