Catalpa's Curse

by Terri Reid

  Agnes sat still, watching the bodies of her daughters in their restful state, and praying that their spirits would be safe in the spirit realm.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Cat hadn’t traveled through the spirit realm in a long time. She glanced around at all the shadowy figures that occupied the dimension that was on the other side of the veil from life. Movement was quick and purposeful, as spirits moved past her in a blur, eager to get to their next destination. She noticed a bright glow out of the corner of her eye and turned to gaze at it, as she was pulled along by Patience and her sisters.

  “Heaven,” she whispered, staring at the light.

  It would be so easy to let go of Hazel’s hand and just float toward the light. It would be peaceful there; she just knew it. She would be surrounded by love, and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

  Suddenly, their forward movement stopped, and when Cat looked around, Patience was standing in front of her. Her eyes were filled with sympathy and sadness. She didn’t speak, but Cat could hear Patience’s voice in her head.

  “I’ve been dead for a long time,” she whispered. “And one of the most important things I’ve learned from the spirits I interact with is that anyone who chose to come before their time carries with them a mountain of regret.”

  Cat shook her head, glancing beyond Patience to the bright light in the distance.

  “But it’s so beautiful and peaceful there,” Cat argued.

  Patience nodded. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “When you’re taken at the right time. But when you go early, you’re responsible for the grief and pain your family and friends feel. You’re responsible for the problems that have gone unresolved. You’re responsible for the things you were supposed to accomplish.”

  Cat sighed and nodded. “I didn’t realize,” she said sadly.

  “And,” Patience added with gentle sympathy. “What’s usually the worst part, is that you realize the pain you’d been going through was only temporary and there were wonderful things in store for you in your future, and you denied yourself that joy.”

  “It doesn’t seem temporary,” Cat admitted.

  Patience laughed softly. “That’s because you’re still on human time,” she replied. “Eternal time gives you a whole different perspective about things. Now, are you ready to continue? Because I can promise you, this problem cannot be solved without your help.”

  Cat glanced over at her sisters, who were waiting patiently in front of them. “How could I have even considered hiding away in heaven when I know what’s at stake for my family?” she asked Patience.

  “When we’re overwhelmed, we’re often tempted by what seems to be an easier solution,” Patience explained. “Usually, that’s the time when we need to stop and allow ourselves a moment to reflect and rest. And remember what’s important to us.”

  Cat nodded. “I’m ready,” she said firmly. “Thank you for your help.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Patience replied. “And now, we need to hurry.”

  They continued, but this time, Cat didn’t allow her vision to stray and kept her eyes firmly focused in the direction Patience was leading them. Suddenly, they were no longer in the hazy portals of the spirit realm, they were inside the B&B on the third-floor level, and there were a group of other spirits dressed in old-fashioned clothing standing together in the center of the room.

  “I don’t feel good about this,” a portly older gentleman was stating. “We need to leave it to the Willoughbys to fix this. We’ve done enough damage.”

  The bitter laughter of one of the women drew Cat’s immediate attention. She looked familiar. Where had she seen her before?

  “The Willoughbys are not the saviors everyone thinks they are,” the woman snapped. “Many of us feel this entity would offer us help to protect many of the downtrodden and misunderstood in our community. The Willoughby’s are imposing their will on the rest of us.”

  Hazel turned and looked at Cat, her eyes wide. “Wanda,” she mouthed.

  Cat immediately pictured the peroxide-blonde floosy who was part of the other coven in Whitewater.

  “Now, Mistress Wildes,” the old man continued, confirming that this was indeed Wanda’s ancestor. “The Willoughbys are risking their lives for us. For all of us.”

  Mistress Wildes smiled, and Cat immediately recognized the manipulative maneuver. “Well, of course they are,” the woman cooed. “And I just think we need to do all we can to help them. This spell I’ve put together will bind the entity and help them send it away. Perhaps by doing this, we can save the Willoughby sisters lives.”

  “And you think it will help them?” the man asked. “It might save them?”

  “Why else would I even consider doing it?” Mistress Wildes replied innocently. “I’ve not only created an incantation to bind the entity, but I’ve also created an amulet to increase the power we have over the entity.”

  The old man sighed and nodded his head. “Very well,” he said sadly. “Very well, we will work together to bind the entity in order to save the Willoughbys.”

  Mistress Wildes smiled widely. “You won’t regret this, Dr. Pratt. You won’t regret this at all. Now everyone, quickly, enter into a circle and hold hands while I read the spell.”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Finias, Henry, and Joseph sat around a large library table, each with a stack of books next to them, scanning pages of diaries and composition books. Joseph finished another one, closed the marbled black and white cover and moved it into the already-read pile. He ran his hands through his hair and sat back in his chair.

  “This is ridiculous,” he stated, bringing the heads of the other two men up and out of the books they were reading.

  “What?” Henry asked.

  “Trying to find any useful information from these stacks of useless prattle,” Joseph replied.

  Henry judiciously placed a sheet of paper between the pages of the journal he’d been reading and also sat up, stretching his back and his neck along the way. “I don’t know,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ve encountered several recipes for herbal ointments I’m going to share with Rowan, a spell for curing a dry cow, and some juicy gossip about the women who run the millinery. Who knew that hats could be so scandalous?”

