“I uh, told them you didn’t sleep well. You tossed and turned all night.” Shane reached over and felt my head. “And you’re still warm.”
“Montana’s got a slight fever, too,” my aunt chimed in.
I nodded. “Today’s Sunday, so I’ll call a doctor first thing in the morning and see if Michael can get him in.”
“Let’s hope that helps,” Jillian said. “As for you...”
I patted Shane’s hand. “If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to Aunt Dora and Jillian alone.”
He squeezed my shoulder and grabbed his cowboy hat. “I’ll be under the hood of my truck.” Shane gave me a private wink, then left through the back door.
“I just can’t believe he’s home,” I said, watching him through the back window. “I have everyone I love here. I’ve never been so happy.”
Aunt Dora eyed me in my robe. “Ya gotta put on some clothes or yer gonna drive these men into a frenzy.”
“Ha!” I caught my reflection in the kitchen window. My hair was a bramble and my skin the color of rice paper. “Anyone who finds me sexy right now is in need of therapy.”
“Ya’d be surprised what men find interestin’. That’s why I wear house frocks.” She pointed to her antiquated white housedress, dotted with tiny blue flowers. She looked more like a walking tea pot than a sex pot. I shot Jillian a private smile and we stifled our laughs.
We sat together, three generations of women and witches, allowing ourselves the quiet luxury of soaking in the morning sunshine. Fall would come, but it was months away. I shuddered to think what my condition would be if I didn’t break the curse by then.
“Have ya been lookin’ at the globes, Maggie?” Aunt Dora asked, clicking her nails against her porcelain cup.
“Yes. I have just one left,” I confessed. “I’m afraid of what it holds.”
“Just one?” Jillian’s face was calm but her eyes gave her away. She edged forward, just a little. “So you must have learned a few... things.”
I looked into my half-filled cup, remembering the previous night’s dream. Armand had returned to Dark Root and Mother had convinced him to stay. He’d seemed surprised to see Merry––who wasn’t his daughter. I swallowed as I realized the truth.
“What’s troublin’ ya, dear?” Aunt Dora asked. “We can’t tell ya anything, but ya can tell us what ya know. Perhaps it will help.”
The two women exchanged glances, nodding in agreement.
“Yes, Maggie,” Jillian encouraged. “Please fill us in, if you are up to it.”
Aunt Dora lowered her bushy brows. “Why don’t ya tell us what ya do know, and we can fill in some blanks, if we’re allowed.” She looked upwards, as if asking permission from the powers that governed such things.
I collected my thoughts as I relived my adventures through the cryptic globes. Over time I’d seen my parents change, from youthful spirits full of ideals to apathetic adults, and finally to middle-aged cynics bent on furthering their individual goals. My father’s journey took a dark turn as he became obsessed with personal power, while Mother wore the role of a cartoon character as she went about trying to save the world.
But what had I actually learned?
“Here goes,” I said, dumping everything out as fast as I could––Mother’s complicated relationship with my father, his use of Larinda to open portals and summon demons, and finally, his attraction to Jillian and departure from the Council.
“In the globe last night, Mother called Armand back to Dark Root after being gone for nearly five years,” I concluded.
“Aye. I remember.” Aunt Dora leaned across the table, taking my hands in hers. “I warned her not to bring him back.” She clamped her lips shut and looked up again.
“I don’t think you violated any rules there, Dora,” Jillian reassured her.
“Will it violate a rule if I ask if my father is evil? He talked a lot in those visions, but I never actually saw him do anything. Is it intent or action that makes a person bad?”
“He had two sides,” Jillian answered. “And Sasha brought out both of them.”
“But was he evil? I need to know. He’s a part of me.” Neither spoke, and some of the happiness that had settled on me earlier fell away. “If you can’t answer me that, can you tell me if he actually made good on his deal?”
Jillian’s face paled. I knew she had feelings for my father, years ago––and maybe had a child with him that she sent away. I didn’t know this for certain, but this was what my intuition told me.
I sighed heavily, deciding to move on. “I did see something else last night I need help understanding. I already knew Ruth Anne wasn’t Armand’s daughter––Mother made no secret about that. But I didn’t know Merry wasn’t his. Who was her father?”
They both shrugged, looking away.
“Sasha didn’t share all her secrets, even with us,” Jillian said.
“But that makes Merry only my half-sister!”
Aunt Dora squeezed my hands even tighter. “Do ya feel any different about Ruth Anne than your other sisters?”
“No.”
“An’ ya shouldn’t about Merry, neither. Family’s made, not born. Ya share Armand’s blood, but he was never yer father. Family means bein’ there, blood kin or not.”
I looked at Aunt Dora, feeling suddenly light-hearted. “Just like you were there for us girls all our lives.”
Jillian’s energy suddenly deflated. “We’d always hoped Sasha would tell you girls,” she said. “But she thought the less you knew, the more protected you’d be. She swore she’d tell you everything when you were grown, but maybe she ran out of time.”
I nodded. Having thought I lost Shane, I understood thinking that there would always be more time.
I looked out towards the living room, making sure we were still alone. “Do you think this will break Merry’s heart?”
