The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  “Where we going?” Merry asked, her face scrunching up in her expression of seriousness. “I’m tired.”

  “We can’t stop now,” Maggie insisted, dragging her sister behind her.

  They opened each door as they passed, peeking in for possible hiding places.

  Each room presented its own set of challenges. Too small. Not enough furniture. No escape route. Occupied. Had they been back at their own house, they might have had an easier time figuring out a plan. Maggie knew every nook, corner and cranny of Sister House, but Harvest Home was still a foreign land.

  “There!” Merry pointed to a string that dangled from the ceiling.

  They looked up to see the rectangular outline of the attic door.

  “That’s not a good idea,” Maggie said. She was afraid, but she didn’t want her sister to know. “You might get hurt.”

  Merry clucked her tongue. “We never get hurt.” She rubbed Maggie’s arm and a warm, soothing energy crept through her body. Behind them, a set of wild, heavy footsteps let them know they were still being followed.

  Feeling helpless, Maggie pulled the rope.

  A heavy wooden door fell forward, unrolling itself, barely missing their heads as it dropped. The footsteps grew heavier, beating down upon them like a wild horse. Merry scrambled upwards and Maggie followed cautiously behind, keeping watch.

  “It’s dark,” Merry said, surveying the room.

  Maggie swallowed, allowing only her head and arms to enter the blackness. A tiny round window high up on the vaulted walls, obscured by cobwebs and dirt, was the only source of light.

  “Help me get the ladder up,” Maggie said, pulling herself fully into the attic. The footsteps had momentarily ceased, and Maggie realized the follower was probably scouring one of the rooms. Time was short. “Quick!”

  The two girls wrestled with the ladder. “It’s heavy,” Merry said, her breathing deepening as her chubby fingers locked around the rungs.

  Maggie nodded and wondered if it was too late.

  But with one final tug the ladder acquiesced, folding itself as if by magic, and the girls whooped victoriously.

  The moonlight from the window fell across a clump of figures near Maggie’s right foot. She jumped back instinctively. Could that be a pile of bodies? Curiosity won out over fear and she touched one, expecting to feel something clammy and spongy, something decomposing. The object was dry and smooth.

  She grinned. These were not bodies. They were giant, porcelain dolls.

  A scuttling in the corner caused them to yelp.

  “Probably just rats,” Merry said.

  Maggie grimaced. Her sister may love all animals, but she didn’t. She sat down on the cold floor and covered her knees with her skirt, Merry following suit.

  “Let’s try and be quieter,” Merry whispered.

  Maggie looked around, trying to make out shadows in the dark. Long, formless shapes danced on the walls. “Do you think this room is haunted?”

  Merry thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. But even if it was, Mama says ghosts won’t hurt anyone. They just want someone to talk to.”

  Of course, neither Mother nor Merry had probably been visited as Maggie had. The spirits came mostly when she slept, and only a scream or the flip of a light switch would send them away. She huddled closer to her sister.

  “I think it’s almost over,” Merry said, nodding.

  Maggie reached for her sister’s hair, finding silver-yellow tresses so long they fell past her lap and splayed across the floor. She coiled them around her hand like spaghetti on a fork. They glittered in the darkness like the silken strands of a butterfly’s cocoon. Maggie had just began to relax, when a loud, sudden noise made her jump.

  The room flooded with light as the attic door fell open.

  Maggie and Merry caught their breath, clinging to each other, small hands digging into each other’s arms. They watched and waited as a figure emerged.

  Maggie could hold it no longer and she let out a pitiful scream.

  “Guys? Where are you?” It was Eve’s voice.

  Maggie could make out the silhouette of her sister’s lithe body and long, straight hair. She chastised herself for being silly.

  Merry stood up and beckoned. “Here we are, Eve! Come hide with us.”

  Eve scrambled to join them, not bothering to shut the hatch behind her. Maggie and Eve sat on either side of Merry like bookends.

  “I was so scared you were caught!” Even in a whisper Merry’s voice was a bundle of excitement.

  “I almost was, but then I escaped.” Eve explained.

