Eve gave him a curious look and he shrugged.
“I have a fascination with the Victorian era. Poe, Jack the Ripper, steampunk.” He lifted a silver brush on a vanity and set it back down again. Next, he opened a book and smiled, commenting on its smooth leather binding. Ruth Anne joined him in marveling over the craftsmanship of the novel.
I walked over to Juliana’s portrait; it was hanging in the same place it had hung my entire life. She was young but her expression was dour. I’d always feared this picture, feeling her eyes on me. But since her spirit had helped find her missing ankh, I felt bonded to her. Still, there was something different about this painting. She’s wearing her ankh!
“Holy Mother of Mary!” Ruth Anne exclaimed, forgetting to use her inside voice. “The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe! First edition! Hardbound!”
She and Paul ogled it, neither able to speak for several breaths. “I feel like I should pray to it or something,” Paul finally said.
“That’s bordering on idolatry,” Michael commented. “But I understand what you mean, and I’m sure The Big Guy won’t take much offense.”
“Think we can take the book too, Mags?” Ruth Anne asked, like a kid who had just found a stray puppy. “Nothing happened when I took the Andy doll.”
“So far,” I said, rapping my knuckles against a wooden chest near the foot of the bed. “Just please use your judgement. I have no idea how the rules work here. I just hope we aren’t undoing anything that shouldn’t be undone.”
Ruth Anne nodded and slipped the book into her backpack. The moment she closed her bag, the floor tilted again. No… not tilted, lurched. We held out our arms to keep steady.
“We need get downstairs, now!” Shane said, his eyes darting nervously upwards as the hall lights began to flicker.
“There they are!” Merry said, pointing.
Sure enough, the end of the hallway appeared, and so did the staircase. Was that Shane’s command that had brought them out? Or had we simply not gone far enough?
The stairwell was steeper than I remembered, and windier, too. Candle sconces lined the walls, though the light was eerily scant. Shane led the way and Michael took up the rear, with the rest of us crowded between. Halfway down we heard voices on the landing below, and we froze. It was Aunt Dora, Miss Sasha and Jillian, but not as I knew them. “They’re so young,” I whispered.
“And beautiful,” Merry added.
Mother didn’t look a day over forty. Aunt Dora was in full health, with rosy cheeks and tinted hair. Jillian’s hair fell almost to her waist.
“They’re not real,” Merry said. “It’s a memory the house has kept. I think we can get closer, so long as we don’t disturb the ripples in the memory fabric.”
Ruth Anne’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that?” she demanded.
Merry shrugged. “I just do. Look, they’re talking now.”
We inched down a few more stairs, holding our breaths even as Merry assured us we could breathe.
“It’s foolproof,” Sasha said, clapping her hands together once, and then once more for good measure. “Armand won’t find the child or know that it’s his. The Council is sworn to secrecy. And even if they break their oath, my spell is far too powerful. Armand is clever, but he needs to remember who taught him.”
“He’s no fool,” Dora said, shaking her head. “He’ll figure it out sooner or later. I been watchin’ him since the day he arrived. He knows more than he’s sayin’.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Jillian said, unzipping her long coat to reveal the swelling in her belly. “Armand has never actually hurt anyone. It’s hard to consider he would do what you’re suggesting.”
“He hasn’t hurt anyone?” Sasha asked, her eyes falling to Jillian’s pregnant belly.
“I’m to blame as much as him. I loved him.”
“Love blinds you,” Sasha said.
“Love saves us!” Jillian replied. She lifted her chin and stormed out the front door.
“It’s no one’s fault,” Dora sigh, watching Jillian go. “It’s the will of the Fates, and only the Fates can alter it.” Dora put on her coat. “Yer threats and yer spell won’t silence her forever. She’ll want to see her child.”
“She can be an auntie, just like you.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“It will have to be. Or all is lost.”
