Things that had been kept from me?
My eyes fell again on the case. “You still haven’t told me why Larinda has agreed to help.”
“Because you’re family,” Jillian said quickly. Too quickly.
“And, even with her help, you’re still not in the clear. Every day of combatting this hex weakens us. You may feel depleted and ill as the month wears on, but you won’t…”
“Die.” I pressed my lips together, nodding. “I understand.”
“Remember, Maggie Girl, ya have us on yer side,” Aunt Dora said, patting my shoulder.
“At least answer me this, whose memories are these and why were they so deliberately kept secret?”
Jillian kissed the palm of my hand. “I’m sorry, but we can’t say. You’ll just have to trust us.”
The alarm clock on the dresser announced that it was now eleven. The witching hour was near.
“You should rest now,” Jillian said.
They left, promising to stay close.
The case hummed with magickal energy, beckoning me. I shivered, sensing that there were not just memories contained within the globes. There were indictments.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called, quickly hiding the case beneath my pillows.
“Hello, Maggie,” Michael said.
“Go away.” I thrust out my hand and focused my energy. The door swung limply in his direction but stopped just short of hitting him. I sighed.
“Not a nice way to greet your Baby-Daddy.”
“Someone’s been watching daytime TV.”
“I try to stay current.” He smiled tersely.
As he took his turn in my grandmother’s rocking chair, I noticed he was now wearing reading glasses. He was handsome, I begrudgingly admitted to myself, and my mind wandered back to our early days at Woodhaven, when we were young and burning with excitement. Those days before all the failed prophecies and the arrival of Leah.
“You might be my baby’s father, but that’s all you are to me. Don’t get any other ideas.” I opened the window to allow in a breeze and climbed under my bedsheets.
His eyes crinkled at their corners. “That’s all I ask, Maggie.” Scanning my room, he nodded approvingly. “This is a great space, nice colors and textures. But we should get to work on the nursery soon. That room would draw Martha Stewart from her grave.”
“Martha Stewart’s not dead.”
“Oh? Well, good for her, hanging on like that.”
“And since when do you notice texture and color? A hospital had more ambiance than our old room.”
Michael stretched his long legs. “I’ve been watching something called HGTV. You wouldn’t believe what some people can do with a bucket of paint.”
I looked him up and down, noticing his clean-shaven face, his moussed hair, and his tweezered brows. “Are you gay, now? Because if you are, I’d be okay with that.”
He tilted his head to the side, allowing one groomed eyebrow to drift provocatively upward.
“Maggie, you know more than anyone how much I enjoy women.”
His words caused my hands to ball into fists. “Yes, Michael, you like women. Too much. Which is why we find ourselves in our current predicament.” I nodded towards the still-open door. “I need to sleep now.”
He placed his hands behind his neck, ignoring me. “What’s that?” he asked, his eyes resting on the top of my dresser.
“My Yew Wand. It helps restless spirits cross over. It does other things too, but––”
“So you’ve fully become your mother then?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She was a witch. Now you’re a witch.”
“First off, I am not my mother, and secondly, stop being so holier-than-thou about everything.”
He glanced at the wand, then back at me. “Sorry. I have no right to mock your beliefs. It’s something I’m working on. As long as our son isn’t raised up to believe––”
“Our son will believe what he wants to believe, Michael, and so help you if you try to stop him!”
He eyed me warily, mentally debating whether he should fight back. Finally, he stood and gave me a solid nod. “A talk for another time.”
There was a cold distance between us, even though he stood just feet from me. Despite everything, it saddened me to feel such animosity between me and my child’s father.
“Michael,” I said as his hand gripped the doorknob. “I think you were right.”
He paused, tilting his head. “Me? Right? That almost never happens. Not with you, anyway.”
“Aunt Dora showed me her visions. The end is coming, or at least the end of things as we know it.”
“Like the REM song,” he smiled.
Michael had listened to that damned song so much during our first year together that I sometimes couldn’t sleep at night as it rolled through my head. He had insisted the end was coming, and when it didn’t come, it nearly crushed his spirit.
“Just like the song. But no one knows when it will happen, only that it will.” I licked my lips, trying to find the words to articulate what I wanted to say. “It’s our job here to keep the Light. Mother and The Council did it before us. When the Light goes out, so does this world.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’ve felt it too, you know. Since I was a boy. Backed up by the Bible, Nostradamus, the Mayans…” He closed his eyes, then reopened them slowly. “You have no idea when it will happen?”
“No. Time doesn’t work the same on the other side.”
His eyes rested on my belly. “How will it end?”
“With a whimper,” I said, referencing his favorite T.S. Elliot poem.
“I miss you, Maggie.”
I looked past him. “I miss you, too. Or at least, how it was a long time ago.”
Michael took two steps forward, then dropped to his knees.
“We can get that back,” he said, his fingers groping for mine.
I should have pulled away, but I didn’t. His touch brought so many things––comfort, familiarity, and restlessness. At last, I removed my hand from his. “That ship has sailed, but maybe we can be friends now. Maybe.”