  Of course, she did, Maggie thought.

  Eve always got away from everything unscathed.

  The reunion was short-lived, however, as new sounds emerged––a trampling of footsteps falling on the hallway below. Maggie could hear Merry suck in her breath as she grabbed her sister’s hands. The three of them folded in on one another, waiting for their doom.

  “Time’s up,” a voice said, as a short, slender figure made its way into the attic hideaway. “Mom says it’s time to go...”

  Ruth Anne stood before them, hand on hip.

  “Shane’s asleep on the couch,” Ruth Anne said. “He gave up looking for you twenty minutes ago.” She peered into the room and shook her head, an indication that she was not impressed. “Let’s get out of here, before they open another bottle of wine.”

  “That was fun,” Merry said, scampering down the ladder. “Ruth Anne always finds us, though.”

  Maggie agreed. Ruth Anne may not have any magic, but she had smarts.

  In the hallway, the Counsel of Seven waited for the girls: Uncle Joe, Uncle Leo, Aunt Dora, Miss Rosa, Miss Narissa, Miss Lettie, and their mother.

  “Darlings!” Miss Sasha said, running over and sweeping them up in her arms. “Mommy was so worried about you! Harvest Home is a big place and the spirits are restless here. But I’m glad you are safe...”

  “We were just playing hide and seek,” Eve explained. “Shane was supposed to find us.”

  Uncle Joe knelt down, producing three lollipops from his pocket. He took Maggie’s hand and guided her down the stairs to the main room, while the others followed behind. Maggie spotted Shane snoring on one of the red couches. No boy could ever beat the Maddock girls. If he were awake she would stick her tongue out at him, but as it was, she would have to settle for teasing him about it later.

  “Rosa,” Miss Sasha said, taking the hand of her friend. “As always, I’ve had a marvelous time.” Miss Sasha licked her index finger and held it up, pausing. “Looks like rain is coming. We must hurry home.”

  Uncle Joe cleared his throat and shot Sasha a look that said there was still unfinished business to attend to.

  “Oh, all right, Joseph,” their mother said, smiling at her daughters. “One more minute then. Girls, go say goodbye to Shane while you are waiting.”

  Eve and Merry proceeded to ‘wake’ Shane up by thumping him with throw pillows from one of the sofas. Ruth Anne plopped herself down in a chair and removed a paperback from her purse. Maggie stayed where she was, pretending to read a songbook while she eavesdropped on the adults.

  “We’ve already had three sightings in the last year,” Uncle Joe said.

  “That doesn’t mean she is stalking us, Joe. Really, I thought you people had more sense than that.” Miss Sasha sounded amused.

  “What type of people are you referring to?” Joe asked, less amused. “Gay people?”

  “Now you really are being silly. I could care less about your orientation. I meant warlocks.”

  Joe accepted the answer and forced a laugh.

  Miss Sasha continued. “Now, let’s stop working ourselves up into a tizzy and relax. The Circle will not be broken.”

  “And you feel confident the girls are safe?” Uncle Leo asked.

  Maggie stole a peek and saw both Aunt Dora and her mother nodding.

  “I am their mother. Of course, they are safe. Neither Larinda nor any
member of her tribe would be able to get past me.”

  The idea that they might be in danger made the hairs on Maggie’s arm stand up. She turned to see if her sisters were hearing any of this, but they were preoccupied with their tasks.

  “There are only four,” Uncle Joe continued. “We need seven.”

  “Shall I hatch out a few more, then?” Miss Sasha tossed her hands into the air.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Aunt Dora. “I said I would help with their care, not with the incubation. It’s been a long time since my oven worked.”

  Aunt Dora’s words were met with easy laughter, breaking the tension.

  “We’ll get there,” Miss Sasha reassured them. “These things take time. Besides, we aren’t even sure where Larinda is. I heard one of the women struck out on her own. That could be her.”

  “If that’s the case, she’s even more dangerous.”

  Maggie recognized Miss Lettie’s deep voice.

