Dark Corner

Chapter 24

Charlotte’s Turning

Not of my choosing but of circumstance, our coven had a human. Charlotte, though a relative of Emma Tangledwood, was not meant to close our circle of nine. She had learned the secret, and unlike my Salem coven, we were safe for now, but all the ladies of the coven needed to be assured that Charlotte would not lead them to any harm. Mrs. Twiggs drove us along the backwoods to the cabin. Abigail and Charlotte talked the entire way as though it was completely normal to be traveling to an enchanted cabin to meet with a coven of magical Wiccans.

When we arrived, Mrs. Branchworthy was waiting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs. She rose to greet us. “The others will be here soon. Terra, I think I’ve—” Upon catching a glimpse of Charlotte, she stopped.

“Charlotte knows our secret. She’s a friend,” Abigail said.

Charlotte smiled. “Abigail told me that your specialty power is conjuring fire.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Can I see?”

Mrs. Branchworthy looked at Mrs. Twiggs, who nodded. Mrs. Branchworthy stepped off the porch. She placed her right hand palm up toward the sky and skimmed the top of it with the left. Fireballs shot into the sky like she was holding a roman candle.

“Awesome,” Charlotte exclaimed. She turned to Mrs. Twiggs. “What can you do?”

Mrs. Twiggs said, “That’s neither here nor there.” Mrs. Twiggs was reluctant to let Charlotte in even though she was Emma’s family. I shared her concern. Mrs. Twiggs was the unspoken leader of the coven. She felt that weight on her shoulders. The ladies arrived, and we all gathered inside the cabin as dusk was settling over the mountain. Abigail started the fire. Mrs. Twiggs brought in the tea service. All the ladies murmured asking why the meeting had been called and wanting to know why Charlotte was present.

Mrs. Twiggs tapped her teacup with her spoon. “Please, ladies, settle down. I will get right to the point. Charlotte knows what we are.”

The murmurs began again. “Now, ladies, she’s family. We can trust her.”

Abigail moved her chair closer to Charlotte and held her hand. I leaped onto the table and spoke with Mrs. Twiggs.

Charlotte interrupted. “What’s going on with the cat?”

Abigail said, “I’ve got some more news for you. Terra is a witch.”

“You mean she turned herself into a cat.” Charlotte reached for me, and I backed away.

“Actually, she was turned into a cat by my great-grandmother to protect her from the Salem witch trials. She’s been stuck in that body since then.”

Charlotte sat back in her chair. “Does she have a tiny cat flying broom and witch hat?” She smirked.

Abigail said, “Char, I know. When Terra first spoke to me.”

“She can speak?” Charlotte interrupted.

“Of course she can. She’s a witch.”

“Why can’t I understand her?”

“Because you’re not.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re a witch, the cat’s a witch, and they’re all Wiccans.” She pointed at the ladies. “What about the orange cat? Is he a hobbit or something?”

Abigail laughed. “No, Pixel’s an ordinary cat. I’m sure it’s a little confusing. Think of us all as magical superbeings.”

“Like the League of Justice?”

“That’s a good way to think of it. Anyway, Terra told me my life would never be the same. Once you awaken and see the magic in the world, you’ll never look at the world the same way again. It’s all around you, Char.”

Charlotte sat quiet, trying to absorb everything Abigail was telling her. Pixel swiped a cookie off the serving tray. I was glad to see he was feeling better. The cookie landed on the floor, and Tracker made quick work of it. “Bad Tracker,” Pixel scolded heading out the door in a huff.

Mrs. Twiggs said, “We’ve been tasked to watch over Charlotte. Mr. Tangledwood appeared to us at the Tangledwood Estate. Emma is worried about her great-niece.”

Mrs. Stickman stood up. “Did you see Emma? Did you speak with her?”

Mrs. Twiggs shook her head. “Mr. Tangledwood only.”

I highly doubted we would ever meet up again with Mrs. Tangledwood. She was taken from us by black magic. Mr. Tangledwood clung to her memory, which was soaked into the walls of their estate. His ghost was bound to the Mercedes convertible that had brought the two of them so much joy.

Charlotte raised her hand. “Can I say something?” All eyes turned toward her. “When I was a little girl, my favorite movie was Bedknobs and Broomsticks. So I’m good with this whole witch, Wiccan, talking cat thing.” She paused. “Can you guys fly? Can I try a broomstick?”

“That’s not how it works, but maybe you can,” Abigail said. “You have your great-aunt’s blood, so you could be a Wiccan.”

“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.

“June, I asked you to stay because we need to talk about Mrs. Lund,” Mrs. Twiggs said.

“Beatrice, I told you everything I knew. She contacted me about the colonel and told me she had additional information about him and his regiment.” Mrs. Loblolly paused. “I feel horrible. I told you I feel responsible. She came here because of me and died by my great-grandfather’s sword.”

Mrs. Twiggs put her arm around Mrs. Loblolly. “It’s not your fault. She lied to you. She misrepresented who she was.”

“But I donated the sword. I demanded that they pose the mannequin to appear as if he was charging into battle. How selfish of me. How careless. That sword was as sharp as the day the colonel rode into battle. I had it cleaned and polished for the display. I even had to bring it to a special swordsmith because the blade is pure silver. It was his dress sword.”

“What?” I interrupted. “The blade was silver? Not just the hilt?”

“Yes, the colonel appreciated things of quality. His uniforms were custom made and fitted, the buttons are gold, and he ordered that sword special from a swordsmith in England.”

“What’s wrong, Terra?” Mrs. Twiggs asked.

“Silver through the heart is a true death to a witch.”

“Terra, are you saying Mrs. Lund was a witch?”

“There’s only one way to find out for sure. We have to see the body. If she was a witch and she died by silver, her body will age to its witch years. If I was killed by silver, all you’d see is bones and dust. We have to leave now before dark.”

“The mannequin holding the colonel’s sword was wearing a lieutenant’s uniform, not a colonel’s. If you spent so much money on restoring the sword, why not stage it with the colonel’s uniform?”

“That can’t be right. I donated the colonel’s uniform and was insistent that it be displayed with his sword.”

Pixel trotted by, his snowy belly flopping right and left along the floor of the cabin. He jumped into the windowsill as the sun was setting. He turned to us and solemnly said, “By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.”

I leaped onto the windowsill next to him, staring into the distance. I felt it too. “Pixel, are you okay?” I whispered, nuzzling up to him.

“Me scared, Terra.” He put his paw around my neck and snuggled closer to me. I found his warmth comforting, his heartbeat next to mine soothing.

I thought about the stirrings in the wood. “Mrs. Twiggs, it’s late. I think we should rest tonight. Mrs. Lund isn’t going anywhere,” I said.