Magic, Mystery, a little Whisky, and a Cat

A Cold Spring–Episode 7: Goblets of Fine, Old Wine

Welcome to Sorchia’s Universe—A-Z Blog Edition.

This post marks the end of the first full week of the 2017 A-Z Blog Challenge. How’s it going? Be sure to leave comments and Likes on the posts you visit–including this one.

Have you missed an episode? Here are posts to the Story So Far.

Episode 1: A Cherry Tomato

Episode 2: Burning!

Episode 3: Coils of Enchantment

Episode 4: Down, Down, Down

Episode 5: Everything Changed

Episode 6: Fashionably Late

If you enjoy this story, take a look at the Books link to see what else I write.


A Cold Spring

Episode 7: Goblets of Fine Old Wine


Goblets of very fine and very old wine delivered by a young and slightly inebriated La Croix cousin put an end to any thoughts of a clandestine rendezvous upstairs. At last, the long road leading from the forest to the castle lay empty and it was time to toast and mingle among our disparate relations. The murmur of voices grew to a cheerful din as copious amounts of wine and Scotch flowed from crystal carafes. Our duties as host and hostess called. The moon peeped in the western windows of New Castle Highmoor before our circuits brought us back together on the veranda.


“I’ve spent the better part the evening either tracing my lineage back to satisfy your relatives or tracing yours to satisfy mine. I should put it in a scroll; Morgan begat Duncan and Duncan begat Caedmon and so on and so forth.” Maddock sat his empty goblet on a handy tray and secured a full one in its place. “Do you ever wish we were normal human beings with short life spans and limited imaginations? At least it would spare us the intrigue of ancient curses and temperamental witches.”


“If we were normal, we’d have been dead before we had a chance to meet again. I would remember you as a petulant pre-pubescent brat who thought it was funny to set the hair of elderly aunts on fire.”


“And I would remember you as the little snitch who told on me. It was difficult to concentrate on Aunt Clarissa’s lecture when her hair was still smoking. It’s my last fond memory of the Time Before.”


“Lucky for you Lucia stole the spotlight, or Aunt Clarissa would have thought up a proper punishment.”


A chill ran the length of my spine, prickling the hair on my arms and my neck. The festive lights, the chatter of conversation, the smell of a sumptuous dinner, and the subtle electromagnetic pull of the earth mirrored perfectly the night of Lucia’s Curse.


See you Monday for Episode 8: Hi-jinks in the Castle

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