  “And that’s just what I mean,” Joseph said. “We might be wasting our time here. There might not be any information about what happened in the upper rooms of the academy in this entire library. We should be doing more.”

  “Often, it’s the little things that bring us the greater rewards,” Finias said.

  Joseph rolled his eyes and sent Finias a look of exasperation. “Okay, that’s something that I could find inside a Fortune cookie. It’s not what I want to hear when we are trying to save the lives of the Willoughbys.”

  The rattle of the doorknob silenced them all immediately, and Joseph carefully lowered his hand to the gun in his holster. All eyes were locked on the door as it slowly opened, and a petite, older woman stepped inside. She looked around at the men, and calmly shook her head.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to find you in my library,” she scolded. “The proper action would have been to ask permission.”

  “Mrs. Anderson?” Henry asked, recognizing the woman as the one who’d guarded his family’s grimoire. “Charity Pratt Anderson? Do you remember me?”

  She looked at Henry and smiled. “Why, of course,” she said eagerly. “You are a Goodfellow, are you not?”

  He nodded. “My mother was a Goodfellow,” he agreed. “I’m Henry Goodfellow McDermott.”

  “And why are you in my library in the middle of the night?” she asked him.

  “We are still working on finding a solution to ending the curse,” Henry explained. “And we believe that something happened in the special room of the Pratt Institute. Something that might have bound the demon to that house.”

  Her eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. “So, it is true,” she exclaimed softly. “I’d read rumors, but I n
ever thought…I mean, I’d hoped that my ancestor had not allowed such dark magic to happen within the walls of the academy.”

  “What happened?” Finias asked.

  Charity turned to him and straightened herself up to her full five-foot height. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she replied coolly.

  “Forgive me,” Henry inserted. “Charity Pratt Anderson, this is Ellis Thomas, a colleague of mine, and this is Police Chief Joseph Norwalk. We have been working together to find a solution for the Willoughbys.”

  Her reserve diminished, and she smiled cordially at the other two men. “Well, truly, if you had just called me, I could have saved you quite a bit of time,” she said, hurrying to the furthest set of shelves and pulling out a large leather-bound book that resembled a family Bible. “When I found these journals, I knew they had to be placed in a special place. If not only for the preservation of the Pratt’s good name.”

  She carried the book to the table and lifted the front cover. The inside of the book was hollow, and a dusty, leather bound journal lay at the bottom of the cavity. Charity reached inside and gently took out the book. “This was my great-great-great grandfather’s journal,” she explained. “Morris Pratt. And he wrote about the binding spell in this journal.”

  “So, there was a binding spell,” Finias said softly. “That answers a lot of questions.”

  Charity held the book to her chest. “Well, perhaps not,” she said sadly. “Morris discovered that he’d been fooled. Mistress Wildes didn’t bind the demon; she gave him more power.”

  “Wildes?” Joseph exclaimed. “As in the Wildes Coven?”

  Charity nodded. “Yes, Mistress Wildes was one of the witches who felt they could use the power of the demon to curtail the persecution of their kind,” she said. “And, after having researched this for years, I’ve come to believe she and others like her, wanted to use some of that power to exact revenge.”

  “May I see the entry?” Henry asked.

  With just a moment’s hesitation, Charity handed the book to Henry and sighed with reassurance when he pulled out his handkerchief and covered his hands, so the oils from his fingers didn’t mar the leather covering of the old journal. He delicately opened the cover and looked down at the yellowing pages. “What’s the date of the entry?” he asked.

  “October 28th,” Charity replied. “Three days before Samhain.”

  “Ah, three days,” Finias added. “How ironic.”

  “What’s ironic about three days?” Joseph asked.

  “In scripture, the number three signifies completeness or perfection,” Finias replied. “Throughout the Old and New Testament, three days signified an important event.”

  “So, they were mocking the Bible?” Joseph asked.

  Finias shrugged. “Or they were trying to pull on power that was not theirs to use,” he said. “Three days also points to most acts of divine intervention that impacts the history of mankind.”

  Henry carefully turned to the entry dated October 28th. “I have it,” he said, looking down at the faded handwriting. “Let me try and read it to you.”

  “I am ashamed to confess that I have allowed myself and the Academy to be used for evil purposes. Mistress Wildes, claiming that she wanted to help the Willoughbys in their quest to imprison the demon, instead created a spell and an amulet that would, instead, offer the demon greater power and an eventual release from its confinement.”

  Henry looked up at Joseph and Finias. “This could be why the demon was able to use its power and influence people before Samhain.”

  He looked down and continued reading.

  “We created the circle and cleared the space with sage, as we have done in the past. Mistress Wildes moved from the edge of the circle to the middle and took several things from the pockets of her robe. She placed a small earthen bowl in the middle of the floor, then she laid a thin lead tablet with etching on it inside the bowl. Afterwards she sprinkled some concoction made from herbs and other things on top of the tablet. To the best of my memory, this is the incantation she chanted:

  We summon the sacred power of three,

  To diminish the spell they create for thee,

  The sisters will try, but will not succeed,

  As I demand, so mote it be.

