The Witches of Dark Root

by April Aasheim [paranormal]

  Merry blushed under Shane’s praise, succumbing to his cowboy charms.

  I wanted to launch a throw pillow at him, but restrained myself.

  Merry was doing so well. Frank had finally sent a child support check, she had convinced the social worker that Mother should come home, and a few of the men who wandered into Dark Root had commented on her prettiness, something she probably hadn’t heard from her husband in ages. Merry was thriving and if I had to put up with the ghost of John Wayne himself to keep her that way, I would.

  “It’s all coming together,” I agreed.

  “Yes,” Merry said. “The house is clean and town is picking up.” She looked at me, smiling. “I haven’t seen this many tourists since we were kids. And it’s not even Halloween yet!”

  June Bug bounded down the stairs carrying the Maggie cat––the only feline they hadn’t found a home for. Apparently, no one wanted a lazy, self-indulgent, kitty-cat who wouldn’t share her food. But I liked her.

  Maybe, when I finally settled somewhere, I would send for her.

  “I think that’s the last of the angora sweaters,” I said, placing a hideous Christmas-colored one in a bin marked ‘winter clothing.’ I looked around, wiping my brow. Except for Mother’s locked room, we had scoured and scrubbed every nook and cranny of Sister House. I opened the curtains, letting the dim, October light settle into the living room.

  The Maggie cat leapt from June Bug’s arms and pounced onto a small beam of sunlight on the floor. She curled up on the same patch of floor then, and fell quickly asleep.

  Merry wiped her palms on her corduroy jeans. “I couldn’t have done this without you guys.” She allowed her eyes to rest on Shane.

  He blushed, shuffling his feet, and this time I did throw a pillow at him.

  “Stop that,” I huffed. “Your golly-gee-willikers act makes you look like a dork.”

  He flushed a little more, but grinned at me.

  “Grandma’s going to be so excited,” June Bug grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.

  Merry, Shane and I glanced at one another.

  June Bug was aware that grandma was coming home and that she was still ‘sleeping,’ but she didn’t know there was a chance she might not wake up. After discovering that Leah had been ‘attending’ to Mother, the doctors conducted tests and found that her blood contained large traces of jimson weed, a poisonous plant that could bring about violent behavior, hallucinations, and even death. The doctors insisted the jimson weed may have been the reason she was mad as a hatter for these last few years, but it wasn’t the reason she was still in a coma-like state.

  “She’s going to get better,” June Bug said when no one spoke. She walked over to the Maggie cat, crossed her ankles, and sat primly down beside her. “I will give her my healing energy when she gets here, just the way Mama taught me.”

  I was filled with love for my niece. She had that same, selfless, caring quality that Merry possessed. I also hoped she was right. June Bug had lost her father and her home; she deserved to have a grandmother.

  “Well,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “It seems we are clear of...” I looked up the staircase, remembering that night a few weeks before. “...Everything.”

  Merry nodded.

  Since we had ‘cleansed’ the house, there hadn’t been any signs of mysterious activities here. Gahabrien remained caged in a mason jar, locked up in one of closets at Harvest Home. Sometimes, when I walked by the closet at night, I’d hear the soft noises from within, scratchings and scuttlings, but I never opened the door to check.

  Some doors were better left closed.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Shane.

  He was driving me to Linsburg to pick up something nice to wear for the festival, a reluctant concession on my part after a week of listening to Merry and Eve’s pleas. I argued that it was Halloween and most everyone would be in costume anyway, to which Eve replied, “Then you are going as the town beggar?”

  Shane took out his keys and tipped his hat goodbye. “Come by for dinner, okay? Don’t tell anyone but there’s no dipping tonight. Paul’s grilling steaks out back. Should be fun.” He turned to me. “...Meet you out front, Mags.”

  “Thanks for helping, sis.” Merry wrapped her arm around my neck and whispered, “I swear, if you don’t hurry up and nab that boy, I will.”

