Page 5 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

Violet knelt beside me and probed the scene. "This magical signature is similar to what we felt at The Snowy Vine, isn't it?"

"Fae magic," I confirmed grimly. "Yet, it’s not.”

Aislinn pursed her lips. “Someone tried to replicate Elowen's magic without knowing what they were doing. How did our weekend go off the rails so fast? The guys are never going to let us live this down."

Violet shrugged as she continued to examine the scene. "At least we managed to try the Winter's Embrace first."

She had a point. If we were going to deal with a dead body in the snow and what looked suspiciously like magical fraud gone horrifically wrong, at least we'd had some really good wine first. Sometimes, that's all you can ask for. "Right then," I said, standing up and brushing snow from my knees. "I suppose we should call the mundie authoritiesfirst. Then maybe have a chat with our new friend Elowen about who might be trying to copy her magic."

"And here I thought the worst thing we'd have to deal with today would be a hangover," Aislinn sighed, already dialing nine, nine, nine.

"Look on the bright side," I offered. "At least no one's turned into a toad yet."

"Don't," both my friends said in unison.

"Right, sorry." I pulled up my magic and began casting subtle detection spells to figure out what had my magical senses uneasy. We’d have to keep those involved in the accident from wandering over.

"We should probably check those bottles we bought from Elowen. Just to make sure they haven't been tampered with," Violet suggested.

I nodded as my mind raced through possibilities. "We should also see if she knows anything about unauthorized copycat vintners in the area. Someone could have been trying to recreate her wine and it went wrong."

"Can we maybe focus on the dead body first?" Aislinn suggested. "This doesn't feel like magical wine fraud."

"You’re right," I agreed, then grinned despite the situation. "You have to admit this beats another boring weekend at home."

"I hate that you're right," Aislinn muttered. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Next time, I suggest we go to a normal, non-magical spa for our girls' weekend. Don't talk me out of it?" She shot me a rueful smile.

"Deal," I said, knowing full well we'd probably end up finding trouble there too. It was just our luck. "Now, let's see what other secrets this snow is hiding, shall we?"

So much for our normal, mundane wine tasting adventure.Then again, I supposed ‘normal’ and ‘mundane’ were never really our style anyway. At least we had some excellent Fae wine to look forward to once we solved this mess. Assuming, of course, we survived whatever we'd just stumbled into.

CHAPTER 2

FIONA

Iknelt in the snow beside our unexpected corpse. Nausea churned in my stomach as I tried to focus past the throbbing headache the strange magic was giving me. The energy signature pulsed like a bad techno beat. There familiar hint of Elowen's elegant Fae magic was confusing me. This was twisted and unnatural, like someone had taken pure magic and put it through a metaphorical wood chipper. It was nothing like her natural flow.

"We need to search him," I said. Grimacing, I reached for his coat pockets. "Whatever caused this might leave traces. I'd rather find them before the mundies do. And before Gadross shows up and gives us shit for not covering our bases. Speaking of, we will need to call Gadross. I want him aware from the beginning."

"Careful," Violet warned. She turned to cast a quick deflection spell to keep the accident victims from wandering our way. "That magic feels unstable. Like a potion about to go spectacularly wrong."

"Story of our lives," I muttered and carefully patted down the victim's expensive coat. "Though I gotta say, this is quitethe outfit for someone to end up dead in a magical incident. These are designer labels. Like, 'my wallet hurts just looking at them' designer."

"Because rich people can't have magical accidents?" Aislinn asked, then immediately grimaced. "Sorry, gallows humor. I'm picking up your bad habits, Fi."

"Hey, my habits are awesome," I protested as I fished a wallet from the inner pocket. "And look what we have here. Mr. Fancy Pants has a name. Charles Blackwood. He's fifty-six and lives in Kensington. That fits."

"Proper posh, then," Violet observed. She scanned the guy's belongings. "The magic signature is indeed odd. It reminds me of Elowen's work, but that's not quite right. It's like hearing a familiar song played in the wrong key."

"Anything could be causing that resonance," I said as I continued my search. "Although I have to admit, finding traces of Fae magic this far from their usual haunts is weird. Okay, he has the usual. Credit cards, receipts from some seriously expensive restaurants, and a membership to something called 'The Vintner's Society'. Maybe he’s Elowen’s rival. Hello, what's this?"

I pulled out a small business card. It was deep purple with silver writing that seemed to shimmer in the snowy twilight. The text moved like liquid mercury across the surface. It was reforming itself depending on how you held it. There was no doubt this guy was some sort of supernatural. He wouldn’t be carrying a magical card otherwise.

"The Midnight Cellar," I read aloud. "Where dreams are bottled and wishes flow freely.” I shared a look with my friends. “Well, that's not ominous at all."

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