The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  “C’mon,” I said, enticingly. “I’m giving myself to you. You can live inside me forever.”

  “Are you crazy?” Paul dropped my sister’s hands and shook me by the shoulders.

  “Trust me,” I whispered.

  He clenched his jaw but rejoined the circle.

  “Last chance,” I called out again. “After tonight, I’m never coming back into this house. Take it or leave it.”

  The books that had been swirling around us suddenly toppled to the floor. A loud boom sounded through the room, shaking the walls. I felt a bolt of electricity hit me, starting at my feet and coursing its way upward. My whole body reverberated, twitching and jerking as I struggled to hold onto the owl.

  Gahabrien was inside me, filling me with his vile energy.

  Spittle formed at the corners of my mouth and I wanted to howl, tear, and bite like a rabid dog. I gnashed my head left then right, nipping at my companions, barking out their names.

  “Maggie,” one of them called to me. I turned my head and growled.

  Still, there was a voice inside me that remained my own. My fingers twitched but I willed them to tighten their grip around the figurine.

  But Gahabrien’s will was overpowering my own. I felt myself slipping...

  I turned my head, catching the light of Eve’s eyes.

  “I love you,” she mouthed.

  My eyebrows softened.

  Deep, deep down, beyond my own guard and in that place that Gahabrien could never touch, I knew I loved her, too.

  With what remained of my strength, I pushed his energy upwards, through my belly, my heart, my neck, channeling it up through the crown of my head. In those moments, sick and twisted thoughts popped into my brain. I fought my way through them and continued pushing, up through my arms, into my hands, and finally, into the owl.

  Crack!

  The figurine burned my hands and I dropped it. It fell to the floor, bounced, but didn’t break.

  “Quick!” I said, bent over and near to heaving. “Get something to cage this thing! Something glass!”

  Eve looked around the living room. Her eyes found one of June Bug’s collection jars. She grabbed it, slamming it over the top of the owl. Merry retrieved its lid, quickly flipped the canister, and screwed it on. The jar vibrated in her hands and she carried it to the kitchen table.

  We gathered around, watching as the crystal owl changed from clear to a murky brown.

  “Good job putting a lid on that thing,” I said to Merry, feeling my strength return.

  “I’ve had lots of practice capturing icky things.” Merry smiled, her damp hair clinging to her face. She looked wobbly and I helped seat her in a chair.

  Eve, for her part, appeared as composed as ever as she picked up books and placed them back onto shelves. Paul stood in the middle of the living room, his mouth trying to form words, but never quite finding them.

  I winked at him.

  “That was un-fucking-believable,” he finally managed.

  “Yeah, it was,” Eve said. “What a night.”

  We spent the next half hour casting protection spells around the house.

  Paul followed us, scratching his head and muttering things like, “trippy” and “bitchin’.”

  When we had finished, we fed the cats, changed their litter boxes, packed up our belongings, and headed out to his Explorer.

  “I don’t know about you girls, but I’ve got one hell of a headache,” Merry said, sliding into the backseat. “I may never drink again.”

  “But look at what good work we do on the hooch,” I said, staring up into the sky. The sun was rising and I yawned in protest, wondering if Aunt Dora would let me sleep the entire day through.

  “You were amazing,” Paul said, opening the passenger door for me. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “Me?” I said, wiping a wisp of hair from my face. “No, it was Eve who carried that show. She put the salt around the house, figured out Gahabrien’s name, and kept up morale. Without her, we would have been screwed.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, looking at my sister with newfound respect.

  “Yeah. Eve, sit in the front and tell Paul all about it. I’ll ride in the back with Merry and the owl.”

  Eve gave me an almost imperceptible smile, straightened herself, then settled in next to Paul. “Well...” she began. “When we first went inside, no one knew what to expect...”

