PART VII: CATHERINE

On Sunday I’m in the pond area, relaxing on the grass next to the water. I read a book of spells, searching for something that may give me an indication as to how I can undo what’s happened to Max. Bolan lazes on the swan’s back, plucking his santir.

“There’s no cure for vampirism,” the wood sprite says, matter-of-factly. “The only way to rid a vampire of his curse is to…,” he stops speaking. I look up from my book and see the white swan making a beeline for the opposite side of the pond near where Bolan’s tree home is.

I close the book and stand. There’s a knock on the fence. I hear two voices on the other side. I open the door and see Calvin and a girl.

“Hi,” Calvin says.

“Well, hello, Calvin,” I say. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Amanda.”

“Hi,” Amanda says, smiling and waving.

Behind the children I see two bicycles. “It’s nice to meet you, Amanda,” I say.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise?” Calvin asks after an awkward moment of silence between the three of us.

This isn’t a nice surprise. The last thing I want is strangers walking around my pond. I now understand why Bolan took off like a shot a moment earlier. He has a keen sense for humans, as all wood sprites do. He’s proud of the fact that no human, other than myself, has ever laid eyes on him, and he intends to keep it that way.

“Um,” I say, taking off my sunglasses and sliding them into the chest pocket of my dress. “I really wish I’d known you were coming.”

“Amanda,” Calvin says. “This is my friend Catherine. She’s a witch.”

“He loves to tell people that,” I say to Amanda.

The girl smiles uncomfortably and looks from me to Calvin and back again.

“Can I show her Octavia?” Calvin asks.

“Well,” I say. “You’re more than welcome to try, but I haven’t seen her today.”

“Amanda doesn’t believe you have a pet octopus,” Calvin says.

“You don’t really have a pet octopus, do you?” Amanda asks.

“It’s a deep pond and there’s a lot of sea life in it,” I say.

“So that’s a no, right? You’re such a liar, Calvin,” Amanda says.

“It almost ate me!” Calvin says.

“Why do you continue to fib?” The young girl asks.

“Can you please show her the octopus, so I don’t look like a liar, Catherine?” Calvin begs.

“Octavia has a mind of her own, and she comes and goes as she pleases. If she wants to show herself, she may do so, but there isn’t a magic word or a secret whistle that will get her to appear at my command.”

In that moment, I’m thankful the pond had been recently restocked as it would mean Octavia was most likely on the hunt and enjoying the crabs crawling along the pond’s floor”

“This is why Craig and Rob are always bullying you,” Amanda says.

“Are those two boys still giving you trouble, Calvin?” I ask.

Calvin looks down at his feet and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Can I at least show her Bregaris?” Calvin asks, changing the subject.

I sigh and put my hand to my forehead. “Okay, but only for a little while. I have things to do this afternoon.”

“Witch things?” Calvin asks.

“Yes, witch things,” I say as I walk toward the house.

The children follow me inside and upstairs. Bregaris, who was lying on the cool tiled floor in the kitchen, hears us enter and rises, stretching.

“Whoa!” Amanda says, her eyes wide.

“See!” Calvin says, pointing at the panther. Bregaris yawns.

I attach the leash to the panther’s collar and walk him downstairs and outside. Bregaris sits and purrs as the children pet his head and back. His powerful tail swishes from side to side. He loves the attention.

“Okay, children. You’ve seen my cat,” I say. “Now, I have things to do. You two need to be getting back to whatever you were up to before you decided to pay me a visit.”

Calvin and Amanda pick their bikes up off the grass and say goodbye. I wave as they cycle out of my driveway and down the street.

I walk Bregaris into the pond area and shut the door behind us. I take off his leash, and he immediately runs and jumps into the water. He stands in the shallows, looking for a fish.

From the opposite side of the pond, Bolan and the white swan reappear. The swan swims over to where I’m standing on the grass.

“He’s close,” Bolan says.

“I had a feeling,” I say. “How did you find out?”

“Wood sprites are friends with all the creatures of the forest. I talk to the birds. The birds talk to the bats. The bats know where the vampires are. They saw him in New York City.”

“I was able to see him in the pond’s reflection the other night. I had a hunch the city I saw him in was New York, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“He’s less than a handful of hours’ drive away as the crow flies,” Bolan says as he slides off the swan’s back and into the water.

“I saw him murder a woman,” I say. “I couldn’t tell when it was. I’m afraid if I leave for the city to find him, he’ll be on the move again, and if he’s headed this way, as I suspect he may be, there’s a chance he’ll pass me traveling in the opposite direction…,” I’m suddenly overcome with emotion, imagining the innocent souls who have perished due to my unwillingness to take Max’s life initially. I stop talking and begin to cry, weeping into my hands.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, witch,” the wood sprite says as he walks out of the water and over to where I’m sitting.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” I whisper. “I was weak.”

