“No Sugar, I sure wasn’t. You know that.”
“Then shut your trap boy!”
Jupiter was foiled again. The old woman had one up on everyone. The force of her personality was like a torrential storm. It just whipped you around, no matter how hard you staked yourself to your own ground. She could send you spinning off and away, and there was no fighting it. Opal recognized the same traits in herself.
“I believe you, Sugar. I’ve seen them too!”
“Now you both are talking foolish! Ain’t no such thing.” Jupiter dismissed their nonsense with a wave.
“You see girl, these big men don’t like hearing that a little old woman like Sugar can handle a dang chicken, much less a big razorback like that one I done shot. They sure don’t like hearing about how I know that silver stops the worst kind of magic—especially conjuring gone bad. Most men don’t think period. They just start shooting and blowing everything to Hades. They don’t care whether they doing any good,” Sugar said, wagging her finger back and forth at Jupiter and Opal.
“Yes ‘em!” Opal said.
“You get my meaning girl? You got to be smart. Use what you know. Use what you got. Never let someone tell you that you can’t do something.”
Jupiter chimed in. “She’s right about that. Amen to it! If you give up on yourself, then you might as well just dig a grave and hop in it.”
“Of course I am right. I’m right about all of it! Damn boy, who you think you talking to?” Sugar smacked Jupiter with the kitchen towel she was holding.
He winced his raisin eyes at the sting of the towel but kept talking. “All I ever wanted to be was a lawman. Wanted it since I was knee-high. But when I got older, I let others tell me it ain’t going to happen, that it’s a white man’s job. When you let others set your course like that, it haunts you. It takes the fire right out you. Now we got that fool Elkins with a badge, pushing all of Hookrum around—and I got me scared of my own damn shadow.”
Sugar and Opal looked at each other bewildered by Jupiter’s revelation. Opal had never heard Jupiter talk about himself so openly. Sugar seemed shocked as well. When he finished, he just shook his gray head and went back to polishing Abner’s boots.
“A little woman like you has to learn these things—and learn quick. Ain’t no man gonna to be there to save you all the time. Some of them can’t even save themselves,” said Sugar. She hooked her thumb in Jupiter’s direction and gave Opal a wink.
Opal wished she had Sugar’s confidence. It seemed to cure all her worries. If only she could drink in the strength of the old woman like a magic potion.
The Ranger’s scouting had finally paid off. The Summerfield girl was back in Grigg’s Landing. From a safe distance, he watched her as she walked out the back door of the Worthington house and across the apple grove. She was with an older servant who he recognized immediately.
He had seen this feisty old woman stare down and shoot a raging wereboar. She had hit the beast right in the flank with a silver bullet. It was the first time he saw the effect of silver on that terrible witch’s hex. It had been a startling moment, because before that incident he thought the only option was to kill all the men who’d been cursed. He had never suspected there might be a cure.
The old woman didn’t appear to be a conjurer, but she carried herself as if she were full of power, and that power gave him comfort that Summerfield would be safe for now.
He would check back in on her tomorrow, because he had an overwhelming feeling that she would not be in that place for long. He felt confident that her destiny lay elsewhere.
49
Weeks later, Opal stood alone in the burned shell of her former home. She was silent, trying to calm the tempest of her emotions. The barn was destroyed, and even the cornfields were damaged. Black stalks and burned husks peppered the field, rotting their way back into the earth.
Without Hud’s constant attention, the fields had gone fallow. The wilderness was already recapturing the land. Nothing looked the same. Everywhere, signs of her personal apocalypse lingered. Dreams had died here.
In the front yard, there was a new stump surrounded by green sawdust. It was the spot of her uncle’s last stand. Opal knew that Franklin and Roe had chopped down the giant oak. It was a small protest for the sake of their brother’s memory. The tree could not stand after it had been misused in such a horrific way. The brothers chopped and burned most of the tree but kept enough to build a cross, which they adorned with candles, flowers, a pipe and tobacco, and scraps of written tributes and prayers.