  “As I said before,” I reminded her, “I’m done with men. Too much work and not enough payoff.” I didn’t tell her that he was earmarked for Ruth Anne. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, assuming we ever found our eldest sister.

  “Suit yourself,” Merry said, dreamily watching Shane get into his truck through the living room window. “Just remember, I’m a single woman now, with needs.”

  “What needs, Mama?” June Bug piped up.

  “Yeah,” I teased, crossing my arms. “...What needs?”

  “Steak, baby. Steak,” Merry said, winking at me as she shooed me outside.

  “Uh-huh.” I said goodbye to June Bug and made my way to Shane’s pickup, slamming the truck door after I climbed in.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Shane asked as we pulled out of the gravel driveway.

  “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t seem like nothing,” he said, scratching his head and turning on the country music station.

  “Do we have to listen to this crap every time we get in the car?” I said, rubbing my temple. “And why do you have to smile at every woman we run across, including my sister? She has real problems and here you are playing cowboy hero.”

  “Why, Maggie Maddock,” he said, a pleased grin on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, putting my feet up on the dashboard. “I’m just looking after Merry, is all.”

  “Yes, Maggie, my dear. Your kindness knows no bounds.”

  “Besides,” I said, looking gloomily out the window. “You are supposed to be saving yourself for Ruth Anne.”

  Shane removed both hands from the steering wheel, placing his palms together in a jerky, praying motion. He mumbled something under his breath then returned to driving.

  “Okay, Maggie. I will save myself for Ruth Anne.”

  Neither of us said another word as we made our way towards Linsburg.

  Despite my irritation with Shane, my mood improved once we got to Linsburg, a town nestled in the mountains and paradoxically both colder and sunnier than Dark Root.

  I could see the frost of my breath as we exited the truck and meandered down Main Street. Everywhere, there were smiling townies carrying steaming mugs of chocolate, talking about school, the holidays, and “Have you heard, Haunted Dark Root is returning?”

  The place was positively buzzing.

  “This is how Dark Root will look in just a few years,” Shane said, sliding on the black gloves he kept in his console. “Mark my words.”

  “Dark Root still has a ways to go,” I said, noticing the array of colorful shops that lined the road. “But we’re getting there,” I added, before he could start in on his positive thinking lecture.

  Shane pointed to a small restaurant across the street called Sammy’s, which boasted the Best Grilled Cheese Sandwiches in the Pacific Northwest. “Let’s check that place out.”

  I readily agreed. Though I loved Aunt Dora’s cooking and the new cuisine at Dip Stix, a plain old grilled cheese sandwich on a cold fall day sounded really good.

  The restaurant was charming, a revamped fifties diner complete with an old juke box and a red and white soda fountain. We took seats at the counter and ordered the house specialty from a blue-haired waitress named Marge.

  “This is really good,” I said, dipping my sandwich into the rich tomato bisque. Shane took a bite, smiled, then made a note in the little black journal he carried with him everywhere. “We might have to add this to our Dip Stix fare.”

  I finished my lunch and thought about ordering pie––there was a piece of apple that had taunted me
since we arrived. Had Shane not been sitting across from me, already teasing me about inhaling my soup, I would have.

  “Where next?” I asked, looking out the window as the waitress cleared our plates. There were so many fun shops, and I wanted to hit them all.

  “We’ll have to do the whole tourist thing some other day. The plan for today is to get you pretty for your big night,” Shane said, grinning. He had a small glob of tomato soup on his chin and I didn’t tell him––his penance for teasing me.

  “I still don’t think I’m fit to be the Master of Ceremonies. I think you would do a better job.”

  “Probably.” His brown eyelashes fluttered as he considered. “But we need one of the Maddock girls. Merry’s shy and Eve’s––”

  “––Eve,” I finished for him.

  Had we given Eve the MC title, the theme would have changed from Haunted Dark Root to All About Eve, complete with a slide-show presentation. Luckily, she was satisfied with decorating and bossing Paul around.

