‘It doesn’t feel right.’ I clutched my arms around myself even though it was anything but cold. ‘Could we not do this at Bonaventure?’
It was something I never thought I’d ask. Please, Catherine, can we go to the cemetery instead of the plantation because that is somehow less creepy and inappropriate? This was all wrong, the stillness, the surprise, my bare feet and arms. I was too vulnerable, we both were.
‘We are not ignorant of the terrible things that happened here but we also know that without Wormsloe, it’s very possible Savannah might have failed as a city,’ my grandmother said. ‘The crops grown on these lands fed thousands of people and created trade, allowing the settling families to thrive, including ours. None of that would have been possible without the enslaved people brought here and forced to live and work on the plantation. We can’t go back in time and change things but we can ensure no one is forgotten, that what happened here is acknowledged. That is part of our job.’
‘As witches?’
‘As human beings,’ Catherine replied. ‘Although I fear these days we are fighting an uphill battle.’
We stayed on the path and the sultry heat of the day faded away. I didn’t notice how much the temperature had dropped until there were goosebumps on my arms. The night was now cold and quiet, and full of invisible eyes, watching.
‘I’ve been reading some of my dad’s research,’ I said, filling the unnerving silence with the sound of my voice without giving away too much information. If she didn’t ask how I had it, I wouldn’t tell her. ‘It’s really interesting.’
‘Is that right?’ she replied as cool as the evening.
‘I thought he was working on a book about early settlers in the US but it was more specific than that,’ I said, nodding into the night. ‘I found a passenger manifest for theAnne. He was researching the first Emma Catherine Bell.’
Catherine gave no response for a moment and when she did speak, I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me.
‘This avenue of oaks was planted in the 1890s,’ she said. ‘They feel ancient, don’t they? You’d think they were so much older.’
Not exactly what I was expecting her to say.
‘Sometimes things aren’t exactly as they seem. Perhaps the same could be said about your father’s research,’ she added, stopping to place her hands on my shoulders. ‘Emily, I know it must be difficult, wondering what other lies Paul might’ve told you, but please always remember how much he loved you.’
‘I know he loved me,’ I replied, suddenly stung. ‘Why would you say that? What else do you think he lied about?’
‘I think there might be a lot of things he didn’t tell you. But he did love you. Always hold on to that.’
And she resumed her steady march into the darkness.
The avenue of oaks went on forever and I was lost, not only in this strange place but in my own thoughts. I wanted Catherine to be wrong but I was very afraid she might be right. My own half-truths pressed down on my soul, guilt scraping at my edges. I was planning to tell Catherine about Wyn eventually. Would my dad have shared the truth with me one day? The question churned around inside me, my answers changing as quick as the breeze.
My grandmother, on the other hand, had never looked more at ease, slinking over the uneven ground like a lioness on the hunt and where my white sack dress was big and baggy, hers draped over the sharp angles of her body. Ritual attire but make it fashion. When we finally came to the end of the oaks, she directed me straight ahead, away from a squat, square building on our left and a clearing that looked very much like an empty parking lot on the right.
‘You made us walk all this way when there’s a parking lot right there?’ I grumbled as we left it behind.
‘The walk through the oaks was part of the ritual.’ Catherine took my hand and pulled me off the path and into the woods. ‘If our sisters deemed you unworthy, we wouldn’t have made it this far.’
I didn’t bother to ask what would have happened in that scenario. I didn’t want to know.
The woods grew denser with every step we took, trees growing closer together, knitting their branches into a tangled mess, naturally designed to keep people out. But witches, it seemed, were welcome. Every time we faced an impasse, the snarl pulled apart to let us through. Magic pricked the tips of my fingers and the ebb and flow of warm energy washed over me as we moved closer to our destination. Whatever was going to happen tonight had already begun. There was no backing out now.
‘This is the place,’ Catherine said, her voice firm and strong.
No point in lowering it out here. There wasn’t as much as a squirrel to disturb. It was just us. The woods, the earth and the sky. But what a sky. I tilted my head back and gasped. When we climbed out of the car, there hadn’t been a single visible star. Now the black night was studded with sparkling diamonds, just like the third-floor ceiling of Bell House. Directly above us, the new moon shone bright, a pure slice of light, a promise of what was to come.
‘A new moon represents new beginnings,’ my grandmother intoned, circling me slowly with unknown intent. ‘A new moon allows us to set our intentions. A new moon welcomes you, Emma Catherine Bell. Wilcuma.’
It took a moment to realize she was talking to me, I was too busy staring at the trees. Their boughs groaned with the strain of transformation as they wove themselves into a sacred circle, building a wall around me and my grandmother until all that was visible to us was the night sky.
‘All of those who came before and all of those to come,’ Catherine recited. ‘We ask you to acknowledge us.’
‘I feel like I’m in a play and I don’t know my lines,’ I whispered when she came towards me to take hold of my wrist. She sank to her knees and I did the same. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Just listen,’ she replied, pulling a long, pointed dagger from her sleeve and placing it on the ground between us. ‘Just be.’
But it was hard to listen when you were afraid and I was petrified. Why did we need a knife? Why had she hidden it from me until now? The stars burned brighter and the sensation in my hands intensified, building and spreading through my body until I was afraid I would come apart at the seams.
