As Abigail read, I recalled meeting McDowell several times while he patrolled the area around Agatha Hollows’ cabin. Some of the soldiers stole food from her gardens and some of her livestock, claiming to procure it for the war effort. Agatha Hollows who had been driven out of Cherokee, North Carolina, held little love for soldiers on either side. The soldiers lived to regret it.
The next exhibit was dubbed the Gilded Age, when the country’s uncrowned aristocracy flocked to Asheville for relaxation and leisure. “Alexander and Elizabeth Garrett bought the house from McDowell in 1881,” Abigail read. “The family had originally emigrated from Ireland to America and amassed a sizeable fortune in the Midwest.” As we walked along the exhibits, we came to a display case with a plaque that read, “The fire at the Fillmore Hotel.” There was a picture of the hotel’s exterior with Wesley standing proudly as guests entered the beautiful marble entryway. The display also held several china plates that were rescued and a ledger. Abigail strolled along, cradling me in her arms. “Stop, Abigail, stop.” I pressed my face against the glass. I blinked what must have been several times. In the display of jewelry hung a gold amulet with the oak and blood moon, Elizabeth’s amulet. “What’s wrong, Terra?” Abigail asked.
“That amulet. That’s Elizabeth’s.” I stared at it and then gazed at the pictures spread throughout the exhibit. In one picture was the woman Claire wearing the amulet. “Let me down. Let me down.” I ran and hid underneath an armoire.
“What are you doing?”
“Just go. I’ll wait here until the museum closes.” I hissed at her with the patience of a cat. I thought about the last time I had seen Elizabeth wearing the amulet. It was the night she gave birth. She had handed it to Jonathan to give to her daughter. As the last curator turned off the lights and locked the door, I crawled out of my hiding place. I stared up at the amulet. For more than 300 years, I had searched for Elizabeth without a clue and here I was not more than a mile away from her amulet.
“Terra.” My blood ran cold as I heard my name behind me.
A white apparition floated down the spiral staircase. I could sense it was a kind spirit. The room smelled like magnolia blossoms, a fragrance I knew from my travels in Louisiana searching for Elizabeth. It was no more than a mist, a vapor but I could make out the form of a woman. “Who are you?” I asked.
“You should know me, Terra. Blood knows blood. You’ve come here for the amulet. My mother’s amulet.”
“Claire? Are you Claire Renee?” I paused. “Goodall.”
The apparition floated to the ceiling. “I was at one time. Like you I was drawn to Asheville. There’s great magic in these woods. Black and white. Now I cannot leave. It holds me. It took my body.”
“Who took your body?”
“It took my body as it took my mother Elizabeth.”
A shadow passed between us. The smell of magnolias was replaced by the rancid smell of decaying flesh. “You must go, Terra, it comes.”
I pounded on the display case as hard as I could. “Go, Terra, run, Terra, run.” Claire’s voice sounded like Elizabeth, so many years ago. I looked above the display case at the lantern that hung overhead. Another item rescued from the Fillmore fire. I leapt onto the case and up to the lantern. Swinging and pulling as hard as I could. I could feel the tether giving. Finally it and I landed with a crash, smashing the glass. I grabbed the amulet in my teeth. As I ran to the front door, something grabbed my tail and pulled me back. My fur smoldered, my flesh began to burn and then the front door burst open. Mrs. Twiggs stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing red, shining a flashlight to drown out the darkness and light up the room. “Back and keep the darkness. The light repels you.” I felt the grip release me as I ran to Mrs. Twiggs who turned and followed me as I ran down the sidewalk.
Revelation
Mrs. Twiggs and I sat by the fire at Leaf & Page. Besides the cabin, it was the only place we felt safe. She poured herself some tea with a shaking hand and placed a warm saucer of milk on the side table for me. “Mrs. Twiggs, how did you know?” I asked.
She put her teacup back on the saucer with a rattle and then took a deep breath. “Terra, I had a vision. I saw everything before it happened. I saw it.” She shivered. “I saw Claire Renee, and I saw the creature that keeps her prisoner. I saw you in danger.”
A sense of urgency overtook me. “Where’s Abigail? Is she safe?” I asked.
“She’s upstairs sleeping. She didn’t feel well.”
“What about the amulet?” Mrs. Twiggs pulled it out of her pocket and placed it next to her saucer.
“I’ll explain later,” I said as I ran up the stairs, I leapt onto the bed. Tracker looked up, started to growl and then realized it was me. He laid his head back down. Pixel never woke. I kissed Abigail’s forehead and felt the heat. I took her blanket in my mouth and rolled it down slowly. Her skin was laced with fever blisters. I ran and got Mrs. Twiggs.
She took one look at Abigail. “I’ll call the doctor.”
“Human medicine won’t fix what’s wrong with her. Gather the ladies,” I said.
It was almost midnight by the time all the ladies arrived. We stood around Abigail’s bedside. Gwendolyn Birchbark placed her hand on Abigail’s forehead, asking for mercy and compassion to help heal Abigail. Caroline Bowers sat on the edge of the bed. The full moon spilled through the bedroom window illuminating her. “Terra, she’s in her fever dream. I can’t reach her,” she said.
Each lady summoned what powers they had to help bring Abigail back from the black magic that held her. Mrs. Twiggs entered the room, carrying a teacup. She placed it on the nightstand next to Abigail. “Terra, I searched all the spell books and this is the only remedy I could find for Abigail’s symptoms. You were right. Her life force is being drained out of her.”
I pulled the sheets back. The fever blisters had turned black and crusty. They now covered more than half her body. She was melting away in front of us. Mrs. Twiggs held Abigail’s head up, trying to force her to sip the tea. It did not appear to make a difference. She tore a piece of the bottom of her dress off, soaking it in the tea and rubbing it onto Abigail’s lips. “Terra, I don’t know what to do.” She laid her hands on Abigail’s heart and spoke a healing incantation in Gaelic. Abigail stirred and moaned. Her breathing grew shallower.
From the foot of her bed, Pixel cried. Tracker moaned. “I am a cat,” I screamed. “I am a useless feral alley-dwelling creature. I am not Terra Rowan. I am not a witch.” I leapt off the bed and crawled downstairs hiding in a dark corner. “Elizabeth,” I whispered. “You have done this to me. You should have let me hang next to you or even more so burned in the final death. I cannot help her.” Pixel flew down the stairs, yelling loudly. He slammed into me.
“Not now, Pixel, Stop your folly.”
“Pixel sad, so sad.” His eyes turned as he caught the gleam of the silver chain dangling from Abigail’s backpack. He pounced on it, flipping to his back, passing it from paw to paw.
“Stop it, Pixel. Abigail is upstairs dying. You play like the foolish cat you are.”
Pixel cried and flipped over, pulling the pocket watch out of the backpack. It sprang open.
“Look what you did.” I said with anger. His orange saucer eyes gleamed. “You’ve broken it.” I stepped over and pawed the watch, breaking it open. Inside the back cover I saw the initials JGJ. I thought of Salem, I thought of the courtroom and Jonathan Goodall, Jr. checking his watch. Abigail’s family heirloom which was stuck at 3, the black witches’ hour, the hour that Lionel and Bryson were murdered, the hour that Abigail’s parents were taken from her. I grabbed the amulet, carrying it upstairs and placed it on Abigail’s chest. If she was who I thought she was, its power would save her. Nothing happened. No magic was left in the amulet or me.