The Magick of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root) Read online

  THE MAGICK OF DARK ROOT

  (Daughters of Dark Root Book 2)

  by

  April Aasheim

  Copyright © 2014 by April Aasheim

  Published by Dark Root Press

  Cover Art Design 2014 by AnneMarie Buhl and Greg Jensen

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit an official vendor for the work and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Synopsis for The Magick of Dark Root

  “There are rules that must be followed, Maggie.”

  “Even in witchcraft?”

  “Especially in witchcraft. What someone puts into the world comes back to them.”

  “You mean karma?”

  “Like, karma, yes. But for a witch it comes back threefold. Never forget that.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Who said life was fair?”

  In the second installment of The Daughters of Dark Root series, Maggie Maddock and her sisters are back, training under their coven-leading mother Miss Sasha Shantay to take over as the new leaders of The Council. But life isn’t as smooth as Maggie had hoped it would be. Harvest Home’s taxes have come due, and her mother’s illness has returned, stronger than ever. Desperate, Maggie and Eve devise a scheme to make money through witchcraft.

  And that’s when things go terribly wrong.

  To my dad, who told me about the garden.

  Prologue

  FEED THE TREE

  The Forest of Dark Root, Oregon

  Winter Solstice

  The Distant Past

  Sasha Benbridge ran through the forest, her chestnut hair streaming behind her, its tips alight in the near-silver sun, like fairy dust trailing a shooting star.

  Light on her toes and nimble with youth, Sasha rushed towards the spot where she’d seen the sterling cord of lightning strike the earth minutes before. Excitement threatened to swallow her whole as she raced towards her destiny. Her mother had predicted that she would find her tree today, and Sasha never knew her mother to be wrong, at least in the matters of witchcraft.

  “Hurry!” she encouraged herself, though her voice was lost to the wind that whipped through the endless woods around her. She quickened her pace, leaping over the fallen branches and dense brush that impeded her path. She couldn’t risk losing her tree. At twenty years old, she had waited too long already. But today was the day she would take her wand and come into her full power as a witch. She just knew it.

  Sasha heard the rush of water ahead of her and she ran full speed towards the sound. At last, she found herself out of the shadowy woods, standing within a still-green field divided by a gushing turquoise river.

  Good.

  Though she was a daughter of the forest, she wanted a clear view of her surroundings before performing the ritual.

  To her right, she glimpsed a man-sized shape crouching among a clump of bushes. She could only hope it was a bear. Her mother had taught her that there were more frightening things in the world than wild animals, and until Sasha had her wand, she doubted that she could match the worst of them. She touched the amulet that hung around her neck and said a brief spell of protection. Without sound, the shape slunk back into shadow.

  Sasha inhaled the crisp morning air as she surveyed her surroundings.

  In the center of the meadow, at the top of a gentle slope, just feet from the river, rose up a solitary tree: a thirty-foot willow with moonbeam-colored limbs that bowed towards the earth in smooth, clean arcs. The ground around the tree was slushy with ice, evidence that winter was on the horizon. Sasha approached it carefully. One misstep and she would certainly slide down the steep embankment and into the treacherous river that roared at her like a hungry lion.

  The willow’s branches undulated in the wind like long, sinuous fingers, beckoning her forward.

  Sasha lifted several of the lower boughs and ducked into the tree’s canopy as near darkness enfolded her in the secret chamber. She crept beneath the limbs, towards the tree’s center, one hand gripping her amulet as she reached forward with the other.

  When she reached the trunk, she ran her hands along its circumference, feeling the bark beneath her palms. Her hand touched a very warm patch of wood and she pulled away instinctively. Even in the darkness she could tell that the trunk had been scorched.

  A smile crossed her face. This was the tree that had been struck by lightning. Her mother’s prophesy had been correct. The Lightning Willow.

  She would have her wand.

  Satisfied, Sasha crept back out and stood before the tree. Being the only willow she had seen in the area, Sasha knew it had absorbed all the magic-rich nutrients of Dark Root reserved for trees of its kind.

  Her fingers twitched and tingled as she pondered the possibilities.

  “Blessed tree,” she began, kneeling with arms outstretched. “My name is Sasha Benbridge and I have come to ask permission to take one of your limbs in order to create my wand. I am pure of heart and I will not use its magick to inflict harm upon others.”

  Sasha waited, watching for a response.

  The boughs dipped, as if in acquiescence.

  She stood and retrieved the small knife from the garter concealed beneath her cotton dress. She displayed the knife, giving the tree a moment to reconsider. When it did not move, she stepped forward.

  “I'm sorry if this hurts,” she whispered as she carefully sawed off a thin branch the length of her forearm. The tree flinched and she stroked it until it calmed.

  “Thank you,” she said, encircling her palm around its severed limb.

  Within seconds the Lightning Willow had healed.

  To her right, Sasha noticed a figure emerge from the woods: a tall, lank woman in a scarlet cloak.

