Dark Corner Page 11

  “She wants to stay in Asheville, and it’s a big house.”

  “It’d be nice to have someone stay with me,” Charlotte chimed in.

  Mrs. Loblolly gave a concerned look to Mrs. Twiggs. “Charlotte, be a dear and help me with these plates,” she said. They picked up the tea service and carried it into the kitchen.

  “Abigail, I don’t think this is a good idea. What if Charlotte sees you performing magic? What about your training?” Mrs. Twiggs asked.

  “Mrs. Twiggs, I can do that at the cabin. I need to be around people my age and nothing personal I love all you ladies, but I need a life.”

  “Abigail, your life is not your own,” I said. She was meant for a greater purpose. “Take a minute to remember who you are and your bloodline. You started your journey to become a witch, and there is no turning back.”

  “Can’t I do both? Can’t I be a witch and a girl? Look at you. You’re a witch and a cat.”

  I let out a little hiss that I couldn’t hold back. “This was not of my making, Abigail Oakhaven. Your great-grandmother, my Elizabeth, imprisoned me in this body.” And I continued. “You mock my pain and think yourself above your bloodline,” I said with a hiss.

  “Terra, that wasn’t my intention. Come stay with us. You can make sure I keep on track, okay? But really? I need a break.” Abigail crossed her arms across her chest.

  I glanced at Mrs. Twiggs for an answer, and she had none.

  “Anyway it’s not up to any of you.”

  “Very well. Pixel and I will go with you.”

  Pixel woke up, stretched and muttered, “Go where?”

  Chapter 21

  A Secret Revealed

  “Let’s do something.” Charlotte flew down the stairs. After visiting Mrs. Loblolly, we had moved into the Tangledwood Estate. Miss Hartwell had the housekeeper prepare rooms for us. Large master suites with sitting areas, soaking tubs, and wood-burning fireplaces. I shared one with Abigail. Pixel preferred his own room; he said he needed quiet time or “no-talk time” as he phrased it.

  Abigail sat on one of the stools at the large kitchen island. “What do you have in mind?” She spun around to ask Charlotte.

  “Dance. Drink. Something. I don’t want to sit in this house all day,” Charlotte said.

  I was not sure how I felt about this young friend of Abigail’s. She might be a bad influence on my protégée. I had tried to get Abigail back to the cabin, but she refused, always too busy with Charlotte.

  “Okay. Okay.” Abigail laughed, releasing her long white-blond hair from its ponytail.

  Charlotte grabbed Abigail by the hand and pulled her down the long hallway from the kitchen leading into the garage. She turned and smiled at Abigail as she opened the door to reveal a massive ten-car garage. Each stall held a magnificent work of art. “Well, Abigail, do we take the Porsche, the Bentley or the Rolls?”

  Abigail shook her head until they reached the last car, encased in a white cover. Charlotte flung the cover off to reveal a 1961 Mercedes 190SL convertible, black with a blood-red interior.

  “Good choice, Abigail. Miss Hartwell told me that was my great-uncle’s car. He bought it new, the year after he married my great-aunt. I found some letters of my great-aunt’s. One was from Germany when my uncle went to watch his car being built. Actually, a pretty passionate love letter.”

  I thought I had never seen Mrs. Tangledwood drive this car. She was a woman of means, but by no means was she extravagant. All the cars must have been her husband’s idea. I could feel the energy coming off this car. For a moment I had visions of a young Mr. and Mrs. Tangledwood flying around the winding roads up the Blue Ridge Parkway. Mrs. Tangledwood laughing, her hair tied in a silk scarf. It was the first real memory I was able to discern from the Tangledwood Estate. When I walk in most houses, I am bombarded with sounds and smells and even visions. Memories are electromagnetic just like humans. They cling to the walls like scared children clutching a mother’s leg. They engulf you in their emotions. Something about this car held the key to the memories of the Tangledwoods. Abigail was drawn to it too. Charlotte tossed the keys to Abigail. They jumped in, Abigail behind the driver’s seat. Pixel was busy in the corner of the garage, searching for intruders of the mouse type. I summoned him with a loud meow. He flew to me, and we jumped into the tiny back seat.

