Dark Corner

Chapter 31

Get a Clue

I woke with a start. Abigail peered into my room. “Did you hear that scream, Terra?”

I nodded as we ran down the long hallway of the second floor of the Tangledwood Estate. The ladies gathered in the hallway outside their bedroom doors. The late-night story of my adventures had kept the ladies up all night. They had agreed to stay at the estate. There is safety in numbers, and I felt evil brewing, so I knew we needed to rely on each other.

We ran down the long, spiral staircase. Abigail stumbled at the bottom of the stairs as we heard another scream. Mrs. Twiggs flipped on the foyer light. We followed the echo of the scream into the library. We found Charlotte standing over the lifeless body of Miss Hartwell. A stream of blood flowed from her head wound, and a silver candlestick lay next to her, covered in blood. Mrs. Twiggs felt for a pulse but shook her head. Miss Hartwell was gone.

The ladies gathered around in a circle, all talking at once. I saw Mr. Tangledwood puffing his pipe from the easy chair by the wall of bookcases. He uncrossed his legs, stood up, and floated off through the wall. Mrs. Twiggs grabbed an afghan off the couch and placed it respectively over Miss Hartwell.

Charlotte shook uncontrollably. Unlike the rest of us she had never seen a dead body. Abigail took her into the kitchen. I walked around the body slowly, sniffing for clues. The rug was well traveled by the rest of the ladies leaving their scent. I looked up at their faces. They had become hardened war-torn warriors. Not from lack of compassion but because they knew the big picture and what was coming. I heard their thoughts. Who did this? Who’s next? How do we stop this? And most importantly, why?

The paramedics arrived before the police. A short while later Detective Willows came in, notepad in hand. He lifted the afghan off Miss Hartwell and peeled it back slowly so he could examine the wound. He motioned to the young officers to rope off the area. “Please all of you wait in the next room.” He motioned to us.

The crime scene team crawled around the library like a bunch of angry ants, rubber gloved, lifting, examining, taking pictures. Detective Willows donned his reassuring smile. We all sat in the sitting room, silent. We noticed Charlotte crying and shaking. Detective Willows sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “Are you okay, dear? Do you need medical attention?”

She shook her head.

Mrs. Twiggs spoke. “Detective, her screams woke us. We were all asleep on the second floor.”

“Did anybody see anything? Or anyone?”

“No,” the ladies answered in unison.

“Charlotte, why were you in the library?” Detective Willows asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. I came down to get something to read. That’s when I… I found her.”

The detective stepped over to the front door, examining the lock and the catch plate. I followed him to take a closer look. I had noticed the door had been slightly ajar when we found Miss Hartwell. He thought the same as I did that it was forced open, not an easy feat. He ran his gloved finger along the edge of the door, catching it on a sliver. A young officer came up behind him. Mrs. Twiggs walked over.

“Butch, what’s going on?”

“Beatrice, the door was forced open. Is there anything missing in the house?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t think to check.”

I searched the house for anything out of place. Mrs. Tangledwood kept a tidy home. The estate sale left the house with the essentials, bedding, and furniture. All items to help stage the home for sale. Mrs. Twiggs joined me taking inventory using the ledger from the estate sale.

“All here, Terra,” she said. “Maybe the robber was interrupted by Miss Hartwell before he could steal anything.”

I thought for a moment. “We didn’t check the Not For Sale room, Mrs. Twiggs.” We hurried to the den behind the library. We found family photo albums and other boxes of personal items.

“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.