The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3) Page 2

  Neither of my sisters spoke as Merry poured me a cup of her special healing tea. That was all the answer I needed. I wiped frosting from the corner of my mouth and turned to face the window. Outside, the trees were budding. My last memories were of heavy rains and a gray, sobering sky. Today there was not a trace of winter in the air.

  Spring had come, with or without me.

  I drank my tea in three swigs, feeling the healing properties spread through me. “What happened to me and how long was I gone?”

  Merry paced the length of the room, running her fingers up and down her ponytail. At last, she sat beside me, placing a hand on mine. “You were gone for almost a month.”

  “A month?” My hands clasped my overdeveloped belly. “So that means…”

  “Yep.” Ruth Anne removed her glasses and wiped them on the hem of her shirt before replacing them on her pert nose. “You’ll be popping out that kiddo in a few more weeks.”

  “Four weeks,” Merry corrected.

  “Five if you keep your legs crossed.” Ruth Anne grinned as she took my now empty cup and poured me another round.

  “I’m going to be a mother in one month? I can’t have a baby in a month! I haven’t bought diapers or toys or even been to a Lamaze class.”

  Merry laughed and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. It was warm in the room, even with the breeze coming in through the cracked window. “Lamaze class or not, that baby is coming. And you’ll be fine. Remember, I had one too, and I was younger than you are.”

  “But you were healthy. You eat organic and exercise and you weren’t…” I choked back the last words.

  Merry understood and nodded. “No, I didn’t go through what you went through, but I was never as strong as you are, Maggie. Your strength will pull you through.”

  I pressed my lips together, trying to find reassurance in her words. She had given birth to my niece Mae––whom we called June Bug––almost six years ago. “Where is June Bug, anyway?”

  Merry stood, fluffed my pillows, and with an oddly calm voice announced, “She’s visiting her father in Florida for a while.”

  “What?” June Bug’s father, Frank, was a child psychologist with a penchant for dating his clients the moment they came of legal age. I balled up my fists and slammed them into the bed, rattling the tea tray. “That’s no place for our June Bug. She belongs here with us!”

  Merry pushed a pillow behind my back. “Frank’s been threatening me with lawyers if I didn’t give him visitation rights.

  “We could have fought it! He left you for a barista! No court in this country––”

  “Maggie,” Merry cut me off. “That’s not the only reason I let her go. June Bug was so worried about you. She just sat in the room, asking me every day if you were going to be okay.” Tears formed at the corners of Merry’s blue eyes as she looked at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. “She was feeding you her energy, so much that it was making her sick.”

  June Bug was an empath, like her mother. They had the ability to heal others, but at the cost of expending their own life force. It was a risky transfusion and I had always guarded Merry against the vampires who would take from her without caring how much they left. The thought of June Bug making herself ill to help me was touching…and heart wrenching.

  “We were all afraid,” Merry continued, her hands kneading one another. “I didn’t want her to be here if…”

  If I didn’t make it.

  I couldn’t blame Merry for sending her away. I would have done the same thing. “You should have gone with her.”

  Merry slid back into the bed beside me and propped herself up against the mountain of pillows. “Honey, I couldn’t leave you. I never will. Until the end has come, you’re my sister.”

  Ruth Anne and I smiled, jointly remembering the words to a poem Merry had written when she was ten and had recited to us one summer’s night in the garden. The words weren’t all clear, but a few lines came back to me:

  Through the winter’s whitest snow, and summers brightest sun. We’ll be sisters evermore, until the end has come.

  We had teased her about it then, and probably ended any career ambitions she might have had around becoming a poet, but now those simple words were dear to me and I squeezed her hand. Ruth Anne slid in closer on the other side of me, her thin fingers wriggling into mine. Mother often spoke of The Power of Three, and I could almost feel it here, our collective energies merging, coursing between us.

  Finally––and I was sure it was to break the emotional silence she found uncomfortable––Ruth Anne spoke.

  “Ever notice that Juliana looks like she’s never seen the sun?”

