We left Pixel to his slumber and headed to the pawnshop. Tracker heeled next to Abigail as we walked as though she had trained him to do so, only stopping occasionally for a sniff or to pick up something delicious from the sidewalk to eat. His tailless behind wiggled as Abigail reached down and scratched him behind the ears. Not being much of a canine enthusiast, I still found myself liking this dog.
Tracker and I waited outside as Abigail went inside to retrieve her watch. Tracker sat quietly, watching, turning his eyes left and right as the day’s shoppers passed us by. Occasionally one would stop to pet him, Tracker would let out a low growl. They would retract their hand and walk away. From inside the store, we could hear Abigail’s conversation with the pawnshop owner. “What do you mean you sold it? I still have five days left on my loan.”
“Honestly I didn’t think you were coming back. Look at you. You’re homeless. I thought maybe you spent the money on drugs.”
“I’ve got the ticket right here. It says I have five days.”
“That’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“You can’t do that. That’s mine.”
“What are you going to do? Call the police? By the looks of you, I don’t think you want to get the police involved.”
Tracker snapped his head around. I could see Abigail reach over the counter and grab the man by the shirt. He slapped her hand away. Tracker grabbed the door handle, opened it and flew in. He leapt onto the counter and barked ferociously in the storeowner’s face, baring his teeth. “Get him out of here. Get this dog out of here.”
Abigail tried to pull Tracker off the counter but he wouldn’t budge. The man reached behind the counter as I ran behind. I could see him reach for a gun. I climbed up his back and scratched both cheeks as deep as I could, drawing blood. He screamed, dropped the gun and fell to the floor. Abigail kicked open the door with Tracker on her heels. Behind the counter, I saw Abigail’s mother’s pocket watch. I grabbed it and flew out the door behind Abigail and Tracker. We didn’t stop until we got back to Mrs. Twiggs. Pixel was screaming. “Terra left Pixel. Terra gone, Terra gone.” Mrs. Twiggs was trying to console him but he would not have it.
When he saw me, he tackled me. I dropped the watch. We somersaulted like a wagon wheel across the dining room floor. “Bad, Terra, bad, Terra. Pixel scared. You no go without Pixel.”
“It’s OK. We’re back. You were asleep. We didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Never, Terra, never,” he said with a stern fat cat voice. I couldn’t help but laugh and love him.
Mrs. Twiggs picked up the watch. She examined it closely. She took out a loupe and rubbed her finger on the back of the case. “This is an Ed Patrick.” She turned the watch over in her hands. “London, late 17th century. It’s very valuable. Where did you get this?”
Abigail grabbed it from Mrs. Twiggs as though she were a pickpocket. “It was my mother’s. It’s all I have left of my real parents.” She flipped open the case. I jumped up on the table to examine it. The time was frozen at 3 o’clock.
In Dreams, They Come
Can’t breathe, my lungs are filing with saltwater. My arms and legs splash frantically, trying to catch hold. I can’t see through the murky water. I’m dying, I’m dying. A pinhole of light strikes me as the tide ebbs and flows out of the cave. I make it onto the rocks and collapse exhausted. It’s still early morning, not enough light to give me away. I gaze down at my reflection in the tide pool, but it’s not me. It can’t be me. Elizabeth had said the vial would save my life, a chance for a new life but this isn’t life. I’m neither witch nor human. I close my eyes in disbelief but I can feel my new body. My soaking fur, my retractable claws, my tail. Heavens be, I have a tail. Elizabeth turned me into a cat. She, my friend, my mentor, how could she condemn me to this foul creature? Oh, no. This is not a new life, this is a prison sentence. No, even worse than a prison sentence, a death sentence. She’s killed my childhood. My chance to be a wife, a mother. I thought Elizabeth to be a friend. I must find her and make her turn me back. I hate you, Elizabeth. Can you hear me? I hate you. I will find you, I swear by our coven, I swear I will find you. I dragged myself across the beach, walking unevenly on my clumsy paws.
What are those sounds pouring into my ears? The woods are alive. Animals scurry, birds rattle, trees are growing. I can hear everything. What torture has Elizabeth laid on me? Surely, I will grow mad. I stop to rest in the hollow of a tree. The smell of the rodents makes my nose twitch, my stomach queasy. Or, is that hunger? No, it cannot be hunger. I will not give into this body. I will not lower myself to be a beast. I am Terra Rowan, descendent of a long line of white witches.
I walk along, gradually gaining confidence in my four paws. I continue into the village to find Elizabeth. I stop at the edge of the town where the tree line ends, thinking I have no need to hide. The village was, is, as it always was. Farmers pulling their produce in wagons, kids chasing behind, women preparing breakfast. I head towards Elizabeth’s farmhouse and hear crying from within. I climb up to the windowsill to see Elizabeth’s aunt sobbing at her table. She is holding Elizabeth’s bonnet. I realize Elizabeth was in dire straits. She is the only one who could change me back. I must find her.
I continue down the road to the next farm. Constance will be helping her brother, gathering eggs or milking the cows. I make my way to the barn to see her brother sitting on a stool next to their cow, staring silently. No, not my dear Constance. They took Constance. The same fates unravel in front of me as I visit each of my coven sister’s homes. The last home I reached was that of Prudence, the dearest of all my sisters. If I am to find refuge anywhere, it will be with her. She will accept me no matter what my fate. Before I could cross her fence, her dog, appears, growling through the tall grass. I’ve played with this dog. He must know me. There must be some remnant of whom I was that he should recognize. He inches closer snarling. I say his name but what comes out are nonsense noises. He lunges at the fence, snapping a wood board. I run as fast as I can on my four paws, crossing over the creek, slipping and falling, the fast-moving current almost pulling me down. For a moment, I swear his eyes turned blood red as he stands on the other side, howling and barking. My fur is soaked and matted. I walk along the opposite bank. He stares before turning around and leaving.
I stare after him for a few minutes. I am cold and hungry and tired. The sun recedes into the pines. I shake from the cold. I have to eat. I have to eat something. Whatever it was to be won’t be cooked. I will never eat a cooked meal again. Thankfully I can smell everything. I can smell the late-blooming beach plums, the fragrant white spring flowers that I had danced through once now bear tart berries. I gather a feast. I breathe in the fox grape, another tart berry that offers sustenance. I am amazed to find the grapes I thought were so near are actually hundreds of feet from where I sit. My sense of smell is so intense. As I eat my way through the forest, I think I will survive at least for the night. I settle under an old ash tree. Why this tree? I do not know. I feel drawn to it. Maybe it is the vertigo that keeps my sense of direction from steadying but something has led me to this tree. Even in the pitch-dark night I can look up from the trunk of the tree and see all the night creatures coming out. I feel safe here. This is the tree. When I was to turn 18 years on the 31st of October, this would have been my wanding tree. For tonight, it will suffice to be my bed.
“Terra, why you talk funny?” Pixel asked.
“What? What are you saying?” the dark and misty dream flew quickly out of my head like a murder of crows. “Pixel, I was dreaming.”
“I saw dream. Pixel see dream,” he said.
“You can see my dreams, Pixel?”