He lowered his head, running his ringed hand through his hair. “Yeah, I suppose. You have Shane now.”
“And we’re very happy together.”
“Then I shall bid you good night.” He stood, then paused by the door. “I just hope he appreciates what he’s got.” Before he turned off the light he added, “I forgot to tell you. Lover boy called.”
“Shane?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out my cell phone, tossing it onto the bed. “Do you have more than one lover boy?”
“I keep a spare in case one breaks.”
“Goodnight, Maggie.” He left.
Summoning my bolstered energy, I pointed at the door and it closed swiftly. The effort made me dizzy. I fell against the pillows and dialed Shane’s number, my hands shaking.
“Maggie?” he asked uncertainly.
The sound of his voice sent my heart racing. “Yes, it’s me. Where have you been? Why aren’t you here?”
“Maggie, I’m so sorry. There was an accident.”
“A fire,” I finished, so that he wouldn’t have to say it.
“Yes.”
I felt his presence, as close as if he were standing in the room with me. “You still could have come by.”
“I tried to get away but something else happened. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I promise you’ll see me tomorrow early afternoon. I just wanted to call and tell you goodnight. I couldn’t last another day without hearing your voice.”
I nodded but didn’t speak.
“Be strong, Maggie Mae. We’ll get through this together.”
“I’m trying.” I wiped my nose on the nearest pillow. “It’s just so hard. Everything is so hard right now.”
“Use t
hat fire of yours a little longer.”
I stuffed a pillow between my knees for support. “Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I promised Dora I’d say goodnight then let you sleep. She’s even more worried about you than I am, if that’s possible.”
We lay quietly, listening to each other breathe across the phone line. It wasn’t as good as being with him, but it was something.
“Do you want me to visit your dreams?” he asked.
“More than anything.”
“Then I will.”
I closed my eyes and imagined his hands, stroking my hair, my lips, my breasts.
“I love you Maggie Maddock,” he said, his voice so faint I almost missed it.
“I love you too, Shane Doler. See you in our dreams?”
“Yes, our dreams. But first…”
“Yes?”
“Would you like naughty or nice tonight?”
I smiled and thought about the implications of both. They each had their merits. “Surprise me.”
“Will do. And Maggie…?”
“Yes?”
“Remember this. No matter where I am, I love you and I’m thinking of you. Do you believe me?”
“Yes. I believe you. But why…?”
“I’ll see you soon. Sleep well, pretty girl.”
I hung up, dropping the phone to the floor, feeling the energetic cord between us fade.
I lifted a pillow, exposing the case. It could wait another night.
Tonight, all my dreams belonged to Shane.
EIGHT
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow
I stood in the midst of a lush meadow, so vividly green I knew that I was dreaming.
Whoever said that dreams were always in black and white had never been privy to one of Shane’s creations. There were trees all around me, but not the pines and maples of Dark Root. These were smaller and fuller, bearing fruit of every variety: apples, oranges, even cherries.
In the distance there were mountains, jagged gray triangles with white peaks. And in the foreground, a river, gently winding its way through the meadow towards an unknown destination.
I looked at my attire, amused as always by Shane’s fashion choices. This time it was a long white gown that flowed easily along my curves, capped by bell sleeves and a long, elegant train. I touched my hair. A ring of small flowers crowned my head.
Shane materialized before me, wearing dark tights and a billowy white shirt. A sword was tucked into his sash.
“My lady,” he said, bowing as I wandered down a cobblestone path to greet him.
“Very beautiful,” I remarked, taking in the scene. “Possibly your best work yet.” My eyes ambled to the deep V of his shirt cut nearly to his navel. “You’ve been reading too many of Ruth Anne’s novels. Or Merry’s.”
“Just the covers,” he admitted. “I almost went with a pirate scene but I get seasick.” He raised his arms in a shrug. “I hope this will do.”
“You forgot my shoes.” I drew up my gown to reveal my bare feet. He waved a hand and soft golden slippers appeared. “Much prettier than Ruth Anne’s combat boots,” I said. “But not nearly as comfortable.”
“Sorry. I haven’t mastered comfort yet. I’m still working on aesthetics.” He waved his hand towards a wide expanse of grass near the river. “I can create a castle too...if you like.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No. This is perfect. I can even smell the scent of impending rain in the air. You’ve thought of everything. Except…”
Shane stepped forward, taking my hands. “Except?”
“A bed or a hammock or even a picnic blanket would be nice.”
“I see.” He looked at the toes of his polished black boots, blushing. “I thought we’d wait until after the baby comes.”
“You already make us wait in real life. We should at least be able to enjoy each other in our dreams.”
A picnic blanket appeared near our feet. “Much better.” Using his hands for support, I lowered myself to the ground. “Take your shirt off, Shane. I’ve never seen your body in the sunlight.”
“Might I remind you that this isn’t real?” he said, even as his fingers untucked the shirt from his belt. “Since I can take any form I choose here, you’ll never be sure that this isn’t false advertising.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ll know.”
He pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground, revealing his slim muscular torso and chest. His hands moved to his sash and I stopped him, undoing it myself.
“Much better,” I said, lying down on the blanket. He joined me.
“God, I missed you.” His warm breath caressed my neck as his fingers sought my breasts. He tugged at my sleeves, wresting them down my shoulders, leaving me bare-chested and exposed. I arched my back involuntarily, my nipples hardening under the warmth of the sun and the touch of his hands.
“I missed you, too. Let’s stay here forever,” I moaned, as his lips drifted across my neck.
“This will be our life soon enough, Maggie Mae. No dreams required.” He kissed the tips of my fingers, his gray eyes never leaving mine. “Marry me.”
I blinked. “Shane…”
“Marry me, Maggie.”
“Is this a dream proposal?”
“It’s a real proposal. I’m tired of waiting. I want to spend my life with you, and not just in our dreams.” He raised my hand to the sun and I was momentarily blinded by a gold flash of light. “A promise ring,” he explained, showing me a band that now graced my finger. “I’ll get you a real engagement ring soon, if you accept.”
I examined the ring. It was just a band of yellow metal, forged from Shane’s imagination, but the symbolism was real. I couldn’t believe that after everything I’d been through, I would get my happily ever after.
“Yes, Shane Doler,” I said, looking at the ring once again. “I will marry you.”
“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Maggie.”
“I just wish I could keep the ring. I mean, after the dream ends.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Maggie.” He pulled me close, close enough to hear his heartbeat. He kissed me, sweetly at first, our lips barely touching. But as we explored one another’s mouths our desire grew and soon our bodies writhed in unison.
“I need you,” I whispered, digging my nails into his shoulders.
“Soon, Maggie. When the baby comes I’m going to do things to you so unmentionable that you’ll forget every other man but me.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked.
“No, Maggie.” He grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and kissed me again. “That’s a promise. And I’m a man of my word.”
The sound of laughter, streaming in through my bedroom window, whisked me from my dreams. Squinting against the bright morning light, I saw that it was nearly ten o’clock. How had I slept so late?
A shiny round object winked at me from my perspiration-soaked pillow. A ring.
A ring?
I picked it up and studied it. Sure enough, it was a simple gold band, an exact replica of the one Shane had given me in our dream world.
Had I somehow brought the ring back with me?
My bedroom door was open, evidence that someone had visited my room. I drew up an image of Michael, watching over me while I slept before dropping the ring onto my pillow. I grumbled and tossed the covers from my body.
But how would Michael know about the dream?
Removing an old chain from my dresser drawer, I looped it through the ring and fastened it around my neck, tucking it beneath my long t-shirt. If it was Michael’s doing, I didn’t want him to think he had gotten to me. And if it wasn’t…
I smiled at the memory of Shane’s dream proposal.
“Stop it!”
It was Merry’s voice, followed by a man’s laughter. Both were coming from outside. I wrestled with the window until it was open enough to poke my nose through. Down below, near the garden, Michael and Merry stood facing o
ne another, arms raised and fists clenched.
“I’m trying,” Merry said. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was dressed in yoga pants and a curve-accentuating t-shirt. Keeping her arms high, she stepped back with her right foot into a ready pose.
“You’re doing fine,” Michael encouraged her. He was dressed in white from head to toe. It took me a moment to realize he was wearing a karate uniform with a purple belt tied around his waist. His legs were bent and his arms were drawn up protectively near his face. “One more time, Merry. Watch closely.”
He performed a series of chops, kicks, and thrusts, moving from one side of their garden arena to the other, eventually ending up in his original position. Merry watched, clapped, then copied his motions. She performed her chops and even her kicks well, but stumbled on a spin and fell on her butt.
“Darn,” she said, wiping the dirt from her knees. “Thought I had it that time.”
Michael pulled Merry to her feet and brushed the dirt from her backside, his hands working towards the lower curve of her back, stopping shy of her bottom. “A few more times and you’ll be an expert. Just keep at it.”
She laughed and finished grooming herself. “You’d never know I once dreamed of being a dancer.”
“I can believe that, Merry. You’re a natural. What stopped you?”
She looped her ponytail into a bun and secured it on the top of her head. “I don’t know. Marriage. A kid. Adult responsibilities.” She shrugged, her eyes looking past him. “I gained a family but I lost a piece of myself, I suppose.”
Michael chuckled and resumed his fighting stance. “Well, you’re back. And don’t sell yourself short. Mastering a kata takes time and you’ve only been at it two weeks. You’ll get there.”
Two weeks?
While I was hovering near death they had been playing Rock’em Sock’em Robots on the back lawn. I would have slammed the window shut, had the desire to spy not been stronger than my desire to look away. Michael continued to demonstrate his Ninja skills and Merry continued to emulate him. At one point, he got behind her to adjust her form, causing my stomach to hurt in a way that had nothing to do with the pregnancy or a curse.
The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3) Page 7