  “Can you drive a stick?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yeah, my dad.” She stopped for a minute. “My adopted dad had an old Mustang. He taught me to drive a stick.”

  “You never talk about your parents. You just said they were both dead. How old were you?”

  “Let’s not talk about that now. Let’s take this baby out for a ride,” Abigail said.

  Charlotte nodded.

  Abigail turned the key. The car roared to life. The diesel engine kicked on angrily but purred smooth and hungry. I smelled the oil and pipe tobacco. I jumped on the back of the seat, glancing around the garage as Abigail pulled out. All I saw was a puff of pipe smoke as the garage door closed behind us. Pixel stuck his head out the side, his tongue dangling like a dog. We headed through the rows of poplars down the cobblestone driveway that went on for a half mile until we reached the main entrance of Biltmore Forest, the small exclusive subdivision built on land that had once belonged to the Vanderbilts. Charlotte turned on the AM radio, sliding the dial up and down until she found a station playing classic rock. The song that came on gave me a chill because it was the song playing when Katrina washed away Abigail’s parents. The Rolling Stones belted out “Gimme Shelter.”

  Abigail reached over, switching the station. Every station was playing “Gimme Shelter.” She grabbed for the volume knob to turn it off. The radio grew louder.

  “Abigail, look out,” Charlotte screamed.

  Abigail turned her eyes away from the radio in time to see she had missed a curve and was heading into oncoming traffic. She swiveled back and pulled over to the side of the road, gasping heavily for air.

  “What’s going on, Abigail?” Charlotte asked.

  “You didn’t hear it.”

  “Oh, the song. “Gimme Shelter.” It’s a good song.”

  “It was on every station.”

  “I think the dial is just broken. It was the same station.”

  I gently tapped Abigail with my paw. “You’re probably right. I was shook up. I should have been watching the road.”

  “Let me be the navigator. You just drive.”

  “Let’s head to the Orange Peel,” Abigail said, the music hall downtown that hosted bands. “There’s a band I’ve been wanting to see.”

  “How do you get in? It’s twenty-one and older.”

  “I’ve got that covered.” Abigail reached into her leather coat pocket. As she did, she looked at me and twitched her nose. A bad habit she had begun after her binge-watching Bewitched. Now she did it just to irritate me. She smiled and retrieved a driver’s license, handing it to Charlotte. “I’m twenty-two, Charlotte.”

  “How’d you?”

  “I’ve got connections. Don’t worry about it.”

  We pulled up to the Orange Peel. Abigail found parking across the street, twitching her nose to pay the fee. I would have to have words with her about the judicious use of her powers. There was a line of hipsters waiting impatiently to get in. Many of them held their iPhone inches from their faces, giving them a ghostly hue. Abigail ran up to the bouncer, bypassing the line. He ushered the girls in. Pixel and I were able to sneak in. No one ever glanced down at their feet. Abigail’s beauty kept all eyes on her. When she was in the room, no one else mattered.

  Pixel and I walked between the legs clad with skinny jeans and short skirts, our paws sticking to the floor. Pixel stopped and licked his paws every ten steps.

  Abigail and Charlotte were ushered to a special booth, left of the stage. Pixel and I jumped up onto the half circle bench, crouching under the table. Abigail rubbed my fur. Pixel popped his head up until his eyes were level with the table. Thankfully the room w
as dark and loud, and no one saw us. Pixel noticed the plate of nachos that the table next to us was enjoying. He stared at Abigail with his big saucer eyes. She smiled back and ordered a plate of nachos and two beers. The opening band came out, introduced themselves, and started playing what sounded like chaos to me. I could not get used to this din that was called music in this time; however, everyone else could, judging by the crowded dance floor.

  After our second plate of nachos and fourth round of beers, a young man came over to the table. He was tall and good-looking, wearing a T-shirt that read Enchanting Alice. He held out his hand to Charlotte. “Dance with me?”

  Charlotte took his hand. Abigail had turned down several offers to dance instead choosing to get drunk. “Abigail, you’re driving,” I said.

  “I’ll put a spell on the car.” She almost slurred her words.

  “Still, you’re not thinking clearly.”