  “Larinda, were you following me? I suppose you will run to Mother and tell on me? Well, she knows I’m here and…”

  “Dear cousin,” Larinda interrupted. “You misjudge my intentions. I’m only here because I worry about you. I saw you disappear into the forest. What possessed you to run off so far into the woods without telling anyone?”

  Sasha held out the branch. “After all these years, I have found my wand!”

  Larinda threw back her hood, revealing hair as black as the night and skin as pale blue as the moon. Her thin red lips curled somewhere between a snarl and a smile. “You have waited so long already, dear cousin. What makes this branch so special?”

  “It is from a special willow. The only of its kind in Dark Root. And,” Sasha said with flashing eyes, “it’s been kissed by lightning. Doubly blessed!”

  “A willow? Will you devote your life to the healing arts then?” The right side of Larinda’s lips rose up, no longer able to hide her contempt. “Perhaps you will become a nurse, walking the battlefields like Clara Barton?”

  “Perhaps,” Sasha answered, her eyes watching the black birds that had amassed in the trees at the edge of the clearing. “But there’s so much more. Don’t you see Larinda, with this wood, and the magic that runs through our blood, I can live forever if I choose!” She raised her face to her cousin, waiting for Larinda to grasp the implications.

  “You mean…” Larinda turned her attention on the willow tree.

  “Yes, I will hardly age! I can stay healthy and young and free forever!”


  Larinda charged at the tree, yanking at one of its limbs. “I want that power. I didn’t know about it. It isn't fair!”

  But the branches pulled back and Larinda could not touch a one.

  “You have your wand,” Sasha said, stepping towards her cousin. “And it is a good wand. Illusion is a powerful magick. Besides, you know that a tree only gives up one wand.”

  “Nothing is as powerful as eternal life,” Larinda said. “You get everything and I get nothing.”

  Sasha placed her hand on Larinda’s shoulder to comfort her. “You are my blood. I will use the wand on you as well. We will be young forever, together.”

  “You promise to always take care of me?”

  “Yes, my darling. Now we must hurry back. Tonight is the solstice and Mother and I are performing a shielding ritual to keep those out of Dark Root who wish to use its magic against us. When we are done, she will pass the Circle onto me.”

  The two women turned back towards the forest.

  Larinda gave the Lightning Willow a final, longing glance. “Sasha, what will we do with eternal life?”

  Sasha blinked, lifting her chin towards the sun before entering the darkness of the woods. “I shall travel, become an actress, have a million lovers, and grow famous. Maybe I’ll change my name to something more theatrical. What do you think of Sasha Shantay, Mistress of Magick?”

  PART I

  One

  MEET VIRGINIA

  Harvest, Home: Dark Root, Oregon

  November, 2013

  I lifted the corner of the heavy drapes of my bedroom window, to get a better view of the backyard. Ravens had gathered near the edge of the lawn, arranging themselves into a straight line, like an army of pawns on a chessboard. They appeared restless––clawing at the wet earth and cocking their heads as they listened to the sounds of the forest around them.

  Their agitation abated as another bird joined them, twice as large as the others, with wings as sleek and black as oil and eyes that glimmered red like dragon fruit. The others cawed at her arrival, making room for their queen at the center of the formation.

  Suddenly, thirteen heads turned to stare at Harvest Home.

  With unblinking eyes they surveyed the structure, turning towards my window. I caught my breath and closed the drapes except for a small slit, so they wouldn't see me watching them in return.

  It was not uncommon to see birds in Dark Root at this time of year, especially ravens and crows, who did not fly south when the land grew cold.

  But this flock unsettled me. There was a strange intelligence in their eyes as their heads tilted this way and that, scanning the house, locking in every detail of the rambling Victorian home with its wraparound porch and two chimneys.

  Maybe they had just come for the wreath: a circlet of pine cones, twigs, dried leaves, and berries that Eve had hung on the back door that very morning. As autumn wore on, food grew scarce. Perhaps the only malice they intended was procuring a few of the wreath’s deep-red berries for themselves.

  The queen raven turned her attention away from the house and the others followed suit. They now faced the garden where pumpkins had grown only a few weeks earlier. It laid empty now, long rows of red dirt waiting to be brought to life again in the springtime.

  A gust of wind rushed through the trees that delineated our property.

  All around our home grew a vast forest––deep, ancient, beckoning––still not fully mapped. The wind continued to push into the clearing, scattering most of the birds. They flapped their wings as they rode the currents into the sky––all except the queen, whose talons gripped stubbornly at the soft dirt beneath her, fighting the wind as she hopped her way into the garden. Her keen eyes caught sight of a mound of dirt where the field met the trees.

  Aided by the wind, she scratched and pecked at the mound.

  My heart nearly stopped as I realized what she was doing.

  She was going for Gahabrien, the demon my sisters and I had sealed in a glass jar and buried at the far edge of the garden.

  “Shoo!” I yelled, as I threw back the curtains and pulled open the window.

  She glanced at me but continued her digging.

