“So, you don’t believe that anymore?”
“Let’s just say I’ve expanded my views.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
Michael could incite my anger in a way that only Mother had before. And then it occurred to me how similar the two were––both following a path few believed in, both putting their own agenda first, and both damning-to-hell anyone who didn’t believe as they did.
No wonder it had been so easy for me to run off with Michael. He was my mother, sans the breasts and pointed hat.
I continued down the sidewalk, turning away so that Michael couldn’t see how disturbed I was, not only by his words, but by my revelation.
But Mother had changed near the end. Maybe Michael would too?
It started to rain again, a dull drizzle at first followed by giant drops that plopped against my head. We arrived at the restaurant and a waitress with red curls greeted us, though her eyes rested a moment too long on Michael’s slim torso and broad shoulders.
“Table for two?” she asked.
I gave the woman a strained smile. “How about two tables for one?”
“She’s my wife, and she’s kidding,” Michael said, pulling me to his side.
The waitress gave him a quick laugh, looked at my hand and noted Shane’s ring, then escorted us to a charming table near the window. She handed us two laminated menus and left.
I immediately leaned across the table. “Why is it that every time I start to like you, you say something stupid and screw it all up?”
“What did I say?”
I huffed, rolled my eyes, and leaned back in my chair. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever said that.” He looked over the menu, unperturbed. “Don’t these pancakes look good?” He pointed to a picture on the plastic menu. “But I should try the grilled cheese, since you speak so highly of it.” Then, as if he were saying the most natural thing in the world, he added, “Remember the ring I gave you when we finished building Woodhaven? What happened to it?”
I flicked my menu at him. “I’m not your wife. I’m not wearing your ring. And I wish you would just go away.”
He glanced at the gold band on my hand. “As far as I know, you aren’t Shane’s wife, either.” He leaned back, his long legs touching mine.
I jerked my feet away. “I don’t want to be with you,” I hissed, my cheeks burning. “You took advantage of my daddy issues but they are resolved now. And the only reason you are back in my life is because you have parental ‘rights,’ whatever that means. That doesn’t give you access to me. Got it?”
“My little fireball. I missed that. Maggie, you’re the only one who’s ever challenged me. I hope our baby gets your spirit.”
The waitress returned with newly-applied lipstick and two glasses of water. “You folks decide yet?” she asked, her voice an octave higher and sweeter than before.
“Two grilled cheeses,” Michael said. “And a large basket of fries with a side of ranch dressing.”
“Any pie?” she asked, not looking at me. “We have a great banana cream.”
“No thanks.” Michael raised his hand. “We are trying to eat healthy for the baby.”
“He is, I’m not,” I said, straightening up. “Bring me an entire banana cream pie, my own basket of fries, and skip the grilled cheese.”
The waitress looked to Michael for conformation. He nodded and she left, her plush bottom swaying for Michael’s benefit.
“Who said you could order for me?”
“Isn’t that what you were going to eat?”
“Yes, but you didn’t know that.”
He sat up, adjusted the collar of his polo shirt, and then arranged his silverware so that the handles all lined up. “Yes, I did know what you were going to order. Maggie. I know everything about you.”
His chair violently propelled backwards several inches. He looked at me surprised but said nothing as he drew himself back to the table.
“You didn’t expect that, did you? You don’t know anything about me, not anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, careful not to touch his silverware art. “Try me.”
“What’s my middle name?”
“Mae. Next?”
“My favorite color?”
“You don’t have a favorite color because if you picked just one, you might hurt the other color’s feelings.”
I crinkled my brow. “What did I want to be when I grew up?”
“Anything but your mother.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “Which is ironic because––”
“Oh, shut up. I hate you.”
“Hate is a strong word, and God doesn’t like it.”
“Would you make up your mind about God? One minute you’re telling me you’ve evolved and the next you’re paraphrasing Scripture. I think you use God when it suits you.” I took a drink of my water. “Besides, according to you, God doesn't like any of the things I do. Why should I start pleasing him now?”
“Or Her?”
“Her?”
“Yes, God might be a Her. Don’t you think?”
If he was trying to get to me, it worked. Michael had only ever promoted the idea of God being a grander version of himself, and now he was debating me on the nature and gender of the divine.
The waitress returned with our food and I ate in silence while Michael babbled on about this charming little town and how it might be a good location to open a martial arts studio once he made black belt. I tried to tune him out as I dug into my fries and pie, but after only a few bites, I started feeling sick.
“You don’t look so good,” he said, pulling out a credit card and handing it to our waitress as she passed.
“Since when do you use one of those? I thought we couldn’t trust bankers.”
“I keep telling you I’ve changed Maggie. I hope you see that.”
I grabbed my alpaca sweater and headed out of the diner, leaving Michael behind. I was determined to keep my emotions in check, lest the whole restaurant lose power. Michael caught up to me as I reached the van. He tried to open the passenger door for me, but I pushed him away.
“What did I do today, exactly, to piss you off? I’m just trying to be here for you, Maggie.”
“What do you mean, what did you do?” I flung my hands out in exasperation. “You show up in my town, tell me you are going to move here, convince my aunt you are the best thing since clean laundry, seduce my sister, and speak pompously about your own beliefs while condemning mine.”
