The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  The picture was terrifying. “What does it want?” I said.

  “Maggie, you are like a power outlet for these ‘things’ to plug into. Your emotions are so powerful they are almost tangible. Especially the darker ones: jealousy, envy, and anger. They gobble this stuff up.”

  “No wonder they hang out at my house.”

  “And fear. Especially fear.”

  “Why fear?”

  “Fear has a lasting effect. It’s like walking into a room after a fight. There might be no physical evidence of the fight, but you can still feel it. Fear leaves that type of imprint but it lingers longer and is easily digestible to certain types of entities. If they can make you afraid, they get to stick around longer.”

  My heart was racing. “What can I do?”

  “For starters, keep a night light on. The dark is the birthplace of fear. But most importantly, learn to control your emotions. The ‘thing’ can’t eat if you don’t give it food.”

  I gave her a desperate look and she laughed.

  “Easier said than done, huh?” Jillian closed the book and studied me. “You’ve always had visitors, Maggie. That is a gift, and one you’ve been running from, but an important one.”

  “Visitors.” I repeated her word. “You make it sound fun. Like they come to have tea and crumpets with me on the veranda.”

  Jillian laughed, her voice light and airy again. “Well, I do with mine, sometimes. Maybe I need to get some friends on this plane.” Then changing the subject. “Do you have a crystal?”

  I reached under my shirt and showed her the crystal. She reached out to grab it, lifting it to the light. “This one is wonderful. Very powerful. But it’s not really yours, is it? It has the energy of someone else on it. Someone who hasn't been entirely, shall we say, behaving himself.”

  “No, it was a gift.” I almost choked on the memory of Michael giving it to me.

  “Its previous owner did have a certain power. Not like yours, but a power nonetheless, and it’s infused in this crystal. Get your own? The right crystal will help you center and clear your mind. Both of which are necessary to help you deal with these unwanted guests of yours.”

  “How do I find one?”

  “You don’t. Crystals find you. But for now, consider getting that one cleansed. The past owner’s energy is inhibiting yours.”

  “That figures.” Even miles away, Michael was still trying to control me. “There is something else...”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “My mother had a stroke. She’s in the hospital.” I swallowed hard and felt a strange tingling in the tips of my fingers.

  Jillian narrowed her eyes and looked past me. “Your mother’s fate is still unknown. There are too many factors.” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “The cards are not all drawn. The fate of many things, including her life, rests on the shoulders of her daughters.”

  “I don’t understand. How does her life rest on my shoulders?”

  Jillian opened her eyes and smiled knowingly. “There is another player. A woman. You will face her.”

  “Larinda?”

  At the name, Jillian froze. After several moments she spoke, her voice soft but serious.

  “Honey, I should have confessed something earlier,” she said. “I hadn’t come to Dark Root by accident. The truth is, I knew your mother and some of the others back in the day.” She threw her head back, laughing. “They were a bunch, weren’t they!”

  “I know.” I removed the picture of Jillian and my mother together from my purse. “How were you two acquainted?”

  She took the picture from me, tracing her fingers along its time worn edges.

  “I was one of the original members of The Council of Thirteen.” Jillian paused, choosing her words with care. “I was young and though I had gifts, they were a bit, shall I say, unbridled.” She smiled at the memory. “Your mother found me in a mall, of all places, and promptly recruited me. It was great fun playing coven and having friends who shared similar interests. For once, I didn’t feel like a freak. At any rate, the Council of Thirteen lasted a few years before we succumbed to dissension. Seven stayed in Dark Root. Five moved to another town and reformed. I went rogue.”

  “I’ve heard that some of the members were trying to control demons. Is that true?”

  “Yes, that’s true. But to the best of my knowledge, that never happened. They were not nearly as powerful as they pretended to be.”

  “I was told the reason the group broke up was because the men were dabbling in the dark arts. If that wasn’t the reason, then why?”

  “Whether they were able to summon or not, your mother wanted nothing to do with it. So, that was definitely part of it. But the real reasons we split were far more mundane. Power struggles, too many chiefs and not enough Indians. Jealousy. Love.”

