The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5)

by April Aasheim

  “Timelines?” Merry asked.

  “This house might not exist in certain timelines. The same goes for dimensions.”

  “Roger that,” Merry said, bouncing on her heels. “But then how will we get out?”

  Jillian and Dora exchanged glances. “Break the chain of the ankh and have faith,” Aunt Dora answered. “Ya’ll know when.”

  Faith? I swallowed. With Dark Root’s ailing magick, was faith enough to pull us back? And what if I accidentally broke the chain too soon? And if the house didn’t exist at all, did that mean Aunt Dora and Jillian would still be on this plane? The worries piled up and I tried not to think of them. First, I’d go into the Netherworld and get my son. Then, we’d sort through the rest of the logistics.

  At exactly 7:30, Aunt Dora lifted up a small wicker basket from beside her feet. She ambled about the room, using her cane to keep steady. She drew strange symbols on our foreheads with ash from the basket, muttering each time, “So mote it be.”

  At last, my aunt stood before me. I bent forward so that she could mark my own forehead and offer her blessing. Once done, she grabbed both my hands, squeezing them tighter than seemed possible for her age. “Ya’ll find the boy, and ya’ll both return ta fulfill yer destinies. Got it?”

  “Yes?” I answered hesitantly. The only destiny I could envision for myself was in being a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. But maybe that was enough. Who knows how long a shadow our lives cast upon others?

  “Keep the light,” Aunt Dora said, hugging me.

  “Always.” I returned her hug. Though she had lost weight, her body was like a comfortable old pillow that never lost its shape.

  “I’ll be watchin’ ya,” she said, disentangling herself and poking me in the chest. “I’ll come pull ya out myself, if I have ta.”

  “And I’d pity anything in the Netherworld that got in your way.” I kissed her cheek. Her skin tasted like rose petals and salt. I made note of that, in case the Netherworld tried to make me forget.

  “We should go now,” I announced, just as the final sunbeam disappeared and the full moon appeared in the lone window.

  “Shane, will you open the closet door?” Jillian asked.

  He squared his lean shoulders and turned the knob. A chill fell over the room as the door squeaked open. Everyone moved in a step.

  “There are many worlds within the Netherworld, and you will meet many beings,” Jillian said as we stared into the closet’s black maw. “Some will be helpful, others will not, and you may not know which will be which.”

  “I have no intention of interacting with any beings,” Eve said. “We’re just going to go in, get the kid, and get out. The rest of the Netherworld can implode, for all I care.”

  “Unfortunately, you may not always have a choice,” Jillian said.

  I made my way to my mother, collapsing against her chest. She smoothed my hair, holding me. “I love you,” I said, wiping my eyes. How unfair to be leaving her, I thought, when I needed her the most.

  “I love you too, my daughter. Stay safe and bring back my grandson.”

  I saluted, then took a sidestep towards Shane and the closet. I had touched the portal before, when I thought Montana had disappeared inside. I remembered how dark, cold and vast it felt. And how lonely.

  I couldn’t dwell on that now. I looked around at everyone in the room and made a promise to myself. If we came back, I’d wring every ounce of joy out of every day - never taking anything or anyone for granted again.

  If we came back.

  “Stay together,” Jillian warned everyone. “The Netherworld will do its best to pull you apart. Dora and I can only watch Maggie. If you wander too far from her when we pull you back, you may not be able to return.”

  “Let’s do this,” I said, stepping into the doorframe. Shane took my hand, and looped his other through Merry’s arm. We formed a chain of seven, our hands linked like a mountaineer’s rope.

  “Maggie,” Jillian stopped me, just as I lifted my foot.

  “Yes?”

  “Remember the laws of karma are stronger there. Harm no one… but take no shit.”

  “I’ll remember,” I said, feeling Montana’s hat between my fingers before stepping in.

  4

  The Empress

  “Remember when we watched Titanic last Christmas?” I asked Merry. “And the people all fell into the water?”

  But it wasn’t Merry I was talking to. It was a wisp of Merry. A fragment. A mere shadow.