I wrestled with the latch on the passenger door and finally managed to open it. I was frozen by what waited for me on the inside––a woman with mousy hair, a rat’s nose, and a weasel’s eyes.
Leah.
“Hello, sister,” she said, a smile snaking across her paper-white face. “I needed a ride. I was hoping you could help me out.”
“Get out of my seat.”
“But I have a message from my mother,” she smiled sweetly. “She says tick-tock.”
It happened so fast.
The energy I unleashed terrified me. It was not a deliberate act. It was pure instinct.
I clutched her shoulders, and for a frightening moment, saw her insides––the frail skeleton that held her together.
“Stay away from me and my baby!” I screamed, tossing her from the van. In my rage, she was as weightless as a rag doll, her body skimming the sidewalk and crashing into the brick wall behind us. The air around us hummed and the light over a nearby door burst into shards, raining down on the concrete.
“But how? You’re not protected here!” Leah’s face showed stunned disbelief. She spat at me, clambering to her feet. She lifted a clear locket, defiantly showcasing a snippet of red hair. Mine.
I stepped forward, my arms held high. I felt the limitless vortex of energy surrounding me, nourishing me, feeding me. I lowered one hand, pointing.
“Maggie! Stop!” Michael stepped in front of her, acting as a shield.
My whole body trembled. The power coursed through me, needing release. “Michael, move!”
“No, Maggie. You can’t do this.” He warded me off with both hands while Leah gathered herself behind him.
“Why are you protecting her? Do you know what she’s done to me and my family? Let me handle her!”
“You’ll have to get through me first.”
I hesitated, my hands warbling with pent up energy. In that moment, my eyes seized upon the locket of my hair dangling from her hand…and I let loose.
The locket ripped free of her grip and shot through the air, into my waiting grasp.
“Go!” I commanded, waving her away.
Leah paused uncertainly, then quickly limped off, not looking back.
I examined the pendant dangling in my hand. They had a lock of my hair. Maybe they had other things? Hair. Nails. Personal items. These were what curses were crafted from.
“Why did you stop me?” I demanded, turning to Michael.
“I was afraid you’d kill her.” He appeared as shocked as Leah. “How did you do that?”
“It only happens when I’m enraged.” I looked at my hands, now beginning to tremble. This wasn’t the first time I had unleashed, and I still had no idea how to control it.
I grabbed the van door, to stave off the onset of dizziness.
For the first time I noticed an older man staring at us from the doorway of a nearby shop.
“Witch!” he declared, pointing an accusing finger at me.
Linsburg, in its close proximity to Dark Root, had a long history of vilifying witches, especially among the old timers.
“I seen it! Witch!”
I climbed into the van and quickly shut the door, hitting the lock. I watched through the open window as Michael approached the old man, stepping in close.
“You’re keeping company with a Witch,” the shopkeeper said. “Your soul is damned.”
“Go back inside,” Michael cooed, his voice soothing like honey. “You’re tired and could use a long nap.”
“I-I…” The man scratched his balding head, blinked a few times, and then nodded. “Yes, it’s a warm day. I’m just tired.” The old man turned and disappeared back into the store.
Michael joined me in the van and started up the engine, letting it idle. We sat there, staring at one another.
“I can’t believe what I just saw,” Michael said eventually, rolling up his window even though the air inside the van was stifling hot.
I rolled mine up as well. “Well, I can’t believe what I just saw. Whatever you just did, that was more than mere persuasion.”
“He has a weak mind,” Michael said, gripping the steering wheel.
“No. You ordered him to do something and he did it. I thought you were nothing more than a charismatic charlatan, but now I know––you’re a fucking warlock!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You are! How could I have missed it?” No wonder he had sought me out. Every warlock needs a witch.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He put his foot on the gas, nearly ramming into the car parked in front of us before backing out of the tight space and jetting down Main Street as fast as the van could take us away.
“I’m not a warlock, Maggie,” he said as he drove. “But I do have… abilities.”
“Like what?”
“Only what you already know. Convincing people, and some mild mind reading.”
“That’s how you knew who I was when you met me, wasn’t it?”
“Partly. The rest was pure instinct. I had dreamed of you, and followed the cord to Dark Root. The gifts I have are not magical, they are blessings from God.” He paused for a moment, clearly struggling with his thoughts. “But I was never as strong as you were,” he continued. “I needed you. I would have done anything at the time to keep Woodhaven going. When I started to fail, I blamed you and turned to Leah instead. It was foolish of me. I see that now.”
“But you’re stronger now than you were when we were together.”
“Healthy living,” he said with a tense smile.
More likely, the magick of Dark Root.
We drove in silence and it started raining again. Michael flipped on the broken wipers, smearing the mud around. Giant trees with long, arcing branches partially sheltered us from the drizzle as they pointed the way home.
A nagging thought tickled the peripheral of my brain. Michael was a warlock, and warlocks could be dangerous in their insatiable quest for power. I looked down at my own hands. I was dangerous too.
Our son. Dear God, what were we unleashing on the world?
