12. The Cellar

Chapter 12

The Cellar

A lice gave a quick snap of her fingers. Candlesticks, placed throughout the room in wall sconces, flickered to life. They revealed the massive size of the room. To Hugo, the room appeared larger than both houses combined. Green vine plants hung from the thick wooden trusses that lined the ceiling. Stacked wooden barrels rested along the back walls. Filled wine bottles rested on a rack.

Wine making equipment adorned one side of the room organized in methodical fashion. Five wooden round tubs sat on elevated platforms. The tubs were wide enough for multiple people to stand in them. Their ringed barreled like appearance awaited their next supply of grapes. A wooden valve, placed on the bottom of the tubs, emptied into wooden channels that flowed into two wine presses resting below.

A workstation table was set up directly across from the vats on the other side of the room against the wall. Above the table, a set of shelves organized a wondrous number of things. Hugo’s eyes traveled to each one. Glass jars filled with items from nature. Vials filled with liquids. Wood boxes of all shapes and sizes .

An apothecary box drawer set against the back of the table pressed against the wall. Aged parchment sleeves labeled the multiple pull out drawers with the various ingredients listed inside. A black cauldron, larger than a grapefruit, yet smaller than a volleyball, sat in the center of the table. A muddler next to it waited for the next ingredient. An hourglass, identical to the one in the living room, stood in a corner of the table.

“What is this place?”

“This is where I make wine,” Alice replied.

“How does it even exist? Are we in your backyard?”

“It’s a special room.”

“How special?”

“You could say it’s magical.”

“What’s with all this stuff in the jars and the drawers? Why a cauldron?” His eyes lingered on it before focusing back toward Alice. “I know that you like dressing like a witch, but—”

“I don’t dress like a witch to make a fashion statement. I dress like a witch because I am one,” Alice explained. She paused for a moment. With a wide-eyed gaze, she dropped her arms to her side. “Does that scare you?”

Hugo glanced at the ground to gather his thoughts. He took a step, not toward the door, but further into the room to continue his exploration. Overwhelmed by this new reality in his life, he paused, then locked eyes with Alice. She interlocked her hands, holding them close to her body, and stood up straight with her shoulders pulled back. Alice slightly swayed back and forth. Her emerald green eyes glared back at him warily.

“Not at all,” Hugo answered. “I told you. I accept you for who you are.”

Alice blushed with a beaming smile. She released her hands, and her shoulders relaxed. The swaying stopped. “Good,” she replied. “Let me show you why I’m a wine expert.”

Alice strutted to the hourglass and rotated the ring to the middle of the pillar. She turned around. Her shoulders arched back, and her head tilted up. She pulled back her sleeves and snapped her fingers, like a conductor commanding the attention of her orchestra. The room was alive with activity. Boxes of grapes rose into position. Grape crushers, large metal plates with wooden handles, bounced into position and stood at the ready next to the wooden vats. The room waited with bated breath, eager for the next move.

Alice paused. She outstretched her hand and closed her eyes. She exhaled a long, slow breath before taking a quick gasp. Her hands gestured back and forth as she conducted the symphony unfolding in the room. Each move was more affirmative than the last.

The boxes dumped the grapes into the large vats. The grape crushers followed. They danced, sloshing back and forth. The wet sound of grapes being crushed under the metal plates filled the air. Purplish-red juices flowed out of the wooden valve, pulling bits and pieces of grape skin like a flash flood down the channels. The grape must flowed toward the wooden barrel-like presses below. The next batch of grapes rose; their boxes dumped their contents into the vats. The stomping dance continued.

Alice turned and proceeded to her workstation. She grabbed a wine bottle filled with water and emptied the contents into the black cauldron. Alice leaned over, placing her lips below the cauldron. She whispered words in a language Hugo could not comprehend. A secretive language that intrigued, tantalized, and excited him. A small flame appeared below the cauldron. There was no kindling or fire source. The flame appeared to linger in the air. The table was untouched from the flame. Small bubbles danced inside the cauldron.

