“That’s right. You can drink the potion,” Mrs. Stickman said.
Charlotte stuttered. “No, I don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t hurt, Char.”
“No, really, I don’t.” Charlotte stood and walked toward the door.
Mrs. Raintree spoke. “Give her the potion, Beatrice. It worked for all of us.”
Mrs. Twiggs said, “We can try.”
Unlike the other ladies before they turned, I did not see any spark of Wiccan in Charlotte, but it was worth trying. It would satisfy our curiosity. Mrs. Twiggs hurried into the kitchen and prepared the turning potion.
Abigail went outside with me on her heels. “There you are.”
Charlotte sat on the step, smoking a cigarette.
Abigail sat next to her. “Really, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and it will put the ladies’ minds at ease. We’ve been looking for our ninth Wiccan to close the coven.”
Charlotte threw her cigarette to the ground, smashing it out with her foot. “They are not going to leave it alone until you drink the potion,” Abigail said.
“Okay.” She stood up, and they went back in the house. As we entered, Charlotte whispered,” Is this safe? Does it taste bad?”
“All the ladies drank it, and they’re fine.”
Mrs. Twiggs handed Charlotte a teacup.
“Okay.” Charlotte downed it like it was a shot of whiskey. Her eyes darted around the room, waiting for something to happen. All the ladies held their breath, waiting for her to rise off the ground, her hair to turn raven black and the telltale white streak. But nothing. “How long does this take?” Charlotte asked.
Mrs. Twiggs came close, felt Charlotte’s forehead with the back of her hand, and looked closely into her eyes. “It should have happened by now.”
Charlotte looked relieved as all the ladies let out their breath and sat back down. Charlotte walked out onto the porch, and Abigail followed. I jumped onto the railing and sat quietly, listening.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot, but it’s a lot of responsibility too. You saw what happened to me at the bar.”
“Abigail, all my life I’ve felt like an outsider. My parents never paid attention to me. Don’t get me wrong. They weren’t bad people. They had their own problems.”
“You fit in here, Char, and I’m your friend.” Abigail paused. “I’m an outsider too. The ladies are a coven of Wiccans, and I’m a witch. Your aunt was the ninth Wiccan, which completed the coven. They are broken without her, but you are part of our family—magic or not.”
“Tell me, Abigail. Tell me the truth. What happened to her?”
Abigail went into the cabin and brought out her family spell book. She placed it on her lap. “This book is thousands of years old. It was my great-grandmother’s, Elizabeth. The head of Terra’s coven in Salem. It’s a very powerful book of spells that only my bloodline, the Oakhaven, can wield. One of Terra’s sisters in her coven, Prudence, stole the book. The book is neither black nor white magic. Prudence wanted the book for selfish reasons. That opened a portal to black magic through the book. The book called out to her and possessed her. Your great-aunt found the book. It possessed her too. In the end it destroyed her.”
“And now you have the book, Abigail? What does that make you?”
“I’d only use the book for good as my foremothers have but Terra won’t let me open it yet. She thinks I’m not ready.”
“Aren’t you dying to look inside?”
Abigail nodded.
“What’s stopping you?”
I jumped on top of the book and hissed. “Abigail, put the book away.” My fur stood up; my tail puffed out. I was not happy with this new Abigail. She was careless. I looked over at Charlotte.
“Nice kitty,” she said, running her hand down my back. I hissed and took off in search of Pixel. Abigail wasn’t the only one I was worried about. Pixel had not been himself lately. I leaped the stones in the stream, trying to keep dry, and followed the path to the valley. No sign of Pixel. It was getting late, way past his suppertime. I followed the stream through the valley to the little gulley garden where I had seen Pixel playing the other day. I stopped when I heard the scream.
“Pixel,” I yelled and ran as fast as I could, following the sound of Pixel’s agony.
When I reached the gulley, I saw a large crow swooping and pecking at Pixel. It wasn’t just a large crow, it was the largest crow I had ever seen. Its figure was distorted and elongated. In its beak it clasped the purple-and-white butterfly that had landed on Pixel’s nose. Pixel leaped in the air higher than I thought a fluffy orange cat with crooked little legs could. He grabbed the crow by its wing and pulled it to the ground, forcing it to release the butterfly. Then he stood up on his hind paws and extended all his front claws. The crow took off before Pixel could wreak his vengeance.
“Pixel, are you okay?”
He turned to me with blood all over his fur—some his, some the crow’s. “Bad bird, Terra. Bad bird. Take my friend.”
I threw my paws around him. The thought of losing Pixel terrified me. Not just because I loved this silly alley cat but because Pixel was my best friend. He was unconditional with his love and his courage. He was also my familiar. He had once told me he liked to be my familiar, and I thought how funny that a witch that was a cat would have a cat familiar. Now I couldn’t imagine it any other way. The purple-and-white butterfly floated down. She was no worse for the wear. Somehow I knew it was a she. Her delicate wings, the way she landed softly on Pixel’s back. She fluttered once and twice and then took off into the mountain ash. My witch tree, I thought.
“Terra.”
“Yes, Pixel.”
“Pixel miss supper?” he asked as we hurried our pace through the valley.
“No, Pixel.”
I stepped carefully into the woods. Too many lights danced in the woods at night. Some smelled of pure happiness, others smelled of death. It made me nervous.
Whereas I with much less courage was afraid to be in these woods after dark, Pixel feared the fate of missing supper. I watched him from the corner of my eye as we ran and jumped through the woods. He, too, kept an eye to our flank. Pixel was protecting me from the night creatures that watched from the shadows. We reached the cabin in time to find Mrs. Twiggs serving up the beef stew.
“Me favorite.” Pixel rushed to the table, pushing Tracker and me out of the way.
All the ladies gathered around the table, smiling and making light conversation. “Pixel, wait your turn,” I told him. I looked around the table at the smiling faces that had no idea of what was coming, and I would leave it that way.
Mrs. Twiggs placed bowls of food for Pixel and me. Tracker was not allowed on the table, but it didn’t stop him from snapping at Pixel. Pixel swatted him on the nose as he leaped onto the table. Pixel finished before me.
“Terra. We keep Flutter safe,” he said.
I looked up. “Who?”
“Pixel friend, Flutter. Butterfly.”
“Yes, of course, Pixel, we’ll do whatever we can to protect her.”
“Good, Terra.” He gazed up at Mrs. Twiggs with Margaret Keane eyes begging for more.
The ladies left early per my request. I did not want them traveling after dark. Mrs. Loblolly stayed behind because Mrs. Twiggs insisted they speak. Mrs. Raintree sat by the fire, finishing a dream catcher she was making for Charlotte.
Strumming her guitar, Abigail sat with Charlotte on the porch. Charlotte stared at her phone. One of Abigail’s first incantations was a modified version of a spell to conjure voices over great distance to communicate with friends in times of danger. Prudence and I had used that incantation to talk at night between our houses. Abigail found a way to turn that into the internet in the middle of the Black Mountain woods without a cell tower within range. Charlotte had never questioned how she was able to use the Wi-Fi on her phone.