The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  “Where will you go?” he asked, Woodhaven becoming a speck behind us.

  “I guess I’m going home for now.” It was a temporary stop, but the only place I could think of at the moment. And Merry was there. My beloved Merry had come home, too. Surely, I could handle Dark Root for a few days, just until my head cleared.

  I had never seen a bus station. Not up close, anyway.

  We had passed a few during our road travels, but we had never slowed down long enough for me to get a good look at one. Michael said that people who traveled by bus were transients with no real goal of settling, so he preferred the pickings at airports.

  As Jason heaved my suitcase out of the van, heavy under the weight of too many Yankee Candles, I stopped a moment to take it in. The building was old, probably built at least sixty years before. The stucco was chipping and the color of urine. A skinny, smiling dog on the billboard announced that this was his vehicle of choice, although a sign above the automatic doors read, ‘Service Dogs Only.’

  Dozens of people descended upon the station, a few moving hyper-speed while the rest sauntered along zombie-style through the double doors, carrying suitcases, duffel bags, boxes secured with electrical tape, and babies. A frighteningly thin man appeared out of nowhere and offered me assistance with my bag. I politely refused, but he picked it up and made away with it. Before I could react, Jason was on him, pulling it back, daring him to try something like that again.

  The man backed off, shaggy and apologetic, and vanished into the throngs.

  I shivered, rubbing my arms to fight off the goose bumps.

  I had been thinking more of comfort than warmth when dressing, and I wore only a t-shirt, a skirt, and a pair of combat boots. I thought briefly of rifling through my suitcase to locate a sweater, but I had barely been able to close the suitcase the first time. I wasn’t sure if I could do it again.

  “No one’s forcing you to go,” Jason said as we stood in line for a ticket.

  There was a family ahead of us, a young woman with a baby in her arms and two crying children tugging at her blouse. She cooed at the baby and hissed at the children, trying to quiet them all.

  “...Nobody wants you to go,” he said.

  I smiled at him. We had known each other since Michael found me in Dark Root seven years ago. For the first several months, it was just the three of us and the Battlestar Gasholica, the name Jason lovingly gave to our van. I was suddenly seized by memories of arguing with Jason over who would get to use the pile of dirty laundry for a pillow, or who got to drive while the other read maps. While Michael had been the closest thing I ever had to a boyfriend, Jason had been the closest thing to a brother.

  “Woodhaven is Michael’s place,” I answered. “Not mine.”

  I stared through a large, open window as number 721 pulled in, the bus that matched the ticket in my hand.

  “That’s not true.” Jason tossed my suitcase onto the luggage cart and walked me to my terminal. “I was there when it was just Michael, remember? We were nothing then. It might be his in name but it was your magic, Maggie. Before you came, we were just a couple of kids talking bullshit philosophies. You made it real.”

  He looked down at the linoleum floor as we moved up in line, avoiding the gum and cigarette butts.

  “...I still remember when you predicted that earthquake a few years back in LA,” he said. “Made us all get up in the middle of the night and leave town. I gotta admit, I thought you were crazy, but sure enough, the next day...well, I’m just glad we weren’t there. What you call witchery, I call God, and he moves through you. Believe that, okay?” Jason flushed and looked at the door as the line before us disappeared into the bus. “You are one of the most special women I’ve ever met.”

  I felt my face change color. “Thank you, Jason. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

  “It’s true. I hope whoever is getting you recognizes that.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, looking past him. “In Dark Root, Sasha Shantay is the star of the show. We’re all just extras.”

  “Sasha? Your mom, right? Sorry, you don’t talk about her much.”

  I nodded. “She never liked for us to call her mom. Said it made her feel old.” I had to laugh. My mother seemed to have been born old, and no amount of witchcraft or Mary Kay could change that. Although she claimed to be not a day older than thirty-five, her gray roots and loose bosom gave her away.

  “That’s what families are for, right? To make you crazy.”

  “I should have asked you years ago, Jason. Where is your family?” I felt guilty. I had known this man for a quarter of my life and I knew so little about him. But all of us at Woodhaven, those who stayed anyway, were running from something.