“No,” Bolan says, holding me by the shoulders. “Nobody could be expected to take the life of a sibling. It wasn’t your fault what happened to Max. You’re not to blame for his current state.”

“That may be true,” I say, “but if I’d only had the strength at the time, the people he’s murdered would still be alive.”

“And how many people would be dead if you hadn’t bound him with that spell? It’s been two hundred years. Think of all the lives you’ve saved between then and now.”

I nod.

“Nowadays there are cameras everywhere. It’s only a matter of time until he’s caught. For all we know, he’s already in police custody,” Bolan says.

We hear a splashing from the pond, and both Bolan and I turn to see Bregaris with a fish in his mouth. The panther walks proudly out of the water with a smallmouth bass between his mighty jaws. He drops it on the grass and paws at his meal.

“That boy knows you’re a witch,” Bolan says, referring to Calvin.

“Yes,” I say, smiling and brushing away my tears. “That boy is also well known for having a vivid imagination and telling tall tales. Regardless, there’s a much different attitude toward witches in this millennium, Bolan. I’m not worried about being burned at the stake or hanged.”

Bolan sits down next to me on the grass. “Would you have liked to have had children of your own?”

“I would have loved that, yes.”

“I think you would have made a great mother,” the wood sprite says. “What prevented you from starting a family when you came to America?”

I sigh, thinking about T’Chuba. “I suppose more than anything it was guilt.”

“Did you ever try to find others like yourself when you arrived here?”

I shake my head. “I’m sure there are covens in the city, but it’s not easy to come out of the broom closet.”

“Why did you never take up with a companion? I’m sure there were suitors who were interested in you over the years. Was that also because of guilt?”

I think back upon the men I’d met when I first arrived in America. People were generally kind to me. Everyone wanted to help the young, struggling British girl. Through the years, men have come into the store and tried to pick me up. I’ve told them all I’m married. It’s technically not a lie, because I never divorced my husband.

“Yes, I suppose it was guilt,” I say, finally. “I never felt like I deserved any kind of potential romance after what happened to Calvin and our home. Regardless of what or who was to blame for the fire that burned down our house, I’ve always felt responsible for my late husband’s death because I was away at the time the fire started. Had I been there, I may have been able to wake him and get us both out safely. After escaping England, I felt like I owed the world for my life having been spared. I’ve been able to help people using my magic. People who would have otherwise perished were able to live because of me. As long as I’m alive, I’ll continue to help where and when I can. And the best way I can help right now is to find my brother and put an end to the murders.”

Bolan and I are quiet for a long moment. We watch the giant white swan circle the pond.

“Do you think he still loves you?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Whatever became of your older brother and his family?”

“That is something I also don’t know. Once I arrived in America, I never attempted to contact anyone in England. The only person who knew I’d survived the fire was my best friend, and she agreed to keep my escape a secret. Everyone I knew there is long gone now, though there may still be ancestors. I never returned to Britain, and I never will.”

The wood sprite and I are again quiet for a long moment. I still love Max, but in order to put an end to this once and for all, I’m ready to do now what I was unwilling to do initially. I’ll suffer the consequences. Maybe prison is what’s next for me. It’s been so long since I lived without spells to slow my aging process, it may be interesting to grow old naturally.

“Do you dislike being the last of your kind?” I ask.

“I did,” Bolan says, “But then I met you. You’re a good friend, witch. We’re very similar. You lost your family, and I lost mine. You’re the only witch that you know of, and I am the only wood sprite that I know of. It’s as if our friendship was meant to be. It’s no wonder we’ve gotten along so well for as long as we have.”

Bregaris walks over to where we’re sitting. I pick up his leash. Bolan cradles the panther’s big head in his small hands, helping distract the giant feline as I hook the leash to his collar. I say goodbye to my wood sprite friend and walk my large pet inside. I make myself a kettle’s worth of hot tea and pour it into a thermos, then I leave for downtown.

On Sundays, I only keep the store open for a half day. It’s not worth opening at my usual time as barely any traffic comes in before eleven. I work for an hour, going through boxes of donated books and sorting them by category. For lunch, I call in an order of pad thai from a Cantonese restaurant down the street. I used to get it with squid, but since becoming so attached to Octavia, I can no longer bring myself to eat a cephalopod. These days I get it with crab and try to empathize with my octopus pet.

When my lunch arrives, I take a break. I eat half of the pad thai and put the rest in a small refrigerator in the back room of the store. After reopening, business begins to pick up. The rest of the day goes by quickly. As I’m helping customers find what they’re looking for, my mind drifts to thoughts of my brother. Although Bolan’s words were comforting, every day since finding out Max had been freed from my spell, I’ve been living with tremendous guilt for not having taken his life when I’d had the chance.