The scene dissolved, sucked back into whatever cosmic time vault it originated from. We all continued down the stair case, except Ruth Anne, who stayed behind. She fumbled with her pack, her brow knit in frustration.
“Let’s go.” I urged. “While the getting’s good.”
She cut me off with a chop of her hand. “Really, Mags? How can you be so callous? I just saw my dead mother. And not haggard and losing her marbles, but healthy. I didn’t realize how much I missed her.” She crumpled up on the step, her head in her hands.
I walked back up and sat with her. “I understand,” I said. Unlike the rest of us, Ruth Anne was Sasha’s only biological daughter. After giving birth to a child myself, and meeting my own real mother, I understood the power of blood bonds. “I miss her, too.”
“You do?”
“Every day. She raised me, taught me, and gave me my sisters. We had our problems, but we had our ‘come to Jesus’ meeting at the end.”
Ruth Anne sniffled and cracked a smile. “She’d whack you with her wand if she heard you say that.”
“She’d have to catch me first,” I said.
Eve called to us from the living room, and Ruth Anne and I raced down the stairs. The living room was in the correct location, but nearly three times bigger. A fire roared beneath a portrait of a young Sasha, no older than sixteen, wearing ringlets and dimples. Her eyes twinkled as she gazed over her shoulder - a twinkle that would later disappear, along with her youth. A grand candelabra lit the room, aided by candles and sconces of various sizes. An orchestra belted out waltzes on a phonograph.
An assembly of distinguished ladies and men paraded in through the front door, fog rolling at their feet. The women wore elegant dresses and elaborate eye masks. Their hair was piled high in pin curls. The men were in coats and tails, wearing masks just as fanciful as the women’s. Once they stepped inside, they paired up and began dancing, whirling around the room on a downy blanket of mist. Miss Sasha stood out among them, now a full-grown woman. She wore a red-sequined dress with her hair long and loose and danced with a soldier from a long-ago war.
“I think that’s Mom and Robbie!” Eve said. Robbie was Mother’s only love. He died during WWI, and she never forgot him for the rest of her life, even as she entertained herself with various lovers. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman like that,” Eve said, shooting Paul an accusing glare.
Merry rose up on to her toes and swayed. “The music is mesmerizing,” she said, waltzing her way into the crowd. She turned with open arms, and became a spinning pink cashmere blur, mixed in with all the others.
“Look who else is here,” Shane said, nodding to a corner. Wearing a similar red ball gown, with dark spiraled curls and snarling red lips, was a young Larinda. She was watching Sasha and Robbie, intently. Sensing my anger, Shane said, “Remember, this is all just a memory, Mags. You can’t get to her yet.”
This was true. Besides, if I interfered with her younger self, I might never find her older self, the one who held my son captive. I looked away from her, and focused on the dancers instead.
The colorful celebrators whirled around the room as the hands on the grandfather clock spun erratically. I tried to seize Merry as she passed by, but she was too lost in the music. She pirouetted out of my reach, not seeing me at all.
“When in Rome,” Shane said, hooking my arm. I didn’t know how to waltz, but he did. We spun around the room, succumbing to the music and forced gaiety. I say forced, because there was desperation in the laughter - a need to squeeze the moment for all it was worth. The clock, however sporadic, would chime soon enough.
>
How had I never danced like this before? My hair and skirt fluttered around me as Shane expertly wove us through the throng. Miss Sasha’s eyes were locked with Robbie’s, showing more joy than I had ever seen on her face. I wished I had known her then, before life had taken its cruel toll.
Ruth Anne snapped pictures from the sidelines, though the dancers were oblivious. Her lens lingered on Sasha and Robbie the longest.
I could stay here, I realized, as the hands of the clock moved back several hours. It was safe inside this fabricated ballroom. I rested my head on Shane’s shoulder and continued to dance.
“Maggie.”
It was like a whisper through a forest, without direction.
“MAGGIE!”
This was no whisper. A firm hand shook my shoulder. The room became bright as day, and shrank to its original size. Except for the seven of us, it was deserted.