  “Terra, I think I deserve to have a little fun. I don’t know why you’re here.”

  “Abigail, I heard the song too. It was playing on every station. Someone is trying to tell you something. It’s a warning.”

  “It’s not a warning, Terra. Not everything is black magic or white magic or goose bumps.”

  I knew better than to argue with her, but I knew I was right. And more importantly she knew I was right. Pixel lay on his back, licking the nacho cheese off his paw.

  “Me full,” he said, a phrase I seldom heard him say.

  The waitress brought over another bottle of beer. I scratched Abigail’s leg under the table.

  “Stop it,” she scolded me, swatting me away. Her eyes turned fire red as she spoke the words. I was flung against the back of the seat and fell to the floor. I had half a mind to leave her to her own doing, but I couldn’t. Elizabeth never left me, and I had rebelled against her many times. The night of May Day in the woods with Prudence and the rest of my sisters. That night I had seen the true power of Elizabeth Oakhaven. As much as I loved her, I feared her, not that she would ever harm my sisters or me, but I feared what she could become if not for the goodness of her heart. I had that same love and fear of Abigail. She was not in control of her emotions or her magic, and those two worlds if ever were to collide would be devastating. I cleaned myself off and jumped back up, snuggling against her. She looked down, her eyes glassy and watery. “I don’t feel so good, Terra.”

  She ran toward the back corner with me on her heels. She reached the women’s washroom only to find the door locked. She pounded. She held a hand over her mouth and pounded again. This time the door flung open. We saw Charlotte on the floor with the man she had been dancing with on top of her. He was tearing at her clothes, his hand over her mouth. Abigail screamed, “No.” His body lifted off Charlotte and smashed into the ceiling, arms and legs outstretched like they were tied to a whipping post. Charlotte’s eyes burst open, staring straight up at him. His body shook, a rain shower of blood pouring out his nose onto Charlotte.

  “Abigail, stop,” I yelled. “Stop now.” I couldn’t stop her. In her rage, she couldn’t hear me.

  Charlotte grabbed Abigail and shook her. “What are you doing? What’s happening?”

  Abigail turned her gaze from him to her. And then they both ran out of the bathroom. They didn’t stop until we had reached the car. Abigail bent over and threw up. Charlotte crouched into the grass next to the car, shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to comfort either one of them. I slowly walked up next to Charlotte and rubbed my head against hers. She grabbed me and then threw me onto the sidewalk. Pixel charged her with claws extended.

  “Stop, Pixel,” I yelled. “She’s scared. Leave her.”

  Pixel came back and cleaned my wounds.

  Abigail composed herself and slowly came over to Charlotte, who looked up at her with terror in her eyes. She crawled backward on the ground. “Get away from me, you freak. What kind of monster are you?”

  “Charlotte, listen.” Abigail tried to calm her.

  “No, I mean it, just keep away from me.” Charlotte righted herself and took off down the crowded street.

  Abigail started to take off after her. I stopped her. “Let her go.” I nodded to Bryson who was behind Abigail, watching. He had come the minute Abigail broke down the bathroom door. He understood what I needed and flew off to follow Charlotte. “Keep her safe,” I told him as he flew overhead.

  “Terra, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” Abigail said, sinking onto the grass.

  “Let me stop you there. You were drunk and out of control. You have no idea the power you wield. You must keep your senses about you.”

  “Yes, Terra, I see that now.”

  “Do you, Abigail?”

  “What are we going to do about Charlotte?”

  “Let me worry about that. Call an Uber. We’re going to the Leaf & Page.”

  Abigail nodded.

  Chapter 22

  Dear Prudence

  Albert greeted us at the door of the Leaf & Page. “Beatrice is asleep. You must be quiet.” He let us in. I thought about asking Albert about the ghost from the Biltmore basement, but ghosts like humans associate in cliques according to time periods and the way they left the earth. Bradley had served in the Civil War, so the Biltmore ghost was drawn to him. Albert was a young ghost, heartbroken from leaving his beloved. He had no friends in the next world. He didn’t quite understand yet that he was not living.