Alice pulled down a thick, brown leather grimoire from a shelf. She cradled the book in her hands as she lowered it onto a wooden bookrest. Her fingers dragged over the spine and across the scuffed, weathered binding. She traced the arcane symbol of two equilateral triangles touching, one upside down, that was pressed and branded into the front cover. She flipped open the book to a random section and perused the clandestine pages .

“Let’s see. What shall we make?” Alice glanced over to Hugo. She gave a wink and then returned her eyes back to the ancient book. “We have Luck . That’s very popular. Gives the drinker extraordinary luck for the next two hours, or whenever they sober up.”

Hugo moved closer to Alice. He leaned against the table, trying to get a better look. Their shoulders touched; his left shoulder to Alice’s right. She bit her lips, smiling.

“Maybe you won’t need that,” Alice said in a hushed tone as she continued flipping through pages. “This one is called The Fountain of Youth . Each glass makes you look five years younger.”

“For how long?” Hugo asked.

Alice thought for a moment. “Well, until sunrise the next day.”

Alice flipped through more pages. Their appearance was tanned and stained with time. She stopped on a page. “Here we go. Perfect beginner’s spell for you to learn. It’s called Air Walk . This prevents you from crashing to the ground. Very popular for those who’ve drunk too much.” Alice chuckled. “One sip, and it’s like you’re floating in the air.”

Alice pulled open drawers of her apothecary box to examine the contents inside. She called out each ingredient as she withdrew them from their cubbyholes. “Let’s see. A leaf blown by the breeze. A pinch of dirt. A bird’s feather. A sprig of peppermint.” She placed them one by one into a granite mortar bowl on the table. “Grab that pestle there, and start smashing those together.” She motioned to the club shaped object laying on the table, about as long as Hugo’s hand.

“So, is this why you collect nature things?” Hugo asked.

“I told you. Only the perfect ones.”

Hugo grabbed the pestle and was about to grind the ingredients into a fine powder.

“Wait!” Alice exclaimed, stopping Hugo. “Let me see that.”

Hugo handed over the objects. “What’s wrong?” His eyes widened as if he had somehow messed up.

Alice removed the objects from the bowl and picked up a cloth. She wiped both of them in a clockwise rotation over and over and over, as if she was never satisfied with each pass. “Sorry. I normally have mortars and pestles dedicated to each spell. I don’t want to contaminate them with the wrong ingredients. That’s my secret.”

She finally finished as if satisfied on some level that the ingredients would not be contaminated. Alice gave one final examination with her fingertips for good measure. She placed the ingredients back into the bowl and handed them to Hugo. “Good as new.”

“What happened to them?” Hugo asked as he resumed his assigned duties. The stone against stone sound resonated in the mortar bowl and echoed throughout the stone wine cellar. The crackling of the leaf. The smashing of the peppermint sprig. The mortar bowl grunted with every strike of the pestle.

“They disappeared during the move,” Alice began as she rearranged items on the workstation. Each one seemingly moved at random and with less thought than the last. “Or before the move. I… I don’t know. It was all such a blur. No doubt Sam took them.”

She opened and immediately shut a few of the drawers. She slammed her hands down. Her fingers attempted to dig into the wood table. Her face glared off into emptiness. Hugo recognized that look. The anger hidden behind lying eyes. Her body was no doubt tense and ready to burst out in frustration. He knew it far too well. How natural that anger felt, like breathing or simply existing.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

She turned to him and smiled. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he responded immediately.

“No, I’m not.” She bowed her head. Her purple hair partially obscured her face. Her shoulders slumped, and she released her death grip on the table. Alice let out a sigh of relief.

Hugo stopped his work. He placed his hand on top of hers. “Hey. Look at me.”

She turned and locked eyes with him. Her emerald green eyes watered as they held back tears. His icy blues struggled to reassure her. Their gaze disappeared into an eternal bliss.

