The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  Eve and I turned our attention to our older sister, watching as she sprinkled a white powder in the shape of a five-pointed star onto the floor. A pentagram. Next, she formed a powdery circle around it. “The star must be inside the circle but the two shapes must not touch,” she said.

  I nodded, remembering from Mother’s book that this was the symbol for protection.

  “Maggie,” Merry said, not looking up. “Can you sprinkle sea salt around the outside of the house? It will keep your ‘thing’ from escaping.”

  I swallowed hard, peeking out the front window. Small black shapes twisted in the night.

  “I’m on it,” Eve said, and I mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.

  “What can I do?” I asked, watching Eve through the curtains. She had no awareness of the small creatures that slid into the shadows as she approached.

  “Find more candles. The shop was out. Light as many as you can. Mostly whites, but the other colors are okay, too. Just no black ones.”

  “Got it.”

  Mother’s shop might be devoid of candles, but her house had dozens. I found them tucked into drawers and baskets, and scattered across shelves. Once they were lit, I put them in holders and teacups around the living room. I then took five white tapers and placed them in the spokes of the pentagram––something else I had learned from Mother’s book.

  Finally, I placed the crystal owl in the center of the pentagram, though I wasn’t sure why. It just felt right. When I was done, I tapped Merry on the shoulder.

  She inspected the room, smiling. “Just like old times,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “I kinda missed this.”

  “No ritual Magick with Frank, I take it?” I reached inside my purse, pulling out Mother’s book and the sage stick. I passed the bundle of sticks to Merry, who nodded approvingly then lit it from a purple candle on the dining room table.

  “No magic of any kind, I’m afraid. You know,” Merry said, fanning the smoke from the burning sage towards the kitchen. “I sometimes wonder what life would have been like, if we hadn’t all moved away. I mean, it wasn’t so bad here, was it?”

  “Well...” I hesitated, not wanting to dredge up bad memories. “Ruth Anne left and we never talked about it. Some people might say that’s pretty bad.”

  “Yes, but...”

  “And Mom was going nuts. You know, the last year that Eve and I were here together, I can’t remember her saying more than a handful of words to either of us.” I recalled my mother, sitting in her rocking chair, staring vacantly out the window. “It was like she had given up on everything.”

  “Oh, Mags, I had no idea.” Merry draped her free arm around my shoulder, squeezing me. “I shouldn’t have left you girls. I’m sorry.” She sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “...And I didn’t mean what I said about leaving because of you and Eve. That was my excuse. The real reason was...”

  She paused, looking around the house we had grown up in.

  “It’s okay,” I said, my own nose beginning to run from the bitter aroma of the sage. I was half-tempted to wipe it on Mother’s fur coat but found an old Kleenex in the pocket instead. “We all had to go.”

  “And some good things came of it,” Merry said, brightening. “You got to see the country. I had June Bug. Eve got to live as a glamorous actress in New York.”

  “Yeah, about that...”

  “Yes?”

  I stopped. Only a few hours earlier, I would have killed for the chance to tell her about Eve’s real life in New York. But things were different now.

  “I didn’t travel around the country so much as the West Coast.”

  Merry smiled. “It’s all good.”

  “All done!” Eve returned through the front door, showing us an empty cellophane wrapper. “Now let’s get rid of Maggie’s monster.”

  “We need to keep the lights off,” Merry said, as we moved single-file through the ground floor of the house. Merry braved the front of the line, waving the smoke from the sage stick before us. Eve held the middle, plunging her candle into the shadows around us.

  I lingered behind, clutching Mother’s book and glancing over my shoulder to ensure that we were alone.

  “Spirit of Sister House,” we called out. “We demand that you to make your presence known!”

  We repeated the phrase in each of the lower rooms: the living room, the dining room, the kitchen.

  “It’s not really a spirit,” I reminded Merry when we had cleared the floor.

  “I don’t have a word for what it is,” she said. “Spirit will have to do.”