“Does it break yours?” Jillian asked.
“A little.”
“Change is always hard,” Jillian said. “Even change that happened many years ago. But the decision to tell her is yours alone. The globes chose to show you that image for a reason.”
I sat back in my chair, emotionally drained. My feelings for Merry hadn’t changed, but hers for us might. Another thought struck. “Is Eve Armand’s daughter?”
They both pulled their lips inside of their mouths, indicating the topic was off-limits. Whatever spell Mother had cast to ensure their silence, it must have been a very powerful one. I was beginning to have a new appreciation for Miss Sasha’s abilities.
“So... any idea what I’ll see in my final globe?”
“What Sasha wanted, Sasha got,” Aunt Dora said. “That’s all I’ll say on that.”
“That’s not much help at all.”
“The globes show you what you need to know, Maggie, so we have no idea what you’ll see,” Jillian answered. “But we are here for you, no matter what they reveal. Understand?”
“Yes. I’ll view the last one tonight, and hopefully it will give me some clue as to why I’ve been cursed.” I stood up, stretching my arms overhead. “As for today, I’m going to shower and then spend the afternoon with my two favorite men. I’ll see you both at supper.”
I left them in the kitchen and returned to the nursery.
“How is he?” I asked Michael, reaching out to take Montana in my arms.
“Another tooth’s coming in.” Michael gently opened Montana’s mouth, revealing two small fangs poking out of his lower gum.
I tickled my son’s chin. “You’re so cute, even if you do look like a baby vampire. I’m making you a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning!”
Michael smiled broadly. “I promise not to let him out of my sight.”
“You’ve earned my trust, Michael.”
He nodded gratefully and I returned the gesture. I’d come to realize it takes a family to raise a child, especially one born of magick.
THIRTY-ONE
Down on the Corner
IT WAS A day too beautiful for curses. I breathed in the sweet summer air as I strolled, hand-in-hand, with Shane down Main Street. The sun was high. The sky was clear. Life was ripe with wonder and hope. The wind lifted my cotton skirt, filling me with a sense of schoolgirl giddiness. New beginnings were on the horizon.
I had just one obstacle to overcome.
I pinched my wrist repeatedly, to confirm Shane’s corporeal existence. He laughed at me, but there was love in his eyes. With him by my side I knew I could fight off this damn curse.
Yet tugging at me was undeniable truth: I still had one globe left.
I would deal with that tonight. Whatever I discovered, couldn’t be as terrible as losing Shane. And I’d survived that!
We strode past the book shop––waving to Ruth Anne, who was inside choosing between two comic books––and stopped at a small ice cream cart near the square. I ordered double scoop cones and we seated ourselves on the park bench, watching the easy flow of shoppers wander in and out of the bustling stores.
I ate my ice cream, knowing that I couldn’t have picked a better place to raise my baby.
“It’s still so unbelievable,” I said, wrestling the scoop of chocolate back onto its vanilla ledge. “You’re here. I’m here. We finally had sex––really, really good sex, I might add.” I elbowed him. “You were holding back in those dreams.”
He turned slightly away, and I was surprised to see him blush.
“What’s the matter, Shane? You have a son. I know you’ve ‘done it’ before.”
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But never with you.”
I pulled him to me by the collar, playfully daring him to hold my stare. “Get used to it. We’re going to do all the things we’ve only done in our dreams. And maybe a few we haven’t thought of yet.” I nuzzled his chin. “The sky’s the limit.”
His lips touched mine, wiping the ice cream from the corners of my mouth. “I’ll probably regret telling you this but... being with you was the most amazing experience of my life.”
“Better than wrangling cows?”
“Yep.”
“Better than finding a twenty in an old jacket?”
“Yep.”
“Better than that ice cream cone you devoured?”
“Even better than that ice cream cone.”
We finished our cones in quiet contentment, savoring our moment together, then resumed our walk down Main Street.
I picked a stray flower from the grass and handed it to him. “You know, when I’m with you, every feeling I have is magnified. Even this flower becomes more beautiful. Think how much light we’ll put out into the world when we get our crap together.”
He laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “You surprise me every day. My red-haired little cynic is now embracing the future. The Dark has no chance now.”
“We have no idea what will happen,” I said, sliding under his arm as we walked. “So let’s focus on the now.”
Shane stopped us in front of Dip Stix café.
“Does this mean you’re ready?” I asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s pull the Band-Aid.”
Shane didn’t bother looking through the windows––he just removed his key from his pocket, thrust it into the keyhole, and opened the door.
It was dark inside and he immediately pulled open the blinds. “I guess I should call the power company first thing tomorrow.”
I grasped the end of a strand of twinkle lights. They powered on, illuminating the border of the café. “Voila! Green, renewable energy.”
“Hey! You didn’t even have to get angry,” he said, impressed.
We worked our way through the dining room. I distracted Shane by pointing out a potential rat hidey-hole as I wiped away the chalk summoning circle with my foot. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, but I didn’t want him to know I’d seen his death, or my father’s afterlife. I’d tell him about it later.
