“Clear your mind, Paul” I ordered.
“Uh, it might be too late.” Ruth Anne pointed down the road, towards a looming gray tablet protruding out of the ground, enclosed behind a rusted black iron gate. An enormous raven sat atop the stone, watching our approach. If its head hadn’t been moving to follow us, I would have sworn it was stone, as well.
Paul stopped, turning to face us. He held out his arms, barring us from going any further. “No, please! We need to turn around.”
“We can’t,” I said, noticing that the ankh had finally awoken. Its glow was dim but present. And the path we were on led directly to the iron gate.
“Nevermore,” the raven squawked loudly, focusing its amber eyes on Paul. “Nev-er-more!” With that, the bird flapped its mighty wings and flew into the night, cawing as it circled overhead, twice.
I caught my breath, nodding. “The raven’s gone, Paul. We can go through now.”
“That’s not what I’m dreading.”
Ruth Anne touched his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
He gave her a grateful nod and led us towards the gate. His legs were quivering and his teeth chattered audibly, but he continued nonetheless.
More than anything, I wished Shane were here. If whatever lay beyond that gate could scare Paul so badly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to face it either. Rubbing my ankh like Aladdin’s lamp, I hung close behind him.
At our approach, the gate swung open, as if expecting us.
“This isn’t fun anymore,” Merry said. “I don’t want to go in, either.”
I looked at her. “Well, you’re free to go back to the Tree King if you want. I have zero choice in the matter.”
Merry glanced behind her, but all that was visible was the bright yellow moon and the white rolling fog. There was no way back. This was a theatre, and we were the unwilling performers.
Paul swallowed and stepped through the gate. His sneakers made a squishing sound as they sank into the wet earth. We all huddled close, making our way to the stone tablet. I jumped as the gate snapped shut behind us.
Patches of the ground were layered in thin ice, and the air was so moist I choked. We were in a cemetery, with old cracked stones and dead flowers laid at their feet. The opposite gate lay beyond the ominous monument of stone, and we could only reach it by passing by.
“I can’t,” Paul whispered.
“You have to,” I said.
The slab gleamed like polished rock amidst the other old grave markers. It was new. Fresh. Paul fell to his knees before it and we held our breaths as words carved themselves into the tombstone.
Eric Stolson.
1987-2008.
Cause of Death: Shameless Brother.
Paul fell backwards and crawled away, turning onto his stomach and scrambling into a run. Ruth Anne raced after, nimbly leaping over tombstones to grab him. She put her arm around his shoulder as he sobbed. I looked to Eve, whose eyes showed a mixture of pity and betrayal.
“Go to him,” I whispered to her.
“I can’t.” Eve lowered her head and turned back to the gravestone, mouthing the inscription to herself.
Merry approached Paul, opening her pouch and producing an orange flower. “I wasn’t sure why I brought this,” she admitted shyly. “It’s a Sunrise Flower. It provides comfort to those who have crossed over. I have blessed it, and it will give you both peace.”
Paul looked at Merry with gratitude as he took the bloom. “As long as he finds peace,” Paul said. “I deserve none.” Weeping, he placed the flower on the tombstone and the rest of us stepped back to give him some privacy. He spoke to his brother quietly, his entire body shaking with grief.
“That’s not even his real grave,” Eve said. “And Merry, there’s no such thing as a Sunrise Flower.”
Merry smiled softly. “I know. But he doesn’t.”
We didn’t rush him. When he returned to us, his eyes were dry, as if he’d cried every last tear. “I can go on now,” he said.
The gate beyond the grave opened, like a maître d’ showing us our table.
My ankh glowed nearly as brightly as the moon. As we walked through the gate, our next portal appeared not far off. It lit up the foggy night as gloriously as any star. We ran for it, and all the while I knew it would only take me further from Shane, but would hopefully bring me closer to my son.