  She nudged her sharp chin towards the portrait of Juliana Benbridge hanging directly across from us, over Mother’s old bureau. The portrait of the lovely but wan-looking woman with her stiff black collar and sharp blue eyes had been there as long as I could remember and I hardly noticed it anymore.

  “She could use a spray tan,” I agreed.

  “And maybe some fresh fruits and vegetables,” Merry added.

  Ruth Anne readjusted the glasses on her face. “Witch or no witch, it was pretty gutsy of our grandmother to come out to this wilderness all alone.”

  “She had her sister,” I reminded them. “Maybe that’s all she needed. Speaking of sisters, where’s Eve?”

  Merry coughed into the crook of her arm. “Eve is sorry she couldn’t come. Nova’s mother is away right now and Eve has been playing Mommy. She says she will get here as soon as she can.”

  I swallowed, realizing how much things had changed recently. My younger sister had relocated to Seattle to be with her boyfriend Paul and his three-year-old daughter Nova. “I understand. It seems the days of caring only for ourselves are behind us now.”

  Merry passed Ruth Anne another cookie. “Think you’ll be joining us in sleepless nights and kissing boo-boos any time soon?”

  Our oldest sister took a bite and considered. “I think I’ll stick to being the cool aunt.”

  “My kid is lucky,” I said, wriggling my toes and noticing that they were no longer stiff. Merry’s tea seemed to be working. “He’s going to be raised with three very cool aunts.”

  “But I’m the coolest, right?” Ruth Anne asked.

  “Sure. I’ll even make you a sash that says so.”

  “Perfect. It will go very well with my Sexy Beast tiara I commissioned.”

  “I love you both,” Merry said, resting her head gently on my shoulder. I heard the sleepiness in her voice.

  “We love you too, Merry,” I said. “Now get some rest. Ruth Anne can look after me for a while.”

  “But who’ll look after Ruth Anne?” Merry asked, her voice dragging into a yawn.

  I nodded again to the portrait on the wall. “Juliana will. I hear she runs a tight ship.”

  “Fair enough. Wake me when it’s my shift.”

  THREE

  Sympathy for the Devil

  “I can do it myself.” I pulled away from my sister and gripped the banister for support. The stairs creaked beneath me as I continued my slow descent, moving on uncertainly.

  “Geez, okay. You don’t have to be a grump about it.” Ruth Anne walked beside me with her arms out, ready to catch me in case I pulled a Humpty Dumpty.

  I had about thirty pounds on her at the moment and I silently questioned her ability to stop me if I rolled. “If I fall, run to the bottom and let me land on you. I might crush you, but you’ll die a hero.”

  “You’re all heart, Mags. After napping for a month, you’d think you’d be less of a Miss-Cranky-Pants.”

  I stopped, mid-staircase, ready to retort, when I noticed her hair. It was still brown and shoulder length, but large pieces of it stuck out in horizontal corkscrews around her thin face. Her square-framed glasses perched atop her small nose only added to the comical effect. I quickly forgot my annoyance and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, scratching her head as she leaned up again
st the wall.

  “What happened to your hair? You look like a wet owl.” I resumed my walk down the staircase. “Say, Ruth Anne, how many licks does it take to get to the center…?”

  “Shut it.”

  “Sorry to ruffle your feathers.”

  “I said shut it.”

  “If writing doesn’t work out for you, there’s always mascot work.”

  “Fine. I look ridiculous. I let Merry perm my hair while you were napping but chickened out halfway through the process.” She pulled on one of the corkscrews and it boinged back against her head. “That bad, huh?”

  “You can always wear a hat,” I suggested. “Or just lay low in your nest.”

  “Geez, I thought people were supposed to get nicer after a near-death experience.”

  “Sorry,” I said, still laughing. “Everything’s funny to me right now. I think Merry may have laced my tea.”

  “I most certainly did.” Merry extended a hand as I made it to the bottom step. “And if you think wet owls are funny, wait a few minutes. There will be pink dinosaurs and green elephants on parade.”