“Take me home,” I said. “No, wait. Take me to Sister House. I need to be alone today.”
Michael nodded. “Whatever you say, Maggie Magic. Whatever you say.”
TWENTY-THREE
Crimson and Clover
Michael dropped me off at Sister House, taking Merry with him when he left. They were headed for a meditation session in the woods. I felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy as they laughed at a private joke before getting into the van. Merry waved through her open window and blew me a kiss. I forced a smile on my face.
Was Michael working his magic on my sister, hoping to use her abilities to bolster his own? He was a warlock and, according to Mother, that’s what warlocks did. But Merry was an empath and could sense people’s motives. However, she was also kind and trusted too easily.
All I could hope was that Michael’s motives involved friendship and nothing more.
Now that I was alone, I checked my phone, scrolling through text messages and recent calls, hoping that Shane had tried to contact me. I found nothing except for a few missed calls from Jillian.
“Pick up,” I said as I dialed his number.
Like before, it went straight to voicemail.
“Maybe his phone’s broken? Or he lost it?” I caught myself speaking aloud as I plopped down on the front porch swing. A breeze rushed through, cool and swift, leaving behind the scent of roses and giving my swing a little push. I closed my eyes and leaned back, breathing in the smell of springtime as the wind caressed my cheek. I wondered where Shane Doler had disappeared to and if he missed me like I missed him.
I touched my crystal bracelet, feeling the smooth glass stone tingle with energy. I emptied my mind, hoping to connect with him. But as I reached out, I felt nothing but a vast emptiness.
Shane had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Meow.”
“Maggie Cat?”
I opened my eyes and looked around. His meow sounded so clear, so close, yet he was nowhere to be seen and his food bowl was still full.
The garden.
Some of my best memories were there. Hide and seek, picking flowers, tea parties, my last conversations with Mother. Not wanting to be alone in the house, I decided to spend my afternoon there.
Once inside the wrought iron sanctuary, I laid out a towel and sat down. The sunshine had returned and the clouds had cleared. Merry had declared that there wouldn’t be another drop for at least a week, and I was glad––the dreariness did nothing for my mood.
I tried once again to clear my mind, not to contact Shane, but to center myself. I crossed my legs and turned my palms upwards towards the clear blue sky. After my encounter with the ghosts and Leah, and the discovery that Michael was a warlock, I needed serenity that didn’t come from potions or tea.
But, try as I might, the image of Merry and Michael leaving together kept strolling through my head. I was not jealous, I told myself, but angry. Is this how Mother felt when she learned that Armand was kissing her cousin Larinda? Was that the rift that had separated them? Would it tear Merry and I apart, too?
“Don’t be silly,” I said to the trees, who listened patiently and without judgement. “Michael and I aren’t together. But neither were Sasha and Armand, officially.
“Not my problem,” I reminded myself, refocusing my efforts at clar
ity.
But as I managed to push my sister and my ex-lover from my mind, other images fought for my attention: Shane rescuing me in the parking lot of Fat Chance Bar, Shane rallying to bring Dark Root back from the ruins, Shane showing me our initials he had carved in the tree that had eventually given me my wand.
And then there were the dream memories where our bodies were so close that I could smell his breath before he kissed me. These images, at least, calmed me down. Until my eyes snapped open with the realization that he was gone…
…and may not be coming back.
I dug my elbows into my thighs. Maybe he had decided to stay with Irene? Maybe she was his first and only love, like Robbie had been to my mother?
In that moment, I understood what my father must have felt when he learned that Mother’s heart would always belong to another.
I cast my eyes towards the spot where I had found Juliana’s headstone after the tea party. Maybe she was a banshee, as Jillian guessed, come to bring tidings of Shane’s demise, rather than my own? The thought of him dying was even more painful than of him running away with Irene. Though it broke my heart, I’d rather Shane have left me for another woman than to know he was gone for good.
I allowed the pain for a moment, before shutting it down.
Until I knew what had happened to Shane, I wasn’t going to make myself crazy over it. I sat quietly, feeling the world around me. The birdsong and the sunshine. The breeze moved through the surrounding forest, whispering ancient secrets. I tried to listen but the words were forbidden, reserved only for Mother Nature herself and her faerie folk.
I’m not sure how long I sat there. It felt like minutes but when I finally looked up the sun was beginning to set. I used the wrought iron gate to pull myself up, then made my way over to the stone bench where Mother and I had one of our last talks.
“The world isn’t fair,” she had told me. “Especially for witches.”
I ran my hands along the rough edges of the bench, looking for traces of Mother’s energy. There was nothing of her here, but that was not unexpected. Stone absorbs, but does not always give back.
With a heavy sigh, I meandered out of the garden, picking a rose and closing the sturdy gate behind me. I touched my belly softly, marveling that this would be my son’s sanctuary, too. I squeezed the stem of the rose between my hands, carefully avoiding the thorns, then sent its petals over the gate, one by one––a blessing to protect the next generation who would hopefully spend their childhood in the garden, just as my sisters and I had.
The Curse of Dark Root: Part One (Daughters of Dark Root Book 3) Page 19
