Page 7 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

"It's working," Violet said through gritted teeth. "Just a bit more... bloody hell, do you feel that?"

The magic began changing. It shifted under our attempts to purify it. Where before it had been chaotic and wild, now it felt almost intentional. Or as if something was waking up. A sound like breaking glass mixed with screaming wind broke the moment and made me jump.

My wide eyes flew to Violet and landed on the crack that appeared in the air above the body instead. “What the...” my voice trailed off as we watched it spread likea spiderweb. Through the cracks, I caught glimpses of somewhere else. It was a dark cellar filled with bottles that glowed with the same sickly purple light.

"Oh, that's not good," I managed before the crack exploded outward, sending us all sprawling in the snow. The surge of unknown magic felt like being hit by a truck made of solid steel.

When my vision cleared, the body was gone. I dropped to my knees and moved my hands through the snow while Aislinn and Violet scanned the area. It was as if it had never been there at all. The only evidence anything had happened was a perfect circle of melted snow and the lingering taste of twisted magic in the air.

"Well," I said as we picked ourselves up, "I guess we can scratch 'quiet weekend' off our plans."

"I hate you so much right now," Aislinn groaned, brushing snow from her coat.

"No you don't," I replied cheerfully. "You love me because I make your life interesting."

"That's one word for it," Violet muttered. "Right then, what do we know? We've got unknown magic that somehow echoes Fae energy. Plus, those strange symbols, a missing body, and a mysterious club that's supposed to be long gone. Plus, whatever that portal thing was at the end."

"Don't forget the winter storm that came out of nowhere," I added, squinting at the still-falling snow. "Want to bet that's not natural either?"

"No bet," Aislinn started to say, but her words cut off in a sharp intake of breath. "Oh hell. Fi, Vi. Look."

Through the curtain of snow, I followed to where she pointed at a cluster of cars ahead. A woman in a bright red coat was peering under one of the vehicles. Her face became horrified. "There's someone under there!" she called out. "I think they're hurt!"

"Bloody hell," I muttered, already moving forward. "How do we keep the mundies back from this?"

As we got closer, I could see why the woman was worried. A pair of expensive leather shoes stuck out from beneath the car. They were attached to legs that were far too still. The snow around them was stained with something darker than melted slush.

"We've got another one," Violet murmured, her voice low enough that only Aislinn and I could hear.

I pulled out the purple business card. The silver text shimmered and reformed. Now it showed a countdown timer that definitely hadn't been there before. "Right. First priority is getting these civilians clear before they notice anything weird. Then we figure out what The Midnight Cellar has to do with all this, and why people keep dying in the middle of this very unnatural snowstorm. Oh, and it seems as if we’re under a time crunch." The woman in red was already pulling out her phone to call emergency services. We had maybe minutes before this scene got a lot more complicated.

CHAPTER 3

VIOLET

Ireally 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 ourexperience, reality was often worse than anything Hollywood could dream up.

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