“I can’t keep you safe here.” Sensing Abigail’s frustration, Tracker came and lay down on her feet.
“You said you would protect me.”
I looked at the beautiful Abigail just the age that Elizabeth was when she led our coven. Her shoulders drooped as did Elizabeth’s as though the weight of the world was truly upon them. The price of leadership is the loss of innocence.
Abigail went into the kitchen to help Mrs. Twiggs make the potion. We adjourned to the sitting room by the fire. Mrs. Twiggs sat in Emma Tangledwood’s chair. Abigail walked behind her and placed both her hands on Mrs. Twiggs’s shoulders, who held the potion in her most expensive teacup, Meissen. It bubbled in the teacup. Mrs. Twiggs glanced down. A plume of green smoke rose from the teacup and momentarily took the form of the face of Karen Owen and then dissipated into the ceiling. Mrs. Twiggs drank the potion.
Pixel whispered, “Me no like” and then covered his eyes with his paws.
Tracker howled and then lay across Abigail’s feet. Mrs. Twiggs’s head slumped to her chest. She dropped the teacup. It shattered on the hardwood floor. The fire went out with a whoosh of cold air. Frost framed the windows. I could see my breath in front of me. My cat heart was beating twice as fast as a cat heart should. I smelled the electricity in the air. EMT. Electromagnetic. They were here watching. Mrs. Twiggs leaped from her chair. Her arms extended. Her eyes were milky white. Her hair blew back as though she were in a windstorm. She turned her head and stared directly at me. The voice that came out of her was not her own.
“You know the path you must take, Terra Rowan. The hunters are here. They’ve taken the ghost Albert. The creature that you call Mrs. Lund, she comes for the same purpose as they. You are the key, Terra Rowan. They will not stop until you lead them to it. No one is safe. Head south.” Mrs. Twiggs collapsed to the floor.
Abigail ran to her side. The fire burst to uncontrollable flames licking at the mantle. Emma Tangledwood’s chair caught on fire and then the reading lamp. Abigail tried to wake Mrs. Twiggs. In a matter of minutes, the entire sitting room was ablaze. Thick smoke filled our lungs. Charlotte and Abigail grabbed Mrs. Twiggs by the arms and dragged her into the dining room. They ran for a fire extinguisher, but before they could reach it, a fiery whip cracked and snatched it from the wall. The whip cracked again, knocking over shelves of old books that took to flames. The roar was deafening.
“Charlotte, we have to get everyone out,” Abigail screamed.
Abigail raised her hand. Mrs. Twiggs floated off the floor. The girls ran out the front door with Pixel, Tracker, and me behind. Mrs. Twiggs floating all the way out. We all collapsed to the ground, coughing. In the distance we could hear the sirens coming close. Mrs. Twiggs came to. She saw her beloved Leaf & Page burning to the ground and tried to run back in. Abigail and Charlotte grabbed her, holding her back. Abigail tried every incantation she knew, but none could quench the thirst of the flames.
We watched all night as the Asheville Fire Department worked to control the blaze and protect the adjacent buildings. It was daybreak. All that was left was brick walls and smoldering timbers. Mrs. Twiggs’s entire life had gone up in smoke in front of her. She sat on the bench across the street. She was wearing the blanket that the EMTs had wrapped around her after she refused any medical treatment. A handsome young fireman came up to her, carrying a clucking Henrietta under his arm.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Twiggs said, holding out her arms for the chicken. I sat on her lap, trying to console her. “Terra, I saw them. I saw the ghosts that took Albert. They were wearing Confederate uniforms. There were two privates and a lieutenant. I couldn’t make out their faces, but I could feel their hatred. I could feel their evil, Terra, except for one of the privates. He was scared, I believe, and sorry for what he was doing. They said they would spare our lives in exchange for you. They said they would give me back Albert if I gave them you. What do they want from you, Terra?”
“Those were the men that came for Agatha Hollows. They said they were coming to requisition supplies from area farms. Agatha told me they were witch hunters. They wanted to use her powers against their enemies. The lieutenant wasn’t like the others. He had a different purpose.”
“Terra, what are we going to do?”
“They want me to take them to the last place on earth that Agatha Hollows walked in her human form. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the magic that lays waiting there can destroy all of humankind. That’s the lieutenant’s purpose.”
Chapter 29
Witch Hunters
Biscuit Head was Asheville’s best biscuits and breakfast servings, short of course of Mrs. Twiggs’s muffins and scones. The ladies of the Biltmore Society sat around the small café, drinking tea and picking at dinner-plate-sized biscuits although none had an appetite. They rallied around Mrs. Twiggs.
“Beatrice, you said that they were wearing Confederate uniforms. Did you notice any special markings?” Mrs. Loblolly asked.
“Yes, June, they all had the North Carolina home guard patch on their sleeve.”
“That was the colonel’s regiment. After he was wounded, he ran the entire Western North Carolina home guard. Those men would have been under his command,” Mrs. Loblolly said.
“They weren’t looking for deserters or protecting the boarders, June. They were witch hunters trying to turn the tide of the war by harnessing Agatha Hollows’s power. Think of all the innocent humans who were abducted or killed by them believing they were witches.” Mrs. Twiggs swirled the cream in her coffee.
“But I’ve never read anything about the Confederates using supernatural powers to fight the Union,” Mrs. Loblolly said.
“It’s not something in the history books. It was a very secret task force.”
“I can’t believe my great-great-grandfather would have anything to do with hunting witches. The Loblollies have always had some touch of magic in our bloodline. My grandmother would tell me stories of clairvoyants, mediums. It wasn’t until my turning that I realized I come from a long line of witches as you all. My great-great-grandfather must have had some inkling that he, too, came from a bloodline of magic.”
“Maybe that’s why they were hunting Agatha Hollows. They believed that magic was real and that’s why he carried the silver-bladed saber. He knew from the folklore of the Appalachians that silver could kill a witch.”
Mrs. Loblolly stood up and pounded the table. “That’s enough. I won’t have you talk about my family like that. I’m sorry, Beatrice you’ve been through so much. Forgive me but I will not hear that.”
Chapter 30
Take Me to the River
I knew what I had to do. I knew from the moment Agatha Hollows disappeared under the bridge that I would have to return someday. The hunters had seen me. The young men—really boys—didn’t see the real me, but the lieutenant knew who and what I was. He has hunted me ever since. I’d have to say goodbye to my friends. I crept into Mrs. Twiggs’s room. She had taken over Mrs. Tangledwood’s master bedroom. She was still asleep. I nuzzled her head. She woke with a smile.
“Terra, I can’t let you go. I know what you’re thinking. It’s too dangerous. Not just for you but all of us. What will we do if we lose you?”
“You have Abigail; she is your leader.”
“Abigail is still just a girl. She’s not ready to take on that responsibility. She’s afraid.”
“Mrs. Twiggs, if I don’t go you’ll never see Albert again. There are worse things than death. None of you, especially Abigail, will be safe if I stay.” I knew this day had been coming, but I’d been selfish in my search to find my Elizabeth. “I’ve shirked my responsibilities to you, my coven.” I paused. “I was afraid.”