My eyes half-open, I could see Mrs. Twiggs talking to Mrs. Lund. When I woke, Mrs. Branchworthy was raising her voice. “It was a hundred and fifty years ago.”
Mrs. Branchworthy’s family had fought on opposite sides of the war than Mrs. Loblolly’s, and the two had been in conflict for years. As Mrs. Branchworthy spoke, I saw a puff of gray smoke circling around her. Mrs. Twiggs rushed to calm her. I didn’t think Mrs. Lund had noticed. She seemed embarrassed over the ladies’ argument. Pulling herself together, Mrs. Branchworthy sat back down, her hands leaving a scorch mark on the walnut table. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lund,” she said.
Mrs. Lund smiled.
Mrs. Twiggs stood up, gathered her purse, and said her goodbyes. I followed her out of the front entrance, past the tourists gazing at the large structure. We entered the garden, the tulips in full bloom. Pixel chased butterflies. Mrs. Twiggs and I sat down on a bench overlooking the bass pond. “Terra, aren’t the tulips beautiful?”
Tulips, I thought. I remembered Agatha warming them up and placing them on insect bites to take away the sting.
“Terra, how do we keep the secret? The ladies couldn’t keep a secret before they became Wiccans. How do you expect them to keep it now? And how do we keep people from finding out?”
“People see what they want to see. Humans don’t believe in magic. That’s why they can’t see that it is all around them.”
Mrs. Twiggs hesitated. “But what if Mrs. Branchworthy had started a fire? What if she burned the Biltmore to the ground?”
“We’ll work on her control and her temper,” I assured her.
Chapter 7
A Premonition
Pixel and I lay in the bed next to Mrs. Twiggs. The tiny bedroom above the Leaf & Page was cozy and warm. As of late, Pixel and I had taken to sharing the double bed with Mrs. Twiggs. I believe she felt it as comforting as we did. In the corner the rocking chair rocked slowly. Albert sat watching her sleep as he had for the past ten years since his passing. I could see the sadness and feel his love. Even though now after her turning Mrs. Twiggs could see Albert, she couldn’t feel his caress or tender kiss. Albert was not a watcher like the others. He was not assigned to his Wiccan. His was a deeper calling—true love. As it is when all beings cross over to the next plain, he achieved enlightenment. He knew before her what she was and what she was capable of. Mrs. Twiggs was a very powerful Wiccan, more powerful than I had ever met. And Albert knew with that power came risk. For Albert would have given his life for her when he was alive, and now he watched over her with even more to lose. Black magic could extinguish his true light, sending him to an eternity of nothingness, but Albert stood fast in death as he did in life. His beloved Beatrice would come to no harm on his watch. Pixel glanced up, staring at the chair. It stopped rocking. He looked at me, pulling back his orange pointy ears. He flipped onto his back and fell asleep.
Mrs. Twiggs’s gentle snoring sung me into slumber.
I knew I was dreaming. We can move between dreams in and out of the waking world. Because Elizabeth is standing in front of me, I knew it was a dream. I had spent the past centuries searching for her only to catch a glimpse of her in the waking world. In my dreams she stepped into my memories. I was dreaming of May Day in Salem before the secret was told. Elizabeth was warning my coven, “Hide well your cheer, my sisters. Hide your folly and your young girl’s nonsense. May Day is a time of great celebration and hope, but also it brings with it great risk. Do not expose yourself. The humans forbid this celebration and will not look kindly on your dancing nor any other frivolity.”
We sat under the great oak on the outskirts of Salem Town. I could feel the grass between my fingers… fingers. I have not felt fingers in three hundred years. I smelled Elizabeth’s perfume of peonies and gardenia.
Sitting next to me, Prudence whispered, “We’re meeting in the woods tonight as the clock strikes midnight and the May Day arrives. We will greet it with song and dance.”
“Prudence, have you not heard a word that Elizabeth has spoken?”
“Elizabeth won’t find out. I’ve spoken with the others. They agree. Elizabeth worries too much of her reputation and her fiancé.”
I knew better than to try to convince Prudence of anything. She was as stubborn as she was powerful. It was she who should have been the witch’s apprentice not I, but neither one of us questioned Elizabeth as she had chosen me. Her bloodline ran too deep to be challenged.
“Prudence,” Elizabeth scolded.
Prudence turned to attention.
“Do I distract you?”
“No, of course not, Elizabeth. I’m sorry.”
As I gazed at my sisters, my heart ached, knowing the fate that awaited them. Unlike them, I would remain in this world but not in my true form. Elizabeth waved her hands, signaling the meeting was adjourned. I wanted to tell her what Prudence had told me, but I couldn’t. Cat got your tongue? I scolded my dream self. As the night approached, I found myself in the woods. I could see the other lanterns darting through the thickets like playful fireflies as my sisters gathered in the clearing at the far side of Master Johnson’s farm. Prudence was wearing daisies in her long dark hair. She lifted her skirt to reveal her silver buckles to me that reflected the moonlight. She smiled with her beautiful Prudence smile. I thought how much I loved her, more than even the others. We had been more than best friends since childhood. She was my confidante and my true sister. Though not by blood but by love and circumstance. We all joined hands and completed the circle as we danced under the full moon.
Prudence led the choir in song. “Bring this day, bring this day a new plentiful harvest. Come this May to bring us joy. Your flowers and promises we rejoice in.”
We danced until I was dizzy, and we all fell to the ground, laughing. I stared up at the stars. I could name the constellations, both the human and the witch stars. Like our spirit trees, witches have their own star. Mine was in the constellation Orion. Elizabeth had traveled to her star or so she had told me. I never knew if that was the truth or a story she told to excite a young girl’s imagination.
Prudence reached into her cloak and retrieved a leather pouch. She whispered, “Hogweed from a shallow grave.”
I shook my head. “No, Prudence.”
The buzzing grew louder. When I woke, Mrs. Twiggs was levitating over her bed, her eyes wide-open and milky white. It was three a.m. “Terra, it’s Mrs. Lund. She needs us to come to the Biltmore immediately.”
Chapter 8
A Body in the Biltmore
I followed Mrs. Twiggs into the basement of the Biltmore through the Halloween room, its garishly painted stone walls casting an eerie glow. When not filled with tourists, the dimly lit corridors echoed. The urgency of the premonition made Mrs. Twiggs hurry through the corridor. The Edison bulbs overhead flickered. This part of the Biltmore Estate had not been updated. Even without my acute cat senses, I would have smelled the sulfur. A rush of cold air blew past me. I could feel a presence. Even ghosts have an aura around them. This presence had no light, no color, no presence. Or maybe it was my imagination.
“Me scared, Terra.” Pixel clung to my back.
“It’s okay, Pixel.”
Mrs. Twiggs took the skeleton key from her pocket. She jiggled it in the door lock. “It’s not opening, Terra.” Mrs. Twiggs placed both her hands on the old oak door. She took a piece of chalk from her sundress pocket and drew a doorknob above the existing one. She whispered the incantation I had taught her, and then she twisted the chalk doorknob. The door crept open with a moan. Mrs. Twiggs lit her flashlight, shining it around the storage room. In the heart of the room, two mannequins stood in Confederate gray uniforms, the third lay on top of Mrs. Lund with an outstretched arm brandishing a Confederate saber thrust through her heart.