  “Love?”

  “Love is the most powerful Magick of all, and sometimes, when misguided, the most destructive.”

  “That doesn’t sound like love.”

  “Bingo! You’re a bright young woman.” Jillian smiled broadly in approval. “No Maggie, real love is self-sacrificing. It’s a give, not a take. When somebody, or something, wants to take from you, use you, control you, that’s obsession, not love.”

  “Was Larinda on the council?”

  Jillian nodded. “Your mother and her clashed. Often. They each had their own way of doing things and come hell or high water, they were going to get their way. They couldn’t plan a picnic without fighting over who would bring the potato salad.”

  “Mother liked to be in charge,” I agreed.

  “She certainly did. Miss Sasha was a firecracker, that’s for sure. Still, I’m not certain what Larinda has to do with any of this now.” Jillian pressed her lips together. “Well, I hoped that answered your question. Larinda might be a player in this game but it is the Maddock girls who will determine the outcome. To many things.”

  I didn’t like what she was saying. It sounded like even more responsibilities, best left for someone else. I had never really accomplished anything. If my mother’s fate partly rested in my hands, the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

  “Will you come see us at the Haunted Dark Root Festival?” I asked, purposely changing the subject.

  “I will do my best.” Jillian patted my hand. “I know the festival doesn’t seem very important to you, but in the grand scheme of things, this may be just what your mother needs to get well again. Now if you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I have a present for you.”

  Jillian went into the adjoining room and returned with a bundle of sticks wrapped in string, which I recognized as a sage stick.

  “Burn this in your house,” she advised. “It’s not strong enough to get rid of that ‘thing’, but it can lessen its power and keep out future hobgoblins,” she winked. “Well, dear, I do have to run. Call me and come see me again, okay? You’re a wonderful young woman and the door is always open.”

  We stood and hugged. I felt a deep connection with her.

  Maybe it was because we had similar ‘gifts’.

  I walked out to the car, mulling things over.

  Larinda was a real person. Jillian had once been a friend of my mother’s. The Council of Seven had once been the Council of Thirteen. There was something between a ghost and a demon inhabiting the nursery. And Mother’s life was dependent on us.

  I chewed on my lip as I sorted it out.

  Shane was leaned up against his truck, headphones plugged into his Ipod, tapping his toes. He didn’t see me and I noticed again how handsome he was, in that goofy sort of way of his. I touched him on the shoulders and he removed the earphones.

  “Get any resolution?”

  “Just more questions.”

  He pointed at my sage stick. “What’s that?”

  “A little something to push back the evil spirits.”

  “Don’t point it at me then,” he teased.

  “Maybe Eve can be in charge of this sage stick. Evil doesn't seem to b
other her and I’m not sure I can go back in Sister House again.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Shane looked at the sky. The clouds had parted and a small ray of light fell on his forehead like a target. “Let’s go home, Maggie. I’m playing around with a new chocolate sauce that has your name written all over it.”

  “Is that in place of the cauliflower nightmare you were trying to push on me earlier?” I teased. We got in the truck and sat in our appointed spots. I even buckled.

  “It’s dessert,” he said, once we were settled. “...You can have some if you are a good girl and eat all your vegetables.”

  “You do know how to woo a woman, don’t you?”

  “I try, but it’s not as effective as one might think.” He stretched an arm out of the window, turning his palm towards the sun.

  It was the last day of September. We would likely not see the sun again for many months. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t eaten yet today.

  “I’m so hungry I’m willing to try any of your concoctions right now,” I admitted.

  “Perfect,” he said, turning onto the road that led us back to Dark Root. “You are exactly the type of customer I’m hoping for.”

  “So, ya had a good visit wit’ yer mother?” Aunt Dora was attempting to lift her considerable body from the old kitchen chair. There were loud creaking sounds and I wasn’t sure if they were coming from my Aunt or the chair. I shot June Bug a knowing look and she covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

  I motioned for Aunt Dora to sit back down and I took over the task or clearing the table.

