“Do you need a ride?” Jillian asked, following me to my room where I locked her out and packed my tote. I crammed in several pairs of socks, my wand, the spell book, and the remaining globes wrapped in my alpaca sweater, leaving the case behind. She followed me back to the living room where I gathered my shoes and wallet. “We can grab lunch afterwards. I know this cute little sandwich shop in Linsburg. We can talk.”
“No, I don’t need a ride,” I said. “I need the air.”
I looked around the living room, mentally saying goodbye to it. I had no intentions of coming back any time soon.
I didn’t even slam the door as I left. I just felt an overwhelming sadness and a sense of disbelief.
EIGHTEEN
A Day in the Life
“What do you guys know about ankhs?” I asked my sisters casually as we readied to open Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe. Eve cleaned the front window while Merry sampled peppermints and Ruth Anne lounged near the book section.
Without looking up from her reading, Ruth Anne answered, “Ankhs are the Egyptian symbols for eternal life.”
“Is that all?” I asked. I already knew as much from my dreams.
“Is that all?” Ruth slammed her book shut and leapt to her feet with the surprising grace of a cat.
“Here we go.” Merry popped another peppermint in her mouth and leaned across the register counter.
Ruth Anne lifted a finger and stood nearly motionless while the wheels churned in her head. “To the Ancient Egyptians, eternal life was everything. Why do you think they mummified their Pharaohs?”
“Because it was easier than sending them to the dry cleaners?” Eve volunteered.
“Or they had extra toilet paper they wanted to get rid of?” Merry shrugged.
I laughed at their attempt to derail Ruth Anne’s impending dissertation. When they ran out of jokes, Ruth Anne removed her glasses and marched across the shop, her hands clasped behind her back and her head bent forward––her classic lecturing stance.
She stopped in front of a crystal pyramid display, running her fingers along one of the statue’s triangular ridges. “The Egyptians believed that life on earth was just one small step in the journey of the soul. They spent their entire earthbound lives preparing for their next adventure.”
“You mean Heaven?” Merry asked, suddenly interested.
“Exactly! But not the Christian Heaven we think of today.”
“That would be difficult since the Egyptian dynasty predates the rise of Christianity by several thousand years,” Merry said, carefully unwrapping another mint. We all turned to her, our mouths agape. “Can’t I be smart, too?”
“She’s correct,” Ruth Anne confirmed. “The Egyptians prepared their souls for heaven, but heaven as in the Great Celestial Dome. They believed that the most enlightened and important souls became stars in the afterlife.”
Eve put her cleaning supplies away and turned the shop sign to OPEN. “Sounds boring to me. Who wants to be a star for all eternity?”
“As I recall, you did Eve.” I smirked.
“A celebrity is one thing, but a ball of gas is another.”
“Potato, potato.”
“Becoming a star was reserved only for Pharaohs,” Ruth Anne continued, undaunted by our asides. “Everyone else was promised a land of ‘milk and honey’ in a parallel world. No more hard work or suffering if they succeeded here. This life was seen as a trial they had to endure before becoming immortal.”
“This is all interesting, but why the ankhs?” I asked, steering the conversation back to the topic I was most interested in.
Ruth Anne removed a pencil from behind her ear and twirled it between her fingers. “No one really knows how the ankh came into play. Some suggest it’s the symbol of the union between men and women, thus ensuring the continuity of the human species, even in the afterlife. The female part being the loop and the male part being the stick…”
Merry raised her hands. “We got it.”
Ruth Anne scrunched her eyes, the energy around her crackling with excitement. “At any rate, it was a symbol as common as the McDonalds ‘M.’ Hey, I wonder why Dark Root doesn’t have a McDonalds?”
“Ruth Anne…”
“Oh, sorry. But yes, it was a constant reminder of the need to work towards immortality.”
“So the ankh was plastered everywhere to remind people to behave,” Merry said. “Like crucifixes were placed across Christendom.”