  Her eyes lit up and she launched into her tale, regaling him with her heroics the entire ride home. I could see the curl of Paul’s hair at the nape of his neck. I could smell his scent, a mixture of paprika and sage. I could I could hear him laughing as Eve recanted our adventure. But I couldn't touch him. He wasn't mine. He belonged to Eve.

  He had always belonged to Eve.

  My heart broke a little, just like Mother’s circle.

  “That was kind of you,” Merry said, laying her head on my lap.

  “That’s what I’m known for,” I said, smoothing her hair. “My kindness.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Merry smiled, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Twenty-Three: Changes

  It’s amazing what a good exorcism will do for the soul.

  The next two weeks were some of the clearest, happiest days of my life. I can’t say if it’s because I had finally let go of Michael, had discovered a newfound kinship with Eve, spent more time with Merry, or because the rains had temporarily subsided.

  Or, quite possibly, it was because the entity that had haunted me since childhood was now encased in a clear glass owl.

  Whatever the reason, I relished those long October days, bundling up in scarves and hats to combat the wind that whistled down Main Street as I sipped cappuccinos with Shane on the patio of Dip Stix Café. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was part of a family.

  I wasn’t the only one who was filled with this sense of renewal.

  My friends and I strutted around town like primitive hunters who had landed their first mammoth. We walked up and down Main Street, handing out fliers, hanging up posters, and convincing the old-timers that Dark Root’s glory days were still ahead.

  “It’s over,” some would say, shaking their heads.

  “No, it’s just the beginning!” I was seeing this clearly now.

  We explained our plan to modernize the festival for the younger crowd––new colors, new decorations, current music––while bringing back some of the traditions that made Dark Root famous for the nostalgic––the parade, the lighting ceremony. We could save this town. As long as there were people who loved this community, anything was possible.

  One by one, the townspeople fell to our enthusiasm.

  Shop owners restocked supplies, painted their walls, and kept their businesses open into the evening. We convinced the mayor to add orange bulbs to the streetlights, line the shop windows with bright twinkle lights, and hand out lunch sacks cut in the shapes of jack-o-lanterns to be used as luminaries down the sidewalk. Shane and Paul built a large stage just north of Main Street, where a band could play. And I spent hours learning how to use the internet, advertising our event to nearby communities and colleges.

  In the days leading up to the festival, Dark Root came alive.

  It wasn’t the same old town I remembered. It was better.

  “I can’t believe we’re actually doing it,” Eve said, as we worked side-by-side in our mother’s store.

  We had created magic inside this shop, too. It no longer looked like a movie set from a 1970’s horror flick, it was now a hip establishment––both modern and mystical. We still sold the witchy items––talismans, herbs, and candles––but we also stocked hookahs, CDs, lava lamps and jewelry. Eve had set up a station where she offered henna art, a sort of temporary tattoo that many of the younger girls liked. She painted intricate patterns on the arms and legs of our customers, surprising me with her talent.

  “I’m proud of you,” I said one morning, as we we
re getting ready to open the shop.

  It wasn’t quite nine and there was already four people waiting at our front door. I pointed to Dip Stix across the street, indicating that the restaurant was open, and two of them headed in that direction.

  “Maggie.” Eve turned from her task. “I’ve never heard you say you were proud of anyone.”

  I considered this. “I’ve grown up a bit. Maybe we all have. Mother would be proud.”

  At the mention of our mother, we both returned to our work. Though things were going well in Dark Root, there was still the shadow of our mother, lying in the hospital while Merry fought with administration, trying to convince them to send her home.

  “We need to order about five hundred mood rings,” I said, checking an empty bin. Mood rings had become popular again and we had sold off all our old stock. “How much will it cost, do you know?”

  “Do I look like an accountant?” Eve arched a playful eyebrow.

  I went to the drawer where we used to keep our calculator. Not seeing it, I moved my fingers through the jumble of office supplies inside, unearthing a picture I had never seen before. It was a photo of a smiling young woman, posing in front of Mother’s shop.

