Cáel Defeats The Illuminati, Book 3: Part 15

The Manor In The Woods

By FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed.

Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest.

It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she’d shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well.

‘Still cold?’ Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. ‘I always find singing warms me up. If you’ll join me?’ he requested.

‘Sure,’ she croaked, surprised at his suggestion.

Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily’s imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years.

Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him.

Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas’ and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus’. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness.

Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam’s boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village.

Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself.

As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills.

'Really well done. We’ve made it,’ murmured Sam, sounding relieved.

'Here?’ asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt’s house?’

'Yeah,’ confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own.

'I was assuming she was a little old ...