  “I’m doubly glad to be out of Mother’s room then. Who knows what I would have seen there?”

  “Maybe Mom’s ghost,” Ruth Anne winked.

  “Or Juliana’s,” Merry added.

  “No chance of any hot cabana boys turning up in my hallucinations then?”

  Merry smiled. “Trust me, if my tea could do that, I never would have married Frank.”

  They each took an arm and escorted me to the sofa, now made up into a bed with several down comforters and another heap of pillows. A fat orange cat sat on the couch, purring as I approached.

  “Maggie Cat!” I reached down to pet my namesake and he licked my hands affectionately.

  “He’s been holding vigil for you,” Merry said, shooing him off the sofa. “Waiting outside the bedroom.”

  “I didn’t know he liked me that much.”

  My cat settled himself on the recliner across from me.

  “Animals are very intuitive. And like it or not, he’s chosen you. If something happens to you, something happens to him.”

  “Just what I need, more responsibilities.”

  “It’s not all bad. Familiars lend you their energy. His presence may have helped pull you through.”

  I looked into Maggie Cat’s eyes. He stared back then blinked once, very slowly, before curling up into a purring ball of fur.

  The television had been wheeled out on an ancient cart with four cracked wheels. The TV itself was nearly as old, with a manual dial that only went up to the number thirteen and a foiled coat hanger for an antenna. I had offered to pay for a new one with the money I received from selling Woodhaven, but Merry insisted that this one was fine, thank you very much.

  “Yay!” I said, burrowing myself beneath the layers of blankets. Ruth Anne turned on Scooby Doo and I relaxed into the sofa that had graced our living room since before we were born.

  “You two know me so well.”

  Ruth Anne turned down the volume. “When can I go home?” I asked, trying to resist another bout of drowsiness while Merry adjusted the rabbit ears.

  “You are home,” Merry said.

  “You know what I mean.”

  We were at Sister House, the place where we had grown up, but I had recently taken up residence with Aunt Dora at Harvest Home and had begun negotiations to purchase the property. I hoped to turn it into a bed and breakfast once the baby was born. Sister House held too many memories, locked within its photos and its walls. I wanted to bring my child into a world that I created, not one that had been created for me.

  “We’ll take you there as soon as you are strong enough,” Merry answered.

  “I can drive myself soon,” I said. I had a car now and was anxious to use it.

  “Umm…” Merry bit her lip.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but the car is gone.”

  “Gone? As in ‘Poof!’ it disappeared? Or gone as in, ‘bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do’ it got stolen?”

  “Gone as in we took it back to Leo’s mother.”

  “But that was my car! Leo gave it to me.”

  Ruth Anne’s lips slid into a sideways smile. “Merry detected some negative energy on it and we wondered if that had anything to do with your… condition. So we took it back in the middle of the night and left it at her curb.”

  “Great. I guess I won’t be driving myself home.” Then a thought came to me as my eyelids struggled to stay open. “Does Aunt Dora know I’m okay?”

  Aunt Dora was a tough old bird but she had a weakness for her nieces. She never had children of her own, claiming we were her kids. She worried over us more than our own mother ever had. I could almost see her at her kitchen table, putting up protection spells and wringing her hands.

  “Yes, we called her. She wanted to come but her hip is bothering her. She sends her love.”

  “Thank you.” I yawned, pressing my face into a soft pillow that smelled like lavender and roses. My mother’s scents. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed again.”

  “You will.”

  Merry closed the heavy curtains of the large front window, blocking out the sunlight. The room was now pleasantly dark. “We’ll keep you here for another day or two, alright? Aunt Dora isn’t up to caring for you yet.”

  “Okay.” I felt guilty knowing that Aunt Dora worried about me, and even guiltier that there was nothing I could do to help her at the moment.

  “What about Shane?” I asked, my voice fading. “Did you call Shane yet?”

  Merry pressed her lips together but didn’t speak.

  “What’s wrong? Is Shane okay?”