Shane stared at me. “What did you see?”
“The ball. Mother and Robbie were here. And Larinda. You saw it too, right?”
“I saw it for a moment,” Merry said. “But then it vanished.”
“But you were dancing. Don’t you remember?”
“You were the only one dancing.” Merry said.
“I would call it flapping around like a wounded goose,” Eve said. “Ruth Anne got some great pictures of you.”
“You took pictures Ruth Anne! Did they come out?” I asked.
“Sort of. The good news is that my camera works here. The bad news is, you may want me to burn these before anyone sees them.”
We searched her images. Sure enough, I alone hopped and hobbled around the floor. I felt myself redden. We hadn’t even made it to the Netherworld proper, and already I had succumbed to its madness.
“I caught some cool orb photos though,” she said. “If we make it back, I’ll analyze these on my computer.” She put her camera away and knocked on her bag for luck.
If.
“I’m sorry you guys weren’t there,” I said. “It was a really nice place.”
“After watching you, I can truly say I’m glad I wasn’t there,” Eve said.
“Shall we?” I asked, feeling the pull of the front door - the same door that Jillian’s younger memory-self had stormed through.
“Let’s go,” Shane said.
I took a deep breath and turned the knob, proceeding through a blinding tunnel of warm light.
I was standing on the front porch of Sister House, the others slowly phasing in behind me. Judging by the blooming flowers and the budding lilac bushes, I guessed it was early spring. The sun was so yellow it seemed painted on, but its warmth was real. The grass, too, was impossibly green. Merry’s garden spade lay muddied on the porch steps. This timeline must be recent.
“Is this paradise?” Merry asked, sniffing the air as she spread her arms wide. Starlight flew from her shoulder, circling us. “I just feel so…light?”
“Me too,” Ruth Anne agreed. She skipped down the steps, wrinkling her nose as a dandelion floated by.
I didn’t share their cheerfulness. Eagle Mountain loomed in the distance, above the tree line, looking more ominous than it ever had before.
Ruth Anne sat down in the grass and removed her shoes, dumping out a spray of pebbles. “The air feels charged,” she said.
“Refreshing,” Michael agreed.
“Can you guys stay out of trouble for a few minutes?” I asked. “I need to talk to Shane, privately.”
“Talk?” Michael asked, not hiding his disdain.
“We’ll be fine, Maggie,” Merry said.
“You want to check on the tree, don’t you?” Shane asked, when we were out of earshot, behind the house.
He knew me too well. We headed into the forest to look for Jillian’s tree. I looked back several times, making sure the others stayed in sight.
We reached the spot, but there was no tree.
“Shane! Where the hell’s the tree?” I asked.
He scratched his head. “Jillian said hers was a representation of the original Tree of Life, which is probably hidden deep in this world.”
I searched my pocket, drawing out the silk-wrapped acorn. I looked down at the open space where the earthly tree had stood. “Do you think I should I plant it? Jillian said I’d know.”
Shane knelt down and touched the dirt with his bare hand. “Does it feel right to you?”
I crouched beside him, touching the acorn to the earth, hoping it would somehow speak to me. But there was not so much as a whisper. “What if I don’t plant the seed here, but I was supposed to? I could ruin everything.”
“If it’s fate, you can’t mess it up.”
I hoped he was right.
I needed to check Jillian’s old studio. We quickly returned to the others, who by now were all reclining on the grass. “Sorry to interrupt your sunbathing,” I said. “But we need to leave now.”
We raced through the woods towards Jillian’s studio. As in the Upper World, the magick was heightened in this part of the forest as well - I could even smell it. Even so, parts of the woods were shriveled and dying, parched and cracked, as in the world above.
When we arrived at the glade, I saw the studio, newer and cleaner looking than in my own timeline. The windows were mostly intact and the walls had only begun to crumble. And…
The tree is here!