9
Strength
I sat, rocking on the lid of the toilet seat, looking at the double pink lines on the pregnancy stick. Surely, this had to be a mistake. I’d only had sex with Michael once in the last few months, and I hadn’t been with anyone else.
Once was enough, I thought grimly.
I thought I was meant for bigger things than simply being a mother. I was the Sworn One.
The Sworn One.
I’d heard Aunt Dora and Mother refer to me by that title when I was younger, when they didn’t know I was listening. “Her magick is thick,” Aunt Dora said while the two drank tea in her kitchen. “No one will be able to equal her, once she’s trained.”
“Training will take another lifetime,” Mother said with an indifferent snort. “And we don’t have that kind of time, even if she is still young.” Sasha swirled her tea leaves, hoping for a good fortune. She frowned and put down here cup. “She’s a wilder. She’ll get into trouble if she isn’t watched. She may even end up like…”
“We watched that man like a hawk!” Aunt Dora retorted. “Look what good it did us. If Maggie’s really the Sworn One, it’ll work out.”
They stared at one another and swallowed, though neither any had tea left in their cup.
And now, twenty years later, I understood what they were worried about. I was reckless and undisciplined like my father.
A baby!
I couldn’t have a baby. Not when the baby’s father was now out of my life. And how was I going to tell Shane I was having another man’s child? I was falling for him, but that would be over now.
“Fuck!” I broke the stick in half and screamed the word into my knees, then tossed the two halves into a wastebasket, burying it deep. I inspected my panties, hoping for the telltale drop of blood.
Did I look pregnant? I stood and examined myself in the mirror, turning to the side. There was a slight swell to my belly and a puffiness to my face. Even my wrists and ankles looked bloated. I put my dress on quickly, before I screamed again.
I didn’t want the baby. In fact, I abhorred the idea. How could I love a child created by the man I detested?
There were things I could do. I could go to another town and do it under a false name.
But I was a witch, one of many in my family. I didn’t have to go anywhere. There were pills and potions and Mother’s spell book. I’d overheard Sasha advise women when I was younger - women with dark-circled eyes and swollen bellies and few choices. Mother prescribed them herbs and sent them on their way. “Put this in your tea for three days and three nights,” she’d say. “And tell no one.”
I never knew what happened during the course of those three days, but I’d sometimes seen the women wandering around town soon after, a relieved look on their faces. Mother always seemed troubled after these visits, but she wore it with a look of duty and never turned anyone away.
I could talk to Aunt Dora and find out what herb that is. Or research it myself. Or search Mother’s cabinets. Perhaps she still has some, from days gone by.
“I don’t want you,” I said, putting my fingers on my abdomen as I stared hard into the mirror. “I hate you and I just want you to go away.”
I had secretly hoped I was immune to the truth portals. I thought I had no more secrets to tell. But my heart still had one – and now, as the smoke cleared and I stood shivering on the other side of the gateway, I felt completely exposed.
Eve, Merry, Ruth Anne, Paul and Michael stood staring at me.
“Michael!?” I exclaimed, trying to ascertain if this were real. His chest rose and fell, yet he said nothing. “Michael! Thank god!�
�� I eventually said, wrapping my arms around his very real body. “Where did you come from?” I looked around, hoping that Shane had come through the portal, too.
He scratched his head, confused. We were once again standing in daylight - early morning from the looks of it. We were in a wide and beautiful valley, sun rising over the hills on the horizon. The grass was a vivacious green and there were whimsical flowers of every color and description - some the size of pebbles and others growing taller than my head. I had seen a painting like this once, in a gift shop in Northern California, and I’d always wished I could go there. And now I was, but the setting was too beautiful to accept the memory I had revealed.
“I thought I heard you call for me… then I was sucked in,” Michael said.
“Thank god!” I said. “But how?”
“Maybe he got pulled in because he was part of your memory?” Ruth Anne offered. “Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess.”
I looked around again, hoping Shane would appear, as he was also part of the memory. There was no sign of him. But Michael’s return meant that anything was possible in this world, and that was enough to give me hope.