  “What about that room?” Eve nodded towards a door that had always been locked––Mother’s secret room. It had been forbidden for so long I had almost forgotten it was there.

  Merry nodded and I gave her a quizzical look. Unless she had a key, that door was not going to open. We stood before it. Merry said something under her breath, then tried the handle.

  “Crap!” she said, stamping her foot. “I thought it would work.”

  “Thought what would work?” I asked.

  “The incantation, Door of steel, door that’s locked, let me in with just a knock.”

  “Where did you learn that?” Eve and I asked.

  “Well,” Merry admitted. “When I was a kid and couldn’t sleep, I’d sneak out here and hide on the staircase watching Mama and her friends. Twice I saw her go into this room after reciting the incantation but I never tried it myself.”

  “Maybe we should hold hands,” I suggested, feeling foolish as I put the book down on the floor. Merry reached for one of my hands and I grabbed Eve by the wrist so that she could still hold onto the candle.

  “Let’s say it together,” Merry said.

  “Door of steel, door that’s locked, let us in with just a knock.”

  We said the incantation, our voices one. The candle in Eve’s hand flickered.

  Merry tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “We forgot to knock,” Eve reminded us, rapping on the door. We heard the soft click of the lock and Eve twisted the knob.

  We were in.

  Eve pushed the candle inside and our heads followed. The space was the size of a small bedroom and was just as crammed with stuff as the rest of the house. But instead of boxes and bins, there were chests and picture frames and books and things that sparkled––a tiny dragon’s lair. Something in the far corner glimmered and if I hadn’t had to climb a small mountain to get there, I would have retrieved it.

  “Mother’s hoarding. The early years,” Eve said.

  Merry passed the sage stick inside as we asked the spirit once again to show itself, with no luck.

  “We will come back,” Merry promised, shutting the door. “There are secrets in there, I’m sure. But we have other things to deal with now.”

  She glided towards the staircase and we obediently followed.

  “This floor is clean. Now let’s go upstairs.”

  We ascended the staircase with only a candle to light the way, listening to the wooden boards splinter and groan, as if warning us to turn back.

  “Spirit of Sister House,” we repeated when we reached the top of the stairs. “We demand that you show yourself!”

  The hall was long and dark, but we knew every inch of it by heart. We moved through the guest room, Mother’s room, the sewing room and the bathroom. When every room had been cleansed, we made our way to the nursery.

  “I can’t,” I said. My legs begin to tremble as I recalled my last visit.

  Merry ignored me and opened the door. Eve and I moved in behind her.

  “It feels empty,” I whispered, hugging Mother’s book to my chest.

  Eve held out the candle and we scanned the room. Toys and books littered the floor, evidence of the last encounter. But other than the mess, it appeared perfectly normal.

  “Maybe it went away?” I said hopefully.

  This had all seemed like a good idea earlier, but now, as I stood sober and i
n the dark, I wasn’t so sure.

  “Maybe,” Merry agreed. “...But I doubt it. It’s been here too long to call it quits without a real fight.”

  “Remember,” Eve reminded us. “Maggie says it’s an entity from another plane. And this room...” She extended her free arm. “...Is where it ports in and out, just above us. I can feel it.”

  Eve lifted her candle and we gazed at the ceiling.

  “Maybe it’s hiding in its home plane then.” Merry gritted her teeth in frustration. “Which means we may never catch it.”

  I removed my cell phone from my skirt pocket and looked at the time. “If it does choose to show itself, we may have the advantage. In fifteen minutes, the ‘thing’ will be weaker, once the witching hour is over.”

  “Yes,” Merry said, scooting a porcelain doll head out of her way with her foot. “But so will we.”

  I clicked a button on my phone to create a beam of light, pointing it into every corner, letting the beam elucidate the darkest edges of the nursery. The light caught dolls and books and bedding thrown haphazardly across the room, but nothing more. I was about to put it away when I saw something––a small dark blob hunkered near the ceiling, sitting on a shelf like a child’s toy. Its red eyes flashed and it scurried across the wall, slinking back into the shadows.

