She snapped her head around.
“Most importantly I was saying, low-lying thunderheads with an anvil top. If these puffy clouds get taller, head for shelter.”
“Terra.” Abigail waved her finger in the air, making a swirling motion. The clouds drifted into a funnel cloud.
“Where did you learn that, Abigail?”
“In one of the hundreds of books you made me read.”
Before I could stop her, lightning struck a tall pine, slicing it in two. Pixel and Tracker ran. A heavy limb fell inches from Abigail’s head as she fell to the ground, covering herself. As quickly as it came, the funnel cloud disappeared.
I leaped on top of Abigail. “Stupid girl, you could have died.”
Her eyes turned bright blood red. For the first time, I feared her. In a second her eyes turned back to violet.
“I’m sorry, Abigail, I didn’t mean to say that. Even the most powerful of witches is a slave to nature. We can suggest to her how to act, but we can’t totally control her.” I stopped. “Lesson learned. This is why you have to learn to live with nature.”
We reached a branch of the French Broad River, unique because it is one of the only rivers that flows north. I pointed out the deep bend. “Never cross here. The near bend will be calm and shallow while the outside of the bend will be deeper with faster water that you won’t see. And never cross a fast-moving river that is as deep as your chest.”
We walked along the river, following a stream that branched off toward the deep woods until we reached a springhead. “This water is safe to drink coming from the ground deep inside the mountains. The cleanest springs emerge from vertical ground either a stone face or earth. If you don’t have a stream to follow, follow a dry creek bed. It will lead you to clean, fresh water. Follow it up the mountain as high as you can and then dig two to three feet down, and you will find water.”
We stopped by a rotting log. Tracker stuck his nose in it. Pixel leaped onto it. I reached down with a claw, pulling out a paw full of termites, eating them quickly. Abigail winced. Tracker and Pixel mimicked me. Tracker spit them out. Pixel scooped another pawful. “There’s more nutrition in an ounce of termites than in a steak.”
We followed the stream to where it entered a cave. I felt the ancient magic emanating from deep within the mountain. “Do you feel that, Mrs. Raintree?” I asked.
She placed her hand on the cool, damp wall inside the cave. “I feel something, Terra. It feels like a low electrical current. What is that?”
“Black and white witches leave behind a trail of magic. Think of it like Hansel and Gretel leaving crumbs behind to find their way home. If you know how to follow those crumbs, it will lead you to their magic.”
“Cool. Like a scavenger hunt,” Abigail said.
“Of sorts,” I acknowledged. “You can gather that magic, but be careful to leave the black magic that was left to confuse and harm you.”
“How do you know the difference?” Mrs. Raintree asked.
“The current that you feel is in tune with your inherent magic. Do you feel how that current flows into you from the wall through you and back, completing the circuit?”
“I feel tingly all over.”
“Feel your pulse.”
She stood quiet and placed a hand on her wrist. “It’s steady and slow.”
“That means it was left by a white witch. If it were left by black magic, your body would try to resist it; your heart would beat quickly and irregularly. A fight-or-flight chemical reaction,” I said.
We journeyed farther into the cave. Abigail ran her hand along the wall, causing the granite to glow with a soft light. A vein of that white light chased us along the wall as we walked until we reached the great cavern. Overhead the stalactites dripped with water and limestone. “Careful,” I said, “Don’t wake the bats.”
“Not vampire bats?” Mrs. Raintree said.
We crouched on a ledge, listening to the babble of the water. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Terra?”
“Yes, Agatha Hollows brought me here when I first came to Asheville.”
Abigail looked around the cavern. The walls were covered in Cherokee drawings. Mrs. Raintree read to us. “This is a holy place, Terra. Only the medicine men and women were allowed here.” She walked to one of the drawings. It was a picture depicting what the humans called an angel floating over the mountains with one wing broken. “This is Agatha Hollows, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “She was a fallen angel, wounded in the ancient war. What the humans call an angel, what witches call one of the old ones, an earth walker. She came down from her star to regain her strength and hide from her enemies.”
“The cries of my people brought her to rescue us, didn’t it?” Mrs. Raintree asked. She understood the heavens hold many mysteries.
“Yes,” I said.
Mrs. Raintree traced her fingers along the drawing. Her body shook. “I can feel her. This was her magic?”
“Yes, she left a trail for us to follow.”
Mrs. Raintree sang a Cherokee song for us, a melody I had heard at the cabin, a melody older than the mountain we sat under. “We’ll be safe here tonight,” I said when she was done. “Sleep. This mountain is a dream catcher. Open up your mind and your hearts to it.” I heard a splash. Pixel had tumbled into the stream, trying to catch a fish.
He mumbled, cursing a cat curse as water spewed from his mouth. He shook his fur. “Pixel no like.”
Abigail snapped her fingers and lit a fire for Pixel to dry his fur. He rubbed against her. “Pixel, you’re all wet,” she scolded. Abigail shared her beef jerky with Pixel and Tracker.
Mrs. Raintree sang us to sleep as I caught my dream.
“My star?”
“Yes, Terra, on Orion’s belt, see, at the bottom.” Elizabeth pointed up at the Salem night sky. As she stared up, I stared at her. She was seventeen years just weeks from her spirit tree birth. At eighteen years when a witch finds her spirit tree, she joins her blood to her bloodline.
“Can witches really travel to their witch star, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth looked over with her Elizabeth smile. “Yes, Terra.”
My eyes flew open, my heart pounding. I looked at the sleeping Abigail with jealousy in my heart. “That should be me,” I said.
In the morning, we continued our walk out of the cave and up to the precipice of the mountain. From there we could see the hollows and the valley below. The morning sky was beautiful, blue with a red lipstick streak as the sun rose. We spent the morning identifying medicinal herbs, roots that could be used in potions, traces of witch magic left behind. Mrs. Raintree was a fast learner. She knew her family history, and more importantly, she believed in it and the power of mother earth, the source of her magic. We came to a clearing and a field of wilted irises.
“It’s getting late in the season for irises.” She reached down and touched one. It rejuvenated to a beautiful purple. Each one she touched came alive to its early spring glory. She turned and smiled at me. “Terra, I dreamed last night about the hunters. The ones that were tracking Agatha Hollows. I felt their magic in the cave walls also. They are still hunting her.”
Abigail turned her gaze. “What is she talking about, Terra?”
Chapter 13
Tangledwood Estate Sale
Emma Tangledwood’s estate was substantial. In size, it was slightly smaller than the Biltmore, but it nearly matched it in grandeur and elegance. The line had started early, reaching out to the long line of poplars that stood on either side of the driveway. Today was the estate sale, and all the ladies were on hand to ensure success. Sitting in the grand foyer, Charlotte monitored people filtering through the massive door, imported from a French cathedral, an example of the exquisite taste and limitless wealth of the Tangledwoods. There had been talk about the Tangledwoods’ wealth and how it had been made. Some said cotton, others tobacco, no one seemed sure. Mrs. Tangledwood’s many collections did not convey the taste of the frugal woman I knew her to be. She was wont to save a penny where a penny could be saved, but in turn she had an eye for beauty and quality wares. She had spent thousands at the Leaf & Page with Mrs. Twiggs’s help, hunting down first editions and other rare books on magic and the occult.