  Leah.

  Time seemed to stop and all I could hear was the rapid beating of my own heart. I looked at the picture again in complete and utter disbelief.

  Leah? Here?

  With trembling fingers, I turned the picture over, looking for a date.

  It was blank. I scraped my memory for any information I had on her. She claimed to be twenty-four when she joined up with us. She looked a few years younger in the picture than the last time I had seen her standing over the railing at Woodhaven, watching me leave. My whole body shook and I tightened my fingers on it to keep from dropping it.

  “Eve.” My voice cracked as I made my way towards the henna booth where she was mixing dyes. I held up the picture. “Do you know who this is?”

  “Sure. She was one of Mom’s friends. Merry hired her to stay with Mom overnight when she needed a break.”

  “What?” I looked at the picture again.

  Leah wasn’t smiling. She was smirking.

  “What’s wrong?” Eve said, puzzled. “Why are you upset? Do you know her?”

  I was still ashamed to admit that she had taken Michael from me. “She was a recruit back at Woodhaven. Her name is Leah. I found her and Michael...”

  I turned my eyes down, embarrassment washing over me.

  “That son of a bitch. No wonder you got out of there! And you almost took him back!”

  “Yes, I know. But that’s not the point. The point is that this woman has been with our mother. I heard she disappeared right after I left. What is she doing here now?”

  Eve put a hand over her chest, dropping her bowl of paint. “This is too freaky.”

  “I know.” I looked at the picture again. “This had to have been taken a few years ago. Maybe she––”

  “––was the girl Mom hired to help her with the store!” Eve’s eyes widened. “We need to tell Merry!”

  I was quickly on the phone.

  “How could I have let this happen?” Merry was hyperventilating into the receiver. “I’m usually so good at reading people. Oh, Maggie...I was just so tired, I would have let anyone help. Forgive me.”

  “It’s not your fault, Merry. Just make sure she doesn't come near Mother ever again, okay?”

  “I haven’t seen her in a few days. Maybe she is gone for good. But I will let the hospital staff and the police know.” I heard the lump in Merry’s throat and I assured her all would be well as I hung up the phone.

  “We need to find that bitch and figure out what’s going on,” I said to Eve.

  It was now several minutes past nine in the morning, and the line outside our store had nearly doubled.

  “Damn right, we do,” Eve said, dark eyes flashing. “She’ll rue the day she ever messed with us!”

  I put my arm around her.

  “What’s that for?” she asked, surprised.

  “Just for being you.”

  I spent the morning on the phone, relaying the new information to Aunt Dora and the police. Shane stopped in to check on us and, upon seeing how frazzled I was, insisted I join him for tea the moment my shift was over.

  At six on the dot, I walked across the street to Dip Stix.

  Since the café’s transformation, I loved spending time there. It had a warm, inviting feel and Shane always saved the small table by the window for me, where I’d eat muffins and read from Mother’s spell book.

  On this particular evening, Shane brought me a special chamomile blend to calm my nerves. I drank from the over-sized mug, lost in feelings of confusion and anger. At a few minutes later, Eve wandered in, nodded in our direction, then went to see Paul in the kitchen.

  “They’re cute,” I said, watching them flirt. Since the night of the exorcism they had spent much more time together. There was electricity between them that was tangible; something had shifted in Paul’s feelings for Eve since that night, and she was eating it up.

  “Yes, they are cute, aren’t they?” Shane responded.

  Dip Stix was fairly empty; the dinner crowd didn’t usually roll in until around seven, after the other shops in town had closed down for the night.

  He placed a hand gently on one of mine. “And you didn’t unleash anything on your mother. Sounds like Leah was in the picture before you even met her.” He paused, his eyes finding Paul and Eve, who were snapping dish cloths at each other in the kitchen. “You’re a good woman. You deserve happiness too.”