  We were kids, digging in the garden. I was confused because we hadn’t watched Titanic yet, not until we were grownups.

  Merry looked up from the ladybug in her hands and nodded, not confused at all. “The portal was as cold as that water in that movie, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “Much colder.”

  I had been born again, into a new world. A world that was strangely like my own.

  The chilling emptiness evaporated before I could remember how terrible it was. When I emerged from the blackness, I was back in the nursery. The room was stark and I was all alone.

  I fumbled for the light switch, nearly tripping over a sleeping bag on the floor. The overhead light went on, buzzing loudly before shutting off again. The moon was still shining through the window, but it was only a crescent now.

  “Shane!” I called out nervously, tiptoeing around the room. “Merry?”

  I stood beside the closet, unsure how long I should wait. Jillian had said our emotions could fashion the landscape, and I wondered if that small shadow creeping along the baseboard was an invention of mine or a denizen of the Netherworld. Was I even in the Netherworld?

  I lifted the ankh, flicking it with my finger. “Glow. Please…please…please.” I shook it, hoping to awaken it.

  There was a hint of cigarette smoke in the air. My eyes adjusted and I was able to look carefully at my surroundings. The wallpaper, the curtains, the ashtray on the windowsill - I knew this timeline. I had seen it in the snow globes.

  This was my father’s world.

  I crept towards the window and looked out, my breath steaming up the glass. A half-smoked Marlboro sat in the tray and I nudged it away with my elbow. I remembered seeing Armand stand in this very spot, watching Jillian in the garden, or speaking of his deals with the Dark One to Larinda. His essence was dense. Not only could I smell his cigarettes; I could almost taste their ashes.

  I jumped at a shuffling noise in the far corner. Sets of tiny red eyes blinked at me from the hidden nooks of the room, so quick to open and shut I wondered if they were really there. Instinct told me to run out the door, out of the house. But would I be any safer out there? Did ‘out there’ even exist?

  “Jillian? Aunt Dora?” I whimpered, hoping the shadows wouldn’t hear me.

  There was a noise inside the closet. I heard Shane’s voice call for me. “Maggie!” He appeared in the closet doorway, red-eyed and relieved. He pulled me to my toes and kissed me. “Damn, I was worried.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked, craning my neck to look past him.

  “Coming. I think. We couldn’t stay linked, but the portal can only lead here. I hope.”

  “Let’s pray,” I said, nervously watching for more red, blinking eyes.

  Time, if it existed here, taunted us as we waited. The room stayed dark, frozen, and the moon didn’t change its size or position. Even the sounds outside - owls, ravens, wolves – all repeated like a soundtrack played on a loop. I was thankful Shane found me, though my fear for the others grew with each passing breath. Are they lost? Trapped? Separated from one another? I shut down the thought, damned if I’d give this place any further fuel.

  At last, Michael emerged, shaking his head, woozy. I hugged him fiercely. He looked surprised but hugged me back. The others emerged in quick succession, all equally dazed. We exchanged looks of bewilderment, then burst into giddy laughter as if drunk on too much champagne.

  “We landed back in the nursery?” Eve asked, loo
king around. She tried flipping the light switch too, with no luck.

  “Yes. The nursery as it was when Armand lived here,” I said, motioning to the sleeping bag and the ashtray.

  Shane and Paul conducted a more thorough assessment of the room. They checked walls and knocked on doors. “It feels solid,” Shane said. “More solid than in my dreams. But so do I,” he added, pinching his wrist.

  “There’s nothing more here,” I said, looking nervously at the door leading to the hallway. The entire bedroom seemed to tilt, just slightly.

  Shane put his hand on the doorknob. “Wait,” I stopped him, turning towards Merry. “Can you check this?”

  She chewed on her lip, worried. As an empath, Merry could be easily overwhelmed with emotions. Negative ones, especially, weakened her.

  “I’ll be right beside you,” I assured her.

  We held our breaths while Merry held her hand in front of the door, tracing small circles in the air around the knob. Then she took a tissue out of her purse and wiped her hands. “I don’t feel anything unusual out there,” she said. “Unless you count Mama.”