  Pixel lay down on the couch in the sitting room. He didn’t look well either. I sniffed his breath. He had been sneaking drinks at the Orange Peel. He would not be a happy orange cat in the morning. Abigail plopped down next to him and passed out. I paced back and forth. Charlotte was my problem now. She was a Tangledwood yet didn’t seem to have any of their bloodline, not even a shade of Mrs. Tangledwood’s aura. Something was quite different about her. She seemed in all likelihood to be human, but I had a cat sense about her. I leaped onto the window seat and stared onto the cobblestone street. I yawned and half closed my eyes. This was a problem that would wait till the morning.

  I’m dreaming again. I hear high-pitched giggles. Prudence is lying next to me on the grass, staring up at the stars. My other sisters are doing the same each talking about their witch star. I look at Prudence as I did when I was a girl with love and acceptance even knowing what the future would bring.

  “Terra, I’m going to visit my star as Elizabeth has. And when I do I’ll come back as powerful as her.”

  “Prudence, it’s late, and I worry we’ll be found,” I said.

  “There’s only a few minutes before May Day is finished. Let’s enjoy them.” She put her hand in mine. “Let’s swear an oath on our witch stars, this night we swear we will always be sisters and best friends.”

  “I swear, Prudence.”

  “I swear, Terra—”

  “What are you girls doing?”

  I turned to see Farmer Johnson holding his lantern and a pitchfork. He lifted the lantern, trying to see our faces. We all scattered except Prudence, who stood slowly and walked toward him. “No Prudence,” I screamed. It was too late.

  She raised her hands, and his lantern extinguished. He gasped and pointed his pitchfork at her. She waved her hand as though swatting away a fly, and the pitchfork flew out of his hand. Prudence’s eyes burned fire red. She began murmuring an incantation. I ran up to her and begged her, tears streaming down my face. She flung me away. “He knows us, Terra. The secret.”

  What happened next, I blocked from my memory or Elizabeth did. I’ll never know for sure. The moment Master Johnson disappeared, Elizabeth appeared. She grabbed Prudence by the back of her hair. Prudence fell to the ground. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I was protecting the coven.”

  “The oath, Prudence, you swore, the oath you promised never to harm a human. To use our powers for only good.”

  I felt a warm, wet sensation on the back of my head. I woke to see Pixel staring over me. “Me sorry, Terra. My tummy no good.”

  C
hapter 23

  Mr. Tangledwood’s Wild Ride

  Abigail moaned and rolled over on the couch. I had pulled the afghan over her to ward off the evening chill. Pixel was still asleep on her feet.

  Mrs. Twiggs came bounding down the stairs, humming. It was five thirty a.m. “Time to make the scones,” she murmured. Thursday was scone day, Friday muffins, Saturday cinnamon buns, Sunday and Monday closed, Tuesday fluffy croissants buttery maybe some chocolate, some almond, Wednesdays donuts, but always fresh-baked iced cookies, petit fours and coffeecakes. Full breakfast usually consisted of egg soufflés, eggs courtesy of Henrietta and the girls from the small henhouse in the garden behind the Leaf & Page. Each day you could set a calendar by the smell coming out of the kitchen. Mrs. Twiggs stopped as she walked past the opening to the sitting room, walked backward and peeked in. “Terra, why’s Abigail on the couch?”

  “Mrs. Twiggs, I think we should have a talk.”

  She reached around the door, slipped her apron over her head, and tied it. She glanced at the cuckoo clock. “Okay, Terra, it has to be quick. The day is ticking away from us.”

  Albert gave her a wink from his portrait.

  We sat at the small kitchen table. “Abigail was drinking last night and I’m afraid had a little too much. She is not feeling well.”

  “Where was she drinking? How? She’s underage.”

  I gave her a look that like really, you don’t think a witch could manage to acquire alcohol.

  “I guess she’s still a young girl trying to find herself.”

  “That’s not all, Mrs. Twiggs. Charlotte was with us. There was an incident. Abigail used her magic.”

  “And Charlotte saw?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my this is a pickle. What do we do? Where is Charlotte? Is she okay?”

  “Yes, Bryson followed her. She made it home to the Tangledwood Estate. He made sure she got in safely.”