  “Shoo!” I called again more forcefully, wondering how deeply my secret was buried?

  “Caw!”

  The raven lifted her beak and spread her wings as she locked eyes with me in a challenge. I stared back, just as forcefully. A mighty gale caught her in the chest and sent her sailing backwards, smashing her into a tree. I stared, open-mouthed.

  Though I did not want her digging up my secrets, I didn’t wish her dead either.

  She lifted her head and warbled onto her chest. Giving me one last look, she limped into the forest, her wing useless.

  “Poor thing,” I said, shutting the window. “She was probably just hungry. I should have taken some berries out to them.”

  “To whom?” my sister Eve asked.

  I had sent her to the kitchen to get me cookies. I frowned when I saw that she returned with nothing but a tray of plain crackers and soda water.

  “The birds.”

  “Never feed the birds, Maggie” she said, placing the tray on a chair and pointing to my bed. I complied and flopped down, lying on my back as she lifted my t-shirt and placed five icy fingers on my abdomen. “Once you feed something, it never goes away.”

  “Ah, that explains why you’re always here.”

  “Funny,” she said, setting her ear to my belly as she continued her examination.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Seems normal enough. Didn't feel any protruding horns or pointy tails.”

  “So, you’re saying I won’t be giving birth to a devil-child then? How boring. And I already registered at Demons-R-Us.”

  “Whoa. I didn’t say that. It’s still half your kid so there’s always the possibility. And…” she paused. “Are you even sure it’s Michael’s?”

  Eve removed her hand from my belly and stepped deftly to the side just as the light bulb over her head burst, shattering across the floor.

  “Now see what you’ve done,” I said, sitting up while Eve retrieved a broom from the hall closet. Since finding out I was with child a week ago, I had popped a half-dozen light bulbs.

  Eve hardly flinched anymore.

  “I wasn’t trying to get you angry, Mags,” Eve said, sweeping up the glass from the worn hardwood floor. She put the broom away and returned with a pack of sixty-watt bulbs. “Paul can put one of these in later,” she said, referring to her boyfriend who currently resided in our attic.

  “Maybe I should buy a lamp instead,” I sighed, pressing my hands to my temples.

  “Or maybe we just make do with glow sticks,” Eve teased. When I didn’t respond she added, “You know, you really should learn to control that temper of yours? Especially now that you’re going to be a mother.”

  She raked her fingers through her long, dark hair and returned to her earlier task of rummaging through my closet, staring disapprovingly at a wardrobe collected mostly from lost and found bins.

  “I’m working on it,” I said, testing the chill of the floor with my bare toes.

  I pulled back my foot at the cold and decided I should probably invest in a pair of slippers if I were going to survive the upcoming winter with my toes intact. Back in Northern California––where I had spent the last several years with Michael––the climate was temperate, nothing like the down-in-your-bones cold of mountainous Central Oregon.

  “…And to answer your question,” I said, still irritated. “Of course, its Michael’s. Who else’s could it be?”

  Eve shrugged, sliding an ankle-length khaki skirt across the rod with the tip of her finger. “I don’t know what goes on in those religious communes, Maggie. Could be a free-love baby.”

  “You watch too much television. Just because we bought a compound, kept ourselves distanced from society, and waited for the aliens to come and teach us about enlightenment, doesn’t mean we practiced
free love.”

  I crept towards my dresser, planting my feet on the lone sunbeam that pushed through the crack in the curtains. Shivering, I decided I needed new pajamas too. How I would get them, with less than four hundred dollars to my name and not a job in sight, I didn’t know.

  Too bad Eve wouldn’t let me raid her closet. She had several pairs of pajamas but preferred sleeping in the nude.

  “Sorry I’ve been in such a foul mood lately,” I apologized as I opened a drawer. Eve had been one of the few people who had visited me since I went into seclusion a week ago and I didn’t want to run her off. “It’s been hard since discovering…” I pressed my hand to my belly, feeling the slight swell beneath my palms.

  Eve waved her hands in the air dismissively. “You’re just upset because you’re knocked up and man-less. I get it. But don’t take it out on me. I’m here to help, remember?”

  “Some help,” I muttered.

  As much as I loved her company, I could probably do without a lot of Eve’s so-called help. She had spent the last hour sitting on my bed, flipping through swimsuit magazines while giving me a rundown of all of the horrible things I could expect in the next few months.

  “Your nipples are going to leak at the weirdest times, so keep tissue in your bra. You’ll get stretch marks the size of Band-Aids in the strangest places. And you may never regain your pre-baby figure, or any figure for that matter. I knew this actress in New York whose boobs were two different sizes after nursing. The only gig she could get after that was as the before girl in plastic surgery commercials. Good thing you aren’t in show biz.”

  “I do thank you for the help,” I said, trying to hide the sarcasm as I removed a pair of denim overalls from my bureau. Perfect. They were roomy in the hips and waist and if my nipples happened to leak I could cover them up with the straps.

  Eve snatched them away from me and tossed them into the wastebasket.