  I handed the waitress a Haunted Dark Root flier and asked where the nearest beauty parlor was, which Shane found uncontrollably funny. The waitress directed us to Sally’s Cut and Curl across the street. I had never had a real haircut before and I stroked my locks protectively as we entered the establishment.

  “Will it hurt?” I asked.

  “If it hurt,” Shane said, removing his hat. “Men would all have long hair. Haven’t you heard we are babies when it comes to physical pain?”

  “Good point.”

  “Besides,” he said, flagging down the receptionist, who was watching a reality show in the back room. “You don’t have to get it cut short. Just styled.”

  I swallowed. If we were going to resurrect Dark Root I had to keep my hair long. It was a well-known truth that a witch’s power was in the length of her hair.

  “Why, aren't you pretty!” said a lady, whose name tag read Cleo.

  She was an older woman, probably closer to my mother’s age than mine. I looked around for someone younger, more modern, but they were all occupied.

  Seeming to sense my nerves, Cleo waved a manicured hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ve been cutting hair for forty years. I’m sure I can tackle that mane.” She examined my wiry strands, puckering her lips as she scrutinized what she would be working with. “...How about we layer, highlight, condition, and straighten?” she said. “Maybe add in some side bangs? I think it will really bring out your eyes.”

  I looked helplessly at Shane, hoping he understood what she meant. It was all a foreign language to me.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I just tell them to cut off anything sticking out from under my hat.” He rubbed one of his ears. “Almost lost the right one that way.”

  He smiled again, said something about me being in good hands and that he was going to check some other stores while I got pampered.

  “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he said, when he saw the look of panic in my eyes. “I think you will keep Cleo plenty busy till then.”

  When he was gone, Cleo swooned. “Isn’t he a little muffin? You’re a lucky woman.”

  “Yeah,” I said, as she pushed my head under a faucet. “Lucky me.”

  When the first lock of hair fell from my head––a shocking, two-inch chunk of coppery wire––I gasped, then squeezed my eyes shut for the duration of the process. Cleo complained about the thickness, dryness, and overall sorry condition of my hair. I apologized repeatedly as she yanked and combed out knots. At last, she tapped the side of my cheek with her comb, telling me that it was time to look. I opened my eyes and gazed in the mirror.

  Was that really me?

  I had grown up sandwiched between Merry and Eve, both of whom were beautiful, but I had never felt anything other than average myself. Now, staring into the mirror and noticing how the bangs framed my green eyes, the way soft wisps fell across my shoulders, and the new honey-colored strands interwoven with my natural red hue, I felt beautiful. My skin was still pale and freckled and my nose a bit too thin, but my features came together.

  I was Maggie, improved.

  “Thank you!” I said, almost falling out of my chair. “You’re a magical woman, Cleo.” I handed her a flier and gave her a quick hug. “If you come to Haunted Dark Root I’ll hook you up with a free henna tattoo.”

  Cleo removed my bib and I ran my fingers through my hair. It was so soft I couldn’t keep my hands out of it. I turned from one side to the other, checking out every angle of my face in the mirror.

  A low whistle caught my attention and I turned to see Shane, standing in the doorway with a few plastic sacks in his hand. He removed his hat and sauntered in my direction.

  “You’re as pretty as a flower,” he said. It wasn’t very poetic but I blushed nonetheless. Then I remembered how he flirted with other girls that way and I socked him in the arm.

  “Careful,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I bruise like a peach.”

  “You’re lucky I don’t have any peaches on me,” I replied. “Or I’d throw them at you, too.”

  “I can’t believe how mean you are being to me, after I went out and bought you presents. Now you’ll never get to see what’s inside these bags.” He dangled the sacks in front of me but I ignored him and went to pay my bill.

  “I forget you’re not a normal woman, Maggie,” he continued, following me out. “And that you can’t be bribed with stuff, but...” He opened one of his bags and pulled out a topaz-colored bracelet. “...I got you some baubles.”