  I screamed, dropping the phone.

  “What!? What did you see, Maggie?” Merry took the candle from Eve and aimed it at the shelf. We caught its shadow just before it disappeared again.

  “What the hell?” Eve said, almost tripping over me as I frantically searched for my lost phone on the floor.

  “You fucker!” Merry called out into the blackness. “Come show yourself, you motherfucker!”

  “Merry,” I said, shocked. I had never heard her curse before. “We want to get rid of it, not antagonize it.”

  “The hell we don’t.” Merry lifted the candle and we caught a blur as it scampered across a wall, unhindered by gravity. The room suddenly dropped in temperature, so much so that I could now see my breath.

  “Don’t mind messing with little kids, huh? But you can’t stand up to us?” Merry’s face contorted, steam rolling from her lips as she struggled to keep the ‘thing’ in view. “You’re not so scary. Show yourself, you bastard!”

  A strong gust of wind hurled itself across the room and our candle went out. The nursery door slammed shut, leaving us shivering in the dark.

  I redoubled my efforts to find the phone, my fingers groping at the cold floor. At last, I recognized its shape.

  “Found it!” I said, tapping the ‘on’ button without success.

  Its power had been sucked dry.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Eve said, scrambling for the door.

  I expected it to be locked, but it opened easily. Eve and I launched ourselves into the hall.

  “Merry!” Realizing she was still inside, I ran back in, grabbing her arm. “We need to fight it downstairs.”

  My sister didn’t move. Whatever was in here had a hold on her.

  “It’s me you want!” I called out. “I’m your power source. Come and get me!”

  The room warmed for a moment, as if considering. Then Merry was free.

  I yanked her out of the nursery as she yelled over her shoulder, “You don’t have the balls to fight us!”

  We ran blindly down the hall, tripping down the stairs, barreling for our safe spot in the pentagram.

  “Stay here,” I said, pushing my sisters into the center of the star. I rushed to the pantry, removing five of the small brooms that Mother kept for spells and incantations. I laid them out around the star.

  “Added protection,” I informed my sisters, but I wasn’t sure. I was running on cracked memories and instinct now. Once the brooms were in place, I joined Eve and Merry in the center of the circle.

  “Do you think it followed us?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Merry whispered back. “But it knows we mean to send it away.”

  “We need to call it out by naming it,” I said, flipping through Mother’s book and pointing to the passage on returning an entity to its plane. “There are multitudes of these implings, all with names, but we have no power over it until we know who it is.”

  The chandelier in the dining room began to rock.

  “It’s listening,” I said, shoving the book at Eve. “Find its name.” I turned my eyes towards the chandelier, holding out my wrists like I was offering up my veins to have blood drawn. “I’m here,” I said again. “You want my energy. Now’s your chance. Feed on me.”

  The chandelier’s tremors quickened, violently swinging left then right until it came unhinged from the ceiling. It erupted and crashed to the floor.

  “Girls, I think we’re in trouble.” Merry turned, pointing behind us. One of the brooms around our circle hovered several inches above the ground, then fell back to the earth. “It’s trying to get in.”

  “Any luck on the names?” I asked, as the other brooms joined in, flopping around us like dying fish.

  “There are so many of them,” Eve said, running her finger down the pages.

  “Just say them all, but quietly, so we don’t accidentally call in the others. Maybe we will get lucky.”

  Eve read through the list, asking each particular entity to show itself, as Merry swung the sage stick around in a wild circle, like she was holding back a pack of dogs with a torch.

  “It’s useless,” Eve said.

  “No. We have to find it. Keep going.” I picked up the owl from the floor and wrapped my fingers around its cool glass body. Aunt Dora had said that the owl was my totem and now it was time to put it to the test.

