The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3)

by April Aasheim

  My voyeurism was cut short by a soft knock on the door. Ruth Anne pushed her way inside, balancing a breakfast tray in one hand and a mug of pungent-smelling tea in the other. She set the tray down on my dresser and joined me at the window.

  “Can you believe them?” I asked Ruth Anne.

  “You should have been around for morning meditation. They sat for nearly two straight hours on the front porch, staring at each other. I almost took a spray bottle to them.”

  “I wish you had.” I pulled the curtains shut but left the window open, then took my breakfast to the rocking chair. “I thought Merry hated him.”

  Ruth Anne shrugged. “I guess she changed her mind.”

  I pressed the mug to my lips, afraid my stomach would rebel if the tea tasted as terrible as it smelled. It was surprisingly sweet and I drank it down, dividing my attention between Ruth Anne and the conversation outside.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “He’s still the same old Michael but everyone’s acting like he’s a saint. Does this family have no collective memory?”

  Ruth Anne reached for a slice of my unbuttered toast. “If it’s any consolation, I still think he’s a loser.”

  “It is, and thank you.” I studied my tray. It seemed sparse for something Aunt Dora had prepared, and there was an extra dish shoved under the toast plate. I eyed Ruth Anne. “You ate my eggs, didn’t you?”

  “In my defense, they were cold an hour ago. I can’t help it if you like to sleep in.”

  I picked at my oatmeal, which was devoid of both milk and sugar. “You could have at least brought me some honey.”

  “Hey, you get what you pay for.”

  I finished the tasteless meal, hoping that lunch would be better. Ruth Anne peeked out through the curtains. “There’s something about his energy,” she said, nodding to herself. “It makes people act funny. Except for me, that is.”

  It was true. Michael could turn on the magnetism when it suited him. I had fallen for it myself once upon a time and I wasn’t about to let my family get caught in the same trap, especially when his motives were suspect.

  Ruth Anne took my tray. “Hey listen, Mags, I thought I’d warn you of something…”

  “Like Merry and Michael getting chummy? You’re a little late.”

  “No…”

  Before she could continue, the bedroom door swung fully open and a raven-haired beauty with a lingerie model’s figure burst into the room, dropping two enormous pink suitcases onto the floor before her. Our youngest sister had returned.

  “What’s up, Witches! Miss me?”

  “Evie!” I disentangled myself from the rocking chair and grabbed her, hugging her so tightly I was afraid I’d break her. She allowed my affection for a moment before pulling away, her dark eyes traveling up and down the length of my body.

  “Someone’s been eating well.”

  I looked to Ruth Anne. “Is this what you wanted to warn me about?”

  “No. This is a surprise to me, too.” Ruth Anne gave Eve a firm pat on the back before turning to me. “I’ll fill you in later. I’ll go clean up Eve’s room now. I may have left a candy bar wrapper or three in there last night.”

  Eve and I stared speechlessly at one another. It seemed like years, rather than months, since we had last seen each other.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” Eve said, blowing her wispy bangs from her eyes. “I couldn’t leave with Nova’s mother still in the hospital.” She reached into her expensive purse and produced an expensive wallet of the same brand.

  “This is Nova,” she said, showing me a photo of Paul hugging a little girl in pigtails and overalls. “Disregard the outfit. She’s an amazing kid.”

  “She looks like it. Why is her mom in the hospital?”

  Eve returned the photo to its slot in the wallet and sighed. “One gander at me sent her off the wagon, I guess.”

  “I bet.”

  With her delicate features, porcelain complexion and shapely figure, it was easy to fade into Eve’s shadow. I had wrestled with my own self-doubts growing up. Nova’s poor mother didn’t stand a chance.

  “I’m glad you’re here now,” I said. “And I’m proud of you for stepping up. It can’t be easy becoming an instant mother like that.”

  “I had to, Maggie. Someone has to teach that child how to shop! You should see the things her mom puts her in. Baseball hats, spandex, jeggings.” Eve shivered. “And if it were up to Paul, she’d dress like a boy.”

