“She’s beautiful, Elizabeth,” I said as the baby cried softly.
Elizabeth smiled. In the distance, her familiar howled again. This time the voices sounded nearer. “We don’t have much time. Our secret’s been told, Terra. Black magic is gathering in the woods. Our hour is late. If you don’t control it, it will control you. Find the book before it finds you, Terra. Save the coven,” Elizabeth said. I ran to the window. I could see the lanterns were coming closer. The barn door burst open. I grabbed for a pitchfork. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway. Jonathan Goodall ran to Elizabeth’s side and embraced her. He stared down at his daughter. “Take her, Jonathan, before they do,” Elizabeth said.
“Elizabeth, come with us,” he said, smoothing Elizabeth’s sweat stained hair.
“I’m too weak. They’re too close. Just take her. I’ll come to you,” Elizabeth gasped out. She reached around her neck, releasing the clasp on her amulet. She placed it in his hand and drew him close, whispering in his ear. She kissed him passionately.
Jonathan wrapped the baby in his cloak, brushed her cheek and kissed her.
“Guard our daughter, Jonathan, keep her safe,” Elizabeth gasped out.
Jonathan ran to the door, gave one last glance at Elizabeth and disappeared into the darkness, protecting his precious bundle.
I gazed out the window. I could now see the faces of the angry townspeople. “Elizabeth, we have to go. We have to hide.”
“You can hide from the humans but not from it. Run, Terra, run,” she told me.
“Not without you, Elizabeth. Come with me.”
“There’s no time. You must run to save our coven.”
With one last glance at Elizabeth, I stepped out of the barn, careful to gaze all around me, making sure no one saw me. I hoped to move among the shadows but the full moon gave me away. I ran into the woods, tripping over a fallen branch. Around me the bushes shook. I screamed then covered my mouth and ran towards the ocean.
“Terra, Terra,” I heard Abigail’s voice and then I heard Mrs. Stickman and then I heard Mrs. Bowers. They were all there in my head, standing over me. I opened my eyes and saw the seven had turned to white Wiccans. I closed my eyes again, my head pounded. I reopened my eyes to see the faces of the once elderly ladies of the Biltmore Society. Gray hair turned obsidian black, wrinkled skin now smooth and rosy cheeked. The years had been erased away. The telltale sign of a true Wiccan, their irises flashed traces of fire red in their excitement. Their chattering voices echoed in my head.
“Settle down, ladies. This is the beginning,” Mrs. Tangledwood said. “We’ve got a lot to learn and a short time to learn it. Terra tells me there is black magic descending on Asheville, and she needs our help to find and destroy it.”
Mrs. Stickman half listened as she admired her hands. What were once gnarled and arthritic were supple and strong. She lifted the teakettle and glanced at her reflection in the polished copper. “I’m beautiful,” she said with a smile. “I haven’t looked this good since my 40s. In fact I don't think I looked this good in my 40s. I feel so alive.”
“What you’re seeing is your true self and because you believe this is how you should look others see you that way. Understand it is somewhat of an illusion. You are still the same woman you were before,” I told her.
“Does that mean we’re going to change back? We’re going to age again?” Mrs. Stickman asked, setting down the teakettle.
“As long as you accept your true self and believe you look this way you will stay as you are now.”
“What about our powers? I feel like I can do anything,” Mrs. Bowers said.
“I can help you develop your individual strengths. For now you must rest. The turning spends your health. Go home, get a good night’s sleep and we’ll begin your training in the morrow.”
Mrs. Twiggs handed each lady a stone on a leather string. “This is blue chalcedony. It’s found throughout the mountains here. It will protect you against black magic.”
“Where did you get these?” Mrs. Stickman asked.
“The woman who owned this cabin had them buried in the backyard. Terra told us where to find them.”
The ladies each examined their new talisman as Mrs. Twiggs walked them out of the cabin. I heard Mrs. Stickman whisper, “When do we get our brooms?” I realized they have a lot to learn.
Lifting the Veil
I woke before the others. Tracker was cuddled up with Abigail on the cot. Pixel lay next to the smoldering fire, kicking his paws in a dream. “Shiny, shiny knife. No, no hurt, no hurt Pixel.”
“Pixel, are you OK?” I nudged him awake, licking his ear.
Pixel’s orange saucer eyes popped wide open. “Bad. Bad, Terra.”
“Pixel, what did you remember?”
I could see the fading remnants of his dream still lingering in his eyes. It was the alley where Lionel was killed and the shadow of a figure turning into the walkway. I saw the moon’s reflection in the silver knife the killer held. “It’s OK, Pixel, it’s just a dream.”
“Bad dream,” Pixel said, nuzzling up against me.
And then the vision was gone. Pixel was back. “Me hungry, me hungry.”
“Let’s go catch breakfast, Pixel.”
Tracker’s head lifted from the bed as we exited the cabin. He started to follow us then turned to glance at Abigail. I looked over my shoulder, gave him a glance which he understood to mean protect her, keep watch. He let out a low growl and then lay back down. “Terra, fish,” Pixel said as we stepped off the porch.
“Yes, Pixel, we’ll catch some fish for breakfast. First I want to show you something.” I headed to the far end of Agatha Hollows’ land where she used to dig up ginseng. She had told me of its ability to restore memory especially when black magic was fogging the mind as she called it. “Pixel, I want you to smell along the ground here.”
“Me smell. What me smell for?”
“It’s called ginseng. It’s a root.”
“It smell like?”
“It will have a dirty, earthy smell and a spicy smell.”
“Me no like spice.”
I dug up a small piece of ginseng. “Smell this, Pixel.”
“Mm, me eat?” Pixel said.
“Pixel, this will help you remember what happened in the alley.”
“No, bad.” Pixel stepped back.
“Pixel, it’s safe.” I knew from my years with Agatha that the herbs and roots in these mountains have a frequency that matches any ailment. Agatha Hollows taught me many remedies using these herbs. In Pixel’s case, it’s the shadow over his memory. I knew that Pixel wound not understand so I commanded him, “Pixel, eat.”
Pixel jumped back, away from the root. “No, no, Pixel, no like. Pixel no like ginseng.”
“Pixel you have to trust me. You’re my familiar. You have to do what I say.”
“Pixel familiar.”
“Yes.”
“Me trust Terra.”
“Nibble a little on the root. Not too much.” I pushed it toward him with my paw.
Pixel reluctantly took a bite and swallowed hard. “No, good. No taste good.”
“Pixel, something is keeping you from remembering that night. I can’t identify what kind of black magic is blocking your memory and for that reason I can’t reverse it. I need you to help me now, OK?”
“Terra, yes.”
“I don’t want you to think about that night. Instead I want you to think about your favorite things. Concentrate very, very hard. Let the bad magic follow those thoughts. OK, can you do that for Terra?”
Pixel formed images in his head, most were of food, but there was one of me, then of Mrs. Twiggs followed by Abigail followed by Tracker. As he concentrated on those images like a vacuum sucking the air out of his head, I could see the dark shadows follow, engulfing those images, strangling the light out of them. As they did, I could see behind them into what they were hiding. I could see the silver blade plunging into Lionel’s chest. His eyes bulging from the pain. I could see Lionel’s deep midnight blue aura light fading like a vapor trail. I could not see his killer. It hurt my head to even try. Its shape had no form, just a constantly moving mass of darkness. It was like looking through a Vaseline-covered lens. The apparition turned and looked right at me. It knew I was looking at it. I could see the outline of a black hood and a storm cloud forming where a face should be. Particles flew around in a cyclone trying to pull together the face but remained fragmentary.