  June Bug sat opposite her, coloring with markers on a sheet of poster board. I’d check her progress every now and then, giving her suggestions as well as encouragement. Her tongue flicked excitedly out of the side of her mouth like a little frog grasping at flies.

  “I wouldn’t call it a visit,” I said, taking a dish cloth to the table.

  Aunt Dora shook her head and pointed to a dry cloth and spray in the windowsill instead. I took the bottle and spritzed it across the table.

  “...It was more like a haunting,” I added.

  Aunt Dora took a sip of her tea, watching me over the top of her cup. Though her face was covered in lines, she was as mentally sharp as ever. I could tell she was waiting to see if I would continue, so I teased her by humming quietly to myself. It wasn’t long before she couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

  “Well, what happened then?” she grumbled. “Ya really want to keep an ol’ lady in suspense? Then yer gonna have two relations in da hospital.” Aunt Dora slammed her cup onto the saucer and June Bug couldn’t contain her laughter any longer.

  “Let’s just say I’m no Merry,” I said.

  At the mention of her mother’s name June Bug grew quiet, gathered her markers, and proceeded into the living room.

  “Poor dear,” Aunt Dora said, her eyes following her great-niece. “Sensitive, jus’ like her mother.”

  I nodded and peeked around the corner, into the living room. June Bug was coloring again but the expression on her face had changed.

  “I’m worried about Merry,” I whispered, shaking my head. My hair fell into my face, creating a curtain of red between me and my aunt. I pulled it back into a loose knot at the nape of my neck. “...She seems drained. I feel so guilty being here while she is there.”

  “An’ ya should!”

  The tone of Aunt Dora’s voice surprised me. I looked up.

  She caught herself and lowered it.

  “...We all should, for dat matter,” she said. “Yer sister is a good woman and one o’ da few people in dis family wit’ genuine compassion, and we are takin’ her for granted. It’s too much for her, especially wit’ her havin’ a lil’ one an’ all.” Aunt Dora’s eyes drifted towards the kitchen window, at a blue bird sitting on the branch of a tree.

  “...I will go tomorrow an’ give her a break.” Her eyes found mine. “Ya can help yer sister in other ways. I think ya already are.”

  “Thank you,” I said, rinsing the cloth under the faucet, watching the water turn from brown to clear. “That makes me feel better.”

  “I know ya long enough ta know there’s something else on yer mind. Spill it, missy.”

  I sighed, leaning my hands on the counter. “I keep thinking back to the mother I knew and the mother I have now. I just can’t reconcile them.” I wrung out the cloth, hanging it across the sink divider. I watched as small droplets clung stubbornly to the rag before submitting to the drain below.

  Aunt Dora nodded. “It’s a hard thing, watchin’ yer parents grow ol’. I remember my own mother. So sad at da end.”

  I had never heard Mother or Aunt Dora mention their parents. I didn’t speak, hoping she would say more about my grandparents, but she changed the subject.

  “Yer mother hasn’ been herself fer many years. She started having some phys’cal diff’culties after ya girls left. Back problems. Knees. Complained o’ pains in her chest. She tried ta work da store by herself. She was so used ta having ya girls aroun’, I’m not sure she knew what ta do once ya were gone...”

  “I thought she hired someone?”

  “Oh, she did, a college girl. But yer mother’s phys’cal condition got worse and den her mental state took a turn. I guess it was too much fer da two o’ dem.” Aunt Dora stirred her coffee with a small, silver spoon, clanking the edge of the porcelain cup. “The hired girl left an’ yer mother took to stayin’ in dat ol’ house o’ hers alone. Den she closed da shop down.”

  I sat down in June Bug’s empty chair.

  Aunt Dora lifted the teapot from the trivet and poured me a cup. The steam came up, wafting the scent of her special blend towards my nose. I inhaled and smiled. Aunt Dora claimed she didn’t dabble in herb magic, but there was something special about her teas, something even Eve could not duplicate.

  When she saw that I was relaxing, she continued.

  “Don’ go blamin’ yerself, or any o’ yer sisters for dis one. Kids get big. Dey grow up. Dey leave. Dat’s da natural order o’ things.” Aunt Dora drummed her plump fingers across the table. “At least, dat’s da way it’s s’posed to be. But yer mother, she’s a hard-head. She ne’er understood dat. When Ruth Anne left...”