  “...She wants it, and badly,” Miss Letting went on. “As long as she is out there roaming around, we need to be extra careful. The girls are only half grown, and the circle is already beginning to crack.”

  “Well, no use worrying about it tonight,” Miss Sasha said, reaching for her shawl. “Remember, the girls are safe, so long as the seven remain intact.”

  “Alright,” Uncle Joe consented. “We’ve come too far now. And far be it from me to question a real…witch.”

  With that, Miss Sasha called for her daughters.

  They gathered in the entry and said their goodbyes.

  When they finally set out on the long walk home, it was approaching midnight. The dirt path was visible with the help of the moon, but it seemed to go on forever. There were things out there looking for us, Maggie thought, as she reflected on her mother’s words.

  She walked just behind her mother, listening to a tune Miss Sasha hummed which Maggie recognized as ‘Maggie May.’ Her sisters followed, parade-style, with Ruth Anne dawdling far behind as she tried to read a book by the light of the moon.

  They didn’t seem worried at all. Maybe Maggie wouldn’t tell them about what she had heard. Maybe it was a secret she needed to keep.

  “Girls,” their mother said, when they finally reached their home. “Would you like a new baby sister?”

  Eve and Merry clapped.

  Maggie narrowed her eyes, and Ruth Anne shook her head and tromped up to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Harvest Home, Dark Root, Oregon

  September, 2013

  I awoke to a hazy sunlight that filtered through the rose-colored curtains of the Flora and Fauna room. It cast a majestic orange halo over my bed and for a moment I felt weightless and ethereal. I lay in bed and reflected on my latest dream. Shane was there, and Mother’s friends, and once again the ominous Larinda had come up.

  I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it all, but my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a chair being pulled across a wooden floor.

  I turned to see Eve sitting at the vanity, applying lipstick.

  “Finally,” she said, her eyes sparkling. I caught her reflection smiling in the mirror as she put on large hoop earrings. “We thought you’d never wake up, you lazy bones.” Eve spun on her stool, placing her hands between her knees. “You have a visitor.”

  “I do?” I rubbed my eyes and sat up, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 9:55. I was surprised I had slept so long. I was usually up with the sunrise for morning meditation.

  I became aware of a dull ache in my wrists and I rubbed them, noticing a red bruise forming around my right one. Images of my assault the night before rushed back, but I pushed them away. I had gotten out safely. That was all that mattered.

  “It’s so good to be home, isn’t it?” Eve said, tilting her pointy chin in the direction of the sunbeam and closing her eyes. “I missed Oregon. I know I complained about the weather when we were young, but I would take the rain in place of a New York winter any day.” She reached overhead, her t-shirt rising up with her, and I noticed that something about Eve was different.

  She caught me gawking and smiled.

  “You like?” she asked, pushing out her chest. “I got them done about three years ago. All the actresses in New York get boob jobs. You’re practically shunned if you don’t.” She smiled easily, as if this was the most ordinary statement in the world. “Anyways, Shane Doler requests the presence of your company...if you can manage to get out of bed.”

  Eve returned to her primping, combing her hair, applying rouge, and painting her fingernails. I watched curiously. It had been a long time since I had seen a woman preen. I caught my own reflection in the mirror, pale-faced and wild-haired.

  I needed a shower.

  “I hardly know Shane. Why is he here?” I got out of bed and smoothed the comforter into place. I didn’t have to do a good job. Aunt Dora would remake it anyways.

  Eve shrugged. “You knew him pretty well when we were kids. Did they do a memory wipe on you, back at the cult?”

  “No,” I said, blinking slowly. “But I wish they would have.”

  Eve laughed, unperturbed. “Anyways, I thought he was here to see me, but it appears I was wrong.” She shook her head at the absurdity of it. “Who knew?”

  “Maybe he likes natural women,” I said as Eve applied another coat of lacquer across her cheeks.

  “No man likes natural women, Maggie. They just think they do. Give them the choice of two women, one who has taken the time to fix herself up, and one who looks like she just got done working on a farm, and he will chose the ‘fixed up’ one every time. It’s called sexual selection.”