  Jason’s eyes softened. “They’re all gone, Mags. It’s just me.” He spread his hands and smiled. “Family is important, even if they do make you a little nuts.”

  For the first time in years, I took a good look at him. He was not the thin, acne-ridden twenty-three-year-old I remembered from the past. He was tanned and muscular and when he smiled, devastatingly handsome. I cursed Michael for making me love him when there were men like Jason on this earth.

  “You ready for this?” he asked. There were just a few people ahead of me, but the woman and her three children were taking awhile to board. “We’ve sheltered you. I feel bad now, protecting you like we did. You were so sweet and innocent when we found you, the kid sister I never had. Now I feel like you are entering the world completely unprepared.” He thrust his hands into his pockets, the mop of his hair falling across his face.

  “I’m not sure what I’m ready for, to be honest,” I admitted. “But life’s an adventure, right?”

  He nodded. “Mags...two things. Don’t trust men. Any of us, okay? We all want one thing and that’s all. Once we get it, we change.” He grinned. “Well, except for me, of course.”

  “Men suck. Got it. And might I add that you don’t need to worry. I’ve already learned my lesson on that one. What’s the second thing?”

  Jason removed a hand from his pocket and produced a wad of money and an electronic gadget. “I acquisitioned these for you. A thousand dollars and a cell phone, courtesy of a generous new donor.” Jason chuckled and produced another phone from his pocket, winked, and returned it. “The other one is mine. I programmed in my number. Call if you need anything, okay?”

  I was about to object when he stopped me.

  “The outside world is expensive and dangerous, Mags. You’re gonna need a bit of help.” He pushed the items into my palm and tightened his fist around mine in a this is non-negotiable sort of way. I gave him a tight-lipped smile and accepted his gifts.

  “Thanks, Jason. You’ve been a good friend. I love you.”

  We gave each other one final hug and for the first time since making my decision to leave Woodhaven, I almost turned back.

  “I love you too,” he whispered in my ear.

  Fucking Michael.

  “721 departing for Salem, Oregon,” said the man at the door, giving me a warning look.

  I nodded a goodbye to Jason and went through the portal that would take me to my new life...the old life I had left behind.

  Six: Wild World

  Dark Root, Oregon

  January, 1990

  “She’s here! She’s here!” Maggie’s sister Merry screeched, scrambling from her window seat and knocking off two flowered cushions in the process.

  She ran for the door, a blur of blond hair and pink crinoline.

  “Well,” she said to Maggie, who laid tucked under a pile of blankets on the sofa. “...Aren’t you coming?” Maggie shrugged, popping her thumb into her mouth as she stared at the cartoons on the TV. Shaggy and Scooby had gobbled up their Scooby Snacks and Maggie giggled, almost biting her thumb.

  “Can’t we just get a puppy?” Maggie asked, removing her thumb from her mouth to speak. She examined a blister on the tip of it where she had sucked too hard, and then rub
bed it across the satin edge of her blanket. She thought about asking Merry to kiss it better, but decided against it. Merry might kiss it, but she would also lecture her.

  “Miss Maggie,” said Aunt Dora, waddling in from the kitchen and flipping off the television. “Git ready to greet yer mother, will ya? An’ don’ go tellin’ her I let ya watch cartoons. I promised her I wouldn’...” Aunt Dora gave Maggie a little wink.

  Maggie yawned, smoothed down her unruly, cherry-colored hair, and made her way towards the door to stand with Merry.

  “Ruth Anne!” Aunt Dora hollered up the staircase.

  When her niece didn’t respond, Aunt Dora cupped her hands together and bellowed again. She hated climbing the stairs, claiming age and bad knees made it impossible, especially steps as steep as the ones in Sister House.

  “Ruth Anne! Yer mother’s here! Git down here, girl.”

  “I hope it’s a boy!” Merry squealed, rubbing her hands together and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I think we have enough girls.”