  I chuckled. “I appreciate you saying that, but I’m fine. Really. As far as happiness, I think I’m finding it. And you’ve helped.” I offered him a warm smile. “What about you? Given up on the quest for love as well?” I recalled how he had looked at Eve a few weeks before.

  “Me? A cowboy never gives up on love or anything else for that matter. I’m just waiting for the right lady.”

  “Oh?” I asked, amused. “What exactly does a cowboy look for? A gal with a nice horse?”

  He laughed so hard he doubled over, almost knocking his head on the table. “You’re a funny girl, Maggie Mae,” he said, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “A horse would be a good start, yes. But really, I’m looking for a woman with a brain. Someone who thinks about things. Engages in the world. Reads.”

  “Tall order for Dark Root. Maybe you need to broaden your horizons.”

  “When I was a kid living with my grandma, we got very limited TV. Got to watch a lot of reruns of old shows though. I always loved Charlie’s Angels.” He leaned in, as if he were about to confess a very juicy secret. “I know everyone liked Farrah Fawcett or Jacqueline Smith, but I always liked the smart girl...Kate Jackson. That’s my kind of woman.”

  “Weren’t they all too old for you?” I asked, a wry smile playing across my lips. The thought of young Shane drooling over Sabrina Duncan was even more amusing than him looking for a woman with a horse.

  “I like older women,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table. “You know Maggie, Eve wasn’t the reason I hung out in your home all the time when I was a kid.” He lifted his eyebrows and kept them raised, letting me digest this new information.

  “Hmmm...” I thought. Older women who loved to read...of course! It was no coincidence that Shane and Ruth Anne both spent so much time in Uncle Joe’s library together.

  “Shane,” I said. “I have a brilliant idea. Let’s find Ruth Anne! You’re great on the internet. If anyone can find her, it’s you.” I was so excited by this prospect. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

  “What?” he asked, doing a double-take.

  I had already put one couple together this month. Maybe I could do it again. Love may elude me, but I could make others happy. Maybe I would get business cards.

  Maggie Maddock, Matchmaker Extraordinaire.

  “Shane. Let’s find her! Let’s find Ruth Anne.”

  “Didn�
�t Merry already try to locate her?”

  “Yes, but Merry isn’t The Great Shane Doler, Master of the World Wide Web!”

  “Okay,” he stammered, wrinkling his brow. “If that’s what you want.”

  I nodded, grinning. He could pin it on me if he wanted to. “Yep. And think how good it will be for Eve and Merry and my mother. Might snap the old woman awake.” I was inspired now, practically gloating. If we could pull this off...

  “Alright.” Shane pushed in his chair. “Write down her full name, birth date, all that stuff. Then we can do a background search. It’s hard to hide nowadays.”

  Several customers entered the diner and he left to greet them. I wrote down everything I knew about Ruth Anne. She was born June 7th, 1981––a Gemini. She had brown hair, wore glasses, and liked books and blue jeans. She was wearing worn a green T-shirt and blue tennis shoes the night she got into that grey sedan and drove away forever.

  I caught a flash of lighting through the window. It wasn’t close but it was on the horizon. The rains would certainly return, but I hoped they would wait another ten days, long enough to get us through the festival.

  But the clouds were darkening, drawing others in, gathering over Dark Root.

  “Just ten more days,” I said aloud. “That’s not too much to ask.”

  Twenty-Four: You’re So Vain

  “You’ve made some pretty good progress, little ladies.” Shane tipped his hat to Merry and me, showing off his newly whitened smile.

  I rolled my eyes as I lugged a large box from one corner of the living room to the other. Shane was in full cowboy mode lately, even going so far as to don a hat and boots most days. I teased him about wearing his Halloween outfit too early, but he insisted this was his normal manner of dress back in Montana and he was just getting in touch with his roots. I suspected it had more to do with the flirty girls who had descended upon Dark Root these days, oohing and ahhing over his biscuits and gravy as he told them stories about his home on the range.