The energy of the night Ruth Anne, Eve and I performed the ritual still lingered in the room. There was a sense of unease and a vague hint of sulphur in the air. Shane wrote his initials in a layer of soot coating the wall, a grim expression on his face.
“Dip Stix might be beyond hope,” he sighed.
“We’ll get it cleaned up,” I promised. “I’ll rally the troops––even Michael will help. Dip Stix will be open again by the Haunted Dark Root Festival.”
“Maggie, I couldn’t ask that of everyone.”
“If it wasn’t for you, the festival wouldn’t exist anymore. It’s the least we can do to pay you back.”
He wiped his ash-covered finger on each of my cheeks and then a line across my forehead. “You look like you’re ready to hunt, or play football.”
“Both of which I’m naturally good at.”
Shane laughed. “I’m sure you––”
We were interrupted by a soft thumping noise in the corner of the room. There was another thump in the opposite corner. And then nothing.
“That thing your father let into my café––any chance it’s still here?”
“Maybe.” I shivered, looking warily around.
We scoured the dining room, finding nothing. The room hadn’t changed since my last visit, except for the accumulation of more dust.
“See, this place is fixable,” I said as we headed towards the kitchen. Before we reached the doorway, a small shadow caught our eyes as it slunk out from the corner booth.
“I wish I had my wand,” I whispered.
Shane lifted his finger to his lips.
The shadow trickled along the wall, gliding under tables and over chairs, without concern of being seen. Our eyes followed as it crept along the floorboards. It was a powerful presence, to stay manifested so long, though I didn’t sense malevolence. When the shadow reached the steps leading up to Shane’s apartment, it elongated, stretching itself like wet tar. Its lengthy form began slithering up the stairs.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My dead grandmother,” I said plainly. “Juliana Benbridge.”
One-by-one, the twinkle lights blinked out and the blinds fell shut of their own accord. The room cooled to a winter temperature and there was the faintest whisper on the air.
An inviting whisper.
The entity pulled into itself like a retracting slinky, then rose up into a tall column. My young grandmother now stood in the stairway. She wore a black dress adorned with large white buttons and an ivory broach. Her hair was done up in formal curls as if ready for a party.
Or a funeral.
Juliana held her skirt as she proceeded up the staircase, taking slow, deliberate steps that echoed throughout the café. Halfway up she stopped, extending her arm, beckoning us to follow.
“Should we?” Shane asked.
“Yes.”
We crept behind, maintaining a distance. I couldn’t look away. I had never seen her so fully manifested before. There was no transparency to her at all. Her breathing generated sound, and she clicked her nails against the walls as she walked, as if apprehensive.
When Juliana reached Shane’s bedroom, she slipped through the closed door. We continued up, uncertainly. Shane rubbed his elbows, then turned the knob. His room was even darker than the dining room, having only one small window and no working lights. I floundered to the window and stripped open the curtains while Shane retrieved a flashlight from his desk. He cast the beam around the room, searching for Juliana or her shadow, and finding neither.
“Did she leave?” he asked, searching the corners.
“I don’t know. She led me up here once before, after you’d gone. That’s how I found out you were married.”
“You women really do stick together, don’t you?”
I sat on the bed. “I learned that Jillian rented this apartment from your Uncle Joe. I wonder if it’s somehow related to my grandmother’s haunting?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He lowered his flashlight l
ike a sheriff putting away his gun. “Maybe she just wanted us to be alone together. Even ghosts appreciate a little romance.”
“Maybe,” I said, bouncing. “The mattress still seems to be in good shape.”
“It will be its maiden voyage.” He kissed me, lowering me down, folding himself on top of me.
“We’re probably being watched,” I said.
“I’m not sure if that’s sexy or troubling.”
I relaxed as he kissed my neck, my eyes drifting upwards. “Shane!” I whispered loudly, clawing into his back.
“Hmm?”
“She’s above us.”
He rolled onto his back and we stared at the ceiling.
Juliana Benbridge hovered there, facing us. Her mouth was frozen in a cry for help, her skin now without color. Even her clothes were now in tatters.
Her hands clutched at the base of her neck.
Then, as if being sucked up by a vortex, she disappeared into the ceiling.
There are hidden compartments in all of these old houses.
A cold wind blew through the room, though the window was shut.
SHANE HELD THE stepladder as I hammered against the hidden attic door with the butt of our flashlight. A shower of plaster fell over our faces, but we were rewarded when the door finally budged.
I pushed the panel to the side. “The space is big enough for me to fit,” I said. “I’m going in.”
“Please be careful.” Shane offered his cupped hands as a stirrup and hefted me upwards. With a bit of effort, I pulled myself into the cubbyhole and turned on the flashlight.
“What’s in there?” Shane asked.
I cast the beam through the darkness, gasping at my discovery. “Wonderful things.”
It was a mini-museum, in fact. Paintings and artifacts and unknown thingamabobs jostled for my attention. They were packed into the tight triangular room, presenting an unsettling homage to Dark Root’s past.
I scooted around, marveling at each new wonder. This wasn’t like the secret room in Sister House where everything was thrown about without regard to preservation. Someone had taken great care to categorize and label everything within. Peering closer, I could see it was Mother’s handwriting.
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