  Aunt Dora paused and I could hear the lump that settled in her throat.

  Though we all loved Aunt Dora––and she, us––she had formed a special bond with Ruth Anne, long before the rest of us ever came into the world.

  “Well, anyway,” Aunt Dora went on. “Losin’ Ruth Anne was hard on e’eryone. Not just yer mother.” Aunt Dora pushed herself up with the help of the chair handle and immediately reached for a cane. She pulled herself to a walking position and went to the sink to rinse her cup.

  “Why did Ruth Anne leave?” I asked.

  I remembered the night she left. She had said she was going to live with her father, but had never given us a reason.

  “It’s not fer me ta say, Missy,” Aunt Dora said, her body tensing. “An’ it’s not fer ya ta be askin’. Sometimes families think dey shoul’ be privy to all sorts o’ information jus’ cuz they’re family. But truth is, sometimes families know too much.”

  I took another sip of tea, then gently set my cup back down on the table, trying to decide if I should pursue the topic or move on to something else. Aunt Dora was as stubborn as my mother, if in a different way. If I wanted to know more about Ruth Anne, I would have to wait.

  “There was one thing that happened in the hospital,” I said, adding a drop of honey to my tea.

  “Oh?”

  “Mother spoke to us. She said something about the circle being broken, and stopping a woman named Larinda. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” I kept my eyes turned down, watching as the honey dissolved.

  “Larinda? Ya sure, girl? She said Larinda?” Aunt Dora had somehow teleported back to the table, hovering over me with wide eyes.

  I nodded and Aunt Dora let out a little gasp.

  �
�But I thought...I mean, we all thought...”

  “Thought what?” I said.

  Aunt Dora made no motion to answer me and I repeated my question.

  “What did you think?”

  “Dat Larinda was dead. Many years ago. Yer mother must be delirious.”

  “Aunt Dora, I know that Larinda was part of the original Council, but why is Mother afraid of her?”

  Aunt Dora’s eyes were far away. She didn't seem to be hearing me.

  I tried again. “I had a dream about a woman named Larinda. She had dark hair and appeared at the festival parade. Mother was scared and hid us. But I know it wasn’t just a dream. It happened.”

  “Shhh!” Aunt Dora had an expression of fear on her face. “Der are some secrets darker den witchcraft.”

  “Why does everyone talk in these crazy riddles? What do you mean?”

  “Larinda was a powerful witch. Secon’ only to yer mother. But she wanted more, started playin’ wit’ da dark arts. Even fancied herself a summoner.” Aunt Dora looked down at me, her eyes watering, her body quivering.

  “A summoner, as in summoning...what?”

  “All manner o’ ungodly things.” Aunt Dora laughed, but it was clear she didn’t find it funny. “O’ course,” she added, cautiously. “Der hasn’t been a successful summoner in many years. But she’s a strong witch, e’en wit’out that ability.” Aunt Dora shook her head, as if doing so would erase the thought from her brain. “Be careful, girl. Ya could be in serious trouble.”

  “I thought it was the men in the group who were trying to summon?”

  “Dat’s true. But yer mother wasn’t worried about da men. Dey couldn’ do much alone.” Aunt Dora parted her lips, licking them. “But wit’ a witch at his side! A warlock was capable o’ mos’ anything.”

  “I’m still lost,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Der was one warlock, good fella, at first...but like all men, he wanted ta do more. He made Larinda fall in love wit’ him, den used her power to aid himself. But dey had no success. He wanted us ta help him wit’ it, too.” Aunt Dora lowered her eyes and I could tell she was deciding how much to tell me. “Dis is dark Magick, Maggie. An’ yer mother would ha’ none o’ it! An’ me, neither! Dark Magick is fast an’ powerful. It may serve ya in da short run but it will eat yer soul in da process.” She leaned forward, her razor-sharp eyes fixing on me. “An’ once ya journey down dat road, it’s a long walk back.”