  “Why do we have to have another baby, anyways?” Maggie asked, reaching for Merry’s hand. There had been nothing but baby talk since before Christmas and Maggie was tired of hearing it. Though she was almost four, and just eighteen months younger than Merry, she enjoyed being the youngest of the house. “...I like our family the way it is.” Maggie strained her ears to listen to the sounds outside. She could hear her mother’s voice, saying goodbye to Uncle Joe who had dropped her off.

  “It’s not our choice. Yer mother wanted another baby and she had one.” Aunt Dora turned her gaze on Maggie. “I don’ know why she wants another rug rat runnin’ around, neither. Ya three are enough to make a young woman ol’ and put an ol’ woman in her grave.”

  And then, turning to Merry,

  “Ya’ll love it, whether it’s a boy or girl. Ya love e’eryone, Miss Merry.”

  Merry giggled and turned towards Maggie. “You’re going to be a big girl now, like me and Ruth Anne. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Merry twirled on tiptoes, yellow hair and tutu spinning out around her.

  “How long has Mama been gone?” Maggie asked, popping her thumb back into her mouth. Merry gave her a disapproving look and Maggie removed it. “I don’t remember what she looks like.”

  “Oh, you’ll remember her. No doubt about it.” Her sister Ruth Anne trudged down the stairs carrying the largest book Maggie had ever seen. She was wearing a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a baggy t-shirt their mother hated. Her long, brown hair was fastened in a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. “No one forgets Sasha Shantay...”

  Ruth Anne posed dramatically at the bottom of the staircase, letting the book fall from her hands and land on the wooden floor with a noisy thump. Merry and Maggie laughed in response.

  “Be good girls, will ya? Yer mama’s not gonna let me sit wit’ ya anymore if she see the way yer acting.” Aunt Dora removed the apron she was wearing, and placed it on the breakfast table. “Okay, now. I think I hear her comin’ in. E’eryone smile pretty.”

  Ruth Anne removed a pair of glasses from the front pocket of her jeans, deposited them on her face, and joined her younger sisters. The girls lined up according to age, youngest to oldest––Maggie, Merry, and Ruth Anne.

  At last, the door opened and their mother burst in, wearing a purple-feathered boa around her neck and an infant carrier draped across her arm like a very large purse.

  “Mama!” Maggie and Merry hollered in unison as Ruth Anne reached forward to give her mother a quick hug.

  “My girls!”

  Their mother sat the carrier on the ground and scooped her three daughters into her arms. They allowed it for a second, then wiggled free to see their new sibling. The baby was pink and round with a dark patch of fuzz on the top of its head. It was dressed in a rose-colored nightgown that was tied at the bottom like a birthday present.

  “It’s a girl!” Merry exclaimed, leaning in to smell the baby. She inhaled deeply and grinned. “Oh. Babies smell wonderful.”

  “Just wait,” Ruth Anne said, after a brief glance at the new family member before going to retrieve her fallen book. “They don’t smell that way for long. Trust me.” Ruth Anne plopped herself down in a voluminous recliner and began reading.

  Their mother ignored Ruth Anne’s lack of interest.

  “You three have a new sister, born on New Year’s Eve, exactly one week after Merry’s birthday. Isn’t that special? We have two holiday babies now!” Miss Sasha reached into the carrier and covered the baby up with a soft-looking, pink blanket that had been wadded up by her feet.

  “Well, what’s da child’s name, for mercy’s sake?” Aunt Dora asked, working her way in. “Or have ya even thought of that, yet?”

  “Eve.” Their mother smiled tiredly, stretching her arms overhead. She removed her feathered boa and her fur coat and placed them on hooks by the door. “It’s drafty in here. Dora, are you trying to freeze us all?” She rubbed her arms to prove her point.

  “Are ya kiddin? It’s hot as Hades in dis house, at least in the downstairs. Upstairs, it’s so cold I didn’t wan’ the girls sleeping up there. Ya should git someone out to check the thermostat. These old house are full o’ weird air pockets.” Aunt Dora meandered into the kitchen.

  “Don’t mind her, girls,” their mother whispered, loud enough for her sister in the next room to hear. “She’s a Grumpy Gus, lately. That’s what happens when you go through the change.”