  Ruth Anne placed one hand on the TV cart and removed her glasses with the other. “There was a fire at Dip Stix, Mags.”

  “A fire?” I tried to pull myself to a sitting position but my arms failed me.

  “He’s fine,” Ruth Anne reassured me. “But there was damage to the building.”

  Dip Stix was Shane’s restaurant, a quaint establishment built over forty years ago by Shane’s Uncle Joe. It was as much of a town landmark as our mother’s magick store.

  “It’s smoke damage, mostly,” Merry said. “He’s been working hard to get it back in shape.”

  I rubbed the sides of my temples, trying to process it. If it wasn’t that bad, why wasn’t he here with me?

  “He’s been checking on you every chance he gets,” Merry added, sensing my distress. “That poor guy. I don’t think he’s had an hour of sleep in the last three weeks.”

  “Does he know I’m up?”

  “Yes. I just talked to him. He wanted to speak to you but I told him you’re pretty drugged up. He’ll be by tonight or early tomorrow. He knows you’re in good hands.” Merry kissed me on the cheek and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “Now, get some sleep. Ruth Anne and I will be here the whole time, okay?”

  “Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. I still hadn’t bathed and I probably looked worse than I smelled. At least I’d get a chance to clean up before I saw him. As Merry finished tucking me in, I asked, “Do you believe in predestination?”

  “To an extent. Why?”

  “Do you think we are born good or bad? Or is that something we choose?”

  She thought for a moment. “I believe that all children are born innocent. Who we become is a matter of free will.”

  “That’s good,” I said sleepily. I knew that I had made some poor choices in life, but as long as I had free will, I had the chance to right some of my wrongs.

  I closed my eyes and ignored the beckoning black door with the crystal knob that sparkled in my mind’s eye.

  A strong hand brushed my cheek, bringing me back from my dreams.

  They weren’t good dreams. Dark shadows swirled around a white sphere, like a yin-yang symbol that had become unraveled. Even so, dreams meant that I was still a part of this world, and not in that space between. For tha
t reason alone, I was sorry to leave them.

  “Maggie, can you open your eyes?”

  It was Ruth Anne. I yawned, brushing away her hand. “What time is it?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  “Morning or night?”

  “Night. We’re getting ready for dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Yes you are. You’ve slept nearly twenty-four hours. Now get up. We have more surprises for you.”

  I grunted, then sat up on the living room couch, happy to find that my head had cleared from the hallucinogenic effects of Merry’s tea.

  Maggie Cat purred easily near my feet, lost in his own dreams. I wondered briefly what cats dreamed about. Food? Other cats? Or maybe more quiet evening naps? Feeling movement, he opened one eye, then the other, issued a soft meow and fell back asleep.

  “You’re right, I am hungry. Ravenous actually.” I climbed out from beneath the mountain of blankets and sheets, careful not to jostle Maggie Cat and noticing that the bottom layer of my bedding was damp with perspiration. “I could use a shower too,” I said, smelling the acrid scent of my sweat.

  I crinkled my brow as a new question came to mind. “How did I eat when…?”

  “Magick.” Ruth Anne winked. “And tons of Aunt Dora’s and Merry’s teas, loaded with nutrients.”

  “I actually drank it?”

  “Yes, but not very well. So, are you ready for your next surprise?”

  “Is it food?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Is it Shane? Is he here?”

  “No. But he came by this morning and left you those flowers.” She pointed to a vase near the window, filled with fresh lilacs, loosely arranged. He had probably picked them himself. I smiled, wishing I had seen him, but taking comfort in knowing that he had checked on me.

  “Can we do this later? I want to walk and stretch a little. I feel like the tin man before Dorothy shows up.”

  “Trust me, you’ll get a kick out of this one.” She handed me a fluffy white robe and I put it on.

  Ruth Anne strode to the front door, gave me a toothy grin, and pulled it open. There, standing in the doorway, dressed in a lime green track suit and carrying a stack of books, was Michael, my ex-lover and the father of my unborn child.