  “Then why are there so many farmers’ wives?” I countered.

  It was a weak point, but it did the job. She shook her head and let the conversation go.

  “Anyways, are you coming down?” Eve pushed some things into her purse and went to the door.

  “I need to shower first. Tell everyone I’ll be down soon.”

  Eve winked and left the room.

  Her long hair grazed her perfectly round bottom and I felt suddenly self-conscious. My mother swore that every woman was beautiful, but even as a kid I knew that some were more beautiful than others. I had seen the way every boy in town ran after Eve since the day she turned fourteen. The only time I had ever ‘beaten’ her was the day Michael walked into our mother’s shop and chose me. And that turned out really well.

  If she knew how that ended, I’d never hear the end of it.

  I walked into the bathroom, undressed, and checked my body in the mirror. There were a few small bruises along the side of my neck and my back was red and purple. I searched through the cupboard and found a bag of Epson Salts. Aunt Dora swore by them, claiming they could cure just about any ailment that plagued you, inside or out.

  I turned on the water, poured in some salt, then gingerly stepped into the tub. It stung at first but after a few minutes the salts did their job, relaxing and soothing my aches and pains.

  After my bath I dressed in another long skirt and an over-sized sweater, something to hide all my bruises. I left my hair loose to cover up the marks on my neck, then applied a few drops of lotion to my face. Finally, I put on the crystal Michael had given me, tucking it into my shirt. I needed a reminder that once upon a time I had been somebody.

  Once upon a time I wasn’t just another daughter of Dark Root.

  With nothing more to do, I went down the stairs to see what awaited me.

  I passed through the living room and peeked into the kitchen. For such a big house, the room was quite small, nothing like the industrial-sized galley we had at Woodhaven. Even so, it was cozy and clean and there were fresh flowers in the windowsill. Blue-checkered curtains hung on the window that overlooked the garden. I could smell coffee brewing and bacon sizzling. And I could hear a steady stream of pleasant conversations as I entered the room.

  Around the breakfast table sat a gathering of people I recognized: Eve, Merry,
Aunt Dora and Shane. There was also a new face, a young male who sat opposite Eve. That must be her ‘friend.’ He was tapping on the table with his fork and staring absently out the window.

  “Der she is.” Aunt Dora dropped her dish cloth and charged towards me. “My Maggie girl! Yer Auntie missed ya so much.”

  She hugged me and I sunk into the heavy folds of her flesh. It was like climbing into a soft bed after a long day.

  “Yer pretty as ever,” she said, taking a step back to inspect me. “Still got da red hair I see. That’s the Celt comin’ out in ya.”

  “You told me before that it was Irish.”

  “Celt, Irish, Portuguese. It’s all da same.”

  Everyone laughed and I gave my aunt a warm smile. It was as if no time at all had passed between us.

  “Good morning, Maggie,” Shane said. He was holding a coffee cup to his chin, letting the steam waft up to his nose. “I’m glad you woke up. I was about to go check on you.”

  I looked at him, hoping he hadn’t told anyone about the previous evening. He smiled and almost imperceptibly shook his head, letting me know that my secret was still safe.

  I gave him a grateful smile, which Eve caught.

  “She’s filled out, hasn’t she?” Eve said, her eyes resting on my waist. “Soy milk must be agreeing with you.”

  “Not as much as ya have, Missy,” Aunt Dora said, nodding towards Eve’s new bosom. Eve surprised me by blushing and covering her chest with her arms. Aunt Dora winked at me, then went to stir something on the stove.

  “We’ve all changed,” Merry said, handing us each a plate with a biscuit.

  Aunt Dora followed, ladling out globs of sticky white gravy over the top.

  I took a bite, wondering how many of Michael’s food laws I was breaking. A surge of sadness hit me as I realized it didn’t matter anymore. I was no longer a member of Woodhaven.

  Fuck Michael, I thought, sinking my teeth deep into the biscuit. I was a free woman now. I could eat anything I wanted.

  “Mmmm,” I moaned. “Aunt Dora, this is so good.” I devoured it.