Page 2 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

We crunched through the snow toward the winery. Our boots left trails of footprints that looked almost too perfect against the pristine white. My stomach growled as we passeda bakery that smelled like heaven itself had decided to do some baking. "We ought to get some mince pies," Violet said as if she'd read my mind. She eyed the bakery with more longing than I had.

"Wine first," I reminded her. Though, warm pie was starting to sound pretty damn good. "Let's maintain some semblance of priorities here. Besides, you know how you get around pastries."

"That was one time!" Violet protested.

"You cleared out an entire patisserie in France," Aislinn reminded her. "The poor baker looked proper gutted."

"He didn’t believe a dainty woman like myself could eat that much. He should never have challenged me,” Violet pointed out.

"That’s a surefire way to be proven wrong,” I agreed.

We chuckled and continued to our first destination. Heat engulfed us like a hug when we entered. The winery was everything a wine snob could dream of. It was a rustic stone building with ivy-covered walls and windows glowing with warmth. It looked like it had weathered more British winters than I'd had hot dinners. No doubt, it had better stories to tell.

"Is it just me," Aislinn whispered, "or do those vines look like they're moving?"

I squinted at the ivy. "Probably just the wind. Though..." I lowered my voice, "I'm picking up some interesting energy signatures. Nothing dangerous, mind you. More like old, protective magic?"

"The kind of old that means we should run away, or the kind of old that means really good wine?" Violet asked, already shrugging off her coat.

"Let's find out, shall we?" I replied with a grin. “Just remember. No magic. We're trying to blendin for once."

"You say that every time," Aislinn muttered. "And every time, something explosive happens anyway, and we have to have memories erased."

"Name one time-" I started to protest.

"The festival downtown," both Violet and Aislinn said in unison.

"That was not my fault," I defended. "How was I supposed to know that imps were going to attack at a mundie event?"

We wandered closer to the massive stone fireplace that crackled in the corner. My favorite were the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. We beelined right for the long, polished bar before we reached the flames. Violet was practically vibrating with excitement as we approached the older gentleman behind it. The whole place smelled of oak, spices, and wine.

He greeted us with a smile and was already pouring what looked like liquid ruby into glasses. "Welcome, welcome." His Hampshire accent was thick as treacle. "Come in, warm yourselves by the fire. Let me introduce you to some of Hambledon's finest."

I noticed the subtle symbols carved into the bar's woodwork. They were small and subtle enough that most visitors would mistake them for decorative flourishes. I had to squint to get a better look. Protection runes. That was interesting. I wondered if they were left by a previous owner. Or if this one knew about magic.

"Now, this is what I'm talking about," Violet said as she shed her coat and claimed a spot at the bar like she'd been born to it. "How long have you been making wine here?"

The owner, who introduced himself as George, launched into a fascinating history of the vineyard. As he talked, I noticed how his eyes seemed to linger on Violet's crystal pendant. He seemed to carefully avoid touching any of our hands directly when passing glasses. I swear he knew whatwe were. Or, perhaps I was looking for trouble like Aislinn said.

"The grapes are particularly special here," he said, with just the slightest emphasis on special. "There’s something about the soil, you see. My family has been tending these vines for generations."

While Violet got her wine education on, I took a moment to scan the room. Old habits did die hard. Those habits had kept us alive more times than I could count. The place seemed normal enough. Your average, charming English winery. No obvious signs of supernatural activity. No mysterious energy signatures. No suspicious-looking locals giving us the evil eye. Was the fire in the hearth burning a bit too steadily for a natural flame? Did the shadows in the corners seem just a touch too deep? I really was looking for problems.

I turned my attention to sampling the varieties of wine offered. We listened to tales of vintages past, and at some point, Violet got that look in her eye. The one that usually meant trouble with a capital T.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no," I said preemptively.

"You don't even know what I was going to suggest," she protested.

"I don't need to. That's your 'I have an idea that might get us killed, but it'll be fun' face. I know that face. I hate that face." I frowned at her.

Violet rolled her eyes. "I fancy visiting a Fae-owned vineyard. It's the one place here where we can properly let our hair down. I found it during my research."

"Is it the place Elowen owns?" Aislinn perked up, then immediately looked worried. "Hang on, isn't she the one who-"

"It is," Violet confirmed quickly. "And she'sperfectly safe. Mostly."

"Mostly safe, like that time we went to the mermaid bar underwater?" I asked skeptically. "Because I still can't eat seafood without having flashbacks."

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