Late one evening, they launched the makeshift raft into the water of the Buffalo under the Main Street Bridge. Opal had been invited to the little ceremony and she stood at a distance watching. She remained dry eyed as those small tokens, symbolizing her adoptive parents, sailed away. She couldn’t risk a crack forming in her new, barely-hardened emotional shell. So when Uncle Roe and Uncle Franklin started crying, Opal turned and walked away.
That ceremony had been months ago, and now those feelings were buried deep—at least that’s what she told herself as she walked from the stump toward her house.
She could make out lines of ash where the kitchen had stood; it looked like someone had sketched it out in gray chalk. The barn was a heap of half-burned timber. Opal wondered about Ladybug and Governor. She prayed that they had escaped somehow and were wandering the hills free and happy.
Old memories washed over Opal as she sat down on a boulder that marked the corner of the property. She saw herself with Bree and Hud, and she felt grateful that these precious moments continued to collect in her heart like raindrops filling a barrel.
Then Opal’s emotions betrayed her and everything turned bitter. Those same memories suddenly seemed like images of stolen treasure, and her loss made her feel so poor in spirit that she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She cried for the second time since the attack those many months back.
Lost in her grief, Opal got up and retraced her old routine. She went back and forth over the ground she had once walked each morning to help Bree and Hud. She wished she could step through a doorway in time and return to those happy days.
Then, as if a ghost from her past was haunting her, she saw Devilhead coming through a thin hedge of Queen Anne’s lace. He ran at her like a tiny steam engine off its rails. Opal shouted in amazement and kneeled down, knowing that his right-angle maneuver was coming.
This time the crazy bird broke protocol and ran straight to her. He buried his ghastly little head in the crook of her arm. Nudged into his old enemy’s warmth, Devilhead clucked once, fluttered twice, and went still. It was as if he had found his way home to his favorite nest.
Opal was suddenly so happy that more tears rolled down her cheeks. The mean old bird just stayed curled up like the baby Jesus in Mother Mary’s arms. She wrapped the rooster in her sweater and walked down the road, the last treasure of her old life in hand. The two of them made their way through the dark back to her cottage.
During the walk, Opal made peace with her situation. She realized that her old life was permanently over and that staying in Grigg’s Landing would only bring her more pain. There was only one plan that felt right.
I have to find Fallmoon Gap!
50
The old conjurer popped in and out of sight. One minute she was knee deep in the bog raking her hand through the brackish water like a net, then she was a hundred yards away combing the pockmarked ground.
“Is it a meteorite you’re hunting for, Gemaea?” Jakob Prismore asked as he stepped through a magical portal into the foggy marsh.
“Who’s there? Oh, you, old man! Have you come to help? I bet it’s been a long spell since your mighty hand dug in the dirt and dung.”
Gemaea’s pet armadillo crept up behind Prismore and snapped at the corner of his cloak. Prismore knocked the creepy varmint with his cane like a child batting a ball. It hissed and flared its little armor plates and skittered behind a nearby tree.
“O
nly one thing I know calls for fallen stars. Please tell me you’re not witching up some god-awful goblin spell?” Prismore ignored the armadillo sneaking back toward him.
“Didn’t think you cared what I do? We’ve stayed out of each other’s way so long.”
Jakob yelped as he felt the pin pricks of tiny teeth nip through his left boot. He jerked his foot out of the bog and found the black varmint dangling from the end of his foot.
“It seems you have no control over your pets or your apprentices, conjurer. The creature hissed at the old man like it was laughing, but it wouldn’t release its grip, no matter how hard Prismore shook him. “You know why I’m here. Amina is building an army, and it’s obvious she has every intention of attacking Fallmoon Gap again.”
“I taught her, but I don’t control her.”
“Repel!” Jakob snapped, and a burst of sapphire energy erupted from his walking cane and hit the tenacious armadillo. It sailed deep into the forest with a squeal.
“We had a truce Gemaea!”