  “Here!” Eve pointed to a picture on the next page. An image of a small, goblin-esque creature stared out at us with two red eyes. “Its name is Gahabrien. He’s a small entity, not very powerful. Limited abilities in telekinesis and possessions. He feeds off sensitives and the residual energies of fear, especially in older homes. His own plane is dying...that’s why he wants to stay here.”

  “He picked the wrong house!” Merry’s eyes sparkled menacingly. “Gahabrien! We know who you are. I command you to return to the plane from where you came!”

  “There’s an incantation,” Eve said, her fingers sliding down to the words at the bottom of the page. “It’s most effective when said by a coven of seven, but...” She shrugged and we read the words together.

  “Through the portal, you have come...”

  As we spoke the first line of the spell, the brooms on the floor quickened their fluttering.

  “To take that which does not belong to you...”

  The closet door opened and shut and we could hear the cupboards in the kitchen banging. Cups and saucers poured out, crashing onto the counters and floor below. We had gotten its attention.

  “We send you back, Gahabrien. Into the blackness you will go!”

  The room around erupted into chaos. The dining room chairs flew backwards, spiraling into the walls behind them. Knick-knacks toppled from their shelves, and a crack formed at the base of the living room window, working its way up the glass until it reached the top––at which point, the window exploded. The explosion sent shards of glass in all directions, landing just outside of the perimeter of the circle.

  One by one, the candles in the room went out.

  Then all was quiet.

  We held our breaths and waited.

  Finally, Merry exhaled. “We did it,” she said.

  “I think so,” Eve agreed.

  I could make out the smooth features of Eve’s face by the moonlight that filtered through the glassless window.

  “...That was too easy,” she said. “Almost anti-climactic. I think we can turn on some lights now.” Eve stepped out of the pentagram and scanned the room.

  “Where do you think it went?” I asked, not as convinced that it was gone as my sisters seemed to be.

  “Back home for good.” Merry bent over to pick up a broom. “We will have to have
another ritual, one to close up the portal, but for now...”

  Our momentary peace was interrupted by thumping sounds near the dining room. We turned to see Mother’s books flying off the shelves, streaming like missiles straight for us.

  “It’s not over!” Eve yelled. She stood just outside the circle, and I saw her duck a large, hardcover book. “Now what?”

  There is power in numbers.

  The words came back to me. “Quick, Eve, go get Paul!”

  She stood frozen for a moment, then ran outside.

  “Maybe we should get Aunt Dora?” Merry said.

  The books had gotten through the first layer of protection––the brooms––and were dropping just outside the pentagram’s spokes.

  “Not enough time,” I said, hoping that four of us would be enough.

  Eve and Paul burst through the door. “Holy shit,” Paul said, covering his head as the books continued to fly around the room. “This is really happening.”

  “Quick. Into the pentagram. I have an idea.” I showed them the glass owl and had them form a circle around me. “Hold hands and don’t let go,” I whispered. “I’m going to try and capture it.”

  “Are you out of your frickin’ mind?” Eve’s eyes widened. “Is that in the book?”

  “No. But I have a feeling.”

  Merry nodded, giving me the okay. I swallowed as another book whizzed by.

  I raised the owl overhead, cupped between my hands. I could feel its energy course through my body. It wasn’t glass, I realized. It was crystal.

  “Totem owl,” I said. “I call upon you to aid in my protection...”

  “Maggie, your hands are glowing!” Eve exclaimed.

  I looked up at the owl. A vibrant yellow light emanated from my fingertips. I interlocked my fingers around the owl, hoping to snuff out the light before Gahabrien noticed.

  “I’m here,” I shouted. “And I give up! You can have me. You don’t have to go back to that dying world of yours...”

  Paul looked up, vehemently shaking his head. Eve tightened her hand on his, letting him know it was okay.

  The moon fell behind a cloud, throwing us into near darkness. I could sense Gahabrien’s energy; he was close by, feeling out the room with invisible tentacles, as if making a decision.