There were no roads or paths, only the open grass, but it was a welcome relief after Paul’s landscape. But I knew even the most beautiful worlds could suddenly turn dark on us in the Netherworld, and I wouldn’t let my guard down again. I started walking, and the others joined me. We hadn’t traveled far when Michael spoke up.
“You hated me that much?” he asked, catching up to me. The gray in his hair had nearly doubled. His pants were dirty and his face gaunt. His eyes were rimmed in red, and there was an abnormal heaviness clinging to him. I wanted to know where he’d been, and what he’d seen. He obviously hadn’t found our son, but something had clearly occurred.
“I know I screwed up, Maggie, but I didn’t realize it was bad enough for you to consider getting rid of our son.”
“Please Michael, let it go,” I said. “That was a year ago, a lifetime away.”
“How can I let it go?” he asked, raising his voice. “You really wanted to get rid of our baby.”
“Yes, I did,” I answered honestly.
“Can you blame her?” Eve said, speaking up for me. “You cheated on her. Not to mention that no one wants to raise a baby in a dumb commune.”
“Maggie lived in that ‘dumb commune’ for many years and was very happy there.”
“Apparently not that happy,” Eve said.
I couldn’t look at Michael. In fact, I couldn’t look at any of them. Now that my mind had cleared after the portal, the guilt was unbearable. I had forgotten how badly I had wanted the baby gone when l learned of my pregnancy.
“Do you ever think you brought Montana’s disappearance on yourself?” Michael asked. “You’re always saying ‘words have power.’”
“Are you trying to pass the blame of losing Montana on to me, Michael? Of course I didn’t curse my own son,” I said, speeding up, as if outrunning him would outrun the thoughts in my head.
“I’m just saying, it’s a possibility.”
The color of this new world sharpened, as if coming into focus. There were a few trees along the way, whimsical and exotic, as if we had stepped into a child’s storybook. They twisted and twirled, climbing towards the sky. Fanciful birds chirped at us and willows danced in the breeze. It would have been lovely – a vacationer’s paradise - were the circumstances not so dire.
“You never answered my question.” Michael pressed. “Did you really hate me so badly you hated our baby, too?”
“Michael, I had no job skills and I was on my own. How was I supposed to feel?”
“I don’t know. Joyful about creating a new life? I mean, it was a gift from God, Magdalene.”
“Go to hell,” I said, seething. Knowing he only called me ‘Magdalene’ when he was trying to shame me. “Don’t try to mess with my mind, Michael. I kept the baby. I loved…love Montana. It was a quick thought, nothing more. Millions of women have had that very same thought. If that’s my darkest secret, I can’t wait to see what yours is.”
“I have no secrets,” he said, spreading his palms. “My soul has been washed clean.”
I marched ahead silently, contemplating Michael’s accusation. Was he right? If I were truly the Sworn One, had my words really cursed my own son?
Oh, what a tangled web…
I stopped in the middle of the field, realizing my ankh hadn’t blinked at all, and the grass seemed to stretch on forever. Michael offered no information on where he’d been, and no one dared ask yet. His face was that of a soldier’s, returning from war.
“Any thoughts?” I asked as we came to the bank of a turquoise stream, popping with fish.
Ruth Anne got out her compass and began beating it again. “According to this piece of crap, every direction is north.”
“Too bad there are no maps of the Netherworld,” Merry said, stopping to pick a flower. It was cotton-candy pink, as large as a teacup, and as fragrant as Eve’s exotic perfume. She tucked it behind her ear and smiled.
The air was warm and pleasant, though stiff and unmoving, as if someone had set the thermostat to precisely comfortable. We walked beside the creek, and the water sparkled in sharp contrast to my mood. I was tired and my earlier optimism was quickly fading.
“Can we stop, just for a moment?” Merry looked longingly at the water. “I just want to dip my toes.”