“It’s okay to not be okay. ”

A solitary tear left a trail as it moved down her soft, pale face. Alice sniffled and wiped it away with her free hand. She turned her other to clutch Hugo’s hand.

“It is okay to not be okay,” she said, laughing away any more tears.

He let go of her hand, while hers remained on the table, now empty.

“I think the powder’s ready,” Hugo said, looking into the mortar.

Alice composed herself, preening her hair back into place. She rested her chin on Hugo’s shoulder to peer into the mortar. “Good enough.”

Hugo felt the vibration of her words, but that sensation was fleeting. He yearned for more.

She took the mortar and dumped the contents into the bubbling cauldron. She carefully pulled her hair back behind her ears and bent down over the cauldron. Her purple lips moved back and forth as she recited more words of the unknown language. He didn’t understand what she was saying, but he didn’t care. Hugo focused on her soft lips. She could have spoken English in that moment, and her words would have been indecipherable.

She finished and then blew over the cauldron. The bubbles stopped, and flame dispersed. She picked up the cauldron, cupping the bottom with her hands as if it were now cold to the touch. Alice carried the cauldron to the wine presses and poured in the liquid. After returning it back to the table, she grabbed two vials of powder. One was labeled Brewing Sugar , and the other was Brewing Yeast . She headed back to the presses and added in a small bit of the contents.

“You know, I can do magic too,” Hugo said.

“Oh, yeah?” Alice turned her attention back toward him. “How so?”

He pulled out his phone from his pocket. “I can turn my house lights on and off with this. Also, I speak commands to the house, and it does stuff.” He smiled and winked at Alice.

“Yours is magic that ends with a C . A simple parlor trick. Stage magic,” Alice retorted with a sly smile. “Mine is magick ending with a K . I’m empowered by my own arcane abilities. The difference between me and your phone is that I don’t require a Wi-Fi connection.” She winked.

“Oh yeah, well, can you play music with your magick?” Hugo asked.

“No, that’s what a speaker system is for,” Alice said as she sauntered over to the wine rack.

She pulled out a few more of the dark green bottles. She carefully reviewed and selected each one to be sampled that evening.

Alice handed them to Hugo before placing the vials back on the shelf. She gathered the hourglass resting at the back of the table. She spun the ring to the bottom. The sand fell faster and faster.

“Come on,” she commanded. “You don’t want to be left inside. It won’t feel pleasant.”

Hugo quickly followed.

Alice snapped her fingers, and the room went dark. She shut the door to her wine cellar. “That hourglass will speed up the fermentation time. Everything is automated and will finish the process. Within a few hours, the wine will be ready to drink.”

“I don’t think my phone can do that,” Hugo replied.

Alice laughed while Hugo clutched the wine bottles. They headed back up the basement stairs.

They sat next to each other on the red velvet couch. Three more empty bottles littered the coffee table—remnants of their night together. Hugo grabbed a fourth. Alice snapped her fingers, sending the cork shooting out of the bottle’s neck and bouncing off the ceiling. He poured the wine into their waiting goblets. They clanged the glasses together, and each took a sip. Hugo’s face recoiled as he took a drink before portraying a look of ecstasy. He set the glass down on the table and then leaned back into the couch .

“That one really packed a punch at the end.”

Alice picked up the bottle. “I call this one Contortion because it contorts your face with a bittersweet surprise. Less on the magical side and more of a personal flavor choice.”

She set the bottle back down. She took one more sip, placed the glass on the table, and joined Hugo by leaning back into the couch.

“You should sell these. You’d make a fortune,” Hugo said.

“I do. Sort of.”

“Where?”

“Through Ez, my friend and mentor. She sells it in her nightclub. It’s a magick users only club.”

“So, non-magical people like me can’t get in, huh?”

“I’d sneak you in.”

“Have you tried to sell it in stores? I may know a few people who could help you out.”