“Gee. How much church did you attend in Kansas?” I asked.
Merry’s blue eyes sparkled as she refilled the dish of mints. “Don’t mistake quietness for ignorance,” she winked.
“Never again.”
Ruth Anne licked her index finger and doodled a spit ankh on Eve’s clean window. Fortunately, Eve didn’t see. “When an Egyptian died, their heart was weighted against a feather. If their heart was the same weight as the feather, they could move forward. If not, the journey through the afterlife was stagnated or dangerous. Not everyone made it. Some were just eternally stuck.”
I swallowed, vividly recalling the image of my father holding the scale with the feather and the heart in the Netherworld. Was he stuck, too?
Ruth Anne pointed to a book on a top shelf. “I’m a bit rusty in my Egyptology, but we have a pretty good book on it.”
“Perfect,” I said, pushing the stepladder towards the bookshelf.
Climbing to the top step, I reached for the book. As I extended my right hand, I felt a strong gust of wind rush past me. It knocked me from the ladder, so swiftly I didn’t have time to grasp what had happened. I both felt and heard a horrifying cracking sensation within my body, followed by a searing pain that shot into my pelvis.
I cried out, my hands instinctively cradling my belly.
Merry was instantly beside me, her warm, healing hands already on mine.
I stared past her. Hovering above me on the ceiling was the ghost woman, Juliana, looking down on me with her awful toothless smile. Her mouth stretched beyond her face as her coal eyes regarded me.
She wasn’t my benevolent protector, I realized. She was trying to kill me.
NINETEEN
Purple Haze
“Maggie!” Merry tapped my cheek, bringing my eyes back to her. It felt like someone had shoved a dagger in my lower back, but I couldn’t focus on that now. Juliana still lingered above, her billowy gray form staring down at me from the ceiling of her own daughter’s store.
I rolled slightly to my right, feeling an accompanying surge of pain shoot up from my pelvis and along my spine. “Ruth Anne!” I called. “Get your camera!”
I pointed to the space where Juliana hovered. Her eyes were two red points of light and her fingers flexed and clutched at the air. She watched me, and except for the taut smile pulled across her face, the specter revealed no emotion at all.
Merry administered her healing energy, laying her hands on my stomach, hips, and back.
“You’re bruised,” she said softly, keeping the fear out of her voice.
“Hurry, get the picture!” I said, still pointing upwards, even as I braced against the pain that spread throughout my back. “It’s Juliana. I think she pushed me.”
“There’s nothing there, Maggie,” Eve said while Ruth Anne frantically searched her pockets for her camera. At last, she found it and began snapping pictures of the ceiling. Juliana’s red eyes blinked, and as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished.
I lowered my pointing finger, unable to endure the pain any longer. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Not on my watch.” Merry removed her scarf, pressed it between her hands, and laid it across my forehead. The blackness receded but the pain remained.
Merry then placed her hands on my hipbones, sending a surge of restorative energy through me. With each wave I felt warmer and more relaxed. Eve appeared with a mug and tilted my head back, allowing me to sip, while Ruth Anne continued to take pictures.
“Juliana’s gone,” I sa
id. “I need to talk to Shane. Someone, please call him for me.”
Eve turned her phone in my direction, showing me that she had already dialed his number. “He’s not picking up, Mags. I left a message.”
“Did you text him?” I lolled my head to the side, dropping the scarf onto the floor.
“Yes.”
“Ah, hell.” I stiffened, realizing that once again my father’s words had come out of my mouth.
“Just relax,” Merry said, stroking my cheek. “Eve, call an ambulance.”
I closed my eyes, pretending to acquiesce, but in reality, I was directing every ounce of energy I had towards Shane. Our souls were linked. If I tried hard enough, he’d feel it and he’d call. I just knew he’d call.
“An ambulance is on its way,” Eve said. “But it’s coming from Linsburg. It may take a while.”