  Aunt Dora appeared in the kitchen entryway, wielding a rolling pin and waving it overhead. “If I’m gettin’ old, I’m draggin’ ya along wit’ me,” she said, then disappeared back into the other room.

  “Maybe Eve can be my birthday present?” Merry asked. She was crouched down, peering intently into the carrier. “We never did have a party for me.”

  “We will have a birthday for you, Merry,” her mother apologized. “And you can be my special helper with the baby, okay?” She picked up the carrier and walked to the breakfast nook, placing the baby on the table. Then she settled herself into one of their mismatched wooden chairs and called Aunt Dora to bring her some tea.

  “Does it hurt to sit?” Ruth Anne asked, her eyes frozen on her book. “I heard popping out kiddos makes it hard to sit.”

  Their mother threw her head back and laughed, long brown waves shimmying around her face. “Ruth Anne, you are such a funny girl. Are you sure you’re only eight?” She caught her reflection in the brass framed mirror on the opposite wall. She studied it, pursed her lips together, then pushed her finger into one of the deeper lines around her mouth. “Dora,” she called into the kitchen. “While you’re at it, can you find me my aloe cream? My skin’s a little dry.”

  Aunt Dora muttered an indecipherable answer and Miss Sasha returned her attention to her daughters.

  “To answer your question, Ruth Anne, I am fine. Fine as wine, in fact.”

  Maggie crossed her arms, her chin jutting out defiantly. “Can’t we take Eve back? I don’t want another baby.”

  “No, darling. She is ours forever now. You’ll get used to her, I promise”

  “She going to sleep in the sitting room? There’s nothing in there but junk, anyways,” Ruth Anne said, moving her eyes from the book she was reading to the locked door on the side of the living room.

  The color of their mother’s eyes changed from violet to black.

  “Nobody goes into the sitting room but me, do you understand?” Her jaw tightened and the thin, blue veins in her neck pulsed. Merry, Maggie, and Ruth Anne tensed up at the look on their mother’s face and remained quiet, waiting for her storm to pass. Finally, her face softened. “I’m sorry,” she said, closing her eyes and opening them quickly. “I’m just tired. Having a baby takes a lot out of you.”

  She poured herself a cup of tea from the pot Aunt Dora had produced, took a long sip, then swallowed, turning her eyes on Maggie. “She is going to sleep with you in the nursery. You’ll be four soon, much too old for a crib.
We’ll get you a big girl’s bed. Won’t you like that?”

  Maggie panicked.

  She had thought the baby would be sleeping in her room but not in her bed, too. She knew that she had gotten too old for the crib long ago, but she had always felt safe inside the little cage, with her stuffed animals and her night light. It was her own private fortress and at night, when everyone was asleep, she would cover it in blankets and stay hidden until morning.

  It had kept things...away.

  “No!”

  Her voice was strong and angry, surprising even her. Mother’s tea cup trembled on it’s saucer. Aunt Dora’s eyes widened but her mother just nodded.

  “I know you have nightmares, Maggie,” her mother said softly, “With Eve in the room with you, they might just go away.”

  Maggie knew the argument was over and that she had lost.

  Maybe there were other safe places in the room. The closet or under the crib. She would scout them out later, when she was alone.

  Or maybe, if she was lucky, the ‘thing’ that was looking for her, would go after Eve instead.

  Somewhere in Central Oregon

  September, 2013

  It was another dream. I rubbed at my eyes trying to push back the past. It was bad enough that I was forced to return home. I didn’t need the constant reminders of why I left.

  I tried to wiggle my legs but they were locked in between the seat and my suitcase on the floor of the bus. Our last bus had broken down, and a new one had been sent for us. Unfortunately, the luggage compartment was already full, and so I had to finish the ride with nowhere to put my feet. But I didn’t dare let it out of my sight; a man across the row had been eyeballing it since I boarded, licking his lips and twitching his eyes.

  The rest of me was achy too, courtesy of the potholes and poor road skills of our new driver, who I was sure was out to get me ever since I demanded he pull over and let me use a real bathroom because I wasn’t going to pee in their courtesy cesspool.