  “Sasha’s out there?” Ruth Anne said, taking a step away from the door. “I don’t think I want to leave this room anymore.”

  I understood her fear. Shadows were one thing; running into our dead mother in a feather boa and high-heels was quite another.

  “I don’t know if she is actually out there,” Merry amended. “But her energy certainly is. This was her house for over a century, after all.”

  Ruth Anne rummaged through her pack and produced a flashlight. She grinned, as if seeing light for the first time. “Yay! The batteries work!”

  “Let’s go, already,” Eve said, pulling open the door. We all shouted her name, and she snorted when a perfectly ordinary hallway was revealed, with a few buzzing lightbulbs dangling from cords above.

  Eve bravely stepped over the threshold and into the hallway. We had no choice but to follow. We slunk into the corridor, looking both ways as if crossing a major road. Upon closer inspection, the hallway wasn’t as ordinary as it first appeared. For one thing, the portraits on the wall were mostly of people I had never seen. They ranged wildly in age and fashion, from women in high-collared dresses to women in miniskirts and tube tops. Mother and Aunt Dora were in a few of them, but there was no trace of any of us.

  And there were too many doors. It was like staring down a motel passageway, where each door was spaced only a few feet from the next. They seemed to go on indefinitely.

  “What the…” I sidestepped to the right. The hall seemed to tilt in response.

  “Maybe we could split up? Half of us go left, the other right?” Ruth Anne suggested. “We’d cover more ground.”

  “Hold on there, Scooby,” Eve said. “We’re not supposed to split up at all, according to Jillian and Aunt Dora. I’m not about to be lost in the Netherworld. Wherever that ankh goes, I follow.”

  “We don’t need to split up,” Shane said. “I’ve established a link with Montana. It’s weak, but it’s there. That tells me he isn’t in this house, but we still need to find our way out. We can try some of these doors as we search for the stairs leading down.”

  “You’ve established a link? Oh, thank god!” I said. “Where is he?”

  Shane tightened his jaw. “I can’t say for certain. I see him in a cool dark room, surrounded by… giant stone… toys?” He raised an eyebrow and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a fuzzy image, but it’s there. I’m sure I’ll know more if we can get outdoors.”

  Michael pushed his way to the front, holding the crucifix around his neck up like a shield. “I’ll open the doors. This ain’t no dream world, cowboy. Things could get dangerous here. Don’t pretend you have all the answers just because you’ve stomped around a few dreams.”

  “I’d stop dreaming altogether if you showed up in one of mine,” Shane said.

  “Trust me. I want no part of your dreams.”

  “Let’s go right,” I said, pushing between them. “There’s enough doors for all of us to have a turn. Ruth Anne, stay close with that flashlight.”

  I opened the first door slowly. There was nothing inside but an old phonograph, a tall rocking chair and an old-fashioned baby cradle. We recognized none of them. Finding nothing sinister, we were emboldened to open the other doors more quickly. They were all rooms from Sister House, all from various timelines – from the inception of the home in the late 1800s to the house we knew today.

  Merry squealed when she found our old playroom, filled with teddy bears and dolls and Ruth Anne’s Nancy Drew books. “Raggedy Anne!” Merry exclaimed, holding up her old rag doll. “And Ruth Anne, here’s your Andy.”

  Ruth Anne grumbled, but smiled all the same. She took the doll, tucking it into her canvas backpack.

  We moved on to the next room, and then the next. Aside from providing a few moments of nostalgia, the rooms were neither helpful nor frightening. Their only purpose seemed to be to confuse us further. Or delay us? The doors went on endlessly, opening into rooms, and sometimes rooms within rooms.

  We were ready to turn back, to find the nursery again, when Eve pushed open one final door. Frigid air billowed out, enveloping us. Eve’s eyes were as large as quarters. She took three steps back, pointing inside and whispering, “Merry, I think this one’s yours.”

  Merry stepped inside, unafraid, and we followed. It was as cold as winter in this room, though a soft yellow moon outside cozied up to the window. Miss Sasha’s sewing machine sat untouched in a corner, tucked near her ironing board, and several fur coats hung in an open wardrobe. But it was the tree that drew our attention.