  As soon as we understood what she was saying, it took us a moment to reconcile ourselves to her betrayal, and then we all jumped forward to stop her. But it was too late. The lead tablet, with what I now understand was the spell etched onto it, had melted in the bowl along with special herbs for protection and remnants of pieces of hair and clothing from the Willoughby sisters.

  We were able to restrain Mistress Wildes and keep her secured until after Samhain, but I believe the damage had already been done. The Willoughbys now had a more powerful enemy on their hands. I confiscated the amulet and hid it away. I know it holds great power, and I will not risk that it will be used for evil.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Cat, Hazel, Patience, and Rowan watched as the scene Henry had just read at the library of the museum was played out before them.

  “Big surprise, a Wildes lied,” Hazel said.

  “Not a surprise,” Cat said. “But a game changer. Did the sisters know about the spell?”

  Patience shook her head. “As far as I know, there was no mention of another spell,” she said, her eyes wide with concern. “This could change everything.”

  “What do you mean?” Rowan asked.

  “The spells in the grimoire that were used to guide you were based on only one spell imprisoning the demon,” Patience explained. “Because of this extra spell, lessening the sisters’ powers, everything we thought we could do has changed.”

  Cat turned quickly, watching the ghost of Morris Pratt hurry to the middle of the circle and pick something up. “What’s that?” she asked, as he hurried toward the fireplace.

  “We have to go,” Patience interrupted. “It’s nearly dawn.”

  “But, wait, Professor Pratt has something in his hands,” Cat argued.

  Suddenly, the spirit of Mistress Wildes turned and looked directly at Patience and the sisters. “I know who you are, and I know what you are trying to do,” she said to them. “But you will not triumph this time. The sisters died in vain, and so will you.”

  Anger overwhelmed Cat at Mistress Wildes mocking smile. “You’re not going to win,” Cat said. “We know about your betrayal.”

  Mistress Wildes laughed. “And you will take that knowledge with you to the grave.”

  “Cat now!” Patience exclaimed, grabbing hold of Cat’s hand. “We need to go now!”

  Suddenly, Cat found herself being pulled away from the room and back into the spirit realm along with her sisters.

  “Patience,” Cat began to complain, turning toward Rowan’s spirit guide.

  “Hurry!” Patience shouted, and Cat was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. Patience was always calm.

  “What…” Cat began.

  “He’s here,” Patience said, her voice shaking. “We have to run!”

  Cat glanced over her shoulder and saw a swirling, dark substance snake around the area they’d just come from. It wove around, like a black cloud in the shape of a serpent, entering and exiting the room they’d been in.

  She turned back and pushed forward, with little success. Running in the spirit realm was like running in waist deep water; her forward motion was slowed by the atmosphere around her. “This isn’t working,” Cat cried out, her thoughts touching her sisters’ minds.

  “We’ve got to keep going,” Rowan replied. “We don’t have any choice.”

  Cat glanced over her shoulder again and wished she hadn’t. The serpent had turned away from the outside of the room and was now slithering in their direction.

  “He sees us,” Cat warned. “And he’s headed in our direction.”

  “He can’t hurt us,” Hazel said. “Right, Patience?”

  “We’re in his realm right now,” Patience rep
lied. “We need to hurry!”

  “Crap!” Hazel responded. “He’s gaining on us, and we’re running through oatmeal. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “Our magic isn’t going to work here,” Rowan said.

  “We’re almost back,” Patience said, releasing Cat’s hand. “Just keep going straight ahead, to that portal.”

  “Wait, where are you going?” Cat asked.

  Patience smiled at her. “I’m already dead,” she said, moving behind her. “He can’t hurt me. Now run!”

  The sisters ran forward, and Cat glanced behind once more to see Patience step in front of the swirling dark mass. She held up her hands and light shone from them. The darkness was deterred for only a moment but then surged forward, wrapping itself around the gentle guide.

  Cat saw brief bursts of light escaping from the dark swirling mass; then there was only darkness. The serpent uncoiled itself and pushed forward, towards them.

  “Just a few more steps,” Rowan cried.

  “Hurry!” Cat screamed from the back, as the darkness was nearly upon them.

  “Jump!” Hazel cried.

  They woke up, their hearts pounding, and they gasped for breath as their spirits reunited with their bodies.

  “What happened?” Agnes asked. “Are you alright?”

  Cat shook her head as she tried to speak but failed. Suddenly, the puppy dashed into the room with Fuzzy chasing close behind. The puppy ran to Cat’s side and stood up, its paws on her shoulders, licking her cheek. “I’m okay,” she finally panted. “I’m okay.”

  Then the puppy sat down and began to bark angrily at her.

  Cat rolled her eyes and waved her arms in exasperation, immediately Donovan, the man, was sitting on the floor in front of her. “And another thing,” he shouted. “What the hell were you thinking going off like that without one of us...”

  He looked around and then looked down at himself. “I’m not a dog!” he exclaimed. “Why not?”