“As you say, we made a truce—she didn’t. Who can say what a child like that one will do? She’s got too much power up in her, and too many reasons to want to use it.”
“Does she intend to throw her lot in with the Malfeasants?” Jakob asked.
“She intends to rule everything, now don’t she!”
“You need to deal with her. I’m holding you to account.”
“You want to do in everything and everyone that don’t side with you, old man. Ain’t you wise to how wild things are? The Veil needs the dark like it needs the light.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have made the truce after all?”
“Can’t say what you should’ve done, but it’s workin’ for me,” laughed the old witch.
Gemaea didn’t know that Prismore was already gone.
Fig had warned Tirian that heroes can change, but he never thought Prismore would be in league with an evil conjurer like Gemaea. He stood ankle deep in the bog, looking off into space.
The witch was still digging for whatever the heck she wanted and Jakob had apported back to Fallmoon Gap.
Tirian wondered if he should go ahead and kill her now, while he had the chance. But surely that would expose the fact that he had spied on Prismore.
Luka was most likely dead. Jakob was conspiring with conjurers. Eltheon was worried about the reemergence of a deadly powerstone necklace. Bat-monsters were attacking humans. Everything was spinning out of control.
He snuck back to where he’d tied off Remm. It was time to go back to Fallmoon Gap. Maybe Ellie or Fig would give him some good advice. But how could he tell anyone what he’d seen? This changed everything.
51
“It’s not RIGHT!”
Opal had returned to her cottage to find it ransacked. And the worst part—Abner Worthington had confiscated her magical necklace.
“You can’t just take things from people. It’s stealing!”
Jupiter Johnson helped her straighten things up and found the red leather bag from Kawa tossed into one corner.
“That’s exactly what he thinks you’ve done, girl—stole it!” he said.
“But that’s an absolute lie! I’m not going to let him get away with it,” Opal yelled. She smacked her fist into her palm.
Jupiter handed her the red bag. “Honestly, it’s a blessing you weren’t here. He was carrying on about how he was going to turn it over to Sheriff Elkins. Big Maggie says it’s a family heirloom. Got everyone in town looking for it. She’s offering a big reward.”
Opal had no idea why Big Maggie would want her necklace, but the truth was that she didn’t really know where it came from. She just knew that when she was wearing it, it was an irreplaceable part of her. It just could not belong to anyone else. She was sure of it.
“That necklace is mine!” Opal sniped.
“How’d you get it, girl?” Jupiter asked.
“I’ve already told you that! It was Kawa, she brought it to me on my—well, my birthday,” Opal said. As she repeated that story, she realized how crazy it sounded.
“You think the respectable Pastor Worthington is going to side with you when that possum-belly Sheriff Elkins comes around to claim it? Uh…yes sheriff…she says the hawk gave it to her. That’s right, a hawk. Seems the bird knew it was her birthday. Yes, that’s right. I’m absolutely sure it’s hers!” Jupiter said in his best Abner Worthington imitation. “You see girl, it’s only going to look one way to those men.”
Jupiter is right again, she thought.
“Look, that old man is not in his right mind, and I know for sure he didn’t hand it over to the Sheriff yet. So give us some time, we can figure a way to get it back,” he said.
There were many instances when Opal had caught Abner watching her with an intensely critical look, as if he were mentally reviewing all the things he hated about her. His brow was always furrowed. His barely moving lips seemed to mouth inaudible accusations. Opal would look and then look away, while Abner did the same. Some kind of inevitable confrontation seemed to stall every time they were around each other. If she had been here and had the necklace, it might have gone very bad.
Opal looked at Jupiter hoping he would show some sympathy.
“Jupiter, I really think that necklace is my mother’s. Not Bree’s—I mean my real mother. It’s the only thing that might help me find my real family.”
“We’ll figure it out girl. Just hold your horses,” he said. He righted her bedside table and gave her a wink.
