Page 42 of The Neighborhood Witch

“What’s behind this door is nothing like you could’ve imagined.” Alice gripped the handle a second time. She pushed forward, revealing a secret room.

Hugo moved closer to peer through the doorway. The smell of grapes, earth, and mustiness lingered in the air. The room was dark. Only the outlines of what appeared to be wooden barrels along the wall were visible in the incandescent glow. Alice entered through the doorway. Hugo followed.

Yule

Light In The Darkness

Chapter 12

The Cellar

Alice gave a quick snap of her fingers. Candlesticks, placed throughout the room in wall sconces, flickered to life. They revealed the massive size of the room. To Hugo, the room appeared larger than both houses combined. Green vine plants hung from the thick wooden trusses that lined the ceiling. Stacked wooden barrels rested along the back walls. Filled wine bottles rested on a rack.

Wine making equipment adorned one side of the room organized in methodical fashion. Five wooden round tubs sat on elevated platforms. The tubs were wide enough for multiple people to stand in them. Their ringed barreled like appearance awaited their next supply of grapes. A wooden valve, placed on the bottom of the tubs, emptied into wooden channels that flowed into two wine presses resting below.

A workstation table was set up directly across from the vats on the other side of the room against the wall. Above the table, a set of shelves organized a wondrous number of things. Hugo’s eyes traveled to each one. Glass jars filled with items from nature. Vials filled with liquids. Wood boxes of all shapes and sizes.

An apothecary box drawer set against the back of the table pressed against the wall. Aged parchment sleeves labeled the multiple pull out drawers with the various ingredients listed inside. A black cauldron, larger than a grapefruit, yet smaller than a volleyball, sat in the center of the table. A muddler next to it waited for the next ingredient. An hourglass, identical to the one in the living room, stood in a corner of the table.

“What is this place?”

“This is where I make wine,” Alice replied.

“How does it even exist? Are we in your backyard?”

“It’s a special room.”

“How special?”

“You could say it’s magical.”

“What’s with all this stuff in the jars and the drawers? Why a cauldron?” His eyes lingered on it before focusing back toward Alice. “I know that you like dressing like a witch, but—”

“I don’t dress like a witch to make a fashion statement. I dress like a witch because I am one,” Alice explained. She paused for a moment. With a wide-eyed gaze, she dropped her arms to her side. “Does that scare you?”

Hugo glanced at the ground to gather his thoughts. He took a step, not toward the door, but further into the room to continue his exploration. Overwhelmed by this new reality in his life, he paused, then locked eyes with Alice. She interlocked her hands, holding them close to her body, and stood up straight with her shoulders pulled back. Alice slightly swayed back and forth. Her emerald green eyes glared back at him warily.

“Not at all,” Hugo answered. “I told you. I accept you for who you are.”

Alice blushed with a beaming smile. She released her hands, and her shoulders relaxed. The swaying stopped. “Good,” she replied. “Let me show you why I’m a wine expert.”

Alice strutted to the hourglass and rotated the ring to the middle of the pillar. She turned around. Her shoulders arched back, and herhead tilted up. She pulled back her sleeves and snapped her fingers, like a conductor commanding the attention of her orchestra. The room was alive with activity. Boxes of grapes rose into position. Grape crushers, large metal plates with wooden handles, bounced into position and stood at the ready next to the wooden vats. The room waited with bated breath, eager for the next move.

Alice paused. She outstretched her hand and closed her eyes. She exhaled a long, slow breath before taking a quick gasp. Her hands gestured back and forth as she conducted the symphony unfolding in the room. Each move was more affirmative than the last.

The boxes dumped the grapes into the large vats. The grape crushers followed. They danced, sloshing back and forth. The wet sound of grapes being crushed under the metal plates filled the air. Purplish-red juices flowed out of the wooden valve, pulling bits and pieces of grape skin like a flash flood down the channels. The grape must flowed toward the wooden barrel-like presses below. The next batch of grapes rose; their boxes dumped their contents into the vats. The stomping dance continued.

Alice turned and proceeded to her workstation. She grabbed a wine bottle filled with water and emptied the contents into the black cauldron. Alice leaned over, placing her lips below the cauldron. She whispered words in a language Hugo could not comprehend. A secretive language that intrigued, tantalized, and excited him. A small flame appeared below the cauldron. There was no kindling or fire source. The flame appeared to linger in the air. The table was untouched from the flame. Small bubbles danced inside the cauldron.

Alice pulled down a thick, brown leather grimoire from a shelf. She cradled the book in her hands as she lowered it onto a wooden bookrest. Her fingers dragged over the spine and across the scuffed, weathered binding. She traced the arcane symbol of two equilateral triangles touching, one upside down, that was pressed and branded into the front cover. She flipped open the book to a random section and perused the clandestine pages.

“Let’s see. What shall we make?” Alice glanced over to Hugo. She gave a wink and then returned her eyes back to the ancient book. “We haveLuck. That’s very popular. Gives the drinker extraordinary luck for the next two hours, or whenever they sober up.”

Hugo moved closer to Alice. He leaned against the table, trying to get a better look. Their shoulders touched; his left shoulder to Alice’s right. She bit her lips, smiling.

“Maybe you won’t need that,” Alice said in a hushed tone as she continued flipping through pages. “This one is calledThe Fountain of Youth. Each glass makes you look five years younger.”

“For how long?” Hugo asked.

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