I charged full-speed, greeting the tree as if it were an old friend. The burn mark had spread, but the tree was several feet taller than the one back home. I placed my ear against the trunk. Though faint, I heard a child’s heartbeat and smiled. “My son is sending me a message. I just know it. We’re on the right track.”
I told them the story of finding this tree, purposely leaving out any mention of the Tree of Life. That would have to come later.
“Where’s the baby hat?” Michael asked. “I’d like to see it.”
I searched my pockets for it…but it wasn’t there! “It’s gone!” I frantically started backtracking, searching the ground. “Oh no, no!”
“Stay calm,” Shane said. “I’ve got a new read on Montana. He’s still okay.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, turning my attention back towards the tree.
Merry examined it alongside me, placing a deliberate finger on the scorched bark. The color lightened slightly, and the surrounding leaves perked up. It was far from healed, but there was hope.
“Yow!” she said, shaking her hand. “That really took a lot out of me.” But she smiled, letting me know she was okay.
I asked for a moment of privacy, and went into the studio alone. It smelled like wet paint and turpentine. An easel and canvas were set up in a corner, and on it was a portrait of a baby with auburn hair and green eyes. Montana.
What sick person did this? I wondered. Then I saw that it was signed by Jillian.
“1979,” I read aloud.
Had Jillian really foreseen the birth of her grandson, over three decades ago? Or was this a portrait of me as a child? Or maybe it was all a delusion, another trick of the Netherworld.
I left the painting, my heart and mind heavier than before.
Outside, the sky overhead teemed with large crows, all speeding towards Eagle Mountain.
“Larinda’s minions,” I said. “Off to tell on us.”
“Let them,” Shane said defiantly. “We ride east, out of Dark Root.”
Michael snorted. “I hope you’re ready for a confrontation once we get there, cowboy, because I’m pretty sure we won’t be surprising anyone if we take your route. And I’m fairly certain a few of those birds heard us.”
Shane stepped forward, his chest expanding. “What’s your problem, Michael?”
“I think you’ve got a big mouth and nothing to back it up.”
My husband readied a fist. Merry and I quickly jumped between them, prying them apart.
“Maggie, you trust me, right?” Shane asked, spinning in the direction of his intuition.
“Yes. You’re the only one who even
partially understands this realm,” I said. “Or at least the way it functions.”
Michael scoffed, clicking his tongue as he fell behind. “You’ll trust a cowboy over a priest to lead you through hell? Let’s hope you’re right about this.”
I hated to admit it, but Michael had a point. Shane might be a tracker and a dreamwalker, but he admitted this world was much different. And Michael had spent his life studying the afterlife.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” I asked Shane quietly, as we seemed to be moving away from Eagle Mountain.
“Just follow me,” Shane said.
And we did.
Shane guided us through the woods that led towards downtown Dark Root. Gray clouds hunkered overhead, and there was the threat of rain. Merry sidled up beside me, lacing her fingers with mine.
“Heads up! Eve’s freaking out. She had nightmares as a kid, and this place is dredging them up.”
A moment later, Eve caught up with us, her eyes wide and cautious.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I don’t like it here. It’s ugly and I want to get out.” She glanced up at the clouds and flapped her hand, as if to shoo them away. Eventually she gave up, hanging her head beneath her curtain of hair, blocking everything out. Paul didn’t seem to notice her somber mood, as he chatted easily with Ruth Anne while we walked.
“We’ll be all right,” I said aloud, to reassure her and everyone else. “We’ve already fought demons and witches back home. Nothing here scares me … except not finding my son.”
“I understand how you feel,” Merry said. “I like to think I’m a nice person, but if anyone tries to harm June Bug…” Her face turned the same rose shade as her cardigan. “Well, I’m not sure what I’d do. But it wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“At least you know June Bug’s okay,” I said. “Even if she is with Frank.”
“Yeah…” She stroked my arm, soothing me with her warmth. “We’ll get Montana back. I’ve seen it in my meditations.”
The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5) Page 7