When I get home from work, I pour myself a glass of chardonnay and prepare to eat what’s left of my lunch. I rarely turn on my TV, but I need a distraction. While watching the local news, something strange happens. The television screen goes black and the sound drops out. I know the TV is getting power as white noise is still audible. This has never happened before. I attempt to turn the set off, but the power button has no effect. I look down at the remote control for a moment, and when I look back at the screen, I see what looks like the face of T’Chuba outlined in the inky blackness of the glass just before the set goes staticky for a moment and the news resumes.

I swallow hard and again attempt to use the remote to power down the set. This time the TV shuts off. I’ve lost my appetite. I replace the lid on the container of pad thai and put it in the refrigerator, then I pour myself another glass of wine and, instead of sitting on the couch in front of the television, I move to the recliner and pick up a Donna Tartt novel from the end table. As I drink my wine and read the story, I find my eyes slowly starting to close. The lamp suddenly goes off completely, leaving me in darkness. I assume the bulb has blown and decide at this point to call it a night, as the universe obviously doesn’t want my attention given to any media at all.

During the night, I’m woken by a noise from outside. It sounds like something being dragged across the backyard. My thoughts go immediately to Octavia. “Don’t tell me she’s let herself out again,” I say as I stand and take my bathrobe off the back of the door and pull it around my body. I slide my slippers on, walk down the hall, descend the stairs, and peer out the small window in the upper part of the backdoor.

I turn on the outside light that illuminates the area surrounding the pond, but there’s no octopus, and the fence door doesn’t appear to have been opened. The dragging noise is heard again, but this time I realize the sound I’m hearing is not something being dragged, but an airy whisper, and it’s saying what sounds like my first name. I open the door to make sure I’m not hearing things. The whisper repeats my name every half minute or so. In the woods to the side of the pond, I see what looks like a light glowing deep in the forest. I shut off the outside light to make sure it’s not just a reflection on the glass. The tiny light dances and blinks. I begin to walk toward it, leaving the backdoor to my house open.

As I get closer to the light, it soon becomes obvious that I’m looking at a flame. As I wander through the forest toward the fire, I notice that the sporadic whisper has now ceased completely. My eyes are focused on the light in the distance. I can’t smell any wood burning, and there appears to be no smoke. There aren’t even any sparks in the air above or around the fire.

The flame hovers inches above the ground in the middle of a circle of trees and is at least five feet tall and three feet wide. As I enter the clearing, I can feel the heat of the fire on my entire body through my robe and pajamas.

“Catherine,” the flame hisses slowly, causing me to jump slightly.

“I’m here,” I say, my voice cracking.

I stare into the flame and see T’Chuba. She’s wearing a long robe. Her hair is down over her shoulders. She appears to be one with the fire.

“Don’t be afraid,” the apparition whispers. “My soul has moved on from this plane.”

“T’Chuba,” I say. “I’m so, so sorry for what happened.”

“There’s no need for you to apologize, child. I knew my fate.”

“But they took you away. They put you in chains. They, they…”

“They burned me alive,” T’Chuba says.

I gasp. My hands cover my mouth. I drop to my knees. “Forgive me,” I say through my fingers. “Please, T’Chuba, forgive me!” I beg as I begin to cry. I fall forward, my hands in the dirt. In the fire’s light I watch as my tears dot the dry earth before me.

The flame slowly disappears. I raise my head. The glowing, translucent figure of T’Chuba is now standing where the fire once was, white and ghostly. She walks slowly over to where I’m kneeling. I look at her through the veil of hair in front of my eyes. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I can feel their warmth through my robe. This all seems so real, but I know better. What I’m experiencing is a haunting. This is a visit from the other side. This is witchcraft.

“Catherine,” T’Chuba says. “You are forgiven.”

I reach up and hold T’Chuba around the waist, crying into her long gown. “Thank you,” I say, sobbing.

“Catherine,” she says. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” I say.

“You mustn’t let the dark art die with you. You must pass on what you’ve learned.”

“I will,” I say. “I promise.”

“There was no avoiding my fate, just as there will be no avoiding yours. My only responsibility now is to make sure that we are not the last of our sect. That’s why you were in my life.”

“T’Chuba,” I say. “I’m so afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid. You must have faith that you will be able to conquer this evil.”

“Can you see my future? Will I be strong enough to defeat him?” I ask the apparition.

But in the next moment, T’Chuba has disappeared. “T’Chuba!” I cry. “T’Chuba! Please don’t leave me!”

It’s night and the air is frigid. I stand and turn. I’m in the middle of the woods in complete darkness. I’m just about to use an incantation to summon fireflies to light my way home when I hear rustling nearby.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“Who else?” A familiar voice says.

“Bolan!” I say. “Where are you?” I recite the incantation and thousands of fireflies race through the woods and swarm, making the shape of a softball-sized globe of light just above my open palm. I look around and see my wood sprite friend emerge from a tree.

“I saw you leave the house, and I couldn’t let you wander all the way out here by yourself. Besides, I’m too curious.”

We both smile.

“She forgave me.”

“Come on,” Bolan says, taking my free hand in his. “I’ll walk you home.”