“We don’t have time.”
“You said there is no time here.”
I palmed the hourglass, but didn’t dare look. “We need to keep moving.”
Soon, we were up to our calves in wildflowers and the air was sickeningly sweet.
The sun continued to rise, and Merry removed her sweater and tied it around her waist, as if simply on one of her nature hikes. “I wish I’d brought my water bottle and dried fruit,” she said, glancing at the inviting water again.
I gave her a sideways look, which she caught.
“Wanna talk,” she asked?
“No.”
“Okay, I understand.” She kept pace beside me, humming along with the sounds of nature. I couldn’t help but still feel my anger. If it wasn’t for her and that owl, Shane would still be with us.
“I heard you think that,” Merry said.
“Think what?”
“That it’s my fault that Shane’s gone.”
“That’s not exactly classified information.”
“I was trying to help, Maggie.”
Her words caused me to stop. “You mean you wanted to help everyone but us?”
“What was I supposed to do? Those souls were in danger, and so was Starlight. Tell me what I should have done differently, before you put all the blame on me.”
“I don’t put all the blame on you, just most of it. Now leave me alone, please”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her blue eyes tearing up. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
I clenched my fists. Sorry? She had everything, and I had nothing. And she was sorry?
The patch of grass where I stood withered beneath my feet. “Merry, I need space. I feel like I’ve been beaten up and left for dead, and the only thing keeping me going is the very thin slice of hope that I may – MAY - find my son and Shane again. So forgive me if I need time alone.” I fidgeted with the hourglass, wondering how much more sand had sifted away while we spoke.
“Well, I’m not leaving you alone,” my sister said, defiantly lifting her chin as she folded her arms across her chest. “And you can’t make me.”
“I can’t make you? Is that a challenge?” My fingers tingled as the magick of the world coalesced around me, begging for me to use it.
“Yes,” she said. “It is a challenge.”
Game on, sister. I snapped my fingers and pointed at a nearby fallen log. It rolled towards Merry, not stopping, forcing her to leap out of the way to avoid it. The log was small enough that it wouldn’t have hurt her, but I needed her to see who she w
as dealing with.
“Oh? So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Merry drew her wand out of her skirt pocket and slapped it across her open hand, like a school mistress preparing to dole out justice to an unruly student.
Whispering winds
And ancient trees
Catch the witch
Before she flees
A drooping limb from a nearby tree unfurled like a long arm, and quickly wrapped itself around my leg. I tried to yank away, unable to move. Merry smiled smugly as I fought to disentangle myself, growing angrier by the moment.
“Don’t mistake my compassion for weakness,” she said. “I may not be a wilder, but I’m no wilting flower either.” She raised her wand in warning.
I pulled out my own wand and swatted it across the limb. It quivered and turned gray, and the entire tree turned to dust. “That’s on you,” I said, eyeing her over my wand.
The others stepped back, staring in disbelief as Merry and I slowly circled each other, like two wrestlers seeking an opening.
“Spells are too slow, Merry,” I said. “Too bad you rely on them.” I flicked my wand towards a bluebird perched on a rock. It became a snake, with piercing eyes and a darting tongue. It slithered toward Merry and she screamed.
Merry muttered under her breath and blew into her hands. She pointed at the snake before it could reach her, returning it to its bluebird form.
“That was cruel and stressful to the poor creature,” Merry chided. “You have no respect for nature.” She scrunched her face and pointed her wand towards a grouping of pink butterflies.
“Double. Double. Double. Double.
Let’s see Maggie break this bubble.”
At each repetition of the world ‘double,’ the butterflies grew in both size and number. Soon, there were a hundred butterflies the size of rabbits, all swarming around me. They dive-bombed my hair, tickling my face, my arms, my shoulders. I swatted them away with my hands as best I could.
“Be glad that butterflies don’t bite,” Merry said, enjoying her victory. “Unlike snakes.”
The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5) Page 17