Alice gazed up at her ceiling and let out a sigh. “That’s my dream. To have my own wine sold in stores.”

“Do it.”

Alice blinked at Hugo. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Have you seen how I make it?”

“So. No one needs to know how it’s made, as long as it’s good.”

Alice huffed. “I don’t think Ez would like that very much. Besides, I don’t exactly have a massive supply of grapes to produce extra bottles. I practically tap out the local supply as it is now.”

“Well, if it’s your passion, you should follow it. I’ll be your biggest supporter.”

Alice smiled. “Thank you.”

They leaned closer to each other, their shoulders touching. His fingertips glided over her exposed forearm. He wrapped them around her wrist, but didn’t squeeze. His thumb massaged the back of her hand. She closed her eyes. The hairs stood at attention with his every stroke. Shivers shot up her arm. She curled her toes as goosebumps magically appeared .

Alice couldn’t decipher what invisible words Hugo was drawing on the back of her hand. Words in a dark language that she couldn’t read, but which her body would fully understand. She bit her lower lip. Her breathing paused. A smolder built inside her.

Alice turned her head toward Hugo. Their eyes locked. An unseen force pulled her closer to him. Her heart raced. The smolder spread across her being. Hugo leaned toward her. They touched; his forehead against hers. The inner smolder now raged out of control. Emotions set ablaze with desire. His breath danced across her lips. Each exhale torturously teased her. She wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her. She closed her eyes again, waiting for him to make the move.

The waiting was excruciating.

It was exquisite.

“How much have we drank?” Hugo asked.

His words pulsed through her as she shivered.

“Too much.” Her voice was soft and low.

“Then why aren’t I feeling it?”

The grandfather clock chimed once. Hugo pulled away. A wave of disappointment doused the inner smolder. Alice’s body longed for him to touch her again. Her eyes opened and drooped with inner pain.

“It’s only nine? It was a few minutes before nine when I came over. That can’t be right. Where are the other eight chimes?”

Alice focused on the side table. The elaborate hourglass moved from where she had placed it earlier in the evening. “Hugo, did you touch this hourglass?”

“Maybe.” He paused. “Why?”

“And did you turn this ring all the way up?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Hugo sat up on the couch with a distraught look on his face. “It’s never good when a witch says it’s not good. ”

“How many bottles did we drink?” Alice asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Hugo counted the bottles on the table. “These three, plus that one I brought over.”

“Oh. Well.” Alice paused. She locked onto Hugo’s eyes. “Things are about to get really interesting, really fast.”

“How interesting?”

“I need you to listen to me. You need to stay perfectly still. The hourglass slowed down time. Like a lot. The opposite of what we did downstairs. We might have been moving around fine, but our bodies have not yet processed all the wine we drank tonight. I need to normalize time again, but when I do…” Her voice trailed off.

Hugo’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

Alice counted the bottles again. The three bottles they brought up, plus the one he brought over. “It’ll be like drinking all four bottles at once,” Alice explained.

Hugo’s face turned pale. Alice felt the fear in his eyes.

“Oh, no.” His voice lowered with dread.

“This happened to me once before. Only once. I’m going to turn the ring. I need you to be perfectly still.”

Alice picked up the hourglass. The sand sped up with each partial turn of the ring as it descended toward the middle of the pedestal. The ticking of the grandfather clock started back up. Eight more chimes followed.

“Alice, I don’t feel so good.” Hugo stood up and stumbled over the coffee table.

“Don’t move. Sit back down.”

Alice went for his hand, but he pulled it away, clutching his stomach. He stumbled around the room and fell over on to the hardwood floor.

“Hugo!” Alice shouted before he passed out.

Hugo woke up naked in his bed. He had no recollection of how he got there. Distorted images flashed in his memory.

Was I dreaming? The thought raced through his mind. Daylight struggled to break through the drawn curtains. His head no longer throbbed. His eyes focused on the imperfections of the ceiling.