She was aware of the necklace calling to her from inside the Worthington house. If she got it back, she decided, she’d never take it off again. Opal tried her best to stuff her feelings.
Jupiter squeezed her with his chalky and calloused hands. “I’ll talk to Sugar about it. Be patient girl.”
They both knew, however, that patient was a word that did not describe Opal Summerfield.
52
At night, after the chores were done in the Worthington house, the servants gathered in the center of the King David Grove. It was their town square. They would kick at fallen apples and whisper about the day’s events long past their ability to see each other.
During one of these meetings, they decided they could no longer ignore Abner Worthington’s weird transformation. He was having more strange visitors to the house. He made questionable nighttime departures without Jupiter in tow. And they all agreed that the raid on Opal’s cottage was unacceptable. Confiscating Opal’s necklace was the last straw. So they put a plan together.
Later that week, Jupiter came to Opal with a gift.
“Sugar’s idea, but I did the making. How do you like it?” he asked.
Jupiter handed Opal a necklace made to look exactly like hers. He was proud of the thing and bent to tie it around her neck.
“It’s perfect. I can’t believe it. Thank you!” Opal said.
She was shocked by the detail of the stone, and its intricate chain had been antiqued to create a perfect match. It was so similar that she found herself overwhelmed with joy at its familiarity. It felt like a reunion with a loved one. But when she let the stone fall to her chest, her elation instantly vanished.
It took a few moments for Opal to understand her feelings about this new necklace. The real stone was alive. It had always been that way. Their relationship was a marriage of sorts. The opal, her namesake, had magic that made it more alive than some people she knew—the stone had given her the comfort of its presence. It was what she didn’t feel that disappointed her. This replica did not live in the same way.
Jupiter could see the sadness in her eyes.
“Girl, that ain’t meant to be the end of it. You don’t even know what we got cooked up. Now listen here!” he said as he bent closer. He explained the rest of the plan to Opal. Her sadness slowly disappeared and a wide-grin crossed her face. She kissed Jupiter’s cheek to seal their conspiracy.
“Tomorrow night then?” Jupiter asked.
“Tomorrow night. I’
ll be ready.” Opal smiled and gave him a hug.
Jupiter hugged Opal back. The two held on a bit longer than they normally would. If they could pull it off, Opal would have her necklace. If they got caught, they would be turned over to Sheriff Elkins.
Jupiter knew what Opal did not—that Kerr Elkins was one of the most vicious men in Grigg’s Landing. If they were caught it would be the end of them both.
The next night, Opal stayed in the kitchen very late. She stood hunched over a tray of tarnished silver, polishing furiously.
Jupiter informed Beatrice Worthington that Opal had skipped her chores, and that he was determined to teach her a lesson, even if it took all night. Beatrice felt a certain pride in Jupiter’s sentiment, believing that she was actually responsible for his industrious attitude. He played to her arrogance expertly, and with the skill of a stage actor. Finally, he escorted her upstairs with a tray of hot tea.
When he came back down, Jupiter adjusted some of the house’s oil lamps and then retreated to the kitchen. He peered out the window at the stable and saw that Abner Worthington was still gone. He returned to the kitchen. He winked at Opal and then made a stern speech. It was loud enough to make its way between the floorboards and into Beatrice’s ears. He signaled Opal again, then left the kitchen and walked out to wait and stand guard.
Opal watched the clock for several more minutes before setting things in motion. She took her shoes off and quietly slinked out of the kitchen. She walked down the hall and tiptoed up the stairs like a mouse. The plan was to get to a certain footlocker in Abner Worthington’s study. After the raid on Opal’s cottage, Jupiter had watched Abner put the necklace in a pine box, which he placed inside the locker.
Opal slipped into Abner’s study. Within a few minutes, she found the footlocker inside a cabinet behind Abner’s enormous desk. Inside the footlocker, she found the pine box, and in the box she found her necklace. As soon as she picked it up, an electric aura enveloped her body. She felt the opal’s magic cover her like the heat of the midday sun.
Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap Page 12