  “Pretty,” I admitted, snatching a rose-colored broach from his hand. “But you shouldn’t have spent your money on me.”

  “It’s costume jewelry,” he said, pinning the broach on my shirt and stepping back to look. “Didn’t cost much. Now, let’s get you dolled up.”

  Shane took me by the arm, pulling me into a boutique next door. It was small but overwhelming. I had never been shopping in a store that didn’t sell second-hand clothing, and I wasn’t sure where to start. Shane grabbed a sales girl and before long, my arms were loaded up with colorful pieces to try on.

  “Try not to get carried away,” he said as I zipped in and out of the dressing room with piles of clothes. “We don’t want to start you on the path to hoarding. I hear it’s hereditary.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him as I took in another armful.

  “How do I look?” I said, emerging with my first real outfit––a form-fitting turquoise sweater dress and chocolate brown, heeled boots.

  “Wow!” Shane’s jaw dropped. I spun around then curtsied. “I have never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life!”

  “You say that to everyone,” I said, appraising my appearance in the three-way mirror. The dress clung to me in the right places and was forgiving in the others. It also brought out the color of my eyes. I just needed a belt.

  Shane scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I mean it this time.”

  Looking at the price tags, I frowned. $85 for the dress and $70 for the boots. Though I hadn’t spent much since returning to Dark Root, it was still a huge chunk of the money I had left.

  “I wish Mom was awake,” I said, ducking back into the dressing room to remove the garments. “She could probably make me something almost as pretty.”

  I heard him laugh from the other side of the fitting room. “No offense to your ma, but she didn’t exactly dress you girls in the latest fashions. Most of the time, I expected to find you all in prairie dresses and bonnets.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, reluctantly putting on my old clothes. “The only shows she watched on TV were Little House on the Prairie and The Partridge Family. I guess that’s where she got her design ideas from.” I left the fitting room and handed the sales girl the clothing I didn’t want. But I kept the dress.

  “Well?” I asked. “Should I?”

  “Tell you what...” Shane said, grabbing the boots back from the sales girl. “You buy the dress and I will buy these. They seem to go together.”

  “I
can’t ask you to buy me those!”

  “You didn’t. It’s my gift to you, for all you’ve done. You’d be insulting me if you didn’t take them.” He grinned, holding the two boots out before him.

  I huffed, then grabbed them out of his hands. “Okay, then. But you will probably see me in this dress every day for the next three months. If I break down the cost versus how often I will wear it, it works out to less than a dollar a day.”

  “Why, Maggie,” Shane said as we paid the bill. “I never knew you were so good at math.”

  “I'm a woman of many talents.” I smiled coyly, watching the sales girl wrap my dress in tissue paper before placing it into a lavender-scented bag.

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  We walked back to his vehicle and Shane set the packages down on the floorboard of the back seat. “And now it’s time to get down to business,” he said. “Do you know what you are going to ask her this time?”

  I nodded, but truth be told, I didn’t know. I had even more questions for Jillian this time than I did the first time I had come to see her.

  Twenty-Five: Fly Like an Eagle

  “You’re right on time,” Jillian said, opening the door. She was wearing a fitted, blue jacket layered over a beige, turtleneck sweater. Her hair was neat and her makeup perfect. She looked nothing like the psychics I was used to.

  “And I love what you’ve done to your hair,” Jillian added. I spun so that she could see the entire makeover and she clapped appropriately.

  “Please, have a seat,” she motioned towards the chair opposite her desk.

  I glanced around the room. Some of the furniture I remembered from before was gone and there were boxes strewn about. I raised my eyebrows as she sat down and folded her hands beneath her chin.

  “You caught me,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

  “For good?” Though we had only seen each other a couple of times, I felt a strong connection to her and wasn’t ready to let her go.

  “It’s the nature of the beast, I’m afraid,” Jillian said, rolling her chair closer to mine. “I promise to keep in touch, though, don’t worry.”