  “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with dressing like a boy,” Ruth Anne said, trudging by with a full hefty sack in one hand and a stack of dirty laundry in the other.

  Eve rolled her eyes. “I think our sister might be missing an X chromosome.”

  I gathered yesterday’s clothes from the floor, aware that Eve was assessing the state of my bedroom and my wardrobe. “I’m glad to see that at least you haven’t changed, Eve.”

  “Besides your month in hibernation, what else has changed?”

  I lowered my voice and nodded towards the window, wriggling back into yesterday’s skirt. “Didn’t you see who else showed up?”

  “No, but I heard. What a piece of work!” She narrowed her dark eyes thoughtfully. “I could whip up another love potion. We’ll send him to London this time.”

  “No, thanks. Something tells me that he’d still come back. What he lacks in emotional intelligence, he makes up for in persistence. But I do appreciate the sentiment.” I continued primping, putting on socks from the floor and raking my fingers through my wild curls in an attempt to tame them. Whenever Eve was nearby, I felt the urge to adjust myself.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” she asked. “I’ve been working on some new potions and I could use a guinea pig. I know, we could turn him into an ape. He’s nearly there already.”

  “Sure. Then we’ll set him loose in the forest and people will think he’s a Sasquatch. It will do wonders for summer tourism.”

  “See? Win-win!”

  We laughed. I was really glad to have her home.

  Once dressed, I asked, “Is Paul here, too?”

  Eve lowered her eyes, her lashes fluttering cautiously. “He had to stay in Seattle with Nova.” Then lifting her head, she brightened. “But he plans on coming this June when she’s out of preschool. If his ex gives the okay, they might stay the summer.”

  “I guess that means Paul likes being a daddy.”

  She sighed theatrically, flinging her arms into the air before plopping down onto my unmade bed. “Nova and Paul are peas in a pod, cut from the same Jello mold. She even loves Elvis! I feel like a third wheel sometimes.”

  “Being a step-parent has to be tough,” I said, thinking that soon Shane would be in a similar situation.

  “It is,” she responded, a little too softly.

  I sat next to her, taking her hand. After several silent moments I sniffed the air around her. “You stink,” I lied, wanting to change the subject. Eve’s vulnerability was uncomfortable––for both of us. “Do they not have showers in Seattle?”

  She sniffed me back. “I think you’re smelling yourself. Are you still using that crystal deodorant? Because that’s not deodorant.”

  “It must be Auntie’s tea. That stuff gives me the weird sweats.”

  “I remember. She used to give it to me before my dates. She said it was cheaper than birth control, and twice as effective.”

  “Now we know the real reason Aunt Dora never had kids.”

  “God, I’ve missed you Maggie.”

  “I missed you, too. Now go visit with the others while I try and wash the tea stink off me.”

  “Good luck! That stuff stays in your system for hours. Six to be exact. I got good at planning my dates around it.”

  “You could have dumped it out when Aunt Dora wasn’t looking.”

  “A witch always drinks her tea, Maggie. It’s in the bylaws.”

  “Ah, how we suffer for our craft.”

  After showering, I text
ed Shane. He texted right back, promising to come for me at noon sharp. I loitered in the kitchen as Aunt Dora and Jillian fussed over me, asking how I felt and if I’d slept. Jillian mentioned the globes but I sidestepped the subject by commenting on the state of snap peas in the world. That got them both talking and I crept into the living room, peeking through the curtains so that I could watch for Shane’s white pickup.

  “I thought witches spied on men with crystal balls.” Michael said, joining me at the window, a TV Guide rolled up in his hand.

  “My specialty lies in turning ex-boyfriends into toads,” I replied, not looking at him.

  “Touché.” He chuckled. “That Shane, he’s a good guy, huh?”

  “The best.”

  “Didn’t take you two long to get acquainted. And with a baby coming. You’re a fast worker, Maggie Mae.”

  I scowled, still refusing to face him. “Shane and I have known each other since we were kids. We were already acquainted.”

  “And yet…” he tapped the TV Guide against the window, “you never mentioned him the entire time we were together. Not once. Interesting.” He excused himself to watch a Mexican soap opera with Merry and Aunt Dora.

  Several minutes later, Shane’s truck rumbled its way across the dirt lot and rolled to a stop near the front porch. His windows were open and I heard the melancholy chords of a country song blasting from his radio. With the engine still running, he closed his eyes, removed his cowboy hat, and sang along. It was a muffled but passionate performance.

  At precisely noon he shut off the engine and stared at the house, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. I pressed my fingertips to the window, feeling the cold glass that separated us. I was relieved to see Shane before he saw me. While I’d been suspended in the Netherworld, the real world had continued on.

  If Shane, too, had changed, I wanted to be prepared.

  His eyes remained closed but I recalled, with great clarity, that they were gray, softer than Michael’s and more earnest. His chin was dotted with stubble and his downy brown curls were clipped close to his head. He looked the same, perhaps a little battle-weary, but that would pass, I was certain.

  “You do have a type, don’t you?” Ruth Anne appeared beside me, notepad in hand.

  “I can’t have a type. I’ve only been with two men.”

  “Sure you do. You’re drawn to the dark, rugged men with a hopeless cause.”

  I glanced at Shane, still singing in his truck, then at Michael who was regaling Aunt Dora with a story about a missionary trip he had taken to Belize.

  Ruth Anne smirked. “See?”

  “They are nothing alike,” I said, decisively.

  “If you say so, Mags.” She left my side to raid the kitchen and I shifted my attention back to Shane. He had left his truck and was working his way towards the front door. His steps were short and hesitant, his face worried and tense.

  “Pizza guy’s here,” Michael said, when Shane knocked.

  I shot him a dirty look before sliding out the front door.

  We stood, staring into one another’s eyes, neither of us speaking. He looked the same as I remembered, but I felt as if I were seeing him for the first time. At last, he reached for me. “Maggie.”

  My name came out as a breath, not a word. Shane took my face in his hands, then kissed me roughly on the mouth. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you, too,” I said, eagerly returning kiss for kiss. Eventually, our kisses softened as intimacy replaced urgency.

  “So,” I said, finally breaking free and taking a step back to fully view him again. “Does a dream proposal count as a real one?”

  He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Everything in our dreams is real, Maggie.”

  My heart nearly stopped beating. I had spent my life restless and searching, even leaving Dark Root to keep from feeling alone. In so many ways, Shane Doler had brought me home.

  Three sharp raps on the window broke the spell. Michael peered at us, an empty milk jug in hand. “Do you guys recycle?”

  Shane took my hand and guided me down the porch steps. “I know I invited him, but I’d hoped he’d be gone by now.”

  “Never invite a demon into your home, Shane. Didn’t Uncle Joe teach you anything?”

  Shane opened the truck door and helped me inside. With gravity working against me, it took two and a half tries to leverage me in.

  “We may need crane service soon,” I said.

  “No need for a crane when there’s a stork on the way.”

  “You’re such a dork,” I said, teasing him.

  “But I’m your dork.” Shane slipped into the driver’s seat, returning his cowboy hat to his head. “You feel well enough for a drive?”

  I nodded affirmatively. “Yes. Great actually. It’s hard to believe, huh?”

  “Not really. Your family does good work.”

  “How can anything be wrong on a day like this?” I rolled down the window, letting the sun touch my face as we drove deep into the woods. There was a crispness to the air that nearly called for a sweater. I had forgotten how restorative the woods were in the springtime. The trees were not only guardians; they were healers.

  “I have a new appreciation for the world,” I announced. “Everything seems more colorful now, more important.”

  “There’s a touch of poetry to you now, Maggie.” Shane nodded. “It suits you.”

  We continued along an overgrown road lined with trees that hung low enough to grab hold of through the open window. Their boughs scraped against the truck, as if begging to be let in.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid towards the middle of the cab, resting my head on Shane’s shoulder. He didn’t speak as we bumped along, expertly weaving in and out of shadows.

  I hummed to myself, fingering the gold ring around my neck. After all I had been through, the world was put right once again.

  We passed the tree where Shane had carved our initials as children, and where I had later gathered the yew branch for my wand.

  “We’re not going to stop?” I asked, disappointed when he didn’t slow down.

  “Not today, my dear.” He turned on the radio, fidgeting with the dials until he found a station that played nothing but oldies. I returned my attention to the forest, breathing in the heady scent of wildflowers and pine, wondering where we were going and when he was finally going to tell me his news. “Stand by Your Man” came on the radio and Shane turned it up and sang along. I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Stop it!” Instantly, the song dissolved into static. “Oops.” I messed with the radio buttons, willing the music to return, without luck. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s the price I pay for loving a witch. I lost my heart, and my radio.”

  “Shane, pull over. We need to talk.”

  “Soon.”

  “Shane…”

  “Okay. But let’s hold off on talking until we get into town.”

  He found an opening in the trees and turned the truck around, and we headed back the way we had come. A sign ahead read: Dark Root: Ten Miles.

  But it was a long ten miles with no music, no conversation, and Shane driving half the speed limit.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why he delayed.

  “Quiet for a Sunday.” I made small talk as we cruised along the short strip that made up our downtown district. There were a few pedestrians walking the street and a few more filtering in and out of Boo’s Books and The Candy Corn. But it was nothing compared to the crowd that had stormed the town last fall for The Haunted Dark Root Festival.

  A disconcerting thought struck me. “Has anyone been tending Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe in my absence?”

  Shane nodded but narrowed his eyes. We pulled into an open space in front of his café, directly across the street from mother’s store. “You could say that it’s been tended to.”

  I felt a sudden pang of guilt. Eve had managed the store until she moved to Seattle, then I took it over with th
e agreement that Ruth Anne would tag in once she finished writing her book. Merry must have held it down in the interim. I was about to question Shane further, but his eyes were on his restaurant, where a Closed sign hung crookedly in the front window.

  A stifling quiet filled the vehicle.

  “Want to go in?” I asked, my fingers hovering uncertainly over the door handle.

  “Yeah, but not yet. Let’s go see your ma’s shop first.”

  I followed Shane to Mother’s store, watching with surprise as he pulled a key from his wallet and unlocked the door.

  “Eve gave me this last year,” he explained. “She has one to Dip Stix, too. Neighbors helping neighbors, you know?” He forced a weary smile and I tried to ignore the images my mind conjured up: Shane and my beautiful sister exchanging keys and cakes and pleasantries.

  We entered Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe and I was greeted by the pleasant aromas of lavender, lemon, cinnamon, and peppermint. I wandered about, happy to see that it was clean and well-cared for. Poor Merry must have pulled double duty, I thought, running the store while tending to me. I strolled along the shelves, running my fingers along the bins of incense and herbs, and past the displays of crystals, trinkets, bobbles, and oddities that made Mother’s shop the most famous of its kind.

  “Ruth Anne must have helped,” I said, stopping to poke at a butterfly wind chime near the front door. “Even Miracle-Working-Merry couldn’t have done this all on her own. We might have to mess it up a bit, or Eve will think she wasn’t needed...

  “And look!” I scooped up a handful of blue, granulated crystals from a bin near the register. “Doc Holly-Day’s Epsom Salts! My favorite! I tried to get Eve to order these but she claimed we didn’t have the space.” I turned to Shane. “You should try it. Cures all the aches and pains. I used to bathe in it all the time, back when…”

  Back when I lived with Michael at Woodhaven.

  Shane’s eyes flickered and he stuffed both his hands in his pockets, turning from me. Suddenly, I understood.

  The order.

  The cleanliness.

  The Epsom salts.

  It wasn’t Merry who had tended Mother’s shop.