Page 11 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

"Aislinn, listen carefully. If your phones start acting up worse than this, if the temperature suddenly drops enough to crystalize your breath get out. Don't wait, don't investigate. Look for people moving too smoothly. They’ll look like they're floating. If you see dark veins through pale skin, that's confirmation. I'm going as fast as I can, and-" The line crackled again. "Dammit. Just keep the others safe until I get there. And whatever you do, don't look them in the-" The call dropped.

A sudden gust of wind carried the smell of winter roses and something else. It was metallic and made my Fae blood stir uneasily. The temperature was dropping and I swear my breath was going to crystalize. That could have been my active imagination given Gadross’s warning. The symbols around the bodies were starting to glow with a faint purple light that the mundane constables somehow hadn't noticed yet.

I rejoined Fiona and Violet. The young officer was still taking notes. His writing had slowed, and hiseyes had taken on a slightly glazed look. Fiona's suggestion spell was working its magic. However, the growing cold seemed to be making it harder for her to maintain it.

"The symbols match," Violet whispered as she pretended to examine her now-dead phone. "All three sites have the same basic runic structure. It's like they're pieces of a larger pattern." She rubbed her arms against the increasingly unnatural chill.

"Three sites?" Peterson perked up when he heard that. His pen was poised above his tablet.

"Three car crash sites," Fiona smoothly interjected. "We passed two other accidents on our way here. The weather's absolutely treacherous." She gestured to the snow and ice all around us.

I felt a familiar tingle at the base of my skull. My Fae senses were warning me of approaching danger. The magic in the air was becoming more concentrated. My phone screen went completely black, and the symbols around the bodies began to pulse in sync. It was like a heartbeat made of corrupted magic. Every electronic device within thirty feet was failing. That included dashboard cameras, phones, and even Peterson's digital watch.

My wandering gaze caught on the wrist of the body under the car. While Peterson was distracted by both Fiona's creative storytelling and his malfunctioning equipment, I crouched down for a closer look. There, partially hidden by a sleeve, was a tattoo. I recognized it from my studies of ancient runes. She had a binding rune on her arm. However, this wasn’t just any binding rune. It was specifically designed to contain a connection. And it was fresh, still glistening like it had been applied moments before death.

"Fi," I murmured, fighting to keep my voice steady as I noticed the dead person's skin becoming unnaturallytranslucent, "we've got a problem. We need to get Peterson out of here. Now."

Fiona glanced my way, keeping her expression neutral even as her magic probed the area around the body. "Well, that's just fantastic," she muttered. "We didn't have enough problems already."

The wind picked up again, driving needles of ice-cold snow into our faces. The magical energy was building to a crescendo and giving me a headache. Whatever was happening, it involved old magic. Something told me it predated modern magical theory.

"Ladies," Peterson said, closing his notebook, "I think we have everything we need for now. Though we may need to contact you for further questions."

"Of course," Fiona smiled, slipping him a business card that I knew would become conveniently illegible the moment he tried to read it later. "We're happy to help."

As soon as Peterson walked away, Violet dropped to her knees beside the body. "This is mental," she whispered, tracing the air above the binding mark. "These markings aren't just for creating shades. They're harvesting the death energy, too."

My stomach turned. The metallic taste in my mouth grew stronger, and the air felt thick with despair. "That's not possible. The energy from a forced shade creation is too volatile, too corrupted to contain." The words felt ashy in my mouth. I'd seen what happened when someone tried to control too many shades at once. Their mind fractured, and their humanity eroded with each new binding.

"Unless," Fiona mused, her breath visible in the freezing air, "you had some way to stabilize it. Something that could handle that kind of raw power without shattering."

"Like Fae wine cellars?" Violet suggested.

The pieces clicked together with a sickeningthud. The Midnight Cellar, the corrupted magic that felt like twisted Fae energy, the bodies with their strange runes. It was all connected. Someone was trying to use the natural properties of Fae wine cellars to stabilize the volatile energy of mass shade creation. To bind more souls than should ever be possible.

A familiar black SUV pulled up. Its windows were tinted against more than just sunlight. Gadross stepped out, looking as impeccably dressed as ever despite the weather. His expression, however, made me wish for something stronger than the Winter's Embrace waiting in the car.

"Right then," he said as he approached us, "show me what we're dealing with."

We led him to the body under the car first, then described what we'd found in the woods. His face grew progressively darker with each detail. When we showed him the business card with its mysterious countdown and coordinates, he actually swore. Something I'd never heard him do before.

"This is worse than we thought," he said, pulling out what looked like a normal mobile phone but was actually a highly sophisticated magical scanner. That was new thanks to Phi, one of the six Twisted Sisters. She’d created the first magical tech devices and had shared them with the paranormal police a couple of weeks ago. The thing would change investigations for the better.

The screen flickered ominously and Gadross held it away from his body as if it might explode on him. "I have to thank you again for getting me one of these. It’s proven invaluable and it’s the only reason I can tell you the energy signatures match a series of similar incidents across Europe. Someone is systematically creating shades, but not just any shades. They're using the death moment to forge stronger connections, binding the souls before they even realize they're dead."

"But why?" I asked, though the cold pit in my stomach already knew the answer.

"Power," Gadross replied grimly. "An army of perfectly controlled shades, bound so tightly they can't even attempt resistance. It’s the kind of force that could change the power structure of the magical world."

"Bloody hell," Violet muttered. "They're trying to become gods."

The wind howled around us, and for a moment, I swore I could hear screaming in it. I’m not talking about the warm, friendly kind. This was the sort that makes your soul want to curl up and hide. "We need to get to those coordinates," Fiona said, already pulling out her car keys. "Whatever they're planning, it's happening tonight."

"Not so fast," Gadross held up a hand. "This is now officially beyond what I can ignore. I'll have a team here in twenty minutes to secure the scene and remove the bodies before the mundane authorities can examine them too closely. We can leave after that."

"With all due respect," I said, channeling my best 'don't argue with mum' voice, "we can’t wait for that to happen. We have the magical expertise, and quite frankly, your teams tend to be about as subtle as a banshee at a funeral."

Gadross looked like he wanted to argue, but months of watching us succeed against all odds had taught him better. "Fine," he sighed. "But I’m going with you. And you need to follow my lead. And for the love of all things magical, try not to blow anything up this time. It draws too much attention."

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