  A pine tree grew proud and tall from a pot in the center of the room, its top brushing the ceiling. I remembered this tree from childhood. We all did. Merry had retrieved it from the forest as a sapling and brought it home to surprise us one Christmas. But we had replanted it back in the forest, and that was twenty years ago. Now here it was, alive and thriving. The whole room smelled of fresh pine.

  Merry took small steps forward, bowing before it reverently. She touched its needles and smiled. “I can’t believe it.”

  “But wait, there’s more,” Ruth Anne said, pointing up. Tucked into a higher branch was a small white owl. It shivered and hooted, watching us with one round eye from behind a wing.

  “Merry, is that your owl?” I asked.

  “Starlight!” She gently rattled a tree limb, coaxing him down.

  The baby snow owl spread his tiny wings, revealing a face that seemed to smile. He hooted his pleasure as he fluttered down and landed gracefully on Merry’s shoulder.

  “I missed you so much!” She nuzzled her companion, who nuzzled her back. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Paul gently petted the owl’s wing. “Eve told me how you found Starlight one Christmas, after wishing on a falling star. It was a beautiful story.”

  “Oh? Why haven’t I heard this story?” Michael asked

  Merry stroked the owl, dreamy-eyed, oblivious to Michael and everyone else.

  “This is fascinating,” Ruth Anne said, circling the room to take pictures with her high-tech camera. “Starlight clearly remembers Merry, even though she was a child when they last saw each other. I believe he recognizes her by her aura. I should document this.” She put her camera away and began scribbling in a notebook from her back pocket.

  “What should I do with him?” Merry asked. She looked at Starlight, and Starlight looked back. Then they both looked at me.

  “This presents a problem,” Ruth Anne said clinically. “His destiny most likely changed the moment you interacted with him. In the Upper World, a star guided him home.”

  “Oh, no!” Merry said. “Should we leave him here, then? Or take him with us?”

  Ruth Anne scratched her head with the tip of the pencil. “I’m not sure what happens once we close these doors again. And I’m not even sure if his destiny in this world will affect the Upper World.”

/>   “I’ll take him with me,” Merry said firmly. “Maybe there’s a star in this world he needs to find as well?”

  I worried that Starlight would disappear the moment we left the room, but I didn’t say anything. Merry was too determined and I was in too much of a hurry.

  How much time do we have anyway?

  I spotted Mother’s Coca-Cola clock hanging above the ironing board. The hands spun around, slowly then quickly, not settling on any one time. I felt around and found the small hourglass in my skirt pocket. Its inscription was now gone, covered by a tape label with the typed words: ‘Start Netherworld Timer Now.’

  How bizarre.

  I didn’t feel any new magick on it, so I decided to do as instructed. I peeled the tape away. Though I held the timepiece sideways, the sands began to flow from one side of the funnel into the other. I flipped it upside down, trying to restart it, but the sand was unforgiving. Was this all the time we had? I quickly slipped it back in my pocket before anyone else noticed.

  We left the nursery and returned to the hallway - one owl richer - opening door after door as we sought our way out.

  “Montana’s link is growing dimmer,” Shane said. “We’d better hurry before I lose him altogether. This place isn’t… situated right.”

  “There’s one room left we need to enter,” Merry said. “I have a feeling the house won’t let us leave until we do. I think we’ve all been avoiding it.”

  Mother’s bedroom door appeared before us in the hallway. How had we not come across it already? We were afraid.

  Merry knocked three times, and the door swung wide open.

  The room smelled sweet at first, like cedar and lilac, but then the aroma of mildew filled our noses. “This isn’t Mother’s room,” I said. It was far too formal and stiff for Mother’s tastes.

  “If I had to guess, this was your grandmother’s room,” Paul said. “Or maybe even your great-grandmother’s room. This flocked rose wallpaper hasn’t been popular in nearly a century. And I can’t imagine your mother using a porcelain chamber pot.” He pointed towards a ‘chair’ hunkering in a corner.