“The painting, Terra, the one Emma left for Charlotte is gone.”
Mrs. Twiggs made tea as the detectives interviewed each lady. We watched as the paramedics took Miss Hartwell away.
Mrs. Twiggs called Detective Willows into the room. “As far as we can tell the only thing missing is an oil landscape of a field of flowers near Poinsett Bridge. It was Emma’s favorite. It was a gift to the Tangledwoods some years ago from George Vanderbilt. She treasured that painting. She wanted to keep it in her family.” Mrs. Twiggs ran over to the writing table and opened the drawer. She retrieved a business card and gave it to the detective. “Here, Darren White, this man was here the day of the estate sale asking about the painting. I told him it wasn’t available. He seemed very interested in it and upset when I told him it was not for sale.”
Detective Willows took the card, snapping it between his fingers. He stared at the name. “Mr. Not Mrs., huh?” he mumbled.
“Butch, what are you talking about?”
“Sorry, Beatrice. Mr. White with a candlestick in the library. I couldn’t help myself.”
Mrs. Twiggs was not amused.
“Sorry, Beatrice, it’s been a long day.”
After the police left, Mrs. Loblolly spoke up. “Beatrice, was this the lieutenant?”
“I don’t think so, June. Miss Hartwell was human. She didn’t have anything that the lieutenant wanted.”
“If it wasn’t the lieutenant, then who?” Mrs. Loblolly asked.
“Why did they take the painting?” Mrs. Stickman asked.
Mrs. Twiggs looked down at me. I leaped onto the end table. “George Vanderbilt believed in the magic of these woods, so if he did commission that painting, he understood the power of Poinsett Bridge,” I said.
“Emma’s had that painting in her family for generations. Wouldn’t you think if there were some magic in it, Emma would have known?”
“Not necessarily. Mrs. Tangledwood just discovered her powers right before she was killed,” I said. “Magic can lay dormant for hundreds even thousands of years waiting for its master to awaken it.” I thought of Mrs. Lund and the other creatures that had awakened since Halloween.
“That painting was given to Emma’s grandmother after George Vanderbilt died. He meant for it to go to the Tangledwoods to protect it. The Tangledwoods shared his belief in the supernatural,” Mrs. Twiggs said. “Terra, what is the power of Poinsett Bridge? Why did the lieutenant want you to take him there?”
I had kept that part of the story from the ladies. It was a secret reserved for higher beings, but I felt it time and they had a right to know. “Mrs. Twiggs, Poinsett Bridge is a portal to other realms. When a witch walks through, she becomes a stronger version of herself but risks the danger of being stuck in another realm. The same is true for dark creatures. They become more powerful and more evil.”
The ladies were silent, absorbing what I said. “Terra, what if you were to walk through the portal?” Abigail asked.
“I tried once before. I wasn’t allowed entry.” I turned my back and started cleaning myself.
“We can’t let the lieutenant through the portal,” all the ladies shouted.
“The way to the portal is a labyrinth. Agatha Hollows could see the path and led me along it. To anyone not on the path it appears as merely a bridge. The path runs along a corridor from Asheville to Dark Corner, South Carolina. As you follow the path, you gather magic to complete the puzzle. If you stray from that path even by a step the portal will be locked to your entry. The lieutenant knows this. He can’t reach the portal without me to lead him, and that’s why none of you are safe as long as I am with you.”
“Terra, take me to the portal,” Abigail said.
“I can’t remember the way. I made it as far as the Green River. My intention was never to cross, but even if I had crossed, the rest of the path is so intricate with twists and turns I will never find it.”
Pixel pranced into the room, knocking me over onto my back. He stood over me. “No, Terra,” he said with a stern voice. “Not again. Terra and Pixel go Terra, say right?”
“Yes, Pixel.”
The ladies circled around me and joined hands. “No, Terra, where you go, we go.” Their eyes became fiery red; they meditated and became their witch goddesses, their true light shining like a beacon from within them. The room became a swirling dervish. I felt dizzy. I couldn’t breathe, and then like Dorothy caught in the tornado, everything stopped dead. I looked around the circle, stopping when I saw Charlotte. Abigail stood in the center with her hands raised to the ceiling. Charlotte completed the circle, Pixel wrapped around her neck. He was terrified. I had never seen the coven unite their powers like that before. I stared at Charlotte with deep intensity. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but she stared back at me. Was she our ninth Wiccan? She was a Tangledwood, meaning that Emma’s blood ran through her. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Pixel leaped from around her neck. Abigail saw what I had seen. A big smile grew on her face.
“You have to make sure, Abigail.” All the ladies turned to stare at Charlotte.
“What, what are you all looking at? That was awesome. Can we do it again?” Charlotte asked.
Chapter 32
Charlotte’s Second Chance
Mrs. Twiggs bustled into the kitchen and prepared the special turning potion.
“You completed the circle, Charlotte.”
“But I’m not a Wiccan. I drank the potion. Nothing happened.”
“The same thing happened to Mrs. Twiggs. Black magic kept her from turning at first,” I said. “It might have done the same to you.”
Abigail walked Charlotte over to the couch and sat down next to her while Mrs. Stickman lit the fire. There was an air of anticipation.
Mrs. Twiggs returned, carrying a teacup. Steam rose from its brim. She placed it down on the coffee table in front of Charlotte. “Okay, dear, drink it up.”
Charlotte lowered her head and sniffed the concoction and then grimaced. “It smells worse than before.”
Mrs. Twiggs said, “Drink it quickly.”
Charlotte raised the cup, looked at Abigail, and then downed it. I waited for something, anything, that would transform her. There was still nothing. No puff of smoke, nothing. Her aura colors did not change. She looked human. I could hear a collective sigh.
Charlotte said, “So what happens now? Do I get a broom? Do I grow warts?”
Abigail laughed. “No, Char, it didn’t work. I’m afraid you’re human.”
“You don’t have to say it like that, Abigail. Like it’s a bad thing.”
“Oh no, it’s not bad. It’s just we had hoped you would close the coven. We need nine. I’m a witch. I can’t close the coven. It has to be nine members of equal powers. The same but different. Think of it like all the ladies are double AA batteries and I’m a D battery. When they hold hands and form the circle, those batteries combine to make a more powerful charge. If I were to try to complete that circle, it would short-circuit everything. I’ve never seen their circle that powerful. We thought you were the missing battery. We all have power, but we can’t mix and match.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’m sorry to disappoint everyone.”
Chapter 33
Mrs. Twiggs Goes to Jail
Mrs. Twiggs hung up the phone. “That was Detective Willows. They arrested Mr. White.”
“We have to talk to him and find out why that painting is so important,” I told her.
Mrs. Twiggs and I left for the police station. I scratched at my emotional support animal vest. She looked over at me while she was driving and smiled. “I know, Terra, it’s annoying, but it’s the only way to get you in the door.”