Pixel and Tracker watched quietly. I could see the fear in both of them. The only true measure of bravery is to be afraid and yet not to waver. I knew that neither one would waver this night. I spoke, “Ladies of the Biltmore Society, hear my words, tonight one becomes nine and nine become one.” As I spoke, I watched their pupils glow red. It had begun. “You must swear tonight by this full moon that from this moment on you will use your powers only for good.” As I spoke, I could see shadows in the shadows gathering. I glanced up at the sky, a dark cloud covered the moon, blocking out the light. “You will recite after me the seven incantations of the coven,” I said. “Only for good shall we use our powers, kept secret in shadows and midnight hours.”
As they repeated the words back to me, my head began to ache. “Sisterhood joined never bond to break.” The ground shook under my feet. I felt that I was slipping into a vision. “Our bond is eternal, eternal our fate.” A wind gust shook the trees, and a loud roar filled my head. “We vow to hold sacred both nature and man.” I had to scream to be heard above the cawing. Like leaves falling on a blustery October, thousands of crows descended upon us from the tree branches. Their yellow soulless eyes looked into me. The circle broke as the ladies fell to the ground covering their faces. I felt myself lifted off the ground. I could smell the wretched breath of the foul creature. I reached up and scratched it across the face, causing it to release its grip. I landed on the ground with a thud. Tracker circled Abigail, biting, nipping and stomping on any crow that pecked at her. Pixel ran to me, covering my body with his. “Me save Terra, me save Terra.” I could hear the crows tearing into his flesh.
As I glanced up, I could see a murder of crows lifting Mrs. Tangledwood off the ground, struggling with her weight. I yelled to her. She turned her head. I could see the insanity taking her, the absurdity of what was happening to her. They carried her over the treetops and disappeared over the ridge into the darkness. From the north, the owls ascended. Great horned, barn, white, all the keepers of the forest. They tore into the crows thrashing them to pieces. Then they were gone. Our circle was broken. Mrs. Twiggs lay on the ground, bloody and shaking. The rest righted themselves, checking their wounds.
Mrs. Twiggs screamed. “Terra, Mrs. Tangledwood. Emma, they took her.”
“Everyone back to the cabin now,” I screamed.
When all were safe inside, Abigail latched the cabin door and placed a board across it. I looked about at the scared faces, all of them waiting for words I couldn’t find. This was too much, too much for me without my powers. I was still a 17-year-old apprentice. “This is too much, Elizabeth,” I said, not realizing I spoke out loud.
Abigail retrieved the emergency medical kit and treated their wounds and hers. Pixel lay by the fire, licking blood off his fur. Tracker stood on the kitchen table, staring out the window. Mrs. Twiggs looked at me with tears in her eyes. “What are we going to do, Terra? We have to save Emma.”
“We can’t save her. She’s gone.”
“We have to find her.”
“No, Beatrice, she’s gone.”
The Amulet
Abigail and I watched Mrs. Twiggs bustle about the kitchen as she made her scones. We had tried to talk her out of opening the store this morning but she insisted saying, “it’s not what Albert would want.” She stopped and stared at his photograph. She was a woman of fortitude. Even with the nightmare of last night Mrs. Twiggs would not be swayed from her path. There was something very ancient and regal about Mrs. Twiggs. I had not seen it until she turned. She resolved herself to the fact that her friend was gone, that life needed to continue on.
The ladies all scattered to their homes, none of them speaking of the night’s events. Although tired and scared, Abigail and Mrs. Twiggs were undaunted. Abigail sat by the fire looking through one of the book of spells. In the short time, I had taught her to read Ogham she had managed to pick it up quite readily. She sat quietly flipping the pages. Pixel and Tracker lay at her feet.
Mrs. Twiggs sat down next to Abigail. “What do we do next, Terra?”
“A hundred and fifty years ago, Claire Renee came to Asheville to hold a séance for George Vanderbilt at the Hotel Fillmore. The night of the séance the hotel burned down. According to the ledgers at the Biltmore Estate, Claire requested twigs of ash, oak and thorn. She believed black magic was in Asheville and came to destroy it but the magic destroyed her. At the jewelry store, I saw a picture of Claire. She was wearing an amulet that belonged to my coven leader, Elizabeth. The doctor’s note said she never recovered from the fire and died in childbirth. If that amulet is still in Asheville, we need to find it. It’s our last hope to defeat the black magic.”
“We should go to the historical museum. They have a display on the fire,” Mrs. Twiggs said, stroking my soft fur. “Poor, Emma, she loved the museum. She volunteered from the day it opened. Poor, poor Emma.”
Emotional Support Animal
“I don’t like this. I don’t like it all,” I said.
“Sorry, dear, it’s the only way.”
“I feel like a fool.”
“It’s just for today.”
“Very well then.” I reluctantly let Mrs. Twiggs put the emotional support animal vest and collar on me. I have never worn a vest or collar yet pretended to be an emotional support animal. I don’t know which part of that sentence bothered me more. Emotional support or animal? I was meant for neither.
“Me, too. Me too, emotion animal,” Pixel said, climbing up Mrs. Twiggs’ leg.
“I’m sorry, Pixel, I could only get one vest. You and Tracker will have to wait here.”
“Terra, no go. Pixel, go with Terra.” Pixel jumped on my back and bit my neck. The collar itched.
I placed my paws on Pixel’s face and rubbed behind his ears. He purred. “I have a very important job for you, Pixel. You must guard the store.”
“Me guard store, Terra. Pixel brave.”
“Yes, Pixel, you’re the bravest cat. No, you’re the bravest being I’ve ever met.”
Pixel bit my neck and then jumped up into the front window to keep watch. Tracker stayed velcroed to Abigail. She looked down and whispered in his ear. Tracker laid down underneath the front window by Pixel, letting out a soft moan.
We climbed into Mrs. Twiggs’ Volvo and headed to the museum. I sat on Abigail’s lap on the passenger side, watching the buildings fly by. We arrived at the Smith-McDowell House, home of the Asheville Historical Museum. Mrs. Twiggs burst into tears when she saw Emma Tangledwood’s name on a brass placard hanging in the entryway. I was very familiar with the house as it was Asheville’s oldest residence. I was here when it was built but I had never been inside. Drying her tears, Mrs. Twiggs explained to Abigail, “The Smith-McDowell House was once home to mayors, civil war majors and friends of the Vanderbilts. According to legend, it is the most haunted house in Western North Carolina.” I wondered if Mrs. Twiggs realized her shop was haunted but that was a story to tell her another day.
She parked on the street and walked up the steps between the white marble pillars. Wandering in, we flowed through the exhibits including one on the native landscape. Abigail read the plaque of the first exhibit out loud, “William Wallace McDowell, was born in 1823 in Burke County, which is now named McDowell County. He came to Asheville in 1845 and married Sarah Lucinda. They acquired the house and moved in in 1858. They had 10 children. In December 1859, in response to the raid on Harper’s Ferry, he organized a local volunteer company that became known as the Buncombe Riflemen and later joined as an officer in the Confederate Army.”