The disheveled bedding was scattered over his body. He felt the weight of an arm draped over his chest. A woman’s leg interlocked between his. The warm breath exhaled on his bare shoulder in long, drawn out cadences. He felt skin against skin. Body against body. He wasn’t the only one naked in the bed. He hadn’t felt this sensation in months. It felt good. It felt normal.

His left middle finger slowly traced an invisible line from her shoulder, over the elbow, down the forearm, before circling in her palm. She stirred from her slumber. Her leg stretched and rubbed against his like two pieces of kindling trying to reignite a raging fire.

He then followed a familiar path from her hip, over the curve of her butt cheek, and down the back of her thigh, right above her knee. She let out a long, relaxing moan before kissing his ear. Her tongue, ever so softly and gently, traced the inner labyrinths hidden deep within. Hugo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. This was bliss.

A familiar voice whispered softly into his ear, a secret only allowed between the two of them, “Good morning.”

Her body fell with his chest as Hugo drew out an exhale.

“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Hugo whispered in response, turning his head to see a tuft of messy purple hair laying on his shoulder.

Alice lifted her head, her eyebrows scrunched together with a confused expression. “Who’s Elizabeth?”

Hugo jolted. His head was buried in the crevice between the cushion and the back of his couch. Hugo’s heart raced, and his head pounded. His shirt dripped in sweat. He flipped to his back. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

The room was dizzying, like waves rocking on a ship at sea. Max’s head rested on the edge of the couch, staring into Hugo’s ear. Her tail wagged. She let out a low whimper to express her need to go outside. She begged for attention. Her tail wagging increased in intensity. She whimpered again. Hugo sat up, running his hands over his face and through his damp hair. He was still in the same clothes from last night.

Max backed away from the couch in a whirlwind of circles, excited at the prospect of finally going outside. She let out a loud bark that pierced Hugo’s ears.

A small apothecary bottle sat on his coffee table with twine tied around the neck. The words Drink Me. -Alice were written in black ink across the attached tanned note tag. Hugo picked up the clear, cylindrical bottle. The blue liquid swished inside. He removed the cork stop and paused only for a momentary concern. The throbbing removed all doubt, and he downed the drink in one chug. It tasted of blueberries and oak.

Max ran out the back door, barking and running through the yard. Hugo stumbled behind. He held onto the guard rails as he descended the steps one at a time. He slumped into the plastic chair, waiting for Max to finish. His breathing slowed, and the pounding headache ceased. He no longer felt the sweat running down his back. His shirt, however, was still damp. His vision cleared. The overcast, gray clouds on the fall day felt blinding.

“There he is,” a familiar voice said over the fence. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he drew out his response. “What was in that?”

“One of my potions,” Alice said. “The cure for hangovers.”

Hugo stood up and meandered over to the fence to greet her. Each step felt more secure than the last. “You could sell it and make a fortune.”

“I already do,” Alice replied .

Hugo paused. He struggled to remember the events of last night. “What… what happened?”

“Well. You got really drunk, really fast, and then passed out on my floor. I helped carry you to your couch, with a wee-bit of my magick… with a K , by the way.” She winked at Hugo.

Hugo dropped his head, ashamed of his actions. In a hushed tone, he said, “I’m… I’m sorry for ruining your evening.”

“Don’t be. That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“Still, I didn’t mean to cause a mess.”

His eyes locked with her emerald greens. His eyebrows begged for forgiveness. Hugo hoped she noticed the hurt in his eyes.

Alice’s smirk turned into a half smile. “How about you make it up to me?”

“Absolutely,” Hugo replied.

“Do you want to meet my horse?”

Hugo’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Sure.”

“Midnight. Tonight. In the woods,” Alice said.

Hugo raised his eyebrows. “Where in the woods?”

“Oh, you’ll know,” Alice replied as she stepped away from the fence and disappeared back into the house. “Get plenty of rest. You’re going to need it.”