There was a long beat of staggering silence as everyone held their breaths and waited. Merry continued to infuse me with her empathic healing while Ruth Anne locked the front door then opened her laptop to load the images she had captured. I gave up trying to connect with Shane, and gave in to Merry’s sedative healing powers. To hell with Shane, I thought, my mind going fuzzy. To hell with it all.
“There’s definitely orbs,” Ruth Anne muttered.
“Orbs?” Eve asked, stepping behind her to look at the computer screen.
“Like bubbles. They often appear where people profess to see spirit activity. Look, up on the ceiling where Maggie pointed. A very large one. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And there are more,” Eve said, looking around the room. “Smaller ones. It’s as if there are ghosts everywhere in this shop.”
“And would that surprise you?” I joked as my body turned to mush. The pain was gone and the world had brightened. I felt like I were floating. It was a wondrous, euphoric feeling. Was that what Juliana felt like, floating weightless in the air above me? If so, maybe death wasn’t so bad.
Merry sat back on her heels, her face pallid and her eyes dim. “Eve, can you get me some water? I feel weak.”
There was a sudden, sharp rap on the glass door. Michael stood on the other side, his hair wet and matted from the morning rain. “Let me in!” he demanded, beating his fists against the pane.
The others looked at me and I gave them a nod. If we didn’t let him in the front door, he’d find another way. Eve unlocked it and Michael barged through, dropping to his knees on the floor beside me.
“What happened?”
“Maggie fell off the ladder,” Merry explained, nodding to the bookshelf behind him. “I think she’s stable now.”
“You let her climb the ladder?” Michael looked at Merry with accusing eyes.
“No, of course not.”
“Don’t you dare yell at her!” I snapped. “And no one let me climb the ladder! In case you’ve forgotten, I’m my own person, Michael.”
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” he said, inspecting me from head to toe before carefully lifting me in his arms. A lightning bolt of pain shot from my hip down through my leg and I gasped, digging my hands into his shoulder as he hoisted me up.
“You can get to the hospital in about thirty minutes driving the speed limit,” Ruth Anne said. Then spying the van outside, “Maybe forty-five.”
“Got it.”
“Wait.” Merry stood, her energy nearly depleted with the exhaustion of her task. “Let me give her one last dose to get her there. It should numb her, at least for a while.” She laid trembling hands on my head and the remaining pain receded like a retractable cord. She stumbled backwards into Ruth Anne’s arms, her eyelids fluttering.
“Merry…”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured me. “Now go.”
“Call the hospital,” Michael instructed them. “And make sure they know of her condition.”
“My condition,” I laughed, kicking my ankles as I dangled limply from his arms. “Pregnant and cursed is a condition?”
Michael looked at me, confused.
Ruth Anne explained as she held open the door. “Merry pumped a lot of energy into her. If she doesn’t pass out on the ride there, she’ll be quite entertaining.”
“Or annoying,” Eve chimed in.
I smiled, then grabbed for a lock of Michael’s hair that had settled on his brow. “We can practice the sock puppet show I’ve been working on in my head, you know, for the baby.” I wriggled my toes, trying to kick off my shoes.
“You’re stoned, my dear,” he said, carrying me to the van as I leaned my head back and opened my mouth, trying to catch the rain.
Eve followed us out, reclining the passenger seat and helping Michael get me inside. “You better bring her back,” she warned, lifting her gaze to meet Michael’s eyes. “If you disappear, we’ll find you.”
Michael slid my door shut several times to catch the latch, then climbed into the driver’s seat and cranked on the engine. “Eve, as you’ve already proven, I’m no match for you.”
“No, you’re not.” She poked a threatening finger through the window. “Remember that.”
“Duly noted.”
“Bye sissy!” I waved as we drove away. The van rattled like an old woman’s cough and I marveled that it was still running after all these years.
“How many miles does this thing have on it now?” I asked after we’d been driving for awhile, feeling my head begin to clear.
“Too many.”
“You have money from selling Woodhaven. Why don’t you get a new car?”
He tapped the side of his fist to the steering wheel twice. “This thing has memories.”
“It’s a piece of junk. I won’t let you drive our baby around in this.”
The right corner of his mouth turned up. “Our baby, huh? Again, duly noted.” He patted my hand, then gave it a quick squeeze. “We’ll be at the hospital soon. Get some rest.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes but all I could see was Juliana’s face staring down at me. And behind her, the foreboding outline of a door with a crystal knob. I knew there’d be no rest for me, unless I had some help. Searching through my tote, I eventually found the next globe in the chronology.
“Now?” Michael asked.
“Yes. I think Juliana might be the one who cursed me. Or maybe Armand. I need to figure this out.”
“Juliana? Armand?”
“Long story,” I said, smiling wearily. I shook the globe, watching the snow settle over the sleepy town of Dark Root, forty years past. “See anything inside?” I asked, showing him the glass ball.
“Just fake snow.”
These images were only for me, it seemed.
I relaxed my body, letting the globe’s mesmerizing effects wash over me as the van made its way onto the highway, hitting every rock in the road between Dark Root and Linsburg.
TWENTY
She’s Not There
Dark Root, Oregon
Oct 30, 1973
Main Street
“This is silly, all of it.”
Armand stood on the corner of Main Street, his eyes darting from the sheet ghosts that hung in front of Delilah’s Deli to the giant cut-out witch that guarded the door to Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe. Along the street were hundreds of luminaries with jack-o-lantern faces––luminaries Armand himself had cut out the night before, aided by a little Creedence Clearwater Revival and some Jack Daniels. Maybe he had nipped too much, he thought, spying paper faces that had a few too many eyes or were missing a mouth.
“The Haunted Dark Root Festival is not silly,” Sasha said sternly. She fastened the top button of her stiff black collar and adjusted her skirt. “It’s only in its second year and we’ve already seen how much money this event pours into the town.”
“Money?” Armand laughed. “What do witches and warlocks need of money?”
“Even we need to eat.”
Sasha turned the lock on her magick shop, opening it up for the line of customers that had gathered. Armand had to agree that,
as hokey as it was, the festival did drum up business for the town.
“Greetings, darlings!” Sasha Shantay––her stage name for the festival––greeted every customer who filed in. Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe was getting quite a name for itself among college students from Eugene, occult dabblers, and those looking for escape. And Sasha worked every angle. With her long gowns and feathered boas and crazy hats, she hardly resembled the woman who had brought him to Dark Root five years earlier.
Armand reclined against the nearest lamppost and scrutinized Sasha once again.
Her long hair was secured above her head, except for a few strands, some gray, that framed a face which had hardened in the eyes and softened in the cheeks. She had aged in appearance a lot––more this year than the last––as they performed their vigils to end the war and heal the wounded. Armand noted that while she attended to everyone else, she had neglected herself. She ate whatever leftovers Joe brought home from the diner, smoked nearly two packs a day, and imbibed wine so frequently he suggested opening a vineyard.
He eyed her wand, which she clutched in her right hand along with an unlit cigarette. She could use it on herself, but she was so damned stubborn about it now. She claimed there were many, many others who needed it before she or any of The Council members did.
A pretty young thing entered the store and Armand stared after her, catching the slight curve of her spine as her back met her ass. Her small, unrestrained breasts bounced beneath her loose T-shirt. As his eyes followed, he caught his own reflection in the window pane. He had aged, too. The first lines had formed around the corners of his mouth and eyes, and a few strands of silver had appeared in his shoulder-length, auburn hair.
He suppressed a frown.
He was thirty now, and things were only going to get worse. He had “borrowed” Sasha’s wand once or twice to hold back the clock, but a wand’s magic was limited when not used by its creator, and the lines and